4 || s l e e p w a l k i n g

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my skins smothering me, help me find a way to breathe
           <sleepwalking by bring me the horizon

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It had been two weeks since Draco had arrived at Malia's house and Draco couldn't quite say that everything between them was perfect because it wasn't. But, he knew friendship didn't come in a snap of the fingers.

But he was willing to put his all into it.

Malia was currently at a friends house much to his dismay, so he had the house to himself. He didn't like the silence, it reminded him of dark times.

His mind drifted to his parents. As a young boy, Draco had always looked up to his father, like he was a Muggle God. It was his father who instilled the blood superiority nonsense into his head. Draco had realised that it was all just nonsense now.

He had Malia as an example. She was a half-blood; but much smarter and capable than him. Or if he really wanted to test his pride, Granger. She was a muggle-born and practically screamed it from the way she spoke and acted. Yet she was the brightest witch of their age.

His mother- he didn't know where she was. He had been assuming that she had killed herself after Lucius was killed but he could never be sure. Narcissa knew her husband was an awful man and did unforgivable things but she still loved him more than anything.

Draco hated his father. His father made him think fighting for the side of evil was the right path to choose and set Draco on his way down the road of death. His father had made a monster out of Draco- a lethal weapon, and Draco hated what he had become.

But he hoped Malia could be his anchor; to set him on the path of good and rid him of the darkness that made him feel ever so dirty.

The mark on his arm repulsed him. To a muggle, it could seem like one of those 'tattoos' he read about in a muggle paper, but the mark meant so much more. It had the power to bring death to innocents and that shook Draco to the core.

Draco had already killed too many people and sometimes he would look at his hands and see the blood, stained on his skin forever. He would scrub them until they were raw, but nothing would ever change. Soap couldn't change actions- or memories.

But nothing could ever wash away the guilt. It would come in small doses and when he was feeling his lowest, that's when it would lodge itself into his shoulders, unmoving.

Draco knew that the war was coming; it was coming on strong and quickly. Things would return to the way they were before and he had no idea what to do. He had someone to keep alive now, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to fight anymore.

His reason for coming back was true; Draco wasn't one for lying, but the other reason he left out was that he needed her to right him and keep him from hurting anyone anymore because his conscience wouldn't be able to handle that.

Draco had hoped that maybe they could return to being like they were before school. Draco and Malia's mothers had been best friends since they were in Hogwarts and right up until Malia's mother was killed. Draco's mother was Malia's godmother so his mother would often have her at his manor before Hogwarts- how Draco and Malia became best friends.

His father would always go on about how 'he was disgusted that there was a half-blood in his home' but his mother never cared. Draco's mother never really cared about blood purity, all she cared about was the wellbeing of her husband- but mostly her son.

As much as Draco despised Malia's friends, he would do anything for her and if that meant tolerating her friends, so be it.

In Hogwarts days, having to act coldly towards Malia was like torture. His father told him she wasn't Slytherin, so she couldn't be his friend. Lucius had Snape watch over him and Draco would have a howler arrive if he was even seen looking at her in a civil way. It was ridiculous having your own father shouting at you for having a friend of a different house, and Draco couldn't stand it. His mother on the other hand tried to reason with Lucius but she was unsuccessful. Draco would sometimes catch his mother smiling at Malia when she would see her at Kings Cross.

Every hurtful comment he made didn't just hurt Malia, they hurt him too. Of course, she would never know that, but it wasn't like he ever enjoyed it. Not like he did with the rest of her friends. And sometimes she'd cry, especially if he said anything about her mother- and in those moments, Draco wanted nothing more than to run after her, hug her and tell her it meant nothing but, he could never.

But the time that hurt him the most, was the Yule Ball. He could remember how beautiful she was in her dress and how happy she looked. That night, Draco was almost drowning in his jealousy. She was asked by Cedric Diggory- and Draco was more than sure that he wasn't the only one who was more than jealous. Even Theodore Nott commented on her that night. His exact quote, if Draco could remember it was; 'If that was served to me on a silver platter, I certainly would not say no.' Even Pansy was jealous that night- and that was rare.

Draco missed his friends. Pansy had become a lot less annoying; her high pitched voice had hardened and her tone was actually bearable now. Blaise was the one with the best moral compass and he kept them all sane. Theo was loud, vulgar and obnoxious but if Draco could be completely honest, he would never change him. Theo was always drinking and bringing girls home, and Draco, Blaise and Pansy would bet on how long he would last as his usual record has been 5 minutes.

He missed the apartment they all stayed in. They were his best friends and Draco knew that he would never find other people like them. His friends knew where he was going and what he was going to do. Draco knew they had been reading his diary (that he no longer wrote in because of them) and he would come home from patrol, hearing their shocked whispers as they tried to understand Draco's diary. He never directly told them where he was going or what he was going to do but they all caught on of where he was going.

Draco never cared about a lot of people in a time like this but if he really thought about it, he could only name 5 people who meant something to him. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or terrible thing.

Bad or not, losing them was the last thing he wanted.

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just a look into draco's thoughts and more importantly- a filler. sorry for it being so short!

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