"All I wished for was to not be a Slytherin. Pure blood supremacy was woven into the material of those jade coloured ties and I would rather strangle myself with one than wear it."
After returning from her time spent on the run, Lyra, unruly, sarcas...
Authors note: Hey besties Soz for the late update but hope u all like this wee chapter. Soz if it's a bit confusing and jumpy or doesn't make sense, I just think it's helpful to have Draco's pov every once and a while so we see his perspective also. Sending love to you all💞💞💞💞
Abandoned freedom
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-Draco Malfoy- I lay awake, staring at the ceiling all night. It felt awkward, uncomfortable, to be laying next to Astra. I couldn't even bring myself to kiss her goodnight. And she knew something was wrong.
Lyra looked different to when I had seen her last. Her face more sullen, as though her bones were slowly poking through her skin. I hardly recognised her when my eyes caught hers at the meeting. Her collar bone was sticking through, she looked almost ill. I felt guilty every time I looked at her tired eyes, her eyes were so tired, held up by dark circles and smudged black makeup. Had I left her to slowly fade into the nothingness? Her hair that I once entwined through my hands, wasnmessy, unkempt. I suppose she thought she didn't have time to look after herself. No one had time to do anything for themselves anymore.
Although I did not leave the bed all night, my mind wondered the abandoned halls of Emerald House, silently slipping outside and down to the woods. I wondered if the apple tree had caught fire, I left before putting out the flames. I recalled Lyra and I's sunny days spent lying in the safe shade of our grove, warm and contented. We would never sit there together again, nor would I feel warm nor contented again.
I do not regret my act of insufferable anger. It was justified in my head at least. An outrage she would've taken as well, had it been the other way around. We were too similar like that.
Yet she was brave, that was the difference. She didn't cower to the impulsiveness of her family. And although her position now is far from her own beliefs, she welcomed the darkness herself, not forced to by an overpowering father.
I knew I had made the worst decision of my life, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it now. Except there was, a last resort. Follow the same dark, dark path. Perhaps then Lyra would not be forced to walk the path alone.
The sun broke into the room through the gap in the thick green velvet curtains, telling me that morning was arriving. Finally. Each day was a day closer to dying, a day closer to not struggling anymore. Maybe I would die in this war. But inside, I was already dead.
My head rolled to the right. A lazy hand grabbed two of the pills sitting on my bedside table. I swallowed them with no hesitation. I needed something to fight the guilt. I needed to feel something other than regret and heartache. I was pathetic.
I slipped out of the bed, careful not to wake the wife and grabbed a hoodie, and my matches from the dresser, throwing it on before I left the room.
Unsure of where to go, I decided to head for the balcony for a smoke. I needed to breathe, I needed to see the world from a different angle or I was going to explode. Voldemort had strict rules now, guards on every entrance. No one could leave. I couldn't wait until we could go back to school, see Nott and Zabini. I was going to die in this house.
