I will come back to you

Chapter Three

A beacon of light pierced through the delicate glass. Warm yellow rays were drifting through the window. Dust modes floating, suspended in the air. Draco mused through the kitchen cabinet, only to close it with a loud thud. He set the saucer and the cup out, pouring the tea with a delicate swish of his hand.

He had been turning in his bed all night, and had the incessant need to punch his arch nemesis. In retrospect, he shouldn't have been insensitive. He didn't stand by his father. Yet, he still loved him.

He sipped his tea, hot and sweet with a slice of lemon perfectly placed on the side of the cup. He stared at a picture on the mantle. Lucius Malfoy was laughing and Narcissa was watching him with a soft smile on her face. He had done a lot of damage. A sort of damage only a father can do.

"You've ruined me, father." He said softly, a weak smile on his face. He didn't want to be dragged into a war that wasn't his problem. He never wanted to choose sides. "I never wanted to be a part of a war. I wanted to be safe. You were supposed to keep me safe."

He had never been safe.

Draco ran his fingers across the frame. He exhaled softly, tearing his gaze away from it. He walked towards the window, and a soft breeze brushed across his face. He inhaled the familiar scent of seawater and watched the waves crash against the shore. "What the–"

Harry Potter was standing near the edge of the shore, staring at the water. In the spur of the moment, he disapparated with a faint pop. It didn't work. He was fairly away from the shore. An amused smirk was playing across Draco's lips as he watched the brunet. He never slept much, did he?

He didn't want to strike a conversation with Harry Potter. Yet, he couldn't watch the boy drain himself, and he didn't suppose that Potter had a wand, because Draco was still in one piece. He traced his fingers across his jaw absent-mindedly, and let out an irritated sigh.

He nicked a warm coat by the door, and walked out of the house. As the door closed behind him, he exhaled and walked a little further. "Having an existential crisis, Potter?"

He snorted, as he turned to face Draco. He was worn out, and had dark rings under his eyes. "A perpetual one. Is it bothering you, Malfoy?"

"Not even remotely," Draco chuckled as he inched closer to him, and a comfortable silence engulfed them. He cleared his throat awkwardly as he held out the black coat at him. "Here, I don't want you to freeze to death."

Potter arched an eyebrow.

"I'm feeling altruistic today, Potter."

"Altruism isn't a trait known to Slytherins," He chuckled, and slipped into the warm coat. "Thank you."

"You don't sleep much, do you?"

The brunet didn't answer, but stared ahead at the sea. Draco thought that he was just going to ignore him, but then: "No, I don't."

"Are you afraid of your dreams?"

Another pause.

"Yes."

Draco didn't laugh. He didn't comment on it. It was familiar to him – To be scared of your own dreams. To wake up in cold sweat, with a scream caught in your throat and being frightened of your mind as it weaves a nightmare as an aftermath of the demons you've faced. Of the mistakes you've made.

"You've been apparating."

"An astute observation, Malfoy." He said with a sharp edge to his voice. "It isn't working."

Draco smirked.

"You can't, and I've told you before – It's surrounded by ancient magic, and it's severed from the rest of the world. There isn't a way out."