look me in the eyes and burn

Chapter 12 - No place to hide

The room was quiet. No sounds could be heard but the even breathing of the occupants; all fast asleep. Well, all, that is, but one.

Draco's fingertips danced over soft skin, drawing patterns and familiar runes, mapping out the unfamiliar, gaunt body of a familiar soul.

It was obvious that even now, after weeks of finally getting enough to eat and days of constantly taking potions to counteract the effects of malnutrition, Hadrian was still much too skinny and light, too boney and cold. His body simply did not have enough energy to keep itself warm alongside all the other vital functions.

The Basilisk part of him didn't help with that either. The cold temperatures coming up dispersed Hadrian's already little appetite and metabolism, it made him slower and languid; his body just wasn't able to thermoregulate as it should.

Sighing, Draco stopped his movements, his hand coming to lay flat on Hadrian's back.

Darkness was still covering the room. And, the longer Draco looked — the more he tried to think of anything — the more stifling it became. The more blinding. If not for Hadrian's cool weight on top of him, his legs between Draco's, and his breathing tickling his neck, he wouldn't have been able to breathe.

He would have been caught, trapped and imprisoned, while his mind supplied him with horrific images to see in the dark.

His chest constricted, before his breathing evened out again and his heartbeat returned to its normal speed.

The silence washed over him next — just as overwhelming as the dark. It pressed on his ears and every hitching breath, every creak and wave was magnified by a hundred, a thousand.

The constant sound of blood rushing through his head was ignored in favour of straining his ears to listen to... something.

Draco was waiting for... for what? The muffled sound of footsteps? Of wet coughs or the sound of a gun going off? An explosion that wouldn't come?

Dear Merlin, why did they have to return to this time? Why not earlier, where they wouldn't have been under constant scrutiny of literally everyone? Where there were no expectations for either of them or their behaviour, their relationship with one another.

Why couldn't they have simply kept their own bodies and become their own persons without the pressure of being the Boy-Who-Lived or The son of Lord Lucius Malfoy?

Hadrian would have been able to behave and act like he wanted. He wouldn't have to play the role of Dumbledore's naïve, eager-to-please Golden Boy, who couldn't do anything but what the old man wanted of him without raising suspicions.

Not that Dumbledore wouldn't be watching his every move anyway, but at least he'd not be able to notice a sudden change in him — he had no idea how his lamb actually was or who was hidden behind his brilliant green eyes (outside of the Dursley's watch, that is, considering he'd been fucking spying on him since forever and never done anything about the abuse).

Draco himself wouldn't have been Crucio'd within an inch of his life, either. The Manor — his childhood home — could have been a safe heaven, away from the public eye and filled with knowledge and potential.

Not now, though.

Now he readied for a fight if he saw even just a hint of red out of the corner of his eyes, waiting for the pain of the torture curse to start.

Now he had the Dark Lord living it up there; torturing his parents nilly willy and destroying ancient relics in a hissy fit.

Anything would have been better, truly; from returning to their small first year bodies (even including being treated like clueless, stupid children and unable to really do anything, seeing as they were children), to keeping their adult forms and the autonomy that came with it.