Maroon leaks from beneath onyx skin, and he laughs. It's positively beautiful, and he wonders how he hadn't done this all before. He's seen his own blood splattered over the marble floors of the Manor, but never has he ever been the cause. It feels so good, so lovely.
Lovely pink lips curve in a smile, and he laughs again, the sound raw and real. The first real thing in months upon months, and he's loving it. Crescent moon nails dig into the soft skin there, coming away absolutely soaked and ruined.
"Draco!"
His mother, her voice so sweet. She doesn't know of course, but he's tired of hiding. Maybe he should show her.
"Episkey."
He's closed once more, washing blood from under his nails in the sink, splashing water on his face as he adjusts his cloak. Today was important, oh so important. He had to look his best, to display the proud chest of a Malfoy heir. He can't let them see what he really is, the person beneath his skin, the bones that crack and splinter.
Monster.
HDHD
He walks tall, alone. His mother isn't well these days, always in bed, never going out into the sun. He misses her, the way she smelled like lavender and comfort.
( he's scared to be alone. )
He's enveloped in steam as he pushes his trolley through the wall, carefully taking in everything, calculating a route where he won't bump into too many people. He knows what they'll say, he knows what they'll do.
He can feel eyes on him, the gazes burning into the back of his head. Of course they're staring, they wonder why he isn't in Azkaban.
( he wonders that himself. )
A small turn of his head to the right, and he spots a familiar pair of green eyes, almost glowing out of the crowd. But a blink, and they're gone. Perhaps he's imagining things.
He feels so empty now, no friends by his side to keep him company, nobody there to comfort him when he can't take it anymore. He glances at his wrists, at the sleeves of his jumper where he knows the Mark is hidden.
It's so hard to live, to breathe. Would it be so bad to end it?
( would anyone miss him? )
Would anyone really care?
HDHD
The world's simply too loud, though it's a bit quieter in here. Nobody wants to sit with the ex-Death Eater, so he's lucky enough to have a compartment to himself. He hardly takes up much space, scrunched against the window with all the curtains closed.
The darkness soothes him, and he's just falling asleep when the door squeaks open. He doesn't look up, he doesn't care enough to see who's there. They'll probably leave in a moment, anyways, once they see who's inside.
"Can I sit here?"
He doesn't even need to open his eyes to know who stands at the doorway, doesn't even need to look to know what the other's doing. Shifty feet, nervous smile, hands twisted in the folds of his robes.
"No."
The cushion next to him sinks in as the other takes an unwelcome seat, and he cracks one grey eye open to glare.
"Get out of my compartment, Potter, I already told you no."
Harry continued to sit there, his eyes wide and innocent, one leg crossed over the other with a crooked smile.
"I know what you said. But I decided I'd like to sit anyways." he said, his voice a whisper.
Draco merely sighs, turning onto his side so he faces the wall. He doesn't want to look at Potter, let alone speak to him.
But, the presence of someone else there beside him wasn't, as he thought, so bad.