The Malfoy Project

𝟐𝟕 - 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 (*TW)

*TW: suicidal thoughts

༻⚜༺

     I pressed my back to the door. Only a piece of wood separated me from Gabriella Ainsley, and yet, it felt like I'm miles away.

     Their muffled voices echoed in the empty stairwell behind me. There was no chance of them being heard up in the dorms, for this was how the common rooms had been so cleverly designed.

     The page of the Prophet felt like lead in my closed fist. I unravelled it for the hundredth time and stared at her moving image. The passion lit up her face from shades of monochrome like she had swallowed a fireball.

     Ainsley did that for me and in repayment, she would probably never see the inside of a press office ever again. Her remuneration came in the form of scowls from the people she calls her friends and a hailstorm of admonishment from the man she calls her lover. I could hear them through the thick mahogany door:

     What the fuck were you thinking?

     I was only doing what's right!

     And then my name. Draco. Draco, Draco, Draco.

     The sound of my thundering heart mingled with their shouting until I couldn't tell one from the other. I stared at the wall to keep my whiskey-pumped head from spinning.

     I wasn't the one who tried to murder the Headmaster three times! I wasn't the one who let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts with the very cabinet I told him about, that made me who I am now, and I don't have a fucking skull slapped onto my skin like some cheap, ugly, botched tattoo!

     I uncapped the flask and took another sip. The faded red scar on my left wrist grinned back at me - a branding of who I was. Who I still am. Cheap, ugly, botched. A weed that has no place in the well-preened garden of Olympus.

     It had gone quiet. The air was still and not another sound came through the door. Had she already left?

     I had to apologise - there was no other way around it. Would I buy another bag of those pineapples she loves so? I hadn't given the last one to her after all. 

     No, I decided. Mother was right. Enough cowardice. Enough hiding. I would tell Ainsley that I was sorry and then I would tell her what I truly feel about her and she would gently let me down and I would go to the Astronomy Tower and climb up the rungs and this time she wouldn't be there to catch me when I fall. I don't want her to.

     Because she might miss, and the rocks will split me open and she will see that my pieces are not sewn of light or hidden gemstones. They are haphazard shards of smoke and grey and crying and loneliness and beatings and death and blood and emptiness.

     I don't want her to see me.

     I necked the rest of the whiskey and creaked open the door. Monty was sitting on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees and raking his hands through his hair. He jumped up at the sight of me. "I didn't know you were still up, mate."

     I had wanted to come in here to sit by myself when I heard you and Ainsley. "I've only just woken up," I said, already making my way to the entrance.

     "Where're you going?"

     "For a walk."

     "It's three in the morning."

     I can tell the time, you fucking prick.

     "I know." The wall opened up for me and he disappeared from view.