Draco and Theo walked down a corridor on their way to dinner, hand in hand. Guilt pierced through Draco's heart like an arrow. He had lashed out at his boyfriend, accused him of cheating when he'd been violated. What kind of a person did that make him? He was disgusting.
"Theo," he began, feeling all choked up. He gripped his hand harder, needing to ground himself. "Are you . . . Are you okay?"
Theo blinked at him in confusion, then in a moment understanding crossed over his features. "It wasn't pleasant," he said, and oh god. "But I will be okay. Because I have you."
Draco couldn't help the smile that bloomed on his face. Theo needed him. For once in his life, he was needed. And Theo loved him. He felt his heart surge in pride, that he could get another human being to feel that way about him.
"You do have me," agreed Draco, reaching up on his tippy toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. Theo smiled down at him, giving his hand a squeeze.
"I should let you know, I've changed my mind about the drugs. I threw them all out."
Draco could have cried with relief.
"Good, as you should," he said matter-of-factly, refusing to reveal his relief.
Theo sighed. "I'm sorry about the things I said to you earlier. I was angry."
A part of Draco, a part that mostly lay dormant, didn't like that Theo was justifying his behavior on anger. It didn't feel like a true apology to him. But he supposed he could let that go. The man had just been violated, and he'd told him he loved him.
"We could spin this in your favor, you know," said Draco. "We could put all the blame on Callahan. You threw the drugs away, so there's no proof you ever did any. You wouldn't get expelled; only he would."
Theo looked uncomfortable for a moment, uneasy. Warning bells flashed in Draco's head, but he ignored them when Theo said,
"I'm not ready. To do that. I dunno if I can . . . Face what he did."
And Draco understood that all too well. He hadn't wanted to go to McGonagall over a few boys attacking him in a classroom, much less a full-blown sexual assault.
"It's okay," he said hurriedly. "I'm sorry if I pushed you. It's okay."
Theo sighed in relief. "Thank you for understanding. When I'm ready, I'll come forward."
"I want to talk to him," Draco scowled. "He can't get away with this."
"You'd be giving him exactly what he wants. Men like him thrive on anger."
"I don't care."
"Well, you should. He's got a few inches on you, if you know what I mean."
Draco's eyebrow twitched. "Is that some sort of euphemism?"
Theo's eyes widened. "Merlin, no! Get your mind out of the gutter!"
"I was just asking."
"What I meant was, he's far stronger than you. He'd take you out with one punch. I'm not letting you anywhere near him."
Draco sighed. "Then I won't confront him, if it will make you feel better."
"Nothing about this is making me feel better. It's a shitty situation all the way around."
Draco thought it was a wonder that the other hadn't broken down and cried yet. He certainly would have.
When they reached the dinner table, Pansy's eyes widened at the sight of them.
"Did I miss something?" she asked, accusatorily.
"We-We made up," Draco stuttered, suddenly feeling insecure in front of his best friend.
"Budge up," instructed Theo, and a most dismayed Pansy made room for them. Greg sat across from her and Blaise, so that made it difficult to talk to Blaise, but Blaise paid them no mind.
"Draco," said Pansy, studying him closely. "What is the meaning of this?"
Theo gave him a pleading look. Don't tell, it said.
Draco sighed. "He . . . Apologized to me. And threw away the drugs."
Pansy didn't look convinced. "Just like that?"
"Yes."
"Then surely you wouldn't mind if you emptied your pockets, would you, Theo?"
"Pansy, don't-"
"What, if he's telling the truth, he has nothing to worry about. Theo, empty your pockets."
"What are you, an Auror?" Theo quipped, though Draco detected a hint of nervousness in his tone. Dread coursed through him like a river. Theo wouldn't lie to him, right? There was simply no way.
"No, I'm a worried friend who doesn't think she has the whole story. Empty. Your pockets."
"I don't have to sit here and prove myself to you," Theo seethed. "I'll do no such thing. I'm offended you even asked."
"Now I have reason to believe you still have them, and that you lied to Draco," said Pansy.
"I'm not a liar."
"Then empty your pockets and prove me wrong."
Theo rested his shaking hands on his legs. "No."
"Alright, then," said Pansy. "Draco, he's lying to you."
"No, he isn't, would you lay off?" exclaimed Draco. "He's not. I know he's not. Because he loves me."
Pansy gasped quietly.
"You didn't say that to him, did you?" she asked him, sounding nothing short of horrified.
"Of course I did," said Theo. "And I mean it."
"You," Pansy snarled, "are a filthy liar. I can see right through your little act."
Theo's eyes widened, and suddenly Draco was alarmed. What act?
Theo stood up, hands still gripping his own pockets tightly. "I don't have to take this," he said.
"Theo, wait, please," said Draco, standing up with him. Theo looked at him with soft eyes.
"I'm sorry, Draco. But today has been . . . all too much for me. Surely you understand. I'm gonna go lie down for a while."
Draco hung his head, nodding numbly. All over again he felt like the worst person in the world for accusing him of cheating.
Then Theo was gone, and Blaise was asking him what was going on.
"He told me he loved me," said Draco. "I really think he meant it."
"Of course he means it," said Blaise. "He looks at you like you hung the fucking moon."
Draco's heart squeezed in his chest. And he hadn't said it back.
"Did you say it back?" Blaise asked, as though he'd read his mind.
"N-No," said Draco, feeling dejected. "I didn't."
"That's okay, you shouldn't have to," interjected Pansy. "Draco, you are under no obligation to tell anybody you love them if that is not how you truly feel. And after the way he treated you today, I would've been mad if you did."
"I-I don't know how I feel," Draco confessed. He was so confused, about all of it. He'd been so sure that Theo had been leaning into Callahan's touch, like he'd wanted it . . .
"Did something happen?" Pansy asked. "What did he say to you?"
"Nothing," Draco lied. "Nothing at all."
"You," said Callahan, zipping back up his trousers, "are marvelous at sucking cock."
Theo wiped the excess come from his mouth with his sleeve. Once again, he felt gross. Used. Dirty. Every time he lied to Draco he felt worse, but he needed these drugs. Without them, how could he be happy?
As promised, Callahan slipped him two more pills.
"Not that I care or anything, because I don't, but I'm asking for your sake. How did things go with the boyfriend?"
Theo forced a smile. "Fine. He forgave me as soon as I apologized."
Callahan's blue eyes widened. "Just like that?"
"I told him you'd come onto me, had fancied me for a while. That's all there was to it."
"He did overreact," conceded Callahan. "Always was the dramaqueen, though."
Theo forced a chuckle. "You can say that again."
"Pleasure doing business with you, as always. I'll see you next week."
The next day, Pansy and Draco were walking to class side by side.
"Something still seems off about Theo," said Pansy, and Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Oh, and they were having such a pleasant conversation . . .
"How so?" asked Draco, carefully calm.
"For starters, the tosser wouldn't empty his fucking pockets."
"Don't curse, it's very unbecoming of a lady," scolded Draco.
Pansy stared at him, gobsmacked. "Are you serious right now? If anything, you lot are rubbing off on me."
Draco chuckled. "Especially Blaise, with that sailor's mouth."
"You're changing the subject."
"Nice of you to notice."
"I'm being serious, Draco. Something's off about him. I can tell. I always know when people are lying."
"He's not lying, Pans," Draco said hotly.
"For him to manipulate you by saying 'I love you' after those nasty things he said to you is just ridiculously low," growled Pansy, "and I won't stand for it."
"He meant it," said Draco feebly. Theo's eyes in that bathroom had been crazed, a million miles away, but he'd meant it. He was sure of it. Not even Theo would be so cruel as to say he loved Draco and not mean it.
"So why didn't you say it back? I know I told you last night you didn't have to, but I am curious on where you stand with him."
"I . . . I . . . I'm not ready," said Draco, feeling his heart rate pick up. His chest clenched in pain. He couldn't return the love Theo so obviously wanted to give him. His boyfriend had been raped, and he couldn't even love him back.
"That's okay," said Pansy gently.
"Pans, I'm not trying to be boring, but I don't . . . I've never . . . . I dunno how to love another person like that. What if I do it wrong?"
"Oh, Draco . . ." Pansy shook her head fondly. "There is no right or wrong. There just is. Love is different for everybody, and you'll know it when you feel it. Trust me."
So why couldn't Draco feel it? Was he trying to force something that wasn't there? Had his entire relationship with Theo been, after all, a lie?
"Have you ever loved somebody before?" Draco asked quietly.
Pansy looked at him as though seeing him for the first time.
"Yes. Yes, I have."
Horror struck Draco. "Not . . . Not me-"
"No, you imbecilic, narcissistic prick."
Draco breathed out a heavy sigh of relief.
"Then who?"
"Pass."
"Pansy."
"I said pass."
"Is it someone I know-"
"Drop it, Draco."
Her firm tone startled him. He peered at her closer, as though he could detect the answer simply from looking into her eyes.
"Draco, drop it. I mean it."
"Alright. But don't think for one second I'm forgetting about this. And besides, if you really didn't want me to know, you could've said no."
That earned him a glare. "I'll tell you when I'm good and ready."
Draco dropped it.
They continued their walk, and an uncomfortable silence stretched between them like a rubber band. Pansy's words floated through Draco's head, the "he's lying"s playing on repeat like one of those Muggle music players he'd read about.
"Well, this is me," said Pansy once they reached the Charms classroom. "I'll see you later, yeah?"
"Yeah," said Draco passively, still in thought.
"Draco," said Pansy, as though she could sense his thoughts. She probably could. "I'm not telling you what to do. I just want you to be careful."
With that, she disappeared into the classroom.
Draco began walking alone, and all too suddenly he heard voices behind him.
"Oi, Malfoy!"
He barely had time to turn around before he was being hit with a stinging hex, hard. His right shoulder splintered with pain, and before he could even register he'd been attacked he was being hit with two more, one on his left and one more in the exact same spot. The pain multiplied, and he very nearly howled. Clamping a hand over his mouth, he doubled over in pain as his vision began to blur.
"Not so tough now, are you, Malfoy?" one of the jeering voices taunted. Draco spun around on unsteady legs to view his attackers.
It was a group of boys that he vaguely recognized, the one standing in front he remembered as Dennis Parsons, a sixth year Ravenclaw. Pain rippled through his shoulders, throbbing fiercely. He said nothing to his attackers. He deserved it, after all.
"What, too afraid to fight back?" Parsons taunted, lifting his wand and casting a stunning hex that landed Draco on his back and with a nasty ache in his head. Before he could even attempt to get back up, Parsons was in front of him with two more guys and was yanking his hair, forcing the blonde into a sitting position. Draco yelped from the splitting pain across his scalp.
"Listen here, you little cock sucker." A punch to his left eye. Draco swallowed down his cry of pain and just fucking took it.
"My parents fucking died in that war you fought in, and my sister was tortured to insanity. Thanks to you, I'll never see her again." Another punch landed just below his nose, and Draco's face erupted in agony. He fell slack against Parson's grip, who was only holding him up by his hair. It hurt so bad his hair was sure to fall out, and his shoulders were still throbbing. It felt like open wounds.
"You're pathetic." Parsons yanked him by his hair and slammed him back down to the ground.
"Piece of shit."
A kick to his ribs. Draco inhaled sharply, body contorting and twisting in pain.
"You don't even deserve Azkaban, you fucking Death Eater. You deserve to die."
Draco winced, not from the pain but from being called that fateful name he hated so much. It represented everything he hated about himself.
"That's right, that's what you are, you're a fucking Death Eater, and don't you ever forget it!" With that, the boy on his right gave him another kick in the ribs in the exact same place. Draco couldn't help himself. He cried out in pain, curling in on himself and pressing his hands against his stomach.
The boys did not hesitate in reaching forward and grabbing his hands and pinning them down at his sides, giving Parsons free reign of Draco's ribs. Draco did not tell them to stop.
Parsons smirked down on him, saying something that Draco couldn't decipher through the pain, and then he was kicking him in earnest, one blow after the next, until black spots danced across Draco's vision and he heard something crack. Splintering pain scattered across his abdomen.
He heard the sound of shuffling feet throughout the corridor, but wasn't the least bit surprised when not one source of the footsteps cared to stop what was going on. They were probably jealous it hadn't been themselves, that someone else had quite literally beaten them to the punch.
Finally, Draco couldn't take it anymore. Tears sprang in his eyes and he sniffled loudly, squeezing his eyes shut and wishing it would all just go away, that he wouldn't have to exist anymore . . . how nice that would be.
"You gonna cry, you fucking faggot? Huh?" Parsons kicked him again, hard, and Draco gasped loudly.
"I've seen you walking around the halls with that bloke, how anyone can stand the sight of you let alone date you is beyond my comprehension." Another kick. Draco was ready to pass out. His eyes fluttered closed in exhaustion. He was exhausted with himself, with life, with everything. He wanted it all to go away. All of it.
"You don't deserve to be a part of our world, Malfoy, you don't deserve to live," said Parsons, and Draco was nodding, nodding to all of it even as the other boys kept his wrists pinned down, nails digging into his pale skin deep enough to draw blood.
Parsons suddenly stopped the kicking, and when Draco tried to draw a deep, calming breath he found he couldn't. His ribs hurt too much to breathe deep. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't fucking breathe. Shit shit shit shit-
And Parsons was grabbing not one but both his injured shoulders and pressing.
Draco screamed.
It felt like someone had taken a knife and sliced him open, and then rubbed salt in the open wound. It felt like it was festering, infecting, bleeding.
"You feel that? You deserve every second of it, you piece of shit," seethed Parsons. "That's for my fucking parents."
He dug his nails into Draco's shoulders, and Draco wailed. They must have put up silencing wards or notice-me-nots, for there was no way in hell someone wouldn't have stopped them by now. He was causing too much of a scene. Shame enveloped him like a snake, coiled tightly around his gut and squeezing the life out of him. He couldn't keep it together when he deserved this. He deserved all of it.
He didn't fight back when Parsons at long, long last let go of his shoulders and grabbed him by the neck, fat fingers tightly squeezing his delicate tendons.
"And this-" Squeeze. Draco choked and sputtered, but couldn't move his arms for they were still pinned down, "is for my sister."
Parsons let go of his neck, which was sure to bruise, and punched him square across the jaw, so hard that Draco saw stars. When his vision finally cleared, he looked up to see Parsons' look of complete and utter disgust. Parsons stood up and spat on him. The other boys stood up, letting go of his surely bruised and bleeding wrists. Draco took a shaking hand and wiped the other boy's spit off his face.
"You are a complete waste of space, and a waste of magic," said one of the other boys. "The Kiss would have been too kind a punishment for you."
Draco looked glumly down to the floor, face throbbing, as he nodded in agreement. Without another word the boys shot him one last filthy look before sauntering off.
Draco had to get out of here. He was on the cusp of yet another breakdown, and he wanted to go to the Room of Hidden Things but he didn't think his body was currently capable of getting him there. His dorm would have to do. With shaking legs he made a weak attempt to stand, and immediately fell back down, wincing as he went. He realized that Parsons and the others had picked the perfect time to attack him: when everyone would be in class. That was why there were no people.
He had to get out of here. With a firmer resolve, Draco pushed himself up against the wall and slowly, ever so slowly, rose to his feet, ignoring the exploding pain in his ribs and shoulders. He tried to take a deep breath before the blinding pain in his abdomen reminded him that he couldn't, and resorted to shallow panting. It was the only way he could get enough air to get himself from Point A to Point B. With an arm wrapped tightly around his middle, he set off on wobbly legs back to the eighth year common room.
Pain spliced through his side as he walked, and his left eye throbbed and pulsed. He gasped for breath. Fending off a panic attack felt like facing an angry wolf with only a stick as a weapon. Thoughts swirled through his head, mostly about the war and how much he deserved every kick and punch from those boys. He'd been a coward, run away, tortured people and let the innocent die. How did someone like that deserve to live?
He finally, finally reached the eighth year common room, and by that point black spots had begun to dance across his vision. He murmured the password and gulped in as much air as he possibly could before his ribs lashed out in pain, and went inside. It was vacant; everyone was in class.
Nonetheless, he made a beeline straight for the staircase, wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball on his bed and sleep the pain away. He began his ascent up the stairs, gasping and clutching his middle. Hit with a sudden wave of dizziness, Draco leaned against the wall and panted heavily as more spots splashed across his vision. The pain was too much. He couldn't bear another step. But he was so close . . .
Draco took another step forward, but the black spots took over entirely and he felt himself, as though in slow motion, fall to the ground. He winced when his head slapped against the cold slab of stone. Everywhere hurt. He'd rest here, just for a moment, before getting up and going to bed . . .
He didn't have the chance to get back up. Everything went black.