Warning: slash and such
Disclaimer: you know I, like everyone else here, wishes they owned Harry Potter, but it's just not happening.
A/N: for Senorita Sprinklebuns because she approved of this and she is the main reason I write. Te quiero.
Darkness pervaded every available space to the naked eye. Darkness possessed the mind and troubled, broken soul. Darkness, it was everywhere. No moonlight shown through the curtain less windows. No starlight broke through the dreary atmosphere to give some light to the hopeless. Yet, it was not cold. Numb, yes, it was numb, but not cold. And yet, as numb as it was there was such a welling of emotion in the chest, the man felt it would burst forth from his very soul.
Draco sat at the small table in the small kitchen of his small cottage. His pale hands covered his pallid face and silence blanketed him, surrounding him with the sheets of impenetrable darkness. Loneliness pushed down with a crushing pressure, hurt and inconsolable pain flowed steadily from each pore and orifice. The hate slowly simmered deep under the layers of hurt, numbness, and darkness. Draco sincerely hoped it would never boil and break through the layers of protection around it.
He refused to believe that door shut hours before. He was immobilized in his seat, the same position held, statuesque in appearance, for hours as the world he knew came crashing down. His heart dropped, not sank, but dropped heavily as he heard the fated words of a rusty surgical cut to the bond he shared with Harry.
A door opened and heels clicked slowly across the hardwood floor. A woman with dark hair cradling a small boy against her side made her way down a hallway to deposit the boy on his bed. Draco turned his head ever so slightly toward the noise which dared invade is silent suffering. A cool hand came upon his shoulder. The scent of roses wafted to Draco's nose; the scent of his mother was instantly recognizable.
"Draco, darling, let me see the paper."
It took every amount of strength he still contained within his body to slide the annulment paper to his mother. She took it up swiftly and scanned it over before setting it daintily back on the wooden surface of the table. Narcissa curled her fingers around her son's hand and tilted his face up with her other hand so his cloudy gray eyes could meet hers. Her heart broke at seeing the pain and hurt marring the happiness which lived in those eyes for the past three and a half years.
"Draco, your father and I will help you through this in every way we can. You cannot allow yourself to sink into this. You have Scorpius to look after and he needs you. Stay strong for him. I shall stay here tonight if you wish."
Draco nodded slightly as he felt his mother's arms encircle arm and he began to cry. All the emotions came rushing forth in an uncontrollable surge. His body shook and heaved as all his pain came tumbling and spilling out filling the cottage with an echoing burn. His chest ached, he felt nauseous, and darkness started to creep into his vision yet he could not stop crying. Neither Draco nor Narcissa heard Scorpius pad into the kitchen. Draco felt the small boy tug slightly on his shirt sleeve and he turned around to see the worried face of his and Harry's three year old son. He scooped up the small boy and kissed the top of his head.
"No matter what happens, I will always love you," Draco croaked into the boys blonde hair.
Small arms were hugging his now. Scorpius would be his life now, his reason for living.
I've got reason to believe in the power of you and me to break this spell
And now how we like to say that we're in love
Doesn't it seem like that should be enough?
But the world will roll their eyes
But I still think, well I still think that we're in love
Well I still think that we're in love, love, love
Well I still think that we're in love
A/N: Ok, so I just kinda started this out of the blue and took an idea I had for a different fic which I decided to make this one. Songs of inspiring me to write were When I'm Small by Phantogram and mostly I Still Think by Darren Criss. The italicized part is the end of Still I Think.