I Understand

An Unspoken Agreement

Draco Malfoy cried silently. Tears streamed down his face, and his heart seemed to be getting crushed by all the words spoken to him that day.

It wasn't like he didn't deserve them, he did, he knew it. He was the one who let the Death Eaters into the castle, but it still hurt.

He had more regrets than he could count, than he wanted to count, and they loomed over him like a dark presence ready to drop down on him with the slightest movement.

He knew he couldn't skip dinner, but he didn't want to go to the Great Hall. Because every time he saw people, it hurt because it reminded him of what he had done to them. They looked at him as if he had the words 'Death Eater' stamped across his forehead. But in reality, it was tattooed on his left forearm.

So he went to the kitchens. Though he'd never been before, he knew where they were, and how to get in. That was Crabbe and Goyles fault, they had talked so loudly to each other he always over heard everything. Though they weren't the brightest of the bunch, he almost missed their bold presence.

As he stepped into the kitchens he was greeted by many exited house elves. They swarmed him and fussed over why he wasn't at dinner with everyone else. Then immediately whipped up a meal for him right there.

They asked him what he thought with expectant eyes, he couldn't help but give a small smile and tell them that it was the best dinner he had ever had. They were over joyed at this and Draco found himself enjoying the elves.

As he left he told himself he'd have to come back, a lot. He figured he'd spend most meals from now on in there. Sure it wasn't silent, but no one had called him a abomination.

Abomination. The word that had truly sent him spiraling. He tried to forget just how much he agreed with that word, but he couldn't. He was an abomination.

Murder.

Scum.

Filth.

Evil.

Death Eater.

And he should be with is father. In a cell in Azkaban, surrounded by dementors. Slowly having his happy memories fade away from him. Forever in the dark. Forever miserable.

Yet here he was. At Hogwarts, with people he had betrayed. He was free from dementors, but not himself.

He didn't deserve to be happy ever again. He deserved to always suffer.

Maybe that's why he fell asleep and once again stopped himself from covering his Mark in his own blood. Because it was a way of escape, and he needed to suffer.

Draco Malfoys dreams, as always, were filled with flashed of viper green light, and screams. But at least he was able to sleep that night. Sleep without resting, that is.

Yet, like everything in Draco's life that seemed to be good for him, sleep slowly seeped away from him soon. He never really got sleep anyway, and his tiredness felt normal.

So just like the day before, he grabbed his sketch book and made his way silently to the common room. He almost felt disappointment that Potter wasn't there to accompany his silence, but quickly shook the thoughts from his head. 

He opened the pad only to have his mind suddenly blank, no ideas on what to draw, or where to even begin to sketch. And before he could stop himself, he thought of his father.

He loved him, because he was his father, but he couldn't forgive him. His father was the reason he was so hated, because from a young age, Draco had been groomed to be a Death Eater. From the moment he was born, his father tried to ingrain in him is own ideals, and it had worked. Until he got to Hogwarts, and the illusion shattered.