Sometimes Draco wondered why he didn't get a driver's license. Taking the steps two at a time, he held his briefcase over his head while running to a taxi at the bay outside the office building. It started up, and after slamming the door shut and gasping his address, he leant back in seat and dropped his head against the window. His dim glare through the glass did nothing to stop the heavy pouring outside.
He thought about the abysmal day he just had. One of many.
He thought about how Umbridge was pressing for work early. She was always doing that. They had hired her only three weeks ago, so she clearly had no idea of the work pace around the office. He thought about the tea he has spilt all over said reports, and how he had spent nearly three hours typing them back out, because there had been a power failure, and he had saved nothing since 8 o'clock that morning.
Power failure. He wouldn't be surprised if Draco from the 'dreaded IT department' had done that out of revenge. So he had been promoted and Harry was left behind. He didn't control these things.
As the taxi drove, Draco watched the driver. His eyes kept darting to the rear-view mirror, and every time he could swear the driver was looking back at him. Eventually he couldn't tear his eyes away, and still, he saw the glassy stare looking back at him.
"Stop right here, please." He wasn't sure why he said it, but soon enough he was left on the pavement in the rain, which thankfully had lightened to a light drizzle. Either way, he wasn't home. Turning, a dilapidated church greeted him. He scoffed, what was this, a college-made horror film? He didn't think so. Instead, he walked home, checking his black watch on the way.
The trains were delayed, delayed, delayed. He frowned at his phone and promptly called a taxi. Sitting in his dark flat after he hung up, Draco stared dimly at the front door.
His chest hurt, like someone was pressing down on it. He had woke up that morning gasping and covered in icy sweat, dried and re-formed probably a dozen times in the night. A scalding shower hadn't been enough to wash off the feel of clammy hands holding him down and crushing his lungs. It had faded to a dull pressure, not disappearing, but noticeable.
He thought of Harry, and Umbridge, and his boss Snape, and the handyman Filch, and the taxi driver.
Walking outside, he noticed with a grey face the same glassy eyes of yesterday. But he didn't break his stride, he didn't ever like to appear caught off guard, or embarrassed in any way. It showed a disadvantage. He always liked seeming as though he always knew what was happening, that he was always had control. He feared public embarrassment probably more than anything, more than was healthy probably. Not that he would admit that.
So he sat in the car while it drove through narrow streets until his eyes spotted the church, and all he could hear was the ticking of his watch on his wrist. Bells suddenly sounded, ringing 7 times for 7 o'clock, and he looked back to the rear-view mirror to catch the familiar hard-gaze.
"Stop looking at me."
The man started a little. "I'm sorry?"
"Look at the road. Drive, and don't look at me."
The rest of the drive was awkward, but not for Draco because he didn't do awkward. He was fine.
Except for some scratching noise he kept hearing at the front of the car, like keys moving back and forth across the dashboard. They scratched until they stopped outside the office, and after handing the man too much money for a simple god-damned lift, he left the car.
Umbridge was in a bad mood. She was always in a bad mood, at least when it came to him. He saw her chatting with Snape, sucking up and batting her spider-leg eyelashes over her pallid cheeks, and turn to him. He swore he could see her toad face bulge in disapproval.
"Mr. Malfoy, I see here you have taken all your holiday time for the next 3 years already, and it's is only April." She held a clipboard aloft, her eyes boring into his.
Draco didn't reply, he was thinking about the taxi driver and his stare. Something coiled in his gut and the pressure on his chest grew.
"I've been ill."
"Then that would come under sick pay? Do you think you need to take a leave?"
"No I don't" he replied curtly.
She bristled, and for a moment pure, unadulterated hate flowed out of her eyes, and disappeared as quickly as it came. He swore.
"Bitch."
Toad eyes bulged, "Mr Malfoy-"
But he wasn't listening, he was typing. He did have a job to do after all. He heard the scratching of car keys all the way until his shift finished, and he didn't pause for a break once. He hated her hate, he hated their disapproval and he hated hating their disapproval. He hated that Harry had stopped calling him to out on Fridays after work after he got promoted.
Why did he stop calling anyway? So what, so what-
Trains still delayed; there's lightning damaged equipment. That's so random, so rare, he wondered if Umbridge had anything to do with it, that bitch. That's absurd though, he knew that, and he walked to the taxi bay.
A familiar glassy brown stare greeted him. It wasn't the only car around, but he didn't want to make it look like he was avoiding a taxi like a crazy person, so he walked up to it and got in.
The man even greeted him, "Bad day?" He sounded nervous, tentative.
Draco's eyes were the ones boring into him now, but he didn't realise the effect his face had, gaunt and pale, dark circles under the eyes.
The ride continued in silence, and the man didn't say anything, but the key scratching started again and Draco started drumming his fingers restlessly against his leg. It was getting louder, threatening and he was getting annoyed. Did the man think he could drive him away just by scratching? Was he trying to make him use another taxi? Well it wouldn't work, he'll use this taxi forever, until he died. Or maybe he was doing this to make him think so.
"Why have the trains stopped working?" He said suddenly, and again the driver started, casting a nervous glance in the rear-view mirror after being ignored for so long.
"Uh, not really sure. Probably all this bad weather," he gave a little chuckle.
Draco hummed and looked out the window, making it clear he wasn't starting a conversation. The church came into view and he glowered. Just what he needed. He could hear his watch ticking, louder and louder as the pressure on his chest mounted. He hummed again, louder, trying to drown out the ticking that was still rising in volume, until-
"Are you alright there, son?"
Son? Son?! He was thirty! The church was still there. He could see it.
And then he was home.
The next day, Umbridge came back for his unfinished report, and the watch he sat on his desk ticked louder than her voice, and Draco stared and stared at her mouth, trying to read what she was saying. Then he realised he didn't care and started to type. She was leaning over him now, blabbing and flapping her stained fish mouth faster while he typed.
Suddenly Snape was there, and the ticking grew intense, until it was pounding in his ears and it started to hurt. He stopped typing and put his hands to his ears, then immediately drew them away again, realising that made him look like he couldn't handle something. He stared at the screen. At the letters, and the words, he stared.
'ticktockticktockticktockticktockticktockticktockTICKTOCKTICKTOCKTICKTOCKTICKTOCKTICK'
The ceiling has a bland shade of white, he thought, gazing avidly while his watch lay in pieces in the bin.
He knew he was having some kind of episode. No he wasn't, he hadn't done anything wrong, they were, something was happening, they were planning, they all knew what was happening-
No they didn't, he reasoned, everything that's bad isn't connected to each other.
The taxi driver doesn't know Harry.
He sat up in his bed, and padded towards the front door. He slowly undid the locks and opened the door, peering out into the hallway. He thought about his mother. She was still up North, probably camping at some open air field in the country, sipping chamomile tea and getting in touch with her earth energy as a Capricorn or whatever the fuck she's into now.
He hadn't seen her for years. Not as long as he hadn't seen Harry though. Harry wont even look at him. So he's had a few problems with his computer recently, there's a lot of malware to be found in research on the internet. The department stopped sending Harry though. Harry, Harry, Harry.
He sighed, and stared at the wall opposite his door a while longer, then closed it.
So, first Harry Potter story, might as well start off with an AU.
Tell me what you think.