Chapter 2 – Spring: Reflections

Draco

I woke to the crackling of my veins. Electricity runs through me, there is no other explanation. It feels like I am being slowly lit on fire. But not the way I used to wish it was with you. Not like that at all. Something inside me is angry, lashing out. It has to be angry. Nothing peaceful could ever cause me so much pain. I have never felt so much fear, or pain. This thing, it consumes me - but I don't know what it is.

Someone please tell me. Tell me what is going on.

My soul feels like it is slowly being ripped apart. I feel like I am dying more and more everyday - like my body has given my soul up and it leaves me bit by bit, running out of my body. Hopefully to somewhere beautiful. Somewhere where you are.

Today I made the mistake of looking in the dirtied, cracked mirror. My distorted face stared back at me. My hollow eyes stare emptily into hollow eyes. My bones so sharp they could cut glass. My lips cracked and broken. My eyes bruised from lack of sleep and lack of proper company. I am not well liked here.

Was I well liked anywhere?

Please don't answer that.

If there was a time I was beautiful, it is gone. The man who stares back at me is not the man that laughed and sneered and plotted. The man who stares back at me is broken and empty and dirty. So dirty.

Was I ever beautiful?

Wait. Don't answer that either.

But you were beautiful.

I remember that.

If my memory remembers one thing right, if one thing in my life is untainted… its you. It's always been you. But it's never been me. Not even when we were small. When we were small boys it was never me, even if I wanted it so badly. I wanted it to be me you smiled at, joked with, loved. I wanted to be engulfed in your halo, in your peculiar golden glow. I loved your aura, I loved your warmth. I was so jealous, I wanted it so badly.

So I did the only thing that I could.

I hated you.

So passionately.

Because if there is one thing I'm good at, its hating.

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

I love you.

I cant stop loving you.

I hate you.

Harry

Gods. I haven't felt like this since Sirius died. So numb, helpless, empty. What is wrong with me? I haven't left my bed in days. I just lay here thinking about everything. Everything I said and did. Dissecting every minute of our life just trying to figure out what I did wrong. Why she left.

Three months later and I can't accept the fact that she's gone. I still wake up in the night confused when my bed is cold. I still expect to hear the shower running when I wake up alone. I still find things that were hers in my closet, in my cupboards, under my bed. I've collected all her things into a box. But, I cant quite bring myself to give it back to her. It feels like that means I'm giving in. Giving up. Losing everything we ever had.

The strange thing is, that with her leaving, my apartment really hasn't changed that much. For her practically living with me, she certainly didn't have a lot of stuff here. A few pictures are gone, my bookshelf is sparser, her shampoo is gone from my shower, a drawer is half empty. But life here still looks the same. Maybe she's right. Maybe I never let her in enough, I was too guarded. She always complained that she felt like a visitor to my own little world. And now I cant help but think she might be right.

Hermoine's voice is screaming from my fire place again and I cant possibly fathom what it is she could want with me right now. She yells to me to lower my wards to let her through. Something about needing to have a talk.

I hear her stumble over the threshold like she does every single time she floos over. I hear her trip and curse her way towards me, all the while never really looking at her. She yells at me some more and I stare right past her. Not on purpose. My eyes just wont focus right.

After a few moments of huffing and pacing and angry Weasley-wife glares, she grabs ahold of my wrist. She pulls and pulls but never really makes any progress. She whips my blankets off and recoils at the smell of me. She wrenches open the curtains and the windows, letting the first real light ive seen in a week into my room.

She coaxes me out of bed with more of her grating voice and growled threats. She roughly shoves me towards the bathroom and I stumble like the undead across the floor. I slam the door behind me and run my hands through my greasy rats nest.

I stumble to the sink and just stare at myself for a few moments. My eyes look dull. My hair looks filthy. My teeth have accumulated a nasty film and I have a few days worth of beard running across my face. I look a mess to say the least.

I shower slowly. Letting the hot water wash away all the utter shite that has happened this year. Letting it wash away thoughts of her. I must have stood under the scalding stream for three quarters of an hour being baptized of my sins and my sorrows.

Wrapping a towel around my waist and stepping out of the shower, I caught my own reflection again. I looked brighter, cleaner. More hopeful. I charmed away my beard and brushed my teeth the muggle way, because magic never seems to rid teeth of that nasty film.

Its time to face the world.

Time for a new beginning.

July – Hermoine

The headlines this morning caused a bit of a rukus at our breakfast table.

"Malfoy Heir to be Re-tried After 5 Years in Azkaban"

To say Ron was displeased would be the understatement of the century. He was outraged that "Death Eater Scum" would be re-tried, only 5 years after the war. After talking him down for about an hour I thought it might be a good idea to go visit Jarry to both check on him and see how the news was affecting him. After hearing Ron whinge on and on for over a week about Harry not showing up to the Ministry, I thought it was long overdue that I make sure he was okay.

I hadn't known Harry had it so bad.

The second I popped through his floo I had known that he was in a bad state. This whole Ginny thing has wreaked havoc on him. He doesn't know how to be alone, never has. The stench of his apartment alone had me wretching on contact. The darkness was stifling.

Harry looked like he might not have moved in days.

I called out to him, but he didn't respond to me. He just stared up at the ceiling, completely unseeing. If I hadn't seen his chest rising and falling steadily, I would have assumed he was dead.

After much effort on my part, I managed to get him out of bed and into the shower. He looked like a desperate, broken man. Casting the appropriate house-keeping charms to clean his house, I thought long and hard about the tact of mentioning Malfoy. I decided that today was really not the time.

For now I just had to focus on getting Harry back on his feet.