Not A Chance [HP × MLB]

4 - Familiarity [Draco/Adrien]

Oh well. Draco was late. He rushed into the classroom, only to receive uncomfortable stares from everyone. They were all fawning over him! He became nervous. He but he could take it, especially when he is- was the Slytherin Prince; he was 'trained'.

Around the corner of his eyes, he saw a guy, who looked a little like Blaise Zabinni. 'What coincidences', he thought. 'Blaise' smiled at him, showing him the empty seat beside him. He wanted Draco to sit by him by the looks of it. He thanked him and settled beside him.

"Hi, I'm Nino Lahiffe. Nice to meet you, Adrien." He introduced.

"Yes, glad to be your acquaintance." Draco replied. Nino furrowed a brow, as if Draco's formality was abnormal.

Draco then took a good look at Lahiffe. Why was he calling him 'Adrien'? After being called 'Adrien Agreste', he learnt that 'Agreste' was the last name of the boy. Was this something that muggles do? - Calling others by their first names?

"Good morning class," The woman in front spoke, cutting off Draco's train of thoughts. "I am Miss Caline Bustier, 'Ms Bustier' is fine. I am your homeroom teacher for the year. As per your schedule, we will be starting our lessons on Wednesday, as of now, shall we do a brief self-introduction? Let us start with... You," She pointed to Draco's right. The short red-head was chosen. 'Wh- what's with the 'coincidences'? A 'Weasley'?'

"Sabrina? Why is she first? Ugh! Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!" The blonde girl beside the Sabrina muggle whined. What a child. 'Whinny weasel,' Draco mused, smirking mentally.

"Chl-Chloe! You can go fi-"

"No, you can go first... Sabrina. Chloe needs to learn to wait. Now," Miss Bustier urged. "go on."

'I'm liking this woman...' Draco mused.

"Um... Okay. I'm Sabrina... ..." As soon as she started to speak, Draco tuned her off, not listening to everyone's introduction. Until...

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng!" She said. Who says their own name like that, he frowned. "I'm the daughter of a baker-"

"Ew!" The blonde yelled, making a face that looked more disgusting than what she had just said. What was wrong with her?

"Stop it blon- Chloe. You're being rude." 'Hurts my already bleeding ears, bloody hell.'

"Adrien! Why are you on her side? You should be on mine!"

' 'Adrien'... ' Draco wasn't Adrien. He wasn't someone else. He is- was... Draco Malfoy. The great Slytherin Prince and Malfoy Heir!

"It's alright, Adrien," The blueberry head grinned.

"Alright? Who's all right? I'm half left you know..." Draco smirked. 'Good job, Draco! You deserve some pancake!'

The blueberry was taken aback for a moment before collecting her cool again. She chuckled. "Yes, we are all half right and left, hm?" Draco nodded. Precisely!

"Please continue, Marinette." The woman laughed.

Blueberry's eyes curved upwards. What a smile.

"I just migrated here a while ago, I hope to make some new friends! That's all," Seemingly satisfied, Blueberry took her seat again.

Lah- Nino went after. Unsurprisingly, this man liked music, considering the 'headphones' hooked around his neck.

It was Draco's turn. He rose and turned to his classmates. This was half of his daily classes' classmates. 'That was confusing-'

"My name is Dr-Adrien Agreste. Glad to be your acquaintances. I like... uh..." Draco stopped. Draco was controlled his whole life, he could never have his own opinions, and now, he didn't even know what he likes.

"-? Adrien? Are you okay?" Draco snapped back into reality. In front of him was his prof- teacher. "Yes..."

"Would you be able to continue? On what you like?"

"I... don't actually know myself," Draco laughed humorlessly. It grew quiet. The silence was suffocating Draco, he could hear his ears ringing now. Softly and barely any movement, but he could feel it, the bile rising up his esophagus. His stomach churned and his vision blurred. What was happening to him? Draco started to hyperventilate, the loud throbbing in his ears made it worse. What had cause this? 'Ah...', Draco remembered, before letting the darkness take him away.

**********

Draco's hands were paling, cold and numb from the cold. It was in the middle of winter, Draco was alone. His eyes slowly shifted from staring at the wall for the past don't-know-how-many-hours. Draco took a deep breath which he immediately regretted as his broken ribs pierced him. It hurt.

The surrounding was not unfamiliar, instead, it was a place where he had once spent half his life in as a toddler - the dungeon.

Draco hated the silence. Every time he was left down here, he could be down here for from days to weeks in a row in silence, nothing but his own breathing to be heard. Being down here had traumatised him. Being in silence was traumatising for a young child like Draco.

The silence always made Draco feel insane, as though he wasn't there at all, but just in his mind. Draco would sometimes speak to himself, but the echo was scary, like it wanted to haunt him. He needed to feel alive. Wanted to feel alive. But it never happens. Once in a while on a good day, his father would come around to 'check' on him and 'visit' him. Draco was always awaiting that day, when his father would come and talk to him, even if it was just for a bit; because it felt like a long while.

Sometimes on other days, his mother was allowed down here. He quite hated her back then, he never really saw her face. If not, she would always be crying while taking Draco into her hands, rocking him back and forth, apologising to him. Draco never liked that. He felt like she hated him. But he was young, he didn't know how much despair she was in, watching her own son getting hit and beaten at the hands of her husband, the father of the child.

Young Draco actually had the thought that 'Hey, if you love me, you'll spend time with me, be it getting hit or just verbally reprimanding me!'. Oh how wrong he was, not knowing that his mother was the one who really loved him. He could never see that.

Draco tugged at the chains around his wrists, thinking back on how ungrateful he was to his mother, instead thinking that whatever his father did was right. Draco felt the cold, unlikely tears trail down his cheekbones, down his chin, down down down. That was what he felt. Down. In hell. What had he done to ruin his own young mind that he couldn't differentiate true love from abuse.

"Draco,"

Draco turned around quickly, but the movement slightly made Draco dizzy. He noted the tall man ahead, his long hair falling off his shoulders. His lips moved.

"My child..." Draco cringed. "I'm coming for you...

even if you're in Paris..."