❝What is that song you
sing for the dead?❞
Born a sinner, Lucien Aliester King can talk to the dead. With the reappearance of Death Eaters and the approaching start of another wizarding war, Lucien is torn between venturing i...
17| CHAPTER SEVENTEEN i'm not your problem anymore so who am i offending now?
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｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
DRACO WAS IGNORING HIM, HE WAS SURE. IN DRACO'S DEFENSE, LUCIEN DID ASK FOR THE COLD SHOULDER WHEN HE TOLD THE BOY TO 'DROP IT'. And Malfoy did, they weren't even on speaking terms anymore. No glum expressions or stolen glances, Lucien had never caught him staring. Selfishly, he wanted Draco to be struggling as much as he did. But the blonde one seemed happy enough on his own, hanging with Blaise and picking up on Hermione as if the big fight was solely a fragment of Lucien's imagination.
But it was real. Not talking to Draco was hard, 5 days since their fight and Lucien felt like shit- but knowing he wasn't ready to tell his best friend the whole truth, he didn't try to make amends. He knew each passing day he was pushing Draco further away but he needed time to process everything on his own. He couldn't expect Draco to understand the way he felt smaller every time he saw Snape looking at him, smaller until he wished to vanish. Nobody would see how scared he was to walk into Potions or how every word coming out of their professor's mouth made him tremble, until there were no walls around him.
He was exposed, Snape had digged around in his mind until he found one of his most painful and private memories. A memory he would definitely rather forget. Making sense of that revelation was his number one priority. The fight with Draco did weigh on him, he was only reminded of the fact that the two were growing apart whenever he saw him laughing with someone else. Every time he remembered the fight, it hurt like he was experiencing all over again.
When he didn't think about or see Draco, he would think about his parents. He would think about Snape, or the way Voldemort forced him to look at his face. He would sometimes think about Narcissa, the way she looked sorry for him; wondering if she told Draco anything. She probably hadn't, she didn't look like she wanted her son to get involved.
He snapped himself back to reality, trying his best to forget about the unfortunate events, and realized he was in front of the Potions classroom. He stood still, dreaded going inside. Luckily he had a little more serene time before the class started, a small consolation he granted himself. A few students were inside, their jabbering flowing out of the room and flooding into the hallway.
He was angry but mostly horrified. When he felt a hand on his shoulder, he recoiled; remembering how Severus' nails sinked into his skin until they bled. "Sorry," he heard the person say.
Quickly collecting himself, he looked at the familiar face. It was Pansy. He hadn't talked to her since the night of the feast, only a few times in between classes. Even after he came back from his so-called urgent trip back home, he didn't hang around his usual crowd, giving Draco space. He tried to avoid his usual friend group whenever he saw them and it did work, they had let him be.
