Well, this was one attempt at writing this scene :3 Not quite sure how it worked out but eh. Hope y'all like it :")
Written for Transfiguration: Write a fic from the POV of someone who is in some form of captivity.
Prompt used; 'I'm terrified of being alone. It's pathetic.'
Word count: 843
"Draco. Draco!" He could hear his mother's voice ringing in the hallway but he could not bring himself to even look up at the sound, let alone respond to her. He merely sat on the floor, with his back against the wall and his shoulders uncharacteristically slumped.
"Dra-OH!" His mother's surprised gasp accompanied the opening of the door and yet, Draco did not lift his head. His hands were buried in his hair, occasionally pulling at them, making them stand up in weird angles.
"Draco, love, what's wrong?" He could hear her coming towards him, her hesitance clear in her uneven footsteps. Still he did not reply.
When she reached him, she did not say anything like he had expected her to, instead, she knelt down and cupped his too cold face in her hand, lifting it up so she could look into his eyes.
She couldn't help it; Narcissa gasped. Her son, her precious baby boy looked like death had warmed over him. Of course, those were the most accurate words to describe their current situation, she thought.
His eyes had dark bags under them, his alabaster skin so pale, so sickly it appeared almost translucent in the dim light. His hair was lying limp across his forehead. What scared her most of all, though, were his eyes. His brilliant grey eyes that were usually so full of emotion and feelings were now...dead. That was the only way she could describe it; they were dead, lifeless, as if he had lost all hope and all motivation in life.
Narcissa knew how dangerous it was to lose hope, after all, she had been dangerously close to it herself far too many times than she'd like to think about.
Again, Narcissa decided not to say anything at the sight in front of her. Instead, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her little boy. Though he had outgrown her quite a while back, he would always remain her little Dragon, the one who would look up at her with wonder and curiosity shining in his beautifully expressive eyes and the one who would never be able to sleep unless it was in her arms.
"Mum," Draco whispered. Narcissa couldn't help the small smile that her lips turned up in, despite the situation. He had only ever called her 'mum' when they were alone, preferring 'Mother' when they had company, even when it was his own father. In recent times, however, even that had stopped and he had been painfully distant with her.
"Mum, I can't do this anymore," he whispered again and Narcissa realized, with a start, that she had never heard him sound this defeated ever.
"Do what, sweetie?" she asked, though she had a pretty good idea of what he was talking about.
"I can't stay here anymore, in this house, with..with him. I'm this close to going crazy!" Draco harshly exclaimed though Narcissa knew he was frustrated with the situation and not her.
"I..I feel so trapped in my own house, mum. I haven't talked to anyone who doesn't have that hideous mark on their arm in since school closed and I feel like one of those dratted muggle puppets who're controlled by others!"
"I'm so, so terrified of being alone," he whispered, voice dropping almost as soon as it had raised. "It's pathetic that I feel like I need someone. When I wake up alone at night, trembling and sweating that he is killing me, I feel pathetic. When I'm too scared to breathe loudly because I never know who's hiding where, I feel pathetic. But most importantly, when I'm too fucking paralyzed to even look at you because I fear they would hurt you, I feel pathetic."
His whispers were broken utterings that shattered Narcissa's heart. Every mother wants the best for her child, wants them to be happy and content. Seeing her baby like this made her feel like the scum of the earth, like she didn't deserve to call herself her mother.
What could she say to him, anyway? That she was sorry? That she didn't have a choice? That he should keep his head down and stay out of their way? Or that things will change soon?
Because she wasn't sure anything she told him right now would have even an ounce of truth in it.
So she merely hugged him tighter to her chest, repressing the urge to sob as his hands tightened almost desperately around her waist and his shoulders shook with the force of his own emotions.
She had once promised herself that her son would not have to live the life of obedience and subservience that she had lived. The difference was that she was under her father's control and Draco was controlled by someone much more dangerous, much more volatile.
She closed her eyes as one traitorous tear leaked out, praying to Merlin and Morgana that her son could leave this life while he still could, that he not be trapped in this manner of living anymore.
