The humidity caused his white button-up shirt to stick uncomfortably to his chest. He was making it worse, sobbing like a newborn. He used the back of his sleeve to roughly wipe away all his emotions.
Malfoys don't show emotions. They don't cry, not even when they are children.
Snape was dragging Draco Malfoy by the crook of his arm as they ran through Hogwart's grounds. He could hear Snape muttering under his breath, but he could not make out the exact words for the maniacal laughter from the other Death Eaters.
He chanced a look up at the dark sky to see the Dark Mark cast a lingering glow above the school. Taking a deep breath, he looked away. He could still see green when he shut his eyes.
He was leaving a world he was used to: It was safe, welcoming. Now, he was going to his parents, to Voldemort, to the dark. Though he tried hard, with the help of Dumbledore and even Harry Potter, to break away from all ties he had with Voldemort, in the end, he had no choice.
Harry is running after the group of Death Eaters, yelling obscenities that directed more at Draco than any of the others. Even though he hadn't been the one to kill Dumbledore, he did little to stop it. Merlin, he actually gave them a way to do it so easily.
Someone cast Expelliarmus, sending Dumbledore's wand flying before he even tried to defend himself. Perhaps the old professor was going to die anyways and he knew that, but dammit, Draco wished Dumbledore defended himself a little better. He could have done something, being the most powerful wizard known.
Dumbledore didn't look resentful or misguided—he acted like they were asking him to tea—which really bothered Draco more than anything Voldemort could do to him. He should have been quivering, trying negotiate. Was he not intimidating enough with Death Eaters behind me? Each of them baring a Dark Mark on their arms, some more proudly than others.
Draco finds himself shouting, "I've got to do it! He'll kill me, my whole family would be killed!"
The rest of the night was a blur, part of it was because of the tears falling from his gray eyes, gathering on blond eyelashes. The main part was because it was a dream reliving the best and worst day of his life.
How he wished to be back in that empty corridor earlier that day, pressed between the stone wall and Harry, giggling when he said something funny before he would bend down and kiss Draco once again. Harry was holding onto Draco like he was going to reject him at any point.
When the kiss broke apart, Draco smiled and ran his hand through Harry's disheveled hair.
"I love you, Harry."
The door creaked loudly as a house elf pushed it open, holding a large tray in her hands. "Erza brought Master Draco breakfast. His favorite! Pastries and tea with plenty of sugar," she said, even more nervous that she had just woken him up, "It's a quarter past noon, and you told me not to let you sleep in late, yes?"
"Yes, yes, sit it at my desk, Erza. Would you go bring the mail up after you feed the owls?" Draco practically jumped out of the bed once the door shut behind the house elf donned in worn rags.
He walked past his breakfast, knowing that Erza cast a spell to keep it warm. He needed to do something today, knowing that it was one of his only days off from work. Without giving it much thought, he dressed and left the master bedroom. Even on his days off, Draco found himself stuck in his father's library, studying potions like his life depended on it.