Disgust. Rejection. Weariness.
What was he even doing here?
It was as if the air were bloody and that his lungs were filled with it. Until they were flooded. Stifling, heavy, abrasive.
It was their blood, those who perished during the Battle.
He thought he did not belong here anymore. And yet.
"You have to go back Draco, you have to prove that Azkaban is not the place where you deserve to be."
His mother.
He accepted, with difficulty, but he accepted.
Because he was tired of fighting. Even though he had never really fought.
He had fled the war before it ended. Without any remorse.
He had fled because nothing would be the same anyway.
And this stupid McGonagall allowed him to come back. Lenient. She wished to grant him her forgiveness, another chance.
Mistake.
Draco Malfoy was traumatised. Because of his Death Eater status that he was stuck with, the Battle and its consequences. Because of the world that surrounded him.
And these traumas had made him relapse. He had welcomed his darkest vices again. Abruptly.
Alcohol, drugs, sex, morbid thoughts.
Destruction. Manipulation. It was the only way to overcome his past.
But wasn't his present even more chaotic?
He met his old demons and danced with them, again.
Draco Malfoy was vile, pitiless, indifferent, odious. His heart made of ice had slowly turned into a heart of stone. Perhaps he did not even have any.
He was dangerous. His actions and words were as sharp as a blade.
Nobody had the right to approach him, to dig into his soul. Whoever dared to fathom his thoughts ended up being squirmed. Cruelly.
His icy look, hidden behind some blond strands of hair, did not pay any attention to them.
Everyone was talking about him, but no one knew what he was hiding in his guts.
He had told himself that the wizard students would give him a hard time with all the mistakes he had done ever since his sixth year.
He was wrong. A handful of wizards hated him, of course. After all, he had been one of Voldemort's servants. They could loathe him, rightly so.
However, Draco Malfoy still had this immaculate presence. He generated an aura that could make people stagger when they encountered him. Thanks to this, he always achieved his ends. No matter how many people he hurt.
It seemed like girls were even more interested in him, although he had betrayed Hogwarts by joining the Death Eaters. As if his criminal past attracted them.
When witches walked by him, giggling like groupies, he would smirk. Mockingly, coldly. Almost devilishly.
Then, he would fuck them.
Sometimes two at the same time, because he did not care anymore.
They were pathetic.
Draco did not owe anything to anyone. Those glances that were utterly despising him, along with the ones that were admiring him, he couldn't stand them.
Just like he couldn't stand this filthy Granger anymore. The war heroine.
Why was she back too? Couldn't she become an Auror, like Potter and Weasley?
He did not want to see her. He did not want her to give him another reason to hate her.
Unfortunately, she was here. Wandering around the castle.
And her eyes were brimming with secrets.
But it seemed like she wasn't very good at keeping secrets.
Draco discovered one of them.
Now that he knew what she was hiding, he desired to destroy her. More than anything.
Downward spiral.