𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐒

XIV

Act XIV.

Licet volare si in tergo aquilæ volat.

A man can fly if he wishes, if he rides on the back of an eagle

Severus strode briskly down the ancient hall of the Order Headquarters, self-hatred suffocating him from within. He hastened to leave immediately, lest his well-construed mask of anger and bitter indifference crack under the memory of what he’d just put his godson through. He cursed this war once more, like he’d done so many times already. If only Voldemort had not regained his power. If only he wasn’t a spy playing a dangerous role in this whole bloody mess. If only Draco had never been born a Malfoy.

If only, if only…if only.

He breathed a sigh as he stumbled into his own living room. Making a beeline for his cupboards, he quickly poured out a drink. And only then was he able to relax his muscles that were stiff and sore from this afternoon’s tense sword practice. He inhaled sharply as he downed his cup, letting the sharp smell of alcohol and the liquid burn of firewhiskey override his senses as they once again offered him escape.

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“Draco! Are you alright? Merlin, that was amazing! The way you moved and attacked Snape! I couldn’t even see you at one point, you were moving so fast!” Harry babbled excitedly and apprehensively as he approached the unmoving blonde. He didn’t know if his advances would be received the same way as they had been the previous weeks but he was still hopeful.

Sighing, Draco closed his eyes tiredly and willed the Gryffindor to disappear. He really didn't need to be crowded by the idiot, especially after he’d just had his arse handed to him by a man twice his age. It was humiliating! “Potter, what in Merlin’s name ever gave you the idea that we were friends? Please tell me, so that whatever it is, I can go back in time and undo it! I will repeat what I’ve been reminding you of all week long. Just because we managed to fall on the same side of this bloody war does not mean we get to be friends.”

Deflating slightly at that, Harry stared down his shoes in dejection. “But I still don’t get why-”

“Because! We’ve been through this before and I will not repeat myself again just because you’re idiotic enough to forget it!”

Draco snarled as he stood, the residual hurt and anger from his training with Severus washing over him like a tidal wave. He rejoiced in the ability to unleash it. No matter who it was that got caught in the fray.

“Hey! Knock it off, Ferret! Harry’s just being nice to you! And you should be lucky to get even that much!” Ron interjected angrily as he moved to defend his best friend.

Sneering, Draco shot back. “It figures that you would think that just because Harry Potter, the Boy Who Fucking Won’t Die, deigned to talk to me I should get on my hands and knees and thank Morgana. Well unlike you, Weasel, I don’t think the sun rises and sets on this git’s say-so!”

“You fucking bastard! I knew it!” Ron shook his head in disbelief. “I knew that, disowned or not, you’re still every bit as nasty and evil as you always were! You’re still Lucius Malfoy’s son!”

Smirking, Draco inched closer to the idiot and eyed him coolly, “And don’t you ever forget it.”

With that parting remark, Draco swept away, his steps lighter than they’d been in days and feeling more like himself than ever.

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“Would it really be that distasteful if they were to befriend you?” a voice broke into Draco's smug thoughts.