Slipping Away // drarry ❁

Chapter 2

Draco
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Draco woke up coated in a sheer layer of sweat, his chest was heaving and the thin fabric of his nightgown was clinging to his chest. His eyes stung with unshed tears as his body shivered.

He didn't know what to do.

He dragged his feeble hands down his face and let out a strangled sigh. He couldn't do this, he couldn't go back. Not after everything he's done. With every life that was taken because of him. Everyone would hate him, and he understood why.

He was a monster, a traitor, and worst of all a death eater. He'd hate him too, and he did. He hated himself more than anyone else ever could.

He pushed himself off the bed as black spots littered his vision and a wave of nausea hit him. The best he could do was swallow the feeling and pad toward his wardrobe, he pulled out a dress shirt and black trousers, they both were the smallest size he could buy, yet they still hung loosely from his body.

Though he couldn't see that, all he saw was a pudgy fuck up with fabric bursting at the seams.

No matter what clothing he wore, how little he ate, or what he ate, he would never be happy with himself.

He couldn't help but feel sick at the mere sight of himself, pure hatred boiled through his veins at every glance in the mirror. Dead eyes that acted like windows into his inky soul were the only thing that stared back at him, trailing down his body taking in every flaw and scoffing. He hated that man in the mirror, the one that criticized his every movement, the one that spat words like venom that burned every inch of his ego.

The one who acted as a ghost who won't evaporate and continues to haunt him while casting its gloomy shadows into the depths of his brain. Wrapping his frail mind with chains that won't seem to break. A near-spitting image of his father, and honestly that's what scares him most. A nagging fear of becoming the beast tugging at his consciousness every given moment. Refusing him a break.

He can't escape his past when it continues to hunt him like a petrified deer in the woods. May it be through dreams, or letters from the war zone itself, it will always chase him and drag him into the dark webs of memories.

He slumped his shoulders and changed quickly refusing to look down, not even bothering to use the bathroom. His brain was pounding against his skull, he felt so sick.

If just one letter fucked him up so much, how in Merlin's name would he manage a whole year?

That's when he broke down, his knees giving out, causing him to sink to the cold hardwood beneath him.

he was so tired of everything. He was tired of dragging his cold heavy body through the trenches of never-ending sorrow, he was tired of trying so hard to redeem himself from the slaughtered name he used to wear as though it were a crown. He was just so, so tired.

"Suck it up."

"Don't be weak."

"Keep your bloody mouth shut."

More of the constant reminders his father gave, firmly prohibiting Draco from crying. Or showing any emotion for that matter, which is something he became rather skilled in. Until It all became too much, to the point he was drowning in nothing but pure emotion. Sometimes his father would catch him in the act and beat him until he only saw black and blue. A truly fucked antic, but it willed him never to be seen in such a weak state of mind ever again.

So quickly, he dried his fallen tears with the sleeve of his shirt and let out a shaky breath.

He had to be strong, if not for himself, for his mother. But it was so hard to keep acting okay, especially when fear lurked in every corner of his mind.

"DRACO!" he heard someone shout from downstairs, a voice that instantly sent a shiver down his spine.

He pushed himself up quickly, causing yet another dizzy spell to engulf his head. He tried to blink it away and hurry downstairs, but it was already too late.

He heard the sound of a cane leading a pair of polished Oxfords up the pristine wooden stairs and panic was sent throughout his entire being.

The best he could do was straighten himself out, shoulders back, head high, and arms folded behind his back.

His door flung open and revealed long silver hair and a sharp face distorted by blinding rage, It was his father.

He strode toward Draco's shaking figure and stopped right in front of his face, still towering over him like a cat hunched over a cowering mouse.

"When I call you I expect you to come." his father said coldly, "Lazy, pathetic boy."

"I-" Draco started, before getting cut off by a swift slap to the face.

"Don't you fucking dare talk back to me!"

Draco looked up, fear evident on his face. Causing a scoff to erupt from the man, "Weak, disgustingly weak. After all these years of training, you still never learn." he spat, grabbing Draco by the collar, "One more slip-up and I won't hesitate to throw you in the cellar, do you understand?"

Draco could feel his hot breath on his face, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up.

He nodded quickly trying to get away, "Use you're words boy!" his father yelled, tightening his hold on his collar.

"Yes, Father!" He yelped.

After what felt like minutes his father threw him on the floor, "Oh, and do clean yourself up. You look awful."

Without another word, he strode out of the room, leaving Draco sitting on the floor trying to level out his laboured breathing.

Just a glimpse of what he experienced daily, though this time he got off unscathed for the most part. His body having become numb to physical hits and blows, he was able to shrug off the bruise that was already blossoming on his porcelain skin.

He slowly pushed himself off the floor for what seemed like the hundredth time that day and strode to the bathroom.

This year was already looking grim for Draco Malfoy.