He walked up the stone stair case, his feet falling heavily and clumsily. Every muscles in his body aching. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. The only thing keeping him awake was the sound of his own foot steps reverberating, bouncing around on the surrounding stone.
He couldn't wait to collapse on his bed, he welcomed the engulfing darkness of a heavy sleep that was weighing down his body. He continued his march in a mindless trance, he hadn't even realized he pushed the heavy door to the shared bedroom open until it creaked, the way things due in an old castle. None of the other boys stirred, he wouldn't care if he had waken them all up anyway.
He didn't even bother to strip off his clothes as he made his way to the enticing site of his green and silver sheets and he just barely managed to kick off his shoes before tumbling backwards, landing with a soft, comforting thud. Somehow he had managed to adjust his fall accordingly and his head landed perfectly onto his waiting pillow.
He had been coming back later and later on nights like this. Strands of his white blonde hair stuck to his forehead with dried sweat, annoyingly close to his eyes. He didn't bother swiping them away. Moonlight seeped in from a window whose curtains were skewed, the irritating invading light made him restless, but his heavy lidded eyes slid shut as he turned his head away and his cheek pressed against the cool fabric of his pillow cover.
He inhaled deeply wanting nothing more to forget the night's events. But there it was, invading his senses, lingering, surrounding him, stuck to every inch of his clothing, of his skin. That scent, of warm honey and tea leaves and sunshine. It haunted him, how it clung to him, following him, never letting him forget, never letting him forgive himself. His eyes flew open and he knew there would be no sleep tonight.
He was too tired to stop his wandering thoughts as he tried to think back to the exact moment he had gotten himself into this mess.
It was only a few weeks after school began again. Still early October, but the air was becoming crisp in the night. The war was coming. He was getting more and more pressure put on him by his family and peers. He was to follow in his father's footsteps and become the dark lord's obedient, faithful, unquestioning servant. To be used and tossed away as Voldemort pleased.
He has been groomed for this his whole life, but the weight was finally pulling him down. Now, he looked for any excuse to get away from the never ending talk of attack and battles and strategies. He had grown tired of his fellow Slytherins talk of comradery, it seemed like every night in the common room they talked about the same things, the nights began to blur together and were becoming rather boring.
Tonight was no different. Here he was, surrounded by the people who claimed to be his friends, Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, all chatting it up about taking on the dark mark like it was every wizards dream. It made him want to grab each of them by the shoulders and shake them senseless. They were lambs, too willing to board the truck taking them to the slaughter house. It made his stomach flip.
He pushed himself out of the lounge chair he had claimed and left. Their talking became hushed whispers and their eyes followed him, but no one would question where the prince of Slytherin was off to, even if it was near midnight.
Draco didn't much worry about getting caught out after curfew, he knew Snape or his father would handle any repercussion from annoying, nosey professors that would ensue. Little did he know, he was going to be dealt a fate far worse than what any professor could dish out to him.