the girl who lost it all [d.m]

one: desiderium

desiderium: longing, yearning, desire

———

DRACO didn't recognise the man staring back at him.

He thought he probably should— given that it was himself—but he couldn't remember the last time he'd looked in the mirror and not found a broken mess of a man staring back at him.

Purple rings below his eyes, tired but sharp, his hair pale and messy, having grown long enough to curl under his ears. His hands were white and always seemed to have a tremor in the muscle that had worsened over the past four years. His mouth was tight and grim almost all the time— he couldn't remember when he'd last smiled a proper smile.

Probably when she was around.

He shuddered, eyes tracing over the scars on his chest from so many years ago—and all the new ones that had joined, some newer and still healing, others already covered with scar tissue. He had grown taller and had built more muscle too, taut under his skin as he reached for his shirt.

What would she think if she saw him now?

Draco Malfoy was a boy who would never heal.

Shelving his thoughts away, he shrugged on his shirt, slender fingers buttoning it up, deftly, as he continued to look at himself in the mirror. The mark on his forearm stood stark against his pale skin and he pulled the sleeve down over it before turning and stepping out of the bathroom.

Astoria was asleep in his bed, her smooth shoulders and her mane of chestnut hair the only things visible as he crossed over to his nightstand, barely sparing her a look. He pulled out his wand and pocketed it, never going anywhere without it—not even to the kitchen.

Running a hand through the wet strands of his hair, he finally let his eyes slide to Astoria, her pretty face relaxed, small puffs leaving her full lips as she slept. The sheets had fallen off her shoulder, revealing bare skin all the way down to her navel and Draco sighed as he moved to her side of the bed and pulled them back over her, not letting his hands linger longer than they had to.

His eyes caught a small beauty spot on her collarbone and he blinked. Had she always had that? No matter how many times they slept together, he could never seem to memorise Astoria's body— not the way he had committed hers to memory.

Draco gritted his teeth and tried to lock the traitorous thoughts away. He couldn't think about her, of her dark curly hair, so soft under his fingers or the freckles splattered far and few between over her nose. Couldn't think about how he knew where every single beauty spot was on her body, had kissed them all as his hands traced the curves of her.

He cursed under his breath and strode out of the bedroom.

His fingers fixed the cuffs at the wrists of his shirt as he made his way down the stairs, the emerald green carpet softening his footsteps. The house was large and spacious, all dark oak and heavy drapes, but he rarely noticed. He was just glad to be out of that fucking hellhole called Malfoy Manor.