Icicle Fingers (Drarry)

Chapter 13

•Draco•
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On Sunday morning the storm arrived, in the form of a bright red letter.

It had been delivered by his father's owl Vulcan. A fierce-looking eastern scops owl. Draco's blood had been frozen solid ever since he'd seen it fly into the great hall.

Now he sat paralysed, letter lying in his hands. Eyes all around directed at him. The exhaustion had disappeared from him entirely, as if he hadn't only slept a couple hours that night.

"Do not follow me." He hissed to the surrounding Slytherins, who had all turned their heads to face him, movement having suddenly retourned to his body.

Then he threw himself out of his chair, running as if his life depended on it. He needed to make it out of the hall before the crimson envelope from hell exploded.

Laughter filled the immense chamber. A result of his ridiculous display no doubt. After all, the hated Draco Malfoy was sprinting desperately out of the hall over a dumb letter. A howler even. He felt his stomach lurch with shame as he forced his legs into motion.

Gasping for air, he was nearing the exit. Draco tore through the air, throwing himself out the door. He felt the letter combust within his grip before he could close the colossal wooden door. Letting the first roar of "DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY!" into the hall. He could hear it ricochet off the walls before he slammed the door shut.

"M-muffliato." He uttered, suddenly unable to speak clearly. Internally praying the spell would work either way.

"I REGRET GIVING YOU THAT MIDDLE NAME, FOR YOU WILL NEVER AMOUNT TO HALF THE MAN I AM!" His father's voice screamed, making his hands start to shake.

"I CANNOT BELIEVE WHAT A FAILURE YOU ARE! YOU ARE AN EMBARRASSMENT TO OUR FAMILY! HOW DARE YOU CAUSE SUCH DISHONOUR TO THE ANCIENT HOUSE OF MALFOY!"

A temporary silence appeared, as to let the words echo in his head before the screaming resumed.

"YOU ARE LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED HOME FOR CHRISTMAS, LET ALONE STILL ABLE TO CALL THIS YOUR HOME! I CAN ASSURE YOU THAT THE CONSEQUENCES OF YOUR FAILURE WILL BE AGONY! THAT WILL SURELY GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO BE AFRAID OF, YOU PATHETIC EXCUSE OF A SON!"

"Don't disappoint me further, Draco. I'll be seeing you very soon." Were the letter's last words, drenched in so much venom it was almost as bad as the screaming. Almost.

And then it was finally over, leaving nothing but a small amount of ash cupped in his hands. He dusted it off, trying to rid it from his mind. 

He felt himself fall back, and slide down the cobblestone wall until he was sitting on the ground. He could feel tears building behind his eyelids, burning like acid as they formed.

Something had clogged his breathing, perhaps the words "pathetic excuse of a son". Leaving him gasping for air and trembling like a leaf caught in wind.

He didn't want to cry again, but it didn't seem like he had a choice.

All that he was trying to push into the very back of his skull spilled out of his eyes. Leaving him a sobbing mess. He couldn't even bring the melting heap that was his brain to fret over how anyone could find him like this. Anyone could open that door, and see the ruthless Malfoy he had just rebuilt wailing into his hands like a baby.  

That anyone was Harry Potter, for the second time. He would've laughed at the irony of the world, if he wasn't busy sinking through the marble floor once more.