Icicle Fingers (Drarry)

Chapter 22

Hey... 

Hey... How y'all doing... ;v;

(A/N)

•Draco•
(⚠️)
Draco's leg gave out halfway up to the Astronomy tower, and he collided painfully with the cold, unforgiving stone. He and stairs hadn't exactly been on excellent terms lately.

The warmth was dying within him, though its memory still lingered on his lips, in his chest. Its absence almost hurt more than the pounding agony in his ankle as he practically crawled up the steps. He felt like absolute scum as he did. Like some squashed insect scuttling over the clean and polished rock, spilling the contents of its exoskeleton everywhere.

In his case it was blood. He was trailing blood up another staircase. How comical.

Draco looked behind him, just to catch a glimpse of the chipped but shining stairs; now ruined by the glistening red that tailed him. 

He had been ruined too. The notion pulsed like a single heartbeat behind his eyes. He had been ruined, and now he would be fixed. It would all be fixed. Wiped clean from his mind, leaving the bone spotless - and most importantly- nothing but bone. 

There was no use worrying about things anymore. It was a veil one could not reach behind, even with talons. Glass is harder to shatter the smaller the shards become -and he wouldn't even be a grain of sand. He just needed to pull the wreckage of his body upwards, and everything would be okay. Nerves that lit up like glowing hot wires would be shut off, drowned until they sparked and went out. Injuries would be nothing more than misshapen freckles, and scars would melt into nothing as they slid off the bone as one with the skin.

He could fix everything. The moonlight was framed by the door just a few arms' lengths above him -by his way out. By the one answer the world had ever given him. Light dancing on the surface, that was all it was. He had to still his unease like a fearful child. Hold it by the hand and speak words of comfort in its small, delicate ears. A weak body composed of mostly cartilage and fat, he'd have to slow down, let it tread softly next to him. 

When he caught its attention, and its large shiny eyes would stare up at him like he knew every road in the universe like a line in his palm, he would smile at it-

And pretend that he really was one hundred percent sure this was the right thing to do. He couldn't afford not to be, after all.

Guilt and sorrow decays in pace with the flesh. There would be no sin and grime left once he became nothing more than a body.

Well, other than on the floor. His bad, really and genuinely.

The pathetic remnants of someone irrelevant at this point, clambered upwards. Slowly making his way to the opening.

And then he did, the freezing night air gripping onto his skin like it longed for warmth. His face seemed to fade out of focus, numbed by the cold.

He dug his hands into the cracks between the tiles. Their sharp edges stung as they pushed into his fingertips. Not that it mattered, not now.

Draco Malfoy hauled himself to the railing, using it to pull himself onto his good foot.

He took a deep breath -steeling himself- before he ended up doing the one thing he had decided he wouldn't.

He looked down.

He seemed to wake up and throw off a sheet he hadn't even noticed. Letting the cold truly cut into each pore as he melted back into the world and all its horrible sensations.