the girl who lost it all [d.m]

thirty nine: fatigatio

fatigatio: exhaustion, fatigue, weariness

———

DRACO sat on the armchair in the empty room, his head buried in his hands.

It was two in the morning but he hadn't been able to catch even a minute of sleep since he'd lain down at twelve. Even his Occlumency hadn't been able to help him.

With the Horcrux on his finger, his power was weaker than it had ever been before. He struggled to even Apparate now and had splinched himself just last week when he'd gone to Paisley. Orion had had to drag him up the driveway, getting blood all over the stones and had healed him in the safety of the house while Mochi meowed with worry from her place on the sofa.

The silence in the room was deafening, every moment a reminder of what had happened, who this room had belonged to.

The door creaked open but Draco didn't look up. He kept his elbows braced on his knees, his head in his hands and tried to focus on the sounds of an owl somewhere in the grounds, calling out into the dark night.

"Does Master Draco need anything?" Mipsy's high-pitched voice was fearful and cautious.

He still didn't raise his head. "No."

Mipsy took a few steps into the room, her footfalls as light as a cat's. Her small frame came into view from the corner of his eye, her hands wrung together in worry.

"I don't need anything, Mipsy," he said again, his voice rough.

Mipsy cowered but didn't leave. "Mistress Narcissa—"

"I said I don't need anything!" It burst out of him before he'd even realised, his emotions burning through his skin as he lifted his head to glare at the small elf.

She shrank back, large eyes even wider and nodded, vigorously. "Mipsy is sorry, Master Draco. She is very sorry—"

His guilt washed over him a second later as he took in her trembling shape. She'd been with them since he was a child and had tended to every need of his family's even when she was beaten and bruised. "No, I—I just need to be alone right now."

Mipsy nodded, still looking forlorn and vanished with a crack.

"Arsehole."

Draco glanced up, meeting Theo's grim eyes where he stood in the doorway, a small lantern in his hand.

"Go back to bed," was all Draco said before dropping his head back into his hands.

Theo did no such thing and instead took a step in, peering at the bedroom around them. "Astoria can't sleep either." He swiveled around, staring at the walls, the armoire, the bed, as if Narcissa might be hiding somewhere in here. "She's been crying all night."