Storm In The Quiet. DRARRY

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it was the dead of night when he woke up, drenched in sweat and heart pounding. draco malfoy's infamous nightmares never ceased, even after that noseless freaks death. they seem to haunt him more and more each day, even more now that the 7th year students were being called back to complete their studies. draco had been thinking about dropping out and becoming a goblin, but he had to finish school and make his mother proud. he just couldn't face hogwarts anymore, he shouldn't be worried he knows that but after all these years of being trapped with voldemort made him blind to what he was doing wrong. 

he was proud of himself though, proud of changing sides, proud of informing mcgonagall of the death eaters and he was so damn proud to be alive. he curled up in a fetal position on the soft green bed, casting a small lumos spell to see the inside of the bed. his curtains were drawn so to not disturb his roommates, draco quietly slid out as he  grabbed his bag and sauntered towards the door. he had been wearing a large shirt and jeans because contrary to popular belief, sleeping in jeans does feel good.

the dim light coming from the fireplace in the common room was the only way he could see, the lumos spell had quickly worn off. he walked around for a while, breathing in some air that wasn't sweat stained. the ambience of the room made it hard to concentrate, it was too dark and cold and made draco feel like he was at another death eater meeting where all he could do was sit and be quiet or else he'd find himself in immense pain later. there were times where that pain would find him wherever he went, he felt his skin burn at it as if someone had buried his heart in magma.

perhaps he'd have to carry that burden with him, the phantom feeling of unforgivable curses, because he knew he deserved it after all the pain he'd caused. draco deserved to writhe in it. but he didn't want to. the common room seemed to choke him, the walls closing in around him and trapping him. he snuck out the room and into the hallways of a place he wanted to call home but couldn't, Everything seemed to be too much for him every noise and all the colours. they choked him at times and his ears filled with ringing at it. he always felt like he was drowning during those time, trying to reach the surface but always being pulled down by his past, draco hadn't recalled leaving the castle but he found himself surrounded by the forest outside. 

He was a stain against the dark shine of the of the forest, a tangle of jagged angles and dove-like hair. He always felt out of place, never belonging anywhere. Draco knew the feeling. He had courted the moon enough times to understand the temptation of simply erasing himself from the world. 

he sat amidst a small field, it was surrounded by flowers and moonlight danced around it like a rain of stars

There was nothing but a soulless void inside him now, yawning and stretching out into oblivion. There was nothing, a gaping hole where his Grace used to be. It made everything so hard. There was almost a sensation of someone sitting on his chest or squeezing a very tight fist around his heart. He couldn't breathe, he felt every ounce of guilt take over him.

He wrenched his fingers into the soil. He wanted to scream but he was so tired, too tired to keep going. he pulled his knees to his chest, body wracked with shudders,  stained in a trail of tears long since pouring down from his silver eyes. The skeletal husks of orchids lay about him, the scent of their slow, rotting demise perfuming the air, a sickly sweetness of graveyards and memorials. he let his mouth fill with the bitter flavour of blood as he bit his lip, trying so damn hard to push back the sobs. his throat seized and burnt. everyone had walls, whether they guarded one's heart or mind. but those walls always crumble and come tumbling down, destroying even the strongest souls, Draco thought, rolling onto his back

the tears rolled down the sides of his face, dripping around his ears. sometimes those walls are visible, in the shape of scars. Draco certainly had his fair share of scars, some meant nothing while others made him so sick that he'd cover them up. the moonlight glistened on his face, he felt like an invisible war, a neglected wound in the midst of battle, a storm in the quiet.