Pathetic. (A Draco Malfoy fanfiction)

Chapter 29.

Draco Malfoy is doing just fine, at least, that's what he tells his friends. At first glance, anybody would think he's telling the truth, his attire is still impeccable as usual, not a single hair on his head is out of place, his smile is prevalent, as ever, but if you looked closer, you'd see his eyes, bloodshot from the long hours he spends drinking and weeping, dark circles from his lack of sleep, his arms are red and raw as a result of his frequent hot showers, he doesn't know why, but he just can't seem to scrub hard enough to wash the death from his skin. Draco hasn't eaten anything since the funeral, something that isn't noticeable until he takes off his jacket,while he's always had a lanky figure, his rib cage seems to show more prominently than ever before. He can't look at himself in the mirror, he caught a glimpse while combing his hair once, and was met snake eyes staring back at him; the shards of glass still haven't been cleaned up.

Ron seems to run into him at the pub every time he goes in for a quick pint, but he's never been very observant, he doesn't think anything of it. The two always just have a drink together, share a laugh, and go home...well, Ron goes home, he's never seen Draco leave before himself. Draco stays until the barkeep kicks him out, and even after that he doesn't go home, he walks. He walks for miles, never stopping to rest, never stopping to talk with those who may recognize him on the street. Maybe he likes walking, he doesn't know, he can't tell what he likes anymore...everything's just numb.

The news came like a slap to the face, Sirius Black, found dead, already in a graveyard..some groundskeepers already had a sick laugh about it, rest of the wizarding world didn't really know what to think; they knew this man as a murderer, an Azkaban escapee who was never actually caught, turns out he's some sort of war hero who was innocent the entire time. They suppose that since he's a war hero, they should mourn, but they spent so long terribly afraid of this man, that they just find themselves relieved. Draco didn't really know much about Sirius, he only met him a couple times, but he knew that he was my godfather, he knew that he took me in and took care of me, and he knew that I loved him, so Draco loved him too.

When Draco read the paper that morning, he found himself feeling entirely at fault for Sirius' death. Had he not left the graveyard after speaking with me, Sirius wouldn't have been alone, and maybe he wouldn't have done it...if it weren't for Draco, they wouldn't have even been in that graveyard at all. The blond downs another shot of firewhiskey, attempting to ignore the thoughts that keep nagging at him every time he drinks. "She would be disappointed in you." "Drunk already? it's not even afternoon." "What would your mother think?" "She's not here...Neither of them are here..." He mumbles, laying his head in his hands, and gripping his hair, finding himself unable to escape his own mind.