Parallel Universe
Contents
1. Remus and Bruce
2. Hagrid and Thor
3. Bellatrix and Natasha
4. Draco and Clint
5. Neville and Steve
6. Severus and Tony
7. Hogwarts and Phil
4. Draco and Clint
He used to think his father was the best father in the world. His father was his role model, who he wanted to become, even overtake. He did everything he could to please him, even though somewhere in his conscience it told him that he was wrong.
He used to count on his brother. No matter what happened, his brother would be there for him. Even when his innocence was taken away from him, his brother, although not knowing what happened, would dry away the blood and tears. Except when his brother started selling the key to his trailer.
He grew up spoilt, pampered, and loved. As the only son and heir of a pureblood family, he was used to the deceit and deception, used to being a perfect pureblood, the heir people expected of him.
He dreaded his childhood. All he remembered was death, spotlights, and betrayal. One after the other used him, until he broke free.
As he grew up though, the attention was on him. Pressure from everywhere forced him to his knees. With a death threat hanging over his head, he was forced to do this, do that. The inner world called him 'messenger boy sissy'. The outer world called him 'brat of a death eater'. He didn't want to become his father anymore. He just wanted to be himself
It was hard, keeping up his masks. Acting like he shot for entertainment in front of the audiences; an obedient young boy to the men in the circus; a loving face to his brother, making his brother believe that he hadn't suspected anything; wiping his existence from the planet, hiding atop the trees, in the air ducts, to avoid their greedy looks, their scheming looks, their adoring looks, their pitiful looks. Avoid them all.
So he dominated. He ruled with an iron fist, held his head high in front of the men. He became more vicious, had to become the best in everything, so one day, he could survive leave hell.
He was forced to flee. Roaming around, he made himself a living with his bow and arrow. There he found a freedom, even though he was later enlisted in S.H.I.E.L.D. But there he truthfully enjoyed shooting, and had, true friends, real friends who cared for him.
At last he made a decision. It was hard, and would cost them their family name. But it would worth it, the other alternative would cost them their life. It wasn't an easy decision, although it was a simple yes and no. A split's second of choice. And he knew it was up to him to make.
That day, he lost. His whole life, his loyalty, his love, his own existence- all wiped out. Instead the shell came along, as he could only weep inside. He could only watch as those who had fought beside him fell under his arrows, watched as he harmed those he would joke with, laugh with.
He prided himself in knowing the greys of the game. To them, it was simple black and white. Good or bad. Light or Dark. But he, he understood how to skirt around the rules. And so, unlike the others, who lost it all or gained it all, he stayed at the top, no matter how looked down upon he was. He didn't mind wearing a different skin everyday: just as long as he was always the winner.
He lied. He told them he couldn't remember a thing, when he could recall it as if it had occured yesterday. A perfect clarity in his mind. He pretended that everything was okay, while he hid in the air ducts, the roof to cry, in a world without Phil Coulson.
Sometimes he wished for a shoulder to cry on, to sleep without nightmares plaguing him, for someone to just listen to him. Sometime he wished he was just another commoner down the corner, only caring about his jobs or his girlfriend. But he couldn't afford such fantasies, or it would cost him his life. The people of the Light wanted to befriend him, but he was too wounded to open up again.
He tried to hide himself in, tried to act strong. But his teammates, his comrades, his friends, his brothers… They saw through it all, and hauled him up, giving him a family he never had. He told then everything and they let him break down, release everything.
Draco Malfoy was always a survivor. To survive he had already discarded his original shell, taking up dozens that suited him like hell. But it wasn't him, and he would never let anyone see into his true heart. He could never give anyone that degree of trust. He was too broken.
The only way Clint Barton could cope with his emotions was to wrap layers and layers around it like an onion, while all the others tried to peel him apart. But he let them.
In another universe, two men were wrapped tight in cocoons of their own design, wary eyes darting with suspicion, a direct consequence of pressure, betrayal, and self-preservance. But Draco Malfoy had nobody to rescue him, nobody who was willing to know the true Draco Malfoy. Clint Barton had Natasha, had Phil, had the Avengers. That's why he was never alone, while Draco was always just by himself.
:::::Morgan Freeman: It's hard not to wonder what our alter egos might be like, whether they're living out our most cherished dreams. But, don't forget this possibility: You could already be living the dream of another you from a parallel universe.:::::
Inspired by Operation: REBIRTH by DrinkingAlcoholicRainbows
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