Floating (Drarry)

Feelings

Hey. Sorry for the rubbish updates. School is fucking shit and I'm failing so bad. Somehow I manage to spend a whole weekend looking at my ceiling but it still manages to go by fast. I wish I wasn't lazy man.

Let's try to get 8 votes :)))

It was finally Saturday and Draco lay alone in the dungeons. He'd drunk himself sick every night and refused to speak more than a word to anyone. It had all gone wrong. 

He couldn't even think about kissing Dean without feeling physically ill. His heart would scream in his chest and his throat would close up. The panicked feeling he often got enveloping his entire body. 

Malfoy would quickly look away when the gryfindoor tried to catch his eye and his cheeks would burn with shame. 

He regretted it more everyday. He felt so incredibly guilty and disgusting and it had consumed him completely.

Draco refused to imagine his father's reaction. Instead he would chant self deprecating insults until he'd gained control of his thoughts and then when night would come he'd drink like it could save him.

Today was not going to be any different.

"Draco!" the blonde turned around, It was Dean Thomas. Malfoy walked quicker, hand tightening around the bottle of muggle alcohol. The gryfindoor caught up with him anyway.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" the Slytherin hissed.

"You kissed me, draco, you can't expect me just to forget that."

"You have too," Malfoy pleaded, worry creasing his features.

"I can't,". 

He pulled Draco towards him, kissing him harsher and faster than the week before. It was almost desperate. Malfoy pushed him away and the black haired boy couldn't hide the hurt expression that flashed across his face as he looked at the blonde. 

"I'm not fucking gay, I don't like you dean," Draco shouted, harshly.

"Yes, you do. You know it, you do like me." the gryfindoor shouted back, raw desperation tearing through his voice.

"You're a fucking fag, dean. No one could ever like you," Draco seethed.  

Dean Thomas looked like he'd been slapped. His eyes were filled with pain and his mouth sat slightly open. He just stood there completely shocked.

"I hope you drink yourself to fucking death, Malfoy," he said, venom dripping from his words as tears slipped down his face. 

Dean Thomas had seen love in an empty heart and had only himself to blame. He sobbed as he walked back to the common room not caring if anyone saw him in the dim candle light. 

All his thought were on the blonde Slytherin and as he lay in bed he wondered why people stayed longer in his head than in his life. 

Seamus finnigan looked over to his friend, worry evident in his eyes. But it only hurt Dean more.

The feelings he'd had for Draco would be a secret he'd carry to his grave. The pain he felt could not be shared and so he pulled the blanket tighter around him, yearning for any comfort.

Young love always hurts the most. Children have never pulled themselves from a dark place so the sadness seems eternal and any hope feels futile. 

But Dean let Seamus wrap his arms around him and he fell asleep without struggle. The memories gone till morning.

Half the bottle was gone but it still hadn't filled Draco. He rocked backwards and forwards, mumbling to himself as he clawed at his throat. It wasn't enough. 

He rose unsteadily to his feet, kicking the drink and watching it smash as it rolled down the stairs.

He wondered if he could break that easily. It felt like it and he hated that. He wanted to be Malfoy again even if it meant he was an emotionless prick.

One more week. Then he promised himself he would get the control back.

He bounded up the stairs to the Ravenclaw common room. Slightly intoxicated but still alert. The same boy answered the portrait and Bletchley seemed to be waiting for him.

"Come with me," Miles beckoned, pulling the unsteady third year up the stairs towards the astronomy tower.

"Wherre aree wee goinng?" Draco slurred, the alcohol he had consumed finally catching up with him.

"I can fix you," Bletchley said with a smirk. Malfoy's breath caught in his throat, he didn't want to fuck the Ravenclaw. 

Miles pulled out a small bag with some kind of green plant in it and Draco sighed in relief, feeling slightly embarrassed. 

"It's muggle shit," the sixth year explained, "the professors will never catch it because their heads are too far up their magic relying asses,". 

Draco realised he was probably like this, even if his father was too blame. 

Malfoy watched on intrigued as miles removed the seeds and stems, rolled the paper and filled it with the crushed plant before adding a filter to the end. He pinched the paper with his fingers and it transformed into a cone shape.

Bletchley lit the joint, took a drag and handed it over to Draco watching him do the same.

"Shi..it" Malfoy whispered after the third exhale and he felt his body relax almost immediately. The Ravenclaw laughed, watching him and agreed everything felt better with the strong smoke in his lungs.

They stayed smoking for half an hour more, the conversation easy between them. Draco finally sloped back to the dungeons as it got close to curfew, his pockets filled with the drug and eyes red.

The high didn't wear off till he was fast asleep and Malfoy slept better than he had in weeks.

Sorry it's short but I've already started on the next chapter. It's Easter holidays soon so I'll be able to write loads.

Please vote and comment it would mean the world <3