Draco's thin frame was silhouetted by the morning sun that was only just peaking over the horizon, casting long, dark, elegant shadows across the world. None of it seemed real. Only the almost-cold breeze that was ruffling his too long hair reassured him that he wasn't dreaming. It had been an un-expectantly long night and yet he still couldn't sleep. The war had been over for nearly five years and yet his sleep was still plagued by the things he had witnessed, the things he had done. Letting out a low grunt he braced himself against the cheap rail that ran round the tiny balcony of his hotel room. To anyone looking up from the street it probably looked like he was stretching in preparation for an early morning run but from where Hermione was standing by the bathroom she could see the shake in his shoulders and his vice like grip that whitened his knuckles. She took a step towards him, worried that the old rail might break under the tension, but then the memory passed, his shoulders relaxed, and he let out a long, defeated sign that sounded as if he were trying to blow the life out of his body. They both stood there like that for a while, watching the pale sun rise. A new day.
'Don't worry,' Draco said calmly, in a low voice, 'I'm not about to hurl myself off this pathetic excuse for a balcony.' He forced out a half-hearted chuckle but his attempt to make light of the situation did nothing to lessen the tension that filled the room.
'Say something. I'm giving up on you'
I struggle with wanting you all the time. So please- don't mistake my silence for indifference. It's not that I don't feel enough for you rather the opposite I feel too much and it scares me. It's just that I have to restrain myself otherwise I go wildly out of control. I have to hold myself back
I live behind a wall, a mask and it can be hard to keep it up but it can also be hard to let it down. And once it comes down there is no going back. The wall protects me and I'm scared.