(1) 𝐍𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐄 | d. m

Chapter forty

Draco

I fucked up. I royally fucked up.

I don't know where it came from, but I just knew I had to get away. Away from all the grief, the evil, the darkness. Away from the Death Eaters.

Away from my father.

I never chose this life. It chose me. I never got a say in what to do, who to talk to, what to wear. How to act or what formal gatherings to attend. Someone else decided those things for me. Someone else mapped out my life, I just had to go along with it — and along the way — pretend to be fine. To be okay.

To be anything other than who I was, and what I felt.

Sometimes I agreed with the things being said. I was my fathers's son after all, and no one expected less of me. I understood why us purebloods were seen a superior to muggle borns and a half bloods, and I didn't think to question my loyalties. Because if I did, well, there would be consequences.

And I was far too scared to find out what those were. Far too scared to risk anything.

Especially with Lane in my life.

Other times, I hated my life. In fact, I spent most of the time loathing my own reflection and wishing I was dead. Things would just be so much easier if I wasn't around to fuck them up, and there were times when I truly believed that the world would be better off without me in it. That Lane would be safe. That my mother would still be alive.

I hated my father and what he did to us. To me, to Lane, to mother. But the thing is, I was just as scared of him. I wanted nothing to do with Voldemort or any of the other Death Eaters, yet I was convinced to live my days as one myself. My fear got the best of me, and I wasn't strong enough to fight back.

But now I had a reason to.

And that reason was Delaney Ross.

The girl who I despised the minute she stepped foot inside the walls of Hogwarts, but at the same time, couldn't help but be intrigued by.

The girl who called me out on my bullshit.

The girl who stood up for herself against people like me.

The girl with ruby lips, flaming hair and green eyes that you easily get lost in.

The girl who could make the whole world disappear with one look.

The girl who could stop time with one kiss.

The girl who took a second look at a broken soul and managed to heal it in a way I never thought possible. Who pulled me in and traced her hand along my arm, sending shivers down my spine. Who locked eyes with me and kissed me with such passion that nothing else mattered.

The girl I fell hopelessly and irrevocably in love with.

The girl who ruined Draco Malfoy.

I thought about writing to her. Hell, I wanted nothing more than to talk to her, see her, kiss her, but I knew such a thing was far from possible. She wasn't safe, and I would only put her in more danger by doing by so, and I couldn't have that.

Yet, I started a letter. I thought about all the things I wanted to say, but came to the conclusion that no words were enough. What would I say? How would I even start?

"Hey, Lane. Sorry for ditching you when you probably needed me the most. I'm a dick. Love, Draco".

No, but in all seriousness, I couldn't bring myself to write to her. I wanted to, I really wanted to, I just didn't know how to word it. Because she deserved so much more than the life she had. She deserved so much more than what I'd put her through.

***

After I left Wiltshire, I settled for the next best thing.

London.

I found a small apartment advertised in the The Daily Mail and was able to move in pretty quickly. It wasn't the fanciest of flats, but it didn't matter, because I wouldn't be spending too much time there, anyways.

I also found me a job. Amongst muggles. Could you believe it?

Draco Malfoy: Pureblood, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy and a part of the Malfoy family, one of the sacred twenty-eight: gets a job working at the local book shop.

How pathetic.

I managed to convince the owner to hire me by acting nothing like my old self.  I faked a smile (I got pretty good at those), kept from commenting on things I found annoying or wrong, and I tried to cut down on the eye rolls.

It wasn't easy, but I survived.

Everyday was pretty much the same. I'd wake up, look at myself in the mirror and be reminded of who I was and all the shit that's happened, then I'd make myself a cup of tea and a sandwich before jumping in the shower. After getting dressed for the day (usually — if not every day — I opted for a black shirt and black trousers, my usual aesthetic), I'd leave for work, where I'd check the register, make myself another cup of tea and wait for the first costumer to arrive.

Finally, after a full days work of trying not to piss myself  or any of the costumers off, I'd walk home through the streets of London, thinking about all of the things I missed.

Lane.

My mother.

Hogwarts.

I dwelled on it a lot. Although I tried not to think about it too much, it resulted in the opposite happening.

There wasn't a single day were I didn't think about my old life. The ups and downs of it. The good and the bad. My mind wouldn't allow me to catch a break, instead it showed hours and hours of footage of things that used to be.

Of Lane.

Of my mother.

Of Hogwarts.

When I didn't think about it, and managed to fall asleep (which, didn't happen often either) — I dreamt about it all instead. Thousands upon thousands of high definition pictures playing in my mind like an old cinema, making me relieve my trauma. Haunting me like ghosts, never letting me rest.

It felt like I was a ticking time bomb, and my past would soon catch up on me, in ways that it hadn't already.

I understood that I had to make a choice.

Let go off my old life completely (which meant severing all the possible ties to my past, forgetting about everything and everyone, change my name and start over).

Or. . .

Go back and finish this once and for all.