the boy who never had a choice.

𝑻𝑯𝑬   𝑺𝑷𝑹𝑨𝑾𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑮   𝑴𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑹   𝑯𝑨𝑫   𝑶𝑵𝑪𝑬   been   a   place   for   draco   to   seek   refuge                     but   after   the   collapse   of   a   war   &   the   demise   of   his   own   name   ,   draco   found   himself   drifting   through   the   once   -   magnificent   corridors   of   malfoy   manor   as   if   it   were   little   more   than   an   empty   shell   ;   storm   colored   hues   wander   absently   ,   passing   over   old   portraits   as   the   figures   stirred   and   roamed   at   their   own   leisure   ,   before   focusing   ahead   of   himself   once   again.   long   legs   carry   him   to   the   library   of   the   manor   with   little   effort                  and   for   a   moment   ,   draco   nearly   smiles.   a   hand   rests   delicately   upon   the   heavy   door   before   a   careful   push   lurches   it   forward.   the   library’s   tall   shelves   ,   stacked   neatly   with   books   upon   books   from   times   far   beyond   draco   himself   ,   had   been   a   safe   place   prior   to   the   destruction   the   war   had   brought.   many   nights   had   spent   with   the   small   ,   blonde   haired   boy   tucked   neatly   in   his   mother’s   lap   as   a   book   lay   open   before   them   ,   a   single   charm   leafing   each   page   over   for   them   as   narcissa   recited   the   words   to   him   in   her   soft   ,   soothing   lilt.   it   brought   him   comfort   -----   and   even   now   ,   it   seems   ,   draco   can’t   quite   shake   the   habit.

❝     you alright  ?   i’ve heard some rumors  …   ❞

𝐡𝐞𝐫  𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬  𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥,  𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝  𝐚𝐧𝐝  𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝,  as  draco  seems  to  be  gearing  up  for  another  rant  of  harry  bloody  potter.  pansy’s  made  a  mistake,  bringing  up  the  chosen  one,  because  now  she’ll  never  finish  her  cursed  essay.  she  sighs  and  resigns  herself  to  her  fate,  silently  gathering  her  parchments  and  inkwells  to  offer  draco  her  full  attention.  (  oh  the  things  she  does  for  her  favorite  idiot  ).    a  nod  here,  a  hum  there,  and  pansy  situates  herself  for  his  spiel,  nudging  his  foot  back  childishly.  she  would’ve  stuck  her  tongue  out  for  good  measure  if  her  attention  had  suddenly  zeroed  in  on  a  certain  mudblood  muggleborn’s  surname.     ❝   oh,  please.  with  how  bloody  smart  she  thinks  she  is,  you’d  think  she’d  have  enough  sense  to  not  go  at  all.   ❞     the  words  spill  so  easily,  pansy’s  features  twisting  into  something  nasty  as  syllables  laced  with  poison are  strung  together  whenever  granger’s  mentioned  in  conversation.     ❝   but  never  mind  that  ──  shall  i  be  going  with  you  or  blaise  ?  or  shall  we  attend  together ?  i’ve  got  ideas  for  our  robes.   ❞

                   The tent was almost dark, the fire Hermione had lit earlier was just about to burn itself out, and Harry was acutely aware of the tent’s other occupant’s steady breathing. Though Harry doubted that he was asleep. None of them had been sleeping lately, it was like everything was starting to really sink in. The days had really started to blur together now, and he knew that in a few hours Hermione was going to come in and it would be his turn to take watch over their camp.

                   Turning over Harry’s gaze fell on Malfoy’s back. He could barely make out the gentle rise and fall of the Slytherin’s shoulders, his thoughts wandering back to the big fight that had caused their troop of four to shrink down to three. He felt bad honestly, anyone that knew Ron knew that he was a little thick. And that he often spoke without thinking about how what he was saying affected others. Still things had gotten pretty explosive, and now Ron was gone and it was Malfoy that Harry found himself staring at while he was trying to get to sleep.

                   Then it came to him. Maybe they could talk about this–or anything really. Something to fill the crushing silence that had enveloped their shared tent. “Hey uh–Malfoy? You still awake?”

𝑻𝑯𝑬  𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑪𝑲  𝑺𝑰𝑳𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬  𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑽𝑬𝑺  𝑫𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑶’𝑺  𝑳𝑼𝑵𝑮𝑺  aching  with  each  trembling  inhale  ,  a  certain  level  of  uncertainty  causing  anxiety  to  well  up  within  the  pit  of  his  stomach.  it’s  nearly  enough  to  force  the  blonde  into  swallowing  back  bile  as  it  burns  through  his  throat  &  threatens  to  flood  him  in  acid  from  the  inside  out  ;  draco  is  ,  as  always  ,  almost  painfully  aware  of  dark  hues  burning  pointed  holes  into  the  middle  point  between  tapered  shoulder  blades.  potter  would  never  be  as  elegant  as  he  often  attempted  to  be  -------  but  the  former  heir  to  the  malfoy  legacy  knew  better  than  to  bring  attention  to  it.  he’s  pioneering  new  territory  ,  a  whole  new  world  ;  he  had  once  been  a  powerful  boy  ,  a  rich  child  with  every  opportunity  handed  to  him  on  a  platter  of  gilded  silver.

but  now  ,  he’s  nothing  more  than  a  discarded  pawn  that  had  outlasted  his  merit.

draco’s  all  but  resigned  himself  to  keeping  storm  -  gray  hues  shut  painfully  tight  ,  not  that  he  would  ever  find  the  comfort  of  sleep  ;  every  night  since  his  arrival  into  the  trio’s  little  troupe  had  been  sleepless  ,  agonizing  ,  terrifying.  but  he  could  pretend.  it’s  only  when  potter  breaks  the  uncomfortable  silence  that  the  blonde  exhales  a  sharp  ,  defeated  sigh.

❛  for  merlin’s  sake  ,  SNOTTER                    𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕  𝒅𝒐  𝒚𝒐𝒖  𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕  ?  ❜