#dracom

Although Voldemort didn’t have emotions, his followers often did. They joined for a number of reasons - family, the want of power, the feeling of helpness, the need for guidance, being bullied by muggles, or even just because their loved ones were threatened. It wasn’t as black and white as the Ministry tried to make it appear. They just had chosen the wrong leader. a bloodthirsty one. Your poor Lucius, he’d come to you after the meetings, would sit quietly in the dark room that was your salon, gazing at the fire, which was the only lightsource he would approve of. He hated when you saw him looking weak, so he stayed in the shadows.

But you joined him either way. If he came here, he was looking to not be alone. So you weren’t going to let him. You say beside him on your couch, sinking into the leather fabric, it feeling cool against your back. Lucius’s long blonde hair was tied into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, trailing down his shoulders. He was leaning forward, hands rubbing at his face. You lightly started to touch his shoulder, making circles with your fingers against the thick fabric of his coat.

“Lucius...” You said, slowly. “I know what you’re facing is hard. I can’t even imagine-”

“Because you were smart enough not to get yourself into this mess,” He cut in.

“What do you think I’m doing here, with you?” You asked, teasingly. You pushed some of the looser hairs out of the way, it was bunching against his face, creating a sort of draping effect that hid his pale skin. “Talk to me, L. I’m here. I’m ready to share the burden.”

It was a heavy weight to bear. But he gave it to you freely, knowing that you can handle it. You didn’t interrupt. You let him speak. The stress that was on his shoulders. The way that he felt like everyone was talking about him behind his back. At the Ministry, in his social circles. He was losing everything because Voldemort was losing. He had just been a stupid teenager when he had signed up for this in the first place. Full of resentment at the world and a haughty sense of self because he was a Slytherin with family money. He had believed he could do anything. Live through everything. But people were dying. Cedric Diggory had been killed at Hogwarts, under Dumbledore’s nose. What about his own son? How was he supposed to make it through? Even when this was over, the Malfoy name would carry a curse, a bad taste in the mouth.

You waited for him to let it all out before you finally said something. “But you’re not as alone as you think. You have Draco. You have Narcissa. I know there’s not much love between you two but - you’re still in this together. She’s still standing by your side. And you have me. No matter what happens. That’s three people, that will try to lift you back up whenever you fall. Please try to remember that Lucius. The sun will always rise again.”

He rested his head on your shoulder in an act of unbridled vulnerability. You kissed those white locks tenderly, and let him be there as long as he needed. As long as he wanted.

Severus still had nightmares about the night that he had walked into the Potter home. The way that he had seen his childhood foe spread out near the stairs. He had once thought that he would have felt good about that. But he didn’t. There was a sinking feeling deep inside of him, because if James was dead then - Lily. That was where the nightmares centered. On him holding Lily, the woman that he had loved. The only person that he thought that he would love - until you.

On the nights when this came back to him, he would always get out of bed as quietly as he could muster, trying not to wake you. But you were a light sleeper. You could feel the cold as soon as he departed bed. It woke you up every time. “You okay, love?” You asked, your voice heavy with tiredness.

He never could get over how understanding that you were. Anyone else would have yelled at him for waking them up at - three o’clock in the morning, as his clock was telling him. But not you. He turned around to face you, a black shadow in a dark room. You had grabbed at your wand, had muttered Lumos so that a pale light started to fill up the space, exposing the bags under his eyes. And the tears that were threatening to fall. “Come back to bed, Sev. Come lay with me,” You invited.

He accepted it. He had thought about going for a walk but now he felt so tired again, that his feet wouldn’t be able to carry him to the door. He collapsed in beside you, and was too weak to fight at the tears anymore. You cradled his head with your hands, pulling it to his chest, and he clutched at your arm with his very pale fingers. They were white-knuckling, but you didn’t complain.

“It’s in the past. And it was never your fault. You’re going to forgive yourself one of these days, sweetheart. You’re going to have to,” You muttered softly, taking in the smell of his hair. It smelled of the soap used on the laundry.

“I don’t know-” Severus said the words that he never said to anyone ever. He always knew. But not now. His guard was completely down. He was breaking down. “I can’t-”

“You can, and you must, Severus. For me, and for our baby, okay? We’re not giving them half a family. We’re giving them a whole family and I need you to present.” His hand went down to your swollen stomach, resting there. A child he never thought he’d have. He nodded, slowly, and fell back asleep to the sound of your heartbeat, and you didn’t wake him until morning.

If anybody asked, Draco Malfoy did not cry. His parents hadn’t seen him do so since he was a child. A very young child. He had learned not to, because it disgraced the family name to show any sort of weakness. Then going to Hogwarts, and being a Slytherin. He was no Hufflepuff, he couldn’t cry. He couldn’t show any emotions other than displeasure and pride. A scowl or a smirk, there was no in between. He could exaggerate, but he could not cry. Not even when he was hit by Hermione Granger in third year, he could not let a tear be shed.

If anybody asked - Draco Malfoy did not cry. And that’s what you would tell them. But he did. The two of you would sneak into the Room of Requirement, after figuring out what it did because of Potter in the fifth year. Instead of the large class-room type space it had been for the DA, it was a small and cozy den with a single couch, where the two of you curled up and he could show his emotions freely. You were the only one who he bore himself too, poor thing. You were the only one that he trusted.

“You did what you had to do, Draco,” You assured him. He’d grabbed you. He had come running here after the death of Dumbledore and had spilled his guts to you. Told you everything. His guilt was immense, even if he had not been the one to utter the spell. “You’re human. They put so much on your shoulders. I’m so sorry that they did that.”

He had his head on your lap. You were stroking his hair. His tears were soaking through your clothes, making them stick to your thighs. You’d ask the room to dry you off before you left. That wasn’t even a problem.

“He was going to let me do it -” Draco said, his voice breaking. “He just stood there. He was going to let me kill him. Actually kill him-”

“And you were hoping that he would fight back?” You asked, your voice steady, despite tears of your own running down your face. “So that maybe, maybe he would disarm you and you wouldn’t have to do it?”

“He could have- he really bloody could have done something!”

“You’re not a murderer, Draco. And that’s okay. That’s good. You shouldn’t be. You didn’t sign up for this. So it’s okay to feel how you’re feeling, love. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay. Somehow.”

At least that’s what you were hoping for.

You were recovering from a particularly rough session when the door opened once more. Your back stiffened and your muscles tensed in fear of another curse being sent your way, but the person at the door was quiet, except for breathing. It was somehow worse anticipating the pain than it happening quickly.

“You need to eat something, it’s been two days,” A male voice rang out. You stayed huddled on the floor, holding your empty stomach. You could barely remember the last time you had eaten - it had seemed like a week ago. “Your food is getting cold, hurry up.”

Draco Malfoy, you realized as you slowly rolled over onto your other side, was the boy who was at the door. His face was bathed in a cold-looking light from the hallway, a light that you could not see a trace of when the door was closed. The white blonde of his hair shone like the moon in that moment, but it did not put you in any sort of ease. He was with them - the Death Eaters - which probably meant that he wasn’t the only student to do so.

The School had fallen, and that made any hope that you have disappear from your mind entirely. The tray that Draco was holding was set down on the ground. You had your eyes squeezed shut as soon as you had figured out who he was, and didn’t open them until the sound of the door closed.  

After a couple of seconds of blinking, you realized that there was a light in the room that had not been there before - and the source was coming from a wand. It was him - he had stayed in the room, and was sitting cross legged in front of your trembling body. Draco put the spoon into the soup that he had brought from his parent’s home, courtesy of their house elf, and then held it out to you for you to sup the broth from. You caught eye contact with the icy blue of his eyes, wondering what sort of trick he was up to.

Draco rolled his eyes as you refused to open your lips for the strange food that he had brought you. “A beef stew, perfectly harmless - and don’t tell me that you’re a vegetarian because now is not the time for that.”

The food did smell enticing, and at this point, you had nothing to lose. It was either eat this and potentially be poisoned, or starve and die nonetheless, so you parted your lips and allowed him to push the spoon through and fill your mouth with broth and what tasted like a carrot. Maybe potato, your senses have definitely been weakened by the ordeal that you’ve been put through by the death eaters. His eyes bore into you as you swallowed, then he dipped the spoon back into the bowl and gave you more. Your stomach pain abated, though all of the other pains stayed.

It didn’t last very long. It ended quickly, because Draco had seemed to hear something that you simply could not. You had screamed too much in this small, dark chamber that the echoes had nearly deafened you. So quickly, the light went out, the tray of food disappeared and Draco snuck back out, leaving you alone once again, unsure if that was all a hallucination or if it had really happened.

Later on, Draco Malfoy appeared to you again. It was a sandwich this time, and you expended all of your energy into chewing it. It had some sort of meat on it but your tastebuds weren’t up to par so you couldn’t even tell that much. Every bite hurt your jaw even more, which you were sure was broken, but it wasn’t as if you could just pop out to Saint Mungo’s to have it fixed. You were still in pain from the torturing just a couple of hours earlier, so all that you could do was try to reach out and tap his knee.

The motion was met by a flinch. Draco didn’t move away from your touch but he might as well have with the way that he was reacting. It hurt, so you lowered your hand back onto the cold floor. And that lead to something being heard by Draco, and him slipping off again.

The visits started to happen more and more frequently, though there was no real talking between the two of you. You were in too much pain to do anything more than chew down the food, and he attempted to keep quiet so no one would be able to hear him. He brought you a wide variety of foods, but mainly soups and things that were easier for you to eat once he realized how much trouble you were having.

“Hey Draco-” You managed to whisper hoarsely after some broth had wet your dried throat. He moved his lit wand to the side so that he could see your face rather than just have it focused on the food. You stared up at him and saw that though he wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought you looked, he had bags under his eyes and what looked like some bruises. “I appreciate this, thank you.”

The boy didn’t smile, he just nodded. Draco must have heard something, for he lowered his wand, disable the light charm, and snuck back out, taking the tray and bowl with him, shrinking it into his pocket. It made your day to have a visitor who came in to help, though you knew just how bad the consequences would be were he caught. Draco could be killed for something as small as a bowl of soup. Fancy or not, the food strengthened you, and you were able to get through the torture sessions a bit better each time.

The sound of people running in a panic, casting spells and screaming reached your ears. Draco’s voice was among them, which made you crawl towards the door, hoping that he would come in here and be safe. Draco did eventually appear, and he closed and locked the door behind him. He didn’t light his wand and the only way that you knew it was him was by the way that he was breathing. Finally, he seemed to relax and shuffled down to the ground, sitting.

“Potter sent his aurors,” He explained. A glimmer of hope went through your mind - you could be saved today! Though, it made you wonder why Draco was hiding in here, unless he had no intention of letting the aurors find you. It didn’t make any sense to you, and the defeat took over your body again, making you slump over as you gave up completely.

You came to and found yourself in somebody’s home. “I was hoping you would wake up soon,” A kind looking woman with red hair said, patting your arm. You stared at her and blinked, your eyes adjusting to the soft light coming from a lamp next to the bed that you were on. The memories of torture made you shudder, and back away from this woman, no matter how sweet she smiled. “Y/n, you’re safe, no one is going to hurt you here.”

Draco’s face popped into your mind and it stayed there like an image that embedded on a screen. “His parents are going to kill him,” You murmured to yourself. It caused a feeling, a sickness in your stomach, that got worse and worse by the second, until you had to lean over the side of the bed and vomit. You didn’t feel any better after you had finished retching, nor did it help when the red-haired woman did a quick cleaning spell to erase what you had done.

“You better get some more rest, dear.”

“Where’s Draco?” You asked, disregarding her words and looked around. He should be here. He should have been able to escape. If you had ... you hadn’t been alone in that room. They must have pulled him out too. They must have-

“Malfoy?” The woman asked, her voice high pitched. You might as well have asked for the Prime Minister with the way that she was reacting. “Fall back asleep, my dear.”

Still too weak to get on your feet, you didn’t have much choice but to stay laying there. Your eyes watched the plump woman as she left the room and closed the door behind her. You finally had a chance to look at your surroundings. The room was gloomy, but at least it had a window. You could just see some trees in the distance, but little else from your position. It gave you no indication of where you were.

Two days had passed. It was nice to be able to keep track of them. The war was over, the good guys had prevailed and Voldemort was no more. The Death Eaters who had imprisoned you were standing trial and you had given your testimony, making it absolutely clear that Draco Malfoy had nothing to do with your circumstances. In fact, you hadn’t mentioned him at all. It seemed safer that way, so if any of them managed to break out of prison, he wouldn’t have a target on his back.

You recovered well and were able to go home to your muggle parents and calm your mind. You were still jumpy, and the only thing that seemed to help was to write letters to your savior, Draco Malfoy. You sent them out with your owl but you never received a response back. He lived, you gathered that from the other survivors, but he appeared to be missing.

Appeared was the key word. After three weeks of letters and getting no word back, the blonde teenager showed up at your door, looking exhausted and worn down. You and your family welcomed him in without a single weary glance, for they knew the truth. You gave him a bed to sleep in, a house to hide in, food to eat and special care to injuries that he had acquired from his father after the war.

He didn’t speak for the first day, but he told you everything on the second. About how he had joined the Death Eaters, helped them into Hogwarts, was supposed to kill Dumbledore but couldn’t. You dabbed a cold cloth on his head and listened to him speak. He let it all out, and you could see the weight lifted off of his shoulders.

“You shouldn’t be helping me, I was one of them.” He said after a few more days of lounging.