take my hoodie ✓

forty-four | memories

angus cloud died aka fez from euphoria i am shook

also i watched the barbie movie it was beautiful

~no pov

Regret.

Even after his comfy nap on sticks and stones that could break your bones, Draco still felt regret, regret, regret. Especially because it was some random man that found him and took him to hospital. 

The last time he'd been there, he had attempted suicide. His mother was distraught and his father was oblivious. And he was almost admitted to a psych ward.

It brought back dark memories, memories he didn't want.

And it was worse now, because his parents were obviously his emergency contacts. Parents. Plural. 

His mother and father were both there. 

They were arguing, but quietly. Blame was being thrown around, and when eyes shied away and ignored the married couple, a hand was raised and a punch was thrown. 

Narcissa Malfoy wanted to leave the country and start a new life in Paris, blending in with her fluent French and chic couture. She would take her son with her and be a famous but anonymous mother-son, designer-model duo. 

Her art would be unnamed, and her son would be faceless.

But she couldn't live that dream and she couldn't love her son. Not the way she planned. Her dreams of being a good mum were thrown out the window years ago, and now she just ignored him.

She hated that she was a bad mother.

Lucius Malfoy was arrogant, angry and adamant. He was adamant that Narcissa was to blame for her son being in hospital, but how dare he? He was just as absent as she was.

To give the boy so much freedom was both of their faults, but it was caused by Lucius. Had Lucius not tore away his wife's mental stability, stomped on it and then shredded it to pieces, she would've been present.

But she wasn't. It was Lucius' fault, and he had the audacity to blame Narcissa.

"You can see him now.." The nurse interrupted the loud and slightly violent argument. She was awkward about it, but gave Narcissa a small smile because she knew more than she saw.

In which Narcissa smiled back, forgetting everything that just happened.

Until she saw her son.

"What on earth, Draco?"

"What on earth, Draco?"

"Mother?" 

The blond was sitting in the nearest bathroom to Narcissa's part of the house. He hadn't intended on throwing up so close to his mother, but he didn't have time. It was that or throwing up on the floor.

"What are you doing here?"

"Erm, using the toilet?"

"This is my floor."

There were multiple floors in the Malfoy Manor. Draco, Lucius and Narcissa each had one of their own, and the others had random studies, living rooms, alcohol and smoking rooms, kitchens and whatnot. Surprisingly, there was a floor for all the maids/servants too, shared of course.

Lucius wasn't that generous. To give each of them a floor was like giving Jeff Bezos the world's money - 'they don't need it'. What a dick, am I right?