Draco Malfoy, Broken

Chapter 54 - Confrontations, Part 2

54 - Confrontations 

Published 8/5/19

***TRIGGER WARNING*** disassociation and mentions of child abuse, sexual assault, and suicide

Blaise's brain was fried. His emotions were all over the place. That was far too deep than he ever wanted to get, with people he was less than friendly with. He walked through the village, aware that Theo was at his side. He made it to the path to Hogwarts just out of the village, before he was forced to stop. Pain irradiated from his heart and made it hurt to breathe. He hunched over covering his midsection with his arms, trying to stay the ache.

Theo turned him around and hugged him tightly. Tears welled up in his eyes and he was fighting to hold in the storm. Theo could offer no words of comfort, not that any would help. What could he say? Just Theo clutching him was enough. Blaise pressed his face into Theo's board chest and let a few sobs out. He had never talked about that... shit... before. Being trapped in that damn hospital bed had seriously damaged his restraint, his control. It had all been neatly tucked away in his mind. Ancient history. But now... it wasn't anymore. It was dragged out into the open, for all to examine.

He cried harder realizing that the others will figure it out, too. What the fuck was mum thinking? he thought, angrily. He had no desire to see any of them, not out of revenge or fucking closure. Derrick and Bole were assholes. Warrington had been cruel, almost abusive... and Miles... was a sadistic pig. He could just imagine the whole Durmstang lot showing up and Hecate knows many others. Of course, he rationalized that he was older, wiser and stronger, but it still hurt. The fear wasn't gone, after all these years. They would be seeking revenge, too. He and his friends were in danger, he realized.

But his traitorous mind went back to what Pucey had said. '...it wasn't just you.' He wasn't the only one that Flint hurt and brain-washed into doing whatever he asked. Blaise had been so empty, lost... after that year of brutality. He had been alone... self-loathing tearing at him. That summer after his third year, he didn't talk to anyone, didn't answer Draco or Theo's letters, and never forgave himself for being so gullible and manipulated. He lost every bit of respect he had for himself. He went back to school free from any kind self-control. Sexually uninhibited. He wanted the pain and abuse... to feel something, connected, to say it didn't bother him. He was never sure what was worst, what Marcus did to him or what he did to himself.

But just that knowledge that he wasn't alone, that others coped with the same problems, had hit him hard. He remembered at Hog's Head that something had broken in his mind, but he couldn't figure it out right then. That was it. Adrian shared what he had gone through and suddenly, it wasn't just him, the shameless, degenerate wanton, living in a world of normal people. Isolated from the rest of society and living on the fringe with his mother. No one was like him. No one would have fallen into Flint's lies. But Adrian did. That other kid... and Blaise flinched. He didn't even know his name. He never thought that anyone else was stupid enough to fall under Marcus's control. Adrian was being sexually abused until the day Flint died and was probably far more damaged than he was.

I'm not alone, Blaise thought and was sickened by the relief he was feeling. His grip on Theo tightened, no doubt giving him bruises, but his best friend didn't even grunt in pain. He let out a few more tears, mainly in shame. Why the hell would I feel that? What the hell was wrong with me? Others were hurt like him, worse than him, and he was feeling... comforted by that? Adrian was broken and some other kid killed himself. Blaise stopped the tears. He realized that he was being such a fucking asshole for thinking that. He felt sick, embarrassed by his thoughts. They didn't deserve what they went through.

He trembled and berated himself for being so emotional. He was Blaise Zabini. He wasn't supposed to lose it. He had too many responsibilities. Too much shit to do. As if on cue, he looked over Theo's shoulder and saw figures flying around the pitch. Shit. It was past eleven. The fucking She-Weasley was going to be pissed. Draco was probably worried sick, too, especially when Daphne was waiting for him when he got out of the shower. Maybe she had gotten something out of him, but he doubted it.