Authors' note – This fic has been made for entertainment purposes only, and the authors, yes both of them, are not making any profit in any way. All characters (with exception to any original ones spawned of our own twisted imaginations) and the Harry Potter series belongs to J.K.Rowling. Not us, unfortunately.

  This fic is dedicated to ourselves and each other. We know who we are, you just enjoy the fic!

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Shedding Skins - Prologue

Draco hid in the shadows, back pressed up uncomfortably against the cold stone wall. He just couldn't face anyone. Not in this state. His entire body was rigid, near frozen from the coldness that seeped into his flesh, but his face remained as impassive as ever.

Hot tears slowly fell from his cold slate-grey eyes, the only indication that on the inside he felt like he was near dying.
It had happened again.

Just when he thought that things couldn't possibly get any worse, and that he had finally found a place in himself where no one could reach him.
To be so desecrated, rendered utterly powerless did not rest easy on his proud nature, yet it was something he had come to accept.

The abuse had become familiar to him. He had almost even come to need it, so familiar was the pain, it was at least, reassurance of his existence.
Sometimes he felt that life was merely an illusion… it was so hard, he was so shut off from everything around him, that it felt like he was looking out at the world from a very very far away place deep within himself.
A place which no one knew existed, let alone dared to venture into.

He was filled with the utmost contempt for the weaklings that surrounded him, yet it was he who suffered endlessly because of the very nature of the world.
Even after all this time, he was still not accustomed to the ways in which you were meant to interact with other people.
As a result of that, he had never truly known what it was to have a friend, to feel close to others. And he knew that he never would.

He had realized from a young age that he was destined to be alone.

Thus was the Malfoy curse, to be so eternally detached, unaffected and regal that you could never know the joys of life.
You could only guess at them, and watch all the sniveling pathetic excuses for human beings living out their misguided lives.
Though, Draco realized with a pained smile, to them their lives, pathetic as they were, probably did hold meaning.

They had dreams... and hopes... and a naïve unshakable belief that no great tragedy would ever befall them.
At least they didn't have to fear every shadow that crossed their path though… At least they could live without this crippling self-hatred that had been instilled in Draco from such tender age.
What he would give to have a chance to start all over again.

To start living from this instant, as someone else, someone who didn't have a bruised heart and a scarred body.

Someone whose mind was clear and unwracked with guilt.
Draco knew though, that he could never rid himself of his burden. He had seen too much of the sadistic nature of life to ever trust a feeling of safety or happiness again.
He had seen what happened to those who put their faith in others. It would never be his fate.
Devoid though he knew he was, he refused to ever let another fill him with foolish dreams and whispered lies.
This so-called life felt so strange to him… as a child he had always been alone, spending endless hours amusing himself from within the endless galaxy of his own imagination.

Other times, lonely and bored he would sit for long hours staring at the blank wall opposite him, his mind bleached of thoughts and his heart wilting with the pain of being so utterly alone in the vast unfeeling abyss of the universe.
He felt it so keenly, his own isolation, yet it had come to be the only thing he could tolerate.
Yet, sometimes, in some deep hidden part of him, he longed for connection.
Longed to truly connect with another in a way that surpassed all normal modes of communication. To truly belong with another, to feel complete, and whole.
The thought now slithered unwanted into his head, to trust another person… to know in the deepest recesses of his being that no matter what, that person would never betray him. But he knew these were dangerous fantasies.
After all, to trust is to be betrayed. He had learnt that the hard way. He would not make the same mistakes again. No matter what.
He would never let himself get hurt in that way again. It just hurt too much… left him floundering in a wake of pain feeling as if he would never be the same again…
And he never was.
What power did pain hold?
That it could destroy dreams so effortlessly, that it could damage you so deeply that you would feel the effects for the rest of your life.
To feel parts of you wither up and die inside you, to be tainted from the inside out, and still be compelled to wear the façade of normalcy, when you are no more than a crumbling husk of what you once were…
Draco knew what a terrible thing this life was.
The only thing that stopped him from crying out in agony at his cursed existence was the knowledge that his death was near.
Absolute freedom.

Such sweet reprieve from this hell which was called life.
Draco slowly traced his ornate dagger over his pale-fleshed wrists, watching as blood welled up in intricate beaded patterns.

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