Disclaimer: Own naught by the idea.
Warnings: Character-death.
A Patient Master
…
"Do not fear death so much, but rather the inadequate life."
- Bertolt Brecht
...
The second he awoke from his inheritance, he knew.
He knew that beyond the safety of the surrounding four walls, only pain awaited.
The reaper was patient.
He became a recluse; refusing contact with friends and family, banning the presence of house-elves within his room.
Day in and day out, he huddled against a corner — eyes open and unseeing — mind racing.
Morpheus became the enemy. He could no longer be trusted.
"Why? You know the nature of Epiales, yet you pass me to him. Did Nyx command it so? Am I no longer worthy to be cradled within your arms? Does my body repel you? Disgust you?"
Turned away from the Morpheus' comfort, Draco turned to another of his kin.
Hemera comforted him, welcoming him with open arms. Aither's voice soothed the brambles in the heir's mind; the song warmed the bone deep chill.
It was not meant to last.
Like birds urging their chicks to fly, Hemera and Aither pushed Draco into his way; made Draco confront his fears.
Death was a patient master.
He was every bit as stunning as Morpheus had depicted. His voice as clear and smooth as Ate had shown. The eyes as bright and lively. And as quick to change.
Why was it that those gems were filled with warmth — with love — when resting on that vile, impure, harlot? Why must they cool, harden, fill with disgust for my person?
Was this all that awaited him? Anger, hate, disgust?
Death's embrace becomes warmer. His voice softer. His presence soothing.
For one day, everything was looking up. He was willing to give in. He couldn't bear the thought of my death, and so allowed us to bond.
"Foolish childe. Deceiving creatures these mortals be. Soft words mask cruel intentions."
Why was he so naïve? With his proximity to the Weasleys — he was practically their seventh son! — the hatred towards anything Malfoy was surely nurtured.
Perish the thought! Give me not a chance, for everyone is of one dimension; all things are either black or white; and by this logic I am found to be evil. I am repugnant. I am, a Malfoy.
If ever there was one person Draco had expected to look pass the name, the façade, it was Harry Potter.
Fate was a cruel mistress; she reveled in my pain, my misery, my tears. She knows no pity, no compassion.
Not even death could stand her.
"There are no such things as permanent bonds. All bonds can be broken. It's just a matter of finding the right spell."
He panicked. They were serious. They were willing to break the bond. Desperate grey eyes sought green and recoiled at the emotion found there.
Smug satisfaction.
HE WANTED IT!
He wanted to kill me. He didn't care. He lied. He hated me. Hates me. Hates. Me. Hates me. Hates me.
Mind in turmoil, he turned and fled. Gloating laughter ringing in his ears.
He sought solace within the only arms it was to be found in.
"There, there, sweet childe. We shall be united soon. Soon, these cruel beasts will be a thing of the past. You'll be with me and I'll show you the love you truly deserve."
It should frighten him, how corporal the reaper was becoming. Every embrace felt more solid and there than the last.
Draco knew. His end was near.
"NO! STOP! STOP!" The pain, it sank its claws within my chest, grasping my struggling heart, squeezing it, pulling it, yanking it from my chest.
How cruel these monsters were, ignoring my pained screams, chanting that god forsaken ritual. Had they no mercy?
Did they possess a heart? Or were their chests hollow, their souls incomplete?
The pain faded, the screams muted, the blood disappeared. Those arms held me, securely; promising safety, love and a world without pain.
"Rest my childe, Death has you now."
...
F.I.N
…
MORPHEUS: The son of Sleep, and the god of dreams. The name signifies the fashioner or moulder, because he shaped or formed the dreams which appeared to the sleeper.
EPIALES: Epiales was the spirit (daimon) of nightmares. Son of Nyx.
HEMERA: The goddess of the day, a daughter of Erebus and Nyx. Sister-Wife of Aither.
AITHER: The Protogenos (first-born elemental god) of the bright, glowing upper air of heaven - the substance of light. The son of Erebus and his sister Night, and a brother-husband of Day.