Eighth Year (Drarry Fanfic)

So near, yet so far...

It took Draco a long moment to realise what the wet spots on the parchment were. Tears. Surprised, he touched his cheek and found it drenched. He wasn't even aware that he'd been crying. He thought he'd been drained of all emotion when it came to Lucius.

But he was wrong.

Inhaling a heaving breath, Draco felt the dam reigning in his grief, anger, resentment, and love for the man who was his father crumble. Bone-wracking sobs shook his entire frame as he wept, clutching at his Mother's letter. Memories of his father swirled in Draco's mind and he let the tears come.

He wept for the man who used to carry young Draco atop his shoulders as they strolled around the grounds of Malfoy Manor. He wept for the man who had gifted Draco his first practice broom and beamed at him with pride when he learned how to fly. He wept for the man who used to read Draco bedtime stories and lingered at his side when he couldn't sleep. He wept for the man who used to gaze at Draco's Mother with so much love as though she was the sun, the moon, the whole world itself. He wept for the man his father used to be before Lucius lost himself, warped by his own arrogance and fear and corrupted by the twisted ideals fed to him by a lunatic.

But Draco didn't weep for the man who gave everything to Voldemort on a silver platter, including his own wife and son. That man wasn't his father.

Shuddering, Draco bent over himself, arms curled tightly around his middle; a futile effort to try and keep himself together. He was tearing at the seams. And bloody fuck, it hurts.

Despite the warmth of the fireplace, Draco felt deathly cold. It was a chill that seeped into his very bones.

He felt so alone.

* * *

Harry shoved books and parchment into his rucksack, uncaring of the mess he'd made inside. Advanced Herbology was almost over and Professor Sprout was still busily listing off important little tidbits to note for their NEWTs. It had come as somewhat of a surprise to Harry when McGonagall had told him that getting marks no lower than 'Exceeds Expectations' on his Herbology NEWTs was actually one of the requirements in getting accepted to the Auror Program. Plants and Aurors. Go figure.

Once all packed up, Harry discreetly cast a wandless Tempus and grimaced. Ten minutes. It felt like eternity. He was getting restless; his legs fidgeting incessantly to the point that he was practically rattling his chair.

"You alright there, Harry?" Neville, his unfortunate desk-mate, frowned, looking just a touch annoyed.

"Sorry." Harry smiled sheepishly, "You think Sprout would mind if I skip out early? I need to go to the loo." He muttered, smoothly making up an excuse.

Neville nodded understandingly, shifting his gaze towards their Herbology Professor. "It should be fine, mate. You can just borrow my notes later."

"Thanks, mate, you're a lifesaver." Harry grinned, grabbing his bag, before darting out of the room. He threw Sprout a jaunty wave when she cast him a resigned yet reprimanding look.

He faintly heard Neville explaining about Harry needing to use the loo. He really couldn't care less. Herbology was one of his strongest subjects. Getting an 'Exceeds Expectations' was easy enough. Even getting an 'Outstanding' was within reach. He had far more pressing matters to worry about and that was to make sure Draco didn't skip out on dinner like he was wont to do of late. Priorities, mind. They were extremely important. And since they couldn't be seen together in public, a nice quiet evening in the kitchens sounded absolutely perfect. Harry hummed, pulling his peacoat and scarf snug around him as he made his way back towards the castle, shivering a bit against the biting chill in the air.