Scattered Pieces (Drarry Fanfic)

Chapter Four: Denials and Obsessions

Draco stared blankly at the depressingly grey scene outside his kitchen window. The weather was positively atrocious. Heavy rains had been pelting London for the better part of two days. And even when it occasionally stopped pouring out, it remained gloomy and overcast; the air heavy and damp, clinging uncomfortably to the skin like a wet blanket. It didn't bother Draco much though. He was indifferent to it all.

He sighed, mentally chastising himself. Clearly Potter is an exception.

Setting his empty cup onto the counter, Draco listlessly scanned his small flat and a small smirk filled with irony and pride quirked at his lips. If someone had told him ten years ago that he'd be living without Magic, serving coffee and tea to Muggles as his career choice, he'd have no doubt called them all sorts of colourful names and hexed them to oblivion.

Who would have thought? He mused, taking in the simplistic design of the cozy, one-bedroom flat. It had been a struggle the first year he lived out here on his own, learning how to work the various Muggle appliances without burning down the entire building. If it hadn't been for Old Stubbs, Draco doubted he'd have survived unscathed.

He'd been thoroughly impressed by the Muggles' ingenuity and inventions—the fascinating contraptions and gadgets that made their lives easier despite their lack of Magic. It was all so novel and he'd surprisingly loved every minute of discovery.

Snapping himself out of his musings, Draco glanced at the clock and nervously chewed his bottom lip. It had been a fortnight since the incident at the cafe and the entire minute he'd been a ball of frayed nerves, jumpy and anxious. Just the mere thought of Harry finding him sent Draco into an almost nervous breakdown. Thankfully, Stubbs had given him leave from work. The cantankerous, old wizard had also been worried that The Prat Who Lived to Torment Draco hadn't given up on tracking Draco down. Knowing Harry the way Draco did, he'd have to agree with the old man.

For the past couple of weeks, Draco had stayed cooped up in his flat, barely going out save for the occasional unavoidable errand. Stubbs had diligently kept him updated though and so far, it seemed, Draco was in the clear. There had been no other visits from Potter or Granger. However, they could never be too sure. They were dealing with wizards after all, powerful ones for that matter. They could have very well been staking out the cafe with Magic or Polyjuice Potions and there was no way for Stubbs to tell unless it hit him right in the face. Draco could only hope for the best.

6:09

Draco's shift started at 7 AM. He was due to come back today but he couldn't get himself to move from where he stood, seemingly rooted to the spot. He glanced down at the plate of eggs, bacon, and buttered toast sitting untouched in front of him, and felt bile violently roil, threatening to surge up and out.

Draco clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to hurl the nonexistent contents of his stomach. He hadn't been able to keep his food down since that encounter. The few bites he'd been able to swallow almost always came back up. He'd been surviving on tea, coffee, water, and the occasional biscuit. Even then, his mostly liquid diet had, on more than one occasion, made his stomach heave.

Ah, yes, cigarettes. He mustn't forget those. Yet another rather enjoyable Muggle vice he'd picked up. A very Malfoy sneer stretched across Draco's usually impassive face at the thought of how his father would react if he knew. The man would probably cane him or just straight up hex him. Draco chuckled darkly. It wasn't that he despised the man. Not anymore, at least. He was just... indifferent to Lucius Malfoy now. There was nothing. He felt nothing, whenever his father ever crossed his mind.