The Plight- Malfoy x Reader

Jealousy

Otto was outside of Lucius's closed office door, standing by the window. His back was to me and he was... wiping his eyes?

It was the last thing I expected to see when I'd walked into the manor with Draco.

He'd come to 'pick me up' from my 'play date with the Professor'. I'd scowled at his wording and he'd laughed as he swung his arm around my shoulder—messing up my hair with his other hand.

I'd clicked at him in irritation, pushing his hand away as I moved the now disheveled strands of hair from my face, grumbling "I hate it when you do that."

"That was quite the show at dinner," he'd joked pulling me closer into him playfully as we headed towards the floo in the Leaky Cauldron.

I'd fallen silent at the taunt and he'd—sensing it was still a touchy subject—began discussing his plans to buy tickets for us for the quiddach championships.

When we'd gotten back to the manor Draco went right back out to meet up with some friends for nighttime quiddach after grabbing his gear—something he'd invited me to but I'd declined.

I'd had enough excitement to last me through the next couple of days.

I looked down towards the direction of Lucius's office thinking of the talk I knew was going to happen sooner or later.

I'd opted for sooner.

And then there Otto was.

He hadn't noticed me yet—his back and head turned out of his peripheral vision.

"Otto?" I asked. He made no move in response, the only indication he'd heard me was the slight rise of tension in his shoulders.

I took a few steps forward.

"Are you..." I started, hesitating before I continued, "Are you okay?"

He didn't respond.

'Otto's had a difficult life.'

Snape's words stirred some sort of sympathy within me.

We were all just human at the end of the day. Damaged by different things—but felt pain no differently than one another.

Suffering... that's what bound us all together.

Our capacity for a range of emotions—loneliness, sadness, joy, pain...

Maybe those things were expressed and coped with differently from person to person.

And Otto... he had some pain within him—a suffering so deep he had created a wall using his cold demeanor.

One I knew nothing of.

Maybe he wanted someone to notice or care.

I reached out my hand, "I—"

He spun on me—having noticed my movement—face contorting into a rage I hadn't seen in him.

Too much rage.

I'd quickly taken back my hand—but was frozen in fear.