Safe.
It's the only coherent truth he manages to pick out in the mess of the aftermath. Draco groans as he props himself up on his elbows.
He is in a room filled with shelves that touch the sky. Boxes of all shapes and sizes are littered around him, a hurricane of exploded memories.
He glances down at the scattered parchment, ink smeared across the once pristine memories. Snape had warned him that this might happen one day, that there was only so much he could hide away. How long has he been here anyway? As Draco straightens up, his hand gets caught on a stray piece of paper.
He frowns at the faded parchment. It looks ancient and worn, frayed at the edges, Draco flips it over.
It's a hastily drawn sketch of a girl with curly hair⸺an inexplicable determination in her expression.
As Gryffindor as they came.
Draco crumples it into a ball in his fist, ready to toss it to the side. It's all more trouble than it's worth but something makes him pause. No.
Breathe in.
It's time.
Breathe out.
It has to be now. He can't keep it inside forever.
Merlin knows he's tried.
Malfoy. Bad faith.
Draco's grip tightens around the crumpled ball as he debates with himself. This is how it all started, isn't it? A simple memory and a simple desire. He just wanted to keep everyone safe.
Fucking hell.
The irreparable damage has already been done. A childhood he can never get back.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Slowly, Draco unravels the sketch, smoothing out the wrinkled parchment as best he can. An array of creases now mar her face, cracks in her bold facade. His fault.
Could the metaphor be more obvious? A strangled noise escapes him. A cry stuck between outraged anger and incomprehensible grief.
All those boxes all that time—a hundred things that went wrong. A thousand moments he could never get back.
How dare they? But he isn't even sure exactly who to blame anymore. Another hiccuping sob and he presses his fist against his mouth, as if he could physically keep the incriminating noise bottled up inside. It has to be now.
His shoulders shake, a violent shudder running through him.
It isn't fair. And he knows it never has been.
But it's okay. It has to be.
Draco slumps back into a heap on the floor, ignoring the litter of parchment and boxes around and beneath him. He has to let go now. All at once, his body convulses. Draco gasps, suddenly desperate for air as his eyes burn—the first tears pool over and streak down his heated face.
He lets them come.
Powerless to do anything but drown in the sensation of emotion, wave after wave of overlapping feelings he can't distinguish anymore.
It's cathartic.
His body shakes and finally, Draco allows himself the luxury he's been denied for so long. Something he should have done ages ago.
Breathe in.
He lets himself grieve.
Breathe out.
o.o.o
YOU ARE READING
And She Was Golden
Fanfiction[Dramione Fic] Their eyes meet just for a fraction of a moment, and that's all it takes. All his boxes and walls come crashing down. He's always been weak in the face of her reality- no matter how furiously he would deny it. Breathe in. Draco Malfoy...
