"CRUTCH"
By Talye Kendrin
chapter one
"Do you ever wonder what it would be like to be a star, Draco?"
"I don't need to wonder," Draco said blandly, one arm tossed over his eyes as he and Ilandra Feylock, a Slytherin in the year below him, lay sprawled on their backs in the Astronomy tower.
Ilandra threw him a look that he didn't see. "Har-har, Draco. You're a real hoot, really," she said sarcastically.
He smirked, arm still over his eyes. "Thanks. I'll be here all week."
Ilandra stared at him silently for a long moment, until finally he let his arm move to his side and looked over at her, meeting her gaze and matching her silence.
Finally, he broke it. "What?" he asked. "Have I got something on my face?"
Ilandra grinned impishly, before reaching over and pinching his cheek, causing him to squawk indignantly. "Ickle Drakey-kins. What a cute-ums," she said, baby-talking him. "Someday I'm gonna eat you up with a little spoon!"
Draco faked an expression of disgust, really appreciating the very un-serious attention she gave him. It felt nice to get away from the whole "working to let Death Eaters into the school" situation that he was working toward with the vanishing cabinet. And there was the fact that Voldemort had chosen him to become a full-fledged Death Eater, making him feel pressured to be cruel to his fellow schoolmates just for the fact that they weren't purebloods. Sure, he had been raised to think of them as below him, but he had never really had it in him to be so brutal towards others. If Draco had been allowed his own way, he would have just sent them all off somewhere where they could be by themselves and let the purebloods live happily with the non-purebloods out of sight. After all, out of sight, out of mind, right? Well, not like he had any say in it in the end. But Ilandra helped distract him from the negative. It was… nice.
"Draco?" Ilandra asked, still staring at him, curled up on her side on the Astronomy tower floor, her voice sounding small and unsure of herself.
He turned his head toward her. "Yeah?" he asked quietly.
"Stay with me, okay?" she said, lacing her hand in his hair.
He closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the touch she gave him. "I'll do my best," he said, not wanting to make empty promises and leave her broken like her mother had. Opening his eyes, he saw the worried look on her face and sighed, pulling her close so her head lay on his shoulder, not wanting to see the furrow on her forehead, the muffled fear in her eyes. "You know I wouldn't leave you if I had the choice, Illy."
"That's just it," she murmured into his shoulder. "I'm worried you won't have a choice."
Draco strode into the back alley as though he owned it, quite proud of his ability to give his usual group of friends the slip when he couldn't stand to be around them anymore. It was annoying, and not to mention stressful, having to put up his usual front all the time. He couldn't afford to let them see his weakness, though-couldn't afford to look anything less than the stalwart follower of the Dark Lord to anyone.
Anyone except Ilandra, that is.
As he walked, he mulled over the reason why he trusted her so deeply in the first place. Like himself, she was a Slytherin, and well-known in pureblood circles, although her mother was only a half-blood. Her father was from the well-respected Scottish Feylock clan, and he commanded quite a bit of authority within the Wizengamot. However, when the Dark Lord had come back to life two years ago and was recruiting followers, he had put out an offer to the Feylock patriarch...an offer which he had very unwisely refused. The result was that his half-blood wife was tortured and killed in order to sway his decision, a threat being given on Ilandra's life as well, at which point he had reluctantly joined the ranks of the Dark Lord's supporters.
It was something Ilandra was reminded of every day when she looked in the mirror, she'd told him when he'd spoken to her not long after, as a request from his father to ascertain her loyalty. After all, she looked so much more like her hispanic mother than she did her Scottish father-long, dark brown hair framed her tan face, the exact opposite of her father's pale, freckled skin and red, curly hair; and she'd inherited her mother's brown eyes father than her father's green ones. All in all, it was like staring at a younger version of her mother. She told him she hated it.
He'd kept talking to her after that, lying through his teeth to his father and saying that she was in no way a liability. There was no way he could out her. She was already broken, what was the sense in getting her killed? She wasn't strong enough to make a difference in the Dark Lord's plans anyway. Surely, there could be no harm in sparing her life.
And that was how he came to have one person who truly understood his fear and resignation. He didn't admire the Dark Lord for his power. He feared him for what destruction he would wreak upon the world. He couldn't deny him his requests, thus why he was working on bringing the Death Eaters into the castle. He feared for his family's safety, even being well-known and well-respected followers of him as they were.
Draco almost passed by the spot where he'd intended to go, so deep in his thoughts he was, but at the last moment he fumbled in his steps and took a sharp left, almost bumping into a very familiar person.
"Hey," Ilandra said, checking around him to make sure he hadn't been followed before wrapping him in a hug. His lips twitched upwards as though to smile, not quite making it there as he returned the embrace.
"Hey yourself," he said softly. "Come on, let's head inside."
She nodded, linking arms with him as they ducked inside the empty shop. The shopkeep had packed up and left for Australia a couple years back and no one had bothered to rent the space, so tucked away from all the main streets and foot traffic of Hogsmeade as it was. Thus, it had become a sanctuary for the two of them. Draco waved his wand over the door as they entered, muttering colloportus, satisfied when he heard the click of the lock. Ilandra was already muttering the silencing spell to ensure even if anyone was listening in from another room in the building, they wouldn't be overheard. Satisfied, the two of them sat down side-by-side in the corner of the room, away from the frosted windows.
The silence stretched between them for a span of minutes, Draco staring at the wall opposite them while Ilandra fiddled mindlessly with strands of the thick carpet in front of her.
"It's going to happen soon," Draco finally murmured. He didn't have to elaborate. Ilandra knew what he was talking about. It was something both of them dreaded.
Ilandra was silent for a long moment before she replied simply, "I know." She sounded small, as though she were hoping she could just curl up and disappear.
Draco felt the words he wished he never had to speak stick in his throat. How could he speak them, when doing so would make everything that much more real? But he needed to tell her. If he didn't tell her, he knew there was no one else in the world, wizarding or otherwise, that he could confess this to. He swallowed thickly.
"I'm scared."
"I know," she reiterated, abandoning the carpet strands in order to turn and wrap him in a comforting embrace, her hand drawing soothing circles on his back. Her voice shook as she repeated herself. "I know."
The unspoken words hung between them, as clearly as though they had been spoken aloud:
I am, too.
Draco lay on his bed, staring unseeingly at the green canopy above him that looked more black in the darkness of the early morning hours. A jumble of thoughts raced through his weary mind, a million what ifs that he could not chase away. What if his calculations were off? What if the vanishing cabinet didn't work after all? What if they punished his mother for his failure? What if he failed for other reasons, reasons out of his control? What if, when the time came, he didn't have the guts to complete his task? What if he couldn't cast the killing curse? What if Ilandra found out what the final part of his task actually was? What if she couldn't stand the sight of him once she knew? His eyes burned with unshed tears, and he covered his mouth with the back of his hand to keep from gasping. She was his rock, had been since the summer before this school year had started with all of its hardships and the mental anguish that came with it. She was, in his mind, the only thing keeping him sane.
Seeing movement from the corner of his eye, Draco jerked his head toward the source, his wand already in his hand as he prepared to curse whoever dared intrude on his solitude into oblivion. He calmed immediately upon seeing Ilandra's dark face, a concerned look on her face as she clambered onto the bed beside him, drawing the curtains once again so that no one would realize there was an extra person in Draco's bed, should they wake up. Neither the curtains nor the bed made a noise as she settled beside him, and the corners of his mouth lifted in the barest hint of a smile. She had a thing for sneaking about unheard and unnoticed, even when unaided by magic. It was just 'one of her things', she'd said.
Ilandra looked over at Draco for a moment before reaching over, wrapping her arms around her. He wasted no time in returning the favor, resting his chin on her shoulder. He whispered a silencing spell so that they wouldn't be heard, even though he'd already placed one around his bed before he'd succumbed to his own thoughts. He was becoming paranoid. Better paranoid than dead, though, his mind whispered.
Draco's eyes fluttered shut as he allowed himself to calm, tamping down on his fear of the unknown. Ilandra had that kind of effect on people-not just himself, he'd noticed. She was a very peaceful person; quiet; and she seemed to allow others to find some sense of peace in her presence.
He needed that tonight.
"Ilandra," he whispered against her shoulder, feeling his tense muscles relaxing as she soothingly stroked his hair.
"Yeah?" she whispered. He could hear the caring concern in her voice. She worried about him so much. It was like having a second mother, except she was much more open with her affection than his actual mother was. Not that he blamed his mother, with how much rode on outward appearances in his family.
Draco let out a shaky breath. "Don't leave?" It came out as more of a question than a request.
Ilandra sighed almost inaudibly. Staying wouldn't pose too much of a problem, she thought. She would make her great escape at some point in the morning. It wouldn't be the first time her dorm-mates didn't see her enter or leave their room for a night, and she knew how important it was to Draco that she be here for him. She shifted to a more comfortable position on the bed and continuing to stroke his hair, hoping he would be able to find at least a couple hours sleep that night.
"Wouldn't dream of it, Drakey-kins."