I own nothing.
A/N: Part 2 is here! I won't lie - it's bad! I simply cannot find the motivation for this anymore and it shows, but I refuse to give up! I really am trying my best though - even if I had to give up for a while because my writing program went on strike!
Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed and favoured this story - it's your alerts and kind words that keep me going…and that guilt me to continue lol.
I hope it's up to scratch - if not, I'm so sorry xxx
Warning – Extreme violence, drug use, suicidal thoughts and bad language.
Chapter 15 - Draco's Story - Part 2.
Pansy ran. In stiletto heels and a pencil skirt, she ran through the streets of London, dodging passers-by unsuccessfully as she stumbled and tripped over errant paving slabs.
Her hair fell from its perfectly styled bun, loose strands cascading over her face and shoulders, but she ignored it – just as she ignored the cries of outrage when she crashed into strangers in her way and did nothing but continue running.
Her mind was a crazy jumble of thoughts. Fear, panic, outrage, guilt – a torrent of emotions she couldn't even begin to process crashed through her system, each fighting for dominance. For now though, fear was winning.
Draco was afraid, had sounded more afraid than Pansy had ever heard him, and it was Theo that he feared. The sounds of Draco's cries, followed by a series of crashes and enraged bellows, told Pansy all she had needed to know – that this was the call she'd been dreading, the one she'd been waiting for. Theo was hurting her Draco, and she'd sprint across London – across burning hot coals – to come to his aide.
She was too far away though, at least 10 minutes flat out running (and that estimation was accounting for correct footwear) If Theo was hurting Draco, then she didn't have 10 minutes. It only took seconds to really harm someone...to kill...but she couldn't think that, couldn't complete that thought, because if she lost Draco – really and truly lost him forever – then part of her would be lost too. He was her soul mate – her kindred spirit – they were two halves of the same whole, and if one half disappears, how does the other continue to be?
But she was jumping ahead of herself, she thought as she ran blindly across a main road, narrowly missing a speeding taxi. She had no information yet, nothing but Draco's terrified screams for help and Theo's bellows of 'I'm going to kill you'...
She paused for a fraction of a second, the fear momentarily being replaced by overwhelming panic. She stood in the middle of the street, onlookers gazing at her warily as she remained frozen in place.
Theo threatened to kill him...He's going to kill him? Tears sprang instantly to Pansy's eyes, hot gushing tears that fell over her cheeks, sending streams of mascara trickling from her lashes. In an instant, Pansy bent down, wrenched the stilettos from her feet and began sprinting again – only this time, she was pushing obstructions from her path rather than dodging them.
Draco needed her, and she'd be damned if she was going to let him down.
Pain. If one word could sum up his life in that instant, it was pain - A complete world of pain. But pain wasn't even the right word, not really. It was too weak, too subtle. What he was experiencing was agony, torture! He wondered if he was dead, if Theo had finally put him out of his misery – but then, surely if he was dead, the pain would have disappeared – and there was a lot of pain. So perhaps he only felt dead, but was still alive to suffer it.
He could hear the ragged breathing of his boyfriend from somewhere above his head, and the sensation of being held down by a large weight across his stomach. His arms were being crushed, as though they were trapped in vices and his hands were ice cold from the interruption of the blood flow.
He was afraid to move, to open his eyes – to breathe! He didn't want to alert Theo to his consciousness, afraid that if he did, another bout of violence would begin. But he worried that, with his eyes closed, he was missing something important - that Theo was doing something that needed Draco's attention, and playing dead was only making things worse.
Just as he decided to open his eyes, Theo apparently cottoned on.
"I know you're awake, you posh twat," He spat, and before Draco could react, Theo's hand connected with his cheek in a sharp slap, snapping his head to the side with the force, "Do you really think I'm that stupid?" He asked, with a growl.
Draco swallowed back the bile that rose through his throat. Fear like none he'd felt before slammed into him harder than any punch Theo could throw at him, and it pinned him even harder to the ground. He didn't know what to do, what to say – Theo had never been this aggressive before, had never made him lose consciousness, had never threatened to kill him!
"Who were you talking to?" Theo asked savagely, and the weight across Draco's stomach shifted. It was then that it occurred to him that the weight was Theo himself, straddling him across the waist, and the vices his arms were locked in weren't vices at all – his arms were clamped beneath Theo's knees, restraining him.
Suddenly, a hand appeared in his hair, brutally pulling the strands from the roots, and Draco's eyes flew open as he gasped in pain. Theo's face was inches from his own, an animalistic glint in his bloodshot eyes, spittle flying from his mouth as he yelled directly into Draco's face, "Who the fuck were you talking to?" and with a frustrated growl, he slammed Draco's head against the wooden flooring.
Draco cried out as his head exploded with pain, and the image of Theo before him blurred and flickered. A deafening roar echoed inside his eardrums, like a drum beat being played right beside his head. He didn't answer the enraged man's question, knowing that the answer would cause a worse reaction than staying silent. A majority of the all the fights they had ever had were about Pansy, after all.
"Do you think this hurts, Dray?" Theo snarled when he didn't receive his answer, and he visibly grew angrier. With another growl of dissatisfaction, he once again slammed Draco's head into the hard flooring, "I'll make you fucking hurt, you little prick!"
As quick as lightening, the hand disappeared from Draco's hair, but before he could be grateful, Theo's fist connected with his jaw with a sickening crunch, "ANSWER ME!" he roared.
Draco felt hot tears roll from his eyes as agony radiated through his skull, and for the first time in his life he wanted to die. He wanted Theo to hit his head one more time and for the blow to be fatal, because this was it for him now – his future was to be Theo's punch bag, to live in fear that the wrong move would end in torture. Just like now.
"Look at you, you're pathetic!" Theo barked, spitting in Draco's face, "You're disgusting, do you know that – do you have any idea how lucky you are to have me? Because no-one else would want you, you're an idiot!"
Draco had heard all of this before, had heard it over and over again until it had started to make sense. How well he knew he wasn't worthy of anyone. Love, after all, caused pain, was poison – a much more lethal poison than the one Theo flushed through his veins.
"I know," He murmured monotonously, staring at the space beneath the couch. He couldn't move his head to look at Theo, he couldn't move at all. His entire body was drained, waiting for the chance to give up.
"Say it!" Theo demanded, his face once again inches from Draco's, only this time he was whispering in his ear. Draco cringed when teeth scraped across his earlobe, hot breath washing across his neck, "Say you're an idiot."
Draco didn't reply, just continued to stare ahead, waiting for it to be over. Theo's breathing picked up the longer he stayed silent and Draco steeled himself for another blow to the head, welcomed it almost.
However, Theo changed tactics. His hands suddenly appeared around Draco's throat, his grip unyieldingly tight. His windpipe was instantly cut off, his empty lungs feeling as though they had burst into flames from lack of oxygen. Adrenaline raced through his veins, survival instinct trying to force him to fight back, but he remained limp, willing himself to die.
"Say it or I'll kill you!" Theo snarled, his fingers flexing.
Black spots exploded across Draco's vision, the drumming in his ears becoming louder and louder until it was all he could hear. He hoped this was death. "Do it..." He gasped quietly, "...please!"
The corners of his brain began to fray, to disconnect from the whole. A fog crept in, cloaking his senses, shutting off parts it didn't need, trying to protect him from the inevitable.
But it stopped. Theo's hands disappeared, his airway opened again, and his lungs pulled in as much oxygen as it could. Disappointment flooded Draco's body as his brain repaired itself, reversed the temporary shut-down it had begun. Gasping air, his chest heaving with the effort, he found that he was still restrained – Theo still held him down.
Suddenly, something sharp stabbed the crook of his elbow, and he gasped in shock. The adrenaline he had felt earlier kicked in again, and he was able to turn his head to look at his arm. Shock and terror smashed into him as he took in the image of the syringe inserted in his flesh - Theo's thumb against the plunger, threatening to inject the full chamber of Methadone into Draco's vein.
"Say it! Tell me you're an idiot, or I'll do it!" He warned, his voice dangerously low, almost a purr.
Draco gazed at the syringe, overwhelming terror already coursing through his system, turning his blood to ice. This wasn't right; this wasn't how it was supposed to end – not like this! He began to struggle, trying in vain to release his arms from the vices of Theo's legs, careful not to disturb the needle poking out of his right arm.
Theo laughed at his attempts to free himself, his knees pressing even harder against Draco's arms, holding them still, "Last chance..." He smiled, his lips pulled over his teeth in a terrifying leer.
"I'm an idiot!" Draco yelled, desperate to have the needle out of his arm. He'd have said anything at that point.
A loud series of bangs followed his admission, and both men stared at each other with confusion for a fraction of a second before the cause of the noise was explained.
"Draco? Draco, answer the door, sweetie!" Pansy practically screamed through the letterbox on the front door.
Cold, hard dread washed through Draco's system. Theo stared at him, his face becoming redder and redder as the seconds passed. Pansy continued thumping at the front door, shouting continual threats to call the police and have someone smash the door down as she did so. Theo was livid, his grip on the syringe in his hand turning his knuckles white and the whole thing quivered.
"You were talking to her?" He whispered, his eyes wide and wild with fury, "You were talking to HER?" he screeched, his free hand once again grabbing at Draco's hair, pulling his head towards him, "That fucking whore!" He bellowed loud enough for Pansy to hear.
Draco's head smashed into the floor again with an echoing thump, but rather than wishing to die, he prayed he'd live. Pansy was in danger, standing right outside the flat, and the only thing keeping her safe was the fact that the psychopath on the other side of the door was already occupied. He had to warn her, even if it was detrimental to his own life – he couldn't, wouldn't let Theo hurt her.
"Pansy, run! Please, just run!" He yelled as loudly as he could, hoping that for once in her life she took his advice and ran.
In an instant, everything changed. An eerie silence followed his cry for Pansy to leave – the door paused in its banging, Theo paused in his tirade, and Draco stopped breathing - as the world around him truly exploded.
Pansy's screams outside in the hall beyond the front door screeched to the point of being inaudible, and the door rattled as she thumped and kicked at it. Her cries for someone to help caused other residents to congregate at the door, apparently attempting to help her.
But it was too late. The world moved in slow motion as Draco watched Theo push the plunger on the syringe all the way to the bottom of the chamber, injecting the lethal dose of Methadone into Draco's bloodstream, before he jumped off his body and stood over him, a nasty leering smile on his face, "This is for your own good...you need to understand that you're nothing but a jumped up little prick. Say hi to Daddy for me," he sneered before turning and leaving the room.
For a whole shuddering heartbeat Draco stared at the syringe still sticking out of his arm, physically feeling the drug begin to work its way through his body - Shock and disbelief filtering through his veins just as quickly. Theo had actually done it, had actually poisoned him. An echoing crack ran straight down the centre of Draco's heart, causing the organ to crumble into tiny pieces. The man he loved wanted him dead – it was a horrendous idea to swallow, and it hurt almost as much as a physical blow. Draco wasn't sure that he'd ever recover from that. But then he remembered Pansy...standing directly in Theo's path.
With one more shot of adrenaline, Draco awkwardly wrenched himself into a standing position, grabbing hold of furniture to try and support himself – doing his best to ignore the agony that burst to life in varying parts of his battered body. He swayed unsteadily; his vision blurring as he tried to walk forward with the ground tilting and sliding beneath his feet but he continued on – the sound of Pansy's screeching voice spurring him on...
But he couldn't do it. He reached the lounge door and tumbled to the ground with a thud, his heart beating so fast it felt as though it were vibrating against his ribs, attempting to smash a hole through his chest.
His lungs burnt again, only this time it was with the effort to manage too much oxygen – and he gasped and panted so forcefully that he began hyperventilating. His ears roared and his vision exploded with colour and light, blinding him – and his panic increased tenfold.
He needed to help Pansy, he needed to protect her, but most of all – he needed to tell her that her that she meant everything to him, and he'd spent every waking moment regretting losing her. For as long or as short as he'd live, Draco would never forgive himself for choosing Theo over her, and he'd spend just as long trying to make that up to her.
Pansy smashed at the front door of Draco's flat with as much strength as she could muster, her feet slamming into the wood with just as much vigour. She screamed and shouted and threatened, but nothing was working – no noise came from the flat, and she began to worry that she'd gotten the wrong address.
But then she heard it, the rough snarling voice of the man she hated beyond any kind of reason - Theo, speaking in his uncultured, idiotic vocabulary – swearing and insulting with each filthy word. She paused in her assault of the door to listen, desperately hoping to hear Draco's voice so she'd know he was OK. However, when she did hear him, dread and panic washed over her like a bucket of ice cold water.
"Pansy, run! Please, just run!" Draco cried, his voice strained and rough as though it took everything for him to produce the sound. She stood frozen for a second, swallowing back the fear that had exploded within her, before it burst out of her.
"Help, please, someone help me, PLEASE!" she screamed, throwing herself against the wooden door separating her from her best friend. "Please, anyone, help me!"
The man in the flat opposite Draco's opened his door to see what the commotion was, apparently waiting until Pansy had asked for help before coming to her aide, "What's wrong, love?" The tall, stocky man asked, closing the space between the two flats in 3 strides. "Is everything alright?" he asked stupidly in a low, cave-man like voice.
"Does it look as though everything's alright?" Pansy screeched, hitting at the door again with her high heel shoes, "My friend is hurt and I can't get to him!" she added, tears pouring down her face once again.
Another man appeared, walking down the stairs from an upper floor. He looked just as burly and stupid as the other one. "Oi, Greg, what's all the noise about?" He asked the man who had done nothing yet to help, and Pansy was slowly becoming more and more desperate.
"The poofs are fighting again, Vince," He replied with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.
Pansy cringed at the disgusting term he used, but chose to ignore it for the moment in favour of using the two idiotic creature's brawn, "Please, can you just get the door open for me, please!" She begged, closing her hand around the man named Greg's bicep. It was large.
He seemed flattered that she had chosen to appeal to him rather than the equally brawny Vince who had come to stand beside her, and instantly turned to the door – just as it opened up to reveal the smiling face of Theo.
"What have you done, you psycho?" She screamed into his face, throwing her shoes in his direction. He neatly dodged them, glancing at her two sidekicks with amusement.
"Careful, sweetheart, you'll break a nail!" He murmured, stepping right up close to Pansy, his putrid breath washing over her face, "Oh, you've got make-up issues," He laughed, pointing at her face, before brushing past her and jogging down the stairs.
Pansy didn't even attempt to think of a comeback, she stumbled into the flat – dumb and dumber following close behind – and screamed when she found Draco slumped inside the lounge door, his face completely battered, dried blood encrusted in his hair and an empty syringe sticking out of his arm.
"Oh, God! Oh, God, please no!" She begged, yanking the needle out and throwing it on the ground beside them. "Call an ambulance!" She yelled at the two men who seemed dumbstruck by the state Draco was in.
No, no, no. This wasn't happening, it couldn't be happening! Frantically she tried to wake the unconscious man in front of her, shaking him and calling his name desperately, but to no avail – Draco simply slumped further down the door frame.
"The ambulance is on its way, babe – is he alright?" Greg asked, pointing his mobile phone towards the obviously far from alright Draco.
"Are stupid questions your speciality? Of course he's not alright, you moron!" Pansy snapped, leaning over Draco's body to try and listen to his breathing. She tried for a total of 5 seconds, "Oh, my God – he's not breathing!" She screeched, cold dread slamming into her, "No, Draco, don't you dare do this to me! I don't know what to do!" She cried helplessly, turning to look at the two men behind her.
They looked at each other uneasily, before the one from upstairs, Vince, stepped forward, "I know CPR, I'm a doorman – had to do first aid training-"
"I don't want your life story, just help him!" Pansy shouted, grabbing Vince's sleeve and yanking him down. He seemed squeamish about touching Draco at first, and as he bent down to check his airway he had a disgusted look on his face, "Look, you imbecile, he might be a 'poof' but he's hardly going to be turned on by you giving him mouth to mouth – just fucking get on with it!" Pansy cried with frustration.
Vince had the decency to look ashamed, before he bent over Draco's tiny frame and began delicately giving him CPR, "Love, he's got some broken ribs, I dunno if I'm doing more harm than good-" He informed with a worried expression, continuing to give gentle compressions whilst glancing at Pansy who knelt opposite him, her hand clenching Draco's so tightly her knuckles were white.
She glanced down at Draco's lifeless face, so broken, so defeated - a shadow of the man she had once known – and she wept. "Please, the ambulance is on its way – please, just keep trying," she begged, clutching Draco's pale hand to her chest, "Please..."
The minutes that followed were a blur to Pansy. The ambulance crew swept into the flat, and upon seeing Draco's broken body lying on the ground in the recovery position both paramedics did a double take – glancing at each other before glancing back at the ground, "Draco?"
"Help him!" Pansy cried for what felt like the millionth time, her hand flying up to her hair and pulling at it in frustration. Vince had managed to get Draco breathing again, but the blonde still hadn't come round, still laid limp and deathly pale – only now his laboured breaths rattled through his chest, heaving it slightly with the effort.
The ride to the hospital was painfully slow. Draco had been hooked up to so many monitors that Pansy was afraid to look at them, fearing what readings they were producing. She stared at his bruised and bloodied face, tears flowing silently over her cheeks. The paramedics had asked her what had happened, and she had given the only explanation she knew – Theo had beaten him up. The syringe was harder to explain, but a swift glance at the lounge coffee table clarified what drug they were dealing with – an empty Methadone packet was lying haphazardly across a plethora of drug paraphernalia.
The machines surrounding Draco beeped erratically before a continuous high pitched tone rent the ambulance, "He's crashing, get a move on, Nev!" the paramedic yelled to the driver, who slammed his foot down on the accelerator.
Pansy wailed as the man began thumping at Draco's chest, forcing his heart to start beating again, and she clenched her eyes shut so she wouldn't have to watch. If she didn't look then she could pretend it wasn't happening, she could pretend that she was back in her studio, designing rooms for stuck-up socialites.
When they arrived at the hospital, and the ambulance doors opened, they were greeted by a dozen different doctors, all waiting for the arrival of '23 year old male – drug overdose'. None of them knew that the man they would be treating was one of them – one of the members of their own staff, of their own family!
Each gasp was more harrowing than the last, more heartfelt, more afraid – and each one was like a blow to Pansy's already crumbling composure. The doctors and nurses had all seen this sort of scene before, had seen where it led – Draco looked as though he were dead, and chances were that he was going to end up that way.
The corridor that led to the emergency rooms was long, and Draco's heart stopped again on the way through. The mayhem that preceded the continuous alarm of the heart machines frightened Pansy more than she thought possible, and she instantly started begging them to help again.
"HELP HIM, PLEASE!" she screamed, uncaring of other patients, "PLEASE! PLEASE! HELP HIM! OH GOD, HELP HIM!" She continued as she ran down the hospital corridor after Draco's trolley. Why did his heart keep on stopping? Why was this happening? She thought desperately.
The trolley was wheeled into a bay in the A&E where doctors and nurses ascended on Draco's fragile body. Nurses openly stared when they saw who they were dealing with, some even sobbing slightly, and Pansy continued to panic – so much so a nurse had to restrain her, hold her back as Draco was once again resuscitated.
She watched her friend have his heart shocked back to life another two times, watched him rattle about on the metal framed bed, watched his back arch and slam back down again when the electric current disappeared. Watched as the little boy she'd grown up with, had played House with, had hugged when he'd come out to her, had been betrothed to – had been in her life for as long as she could remember – died in front of her eyes only to be wrenched back again at the last moment. And she was sure the horror she witnessed would never leave her, would be etched upon her face for as long as she lived.
"Please…" She sobbed, giving up her struggle against the nurse's restraint and going limp in her arms. The woman maintained a constant stream of reassurance, telling Pansy that Draco was going to be OK, that the machinery may look scary but it was all helping him… Pansy had stopped listening, her eyes focused on Draco's face as a breathing tube was inserted down his throat and another nurse began pumping oxygen into his lungs. Pansy felt as though she were going to fall apart, like her body would crumble to pieces to the ground, and she wrapped her arms around herself to hold it together.
"OK honey, they've managed to make him stable enough to move him up to Intensive Care, so if you follow me we'll get him comfortable," The nurse informed her gently, rubbing a hand against her back in soothing circles.
Pansy gasped slightly, turning her head to look at the nurse with an expression of sheer hope etched upon her face, "He's going to be OK? Can I touch him?" she asked desperately, more tears spilling over her cheeks.
The nurse smiled gently, her hand still resting lightly on Pansy's back, "Of course you can, just be careful of the equipment," she advised with a grim expression.
The trolley began moving, jolting Draco's body as it went, and Pansy rushed forward to claim one of his hands – clutching it as tightly as she could, vowing to never let go of it again. The trolley and the assortment of nurses and doctors sprinted toward the lifts, heading for the Intensive Care Unit on one of the upper floors. Pansy didn't pay attention to any of the words spoken by the medical staff, afraid that if she listened too closely she'd hear something she didn't want to hear.
Instead she thought about the last time she'd spoken to Draco, at that stupid party their parents had thrown to celebrate the last of their exams. How she wished she could turn back time, turn it back and drag Draco out of the room when Theo turned up, take him as far away as possible and keep him hidden forever. She hated herself for every second she had spent pretending she didn't care about him, every second she kept up the silent treatment – every second that she had given Theo the opportunity to wheedle his way in, to hurt and destroy the boy she loved like a brother.
Intensive Care was a terrifying sight, with monitors and tubes and bleeping and the smell of sterilized…everything! It was bright white - blindingly white- with nurses walking around wearing masks and stressed expressions. It was a grim place to be, made grimmer by the fact that Draco was here.
He looked weak, fragile, and entirely breakable beneath the cascades of IV tubes and wires. The breathing tube had been attached to a machine that was now helping him to breathe, the steady pump of it almost soothing in the otherwise eerily quiet ward. Draco had been stripped of his shirt, and his bare, pale white chest was littered with sticky pads attached to wires, and black bruises. His ribs were discoloured, with several having been tapped up, and the bruises around his neck were gut-wrenching to look at.
"Where the hell is my son?" A voice echoed from beyond the ward, and the nurse attending to Draco's bed looked up sharply as though outraged that someone was causing such a commotion around such sick patients. Moments later, the older, more severe version of Draco sprinted into the room, white lab coat splaying out behind him, a look of utmost terror plastered across his face.
"Draco?" Lucius breathed in a pained voice, skidding to a halt at the bottom of Draco's bed.
Pansy had always been afraid of Mr. Malfoy, had always shrunk away when he approached, stayed quiet when he was nearby…until that very moment when she watched his world fall apart right before her eyes. In that very second, when his eyes met the broken body of his only son, every scary, intimidating aspect of him melted away – leaving a terrified father in its wake.
He took slow, measured steps towards his son, his eyes tight at the edges. His face was blank, expressionless as he gazed down at the sight before him. His hands trembled, though he placed them inside his pockets to hide the fact, but Pansy noticed. "What happened?" He asked, his voice portraying none of the stress he was obviously feeling.
Pansy swallowed, her hands still clutching one of Draco's in a death drip, and explained the phone call and subsequent events that followed in a small voice. Lucius stared at his son throughout the explanation, not once interrupting or commenting on any details. When she finished, he continued to gaze at his son, the only movement being the heaving of his chest as he breathed.
"He's going to be OK, isn't he, Mr. Malfoy?" Pansy asked, hesitantly. Lucius' gaze flickered to her for a second, taking in her mascara stained face and scruffy hair, and he took a few steps closer, stopping beside her. Very lightly he placed a hand on her shoulder, gripping it ever so gently, and he smiled an unhappy smile.
"You are an amazing friend, Pansy. He is very lucky to have someone like you in his life," He murmured, the smallest amount of emotion breaking in his voice, "Thank you; he would've died if you hadn't gone to his aide," He added softly, and in a surprising as well as shocking move, he leant forward and kissed her forehead – much the same as Draco always had – before pulling away and turning his back on her to read Draco's notes.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
For hours – though it could have been minutes, days, weeks – Draco concentrated on the steady bleep of a hospital monitor. He couldn't move, didn't even want to try, didn't want to announce his consciousness like he had done back in the flat with Theo. He just wanted to lie still, protected for now from the avalanche of despair that was sure to fall once he was awake – he wanted time to sort through things in his mind before he was faced with real life again.
It was difficult to remain still whilst Pansy sobbed beside him, whilst his mother held his hand and his father demanded the best care for him, a small amount of fear in his voice as he spoke. Difficult to manage the breathing tube that had been fished through his throat without coughing and spluttering. It was difficult - but not impossible.
He heard snippets of information from Pansy and his father – and lots of hissing. Theo's name had become the ultimate source of hissing, with his father going so far as to spit it on a few occasions. From what he could hear, Pansy was a wreck, her hand constantly quivering as she clutched hold of his. He wondered what she had seen back at the flat when she had found him unconscious, and what Theo had done to her out in the hall.
He hoped she would forgive him, and then prayed that she wouldn't in the same instant. If anything had been learnt from his experience with Theo, it was that Draco was poison - causing destruction to the lives of the people around him. He needed to be as far removed from society as possible, to be prohibited from coming into contact with good, pure people so he could not ruin any other lives.
He had also learned that his judgement was completely awry, that his ability to trust people was forever gone - and that he would never allow himself to love again. Would not allow himself the possibility to love again. Ever. Because love, like him, was toxic. Was the ultimate weapon of mass destruction. Was death.
"Draco?" A small voice whispered in his ear, a voice that was difficult not to answer.
Against his will, his eyes fluttered open, stinging when the bright strip lighting abused his tender retinas. His throat constricted around the breathing tube and his gag reflex kicked in.
His father urged him to stay calm, to hold still as he disconnected the tube and gently pulled it out of his mouth. Draco coughed roughly, his chest screaming in protest as he shuddered away from his father's touch.
A nurse came over and helped Lucius with the equipment and began checking Draco's obs, only for the young blonde to flinch away from her as she tried to check his heart rate.
"Don't touch me!" He hissed, his voice hoarse and rasping from lack of use. He tried to shift away from her, but found that he could barely move. He managed to wrench himself into a semi-sitting position before he depleted his energy reserve and all but slumped back against the pillows. Frustrated tears sprang to his eyes, "Stay away from me!" he ordered as the nurse once again made to touch him.
"Don't touch him." Lucius murmured in a hard voice, "I can manage, thank you." he added, dismissing the nurse. He sat gently in the side of the bed and slowly but pointedly placed his hands on the tops of Draco's arms, holding him still. "Calm yourself, Draco. I don't want you to hurt yourself."
Draco froze, his breathing laboured as he gazed into his father's eyes, the man who was his idol in every sense of the word. The unadulterated love shining back was like a white hot knife being shoved into his heart.
He allowed his father to check him over, to make his observations - if only to delay the inevitable. He could see the questions forming inside his father's mind, could see the hurt and betrayal painted across his face. Could practically hear the disappointment in every single word he uttered – and the pieces of his heart that hadn't yet been destroyed by Theo turned into dust. How was he going to get through this? How was he going to tell his father that he had let him down, that he had been lying to him for so long?
"Draco, would you like to explain to me what happened?" Lucius asked, his tone uncharacteristically soft, in an attempt to be unthreatening. Though, Draco knew his question wasn't a plea for knowledge - it was a plea to have knowledge confirmed. He flinched again as Lucius softly squeezed his arms, apparently in a comforting gesture.
"I was trying to help," he whispered, his voice breaking as a sob travelled up his chest, stealing his breath - preventing him from continuing. He felt his eyes begin to fill with tears as he gazed at his father blank expression.
"He was hurting you, and you said nothing," Lucius said, his eyes pained as he gazed at Draco's broken face, "You know you can come to me about anything, Draco – I'm your father,"
Draco squeezed his eyes closed to stop the shamed tears from falling. Oh, it hurt – his father's love and support hurt more than any injury Theo had ever inflicted. It was destroying him, ripping him apart from the inside, creating a huge festering wound that would surely never heal, "Dad, please don't," he whispered pitifully, pulling his hands through his hair, wincing when his clawed fingers pressed against the cut caused by the bathroom sink when he'd fallen.
Lucius sucked in a steadying breath as he watched his son crumble before his eyes and he swore to himself that Nott would pay - oh, he would rue the day he ever hurt a Malfoy! "Draco, none of this is your fault, do you understand me? Just because you are a...man, it doesn't mean that you can't be a victim of domestic violence-" Lucius pressed incredulously, earnest frustration in his tone.
"Dad, you don't know what you're talking about-" Draco murmured, forcing the tears in his eyes back down, desperate not to cry in front of his father. He didn't want to do this, he couldn't do this – it was hurting too much!
"Yes, I do...-" Lucius said, his tone warming slightly. "Draco, domestic violence isn't just something that just happens between-"
"Father, this isn't about domestic violence-" Draco tried to explain, only to be cut off again.
"Please, son - I beg you not to insult my intelligence," He asked, his silver eyes that were so like Draco's own swirling with sincerity, "It's nothing to be ashamed of...to be embarrassed about! You did what you needed to do in order to survive. Yes, stealing Methadone from the hospital was inexcusable, and there isn't a lot I can do to save your licence, but I could have done if you had come to me from the beginning!"
Draco cringed, his insides squirming. Shame and disgust infected him, swam through his veins like congealed poison, leaving nothing but pain and destruction in its wake. This wasn't right. His father wasn't supposed to comforting him! He was supposed to be disappointed, disgusted!
"Stop, please, I can bear this-" Draco begged, shaking his father's grip off and wrapping his arm around his stomach as he shifted in his bed. His ribs screamed in protest again, and he winced as he pulled on the I.V taped to the back of his hand that he had, until that point, been unaware of.
In that moment, his father, Theo -every single thing that had happened to him in the last 24 hours- melted away as unadulterated fear smashed into him like a steam train. In the space of a single blink, Draco began hyperventilating as he began clawing at the I.V in an attempt to wrench it from his skin.
Lucius grabbed at Draco's wrists in an attempt to stop him, instantly falling into Doctor mode as he yelled for assistance towards the nurses station, "Draco, no, stop it -" He ordered sharply, pinning Draco arms to the bed in order to stop the distressed man from hurting himself.
The I.V had been ripped out from the back of his hand, a trickle of blood seeping from the hole left behind, and Lucius cursed under his breath knowing that the line would need to be re-inserted in order for Draco to receive vital medication. However, Draco only began to panic even more as his father tried to restrain him, and his frail bruised body thrashed desperately as he tried to evade his father's grip.
A gut wrenching scream rose through Draco's body the longer he was held against the bed, pain exploding in every point that Theo had attacked earlier that day. He cried, screamed, begged - desperation evident in his every word, every movement, and it only increased as his father ordered a sedative to be administered.
The nurse approached, flicking at a syringe - preparing it to be plunged into Draco's veins as she went- and the panic hit a fever pitch. Images of Theo and the Methadone-filled-needle flashed in front of his eyes, and he began fighting in earnest against the hands holding him down,
"No! No, please, no! Get away from me!" He screamed desperately, tears tumbling over his battered cheeks. He looked at his father, pleading with his eyes, "Please, dad, no!" He begged.
Lucius briefly closed his eyes, fighting the urge to push the nurse away from his distressed boy. He nodded though, indicating his permission for her to administer the calming sedative, and his blood ran cold as Draco pleaded for them to stop.
"No! Dad, please...father..." Draco gasped for breath, watching the nurse close in as he remained unable to defend himself. He kicked and slammed his already tender head against the bed, arching his back in a feeble attempt to escape as he fixed his eyes on the needle in the nurses hand. She hesitated, and he heard his father's thorny voice lash out at her in a command to hurry up.
He couldn't understand why they were doing this to him - why they were attacking him. Why his father was allowing this to happen - no, not allowing it-...causing it!
The desperate need to hurt his father in return exploded inside him, and he used the only method available to him - words. "You're just like Theo - no, you're worse, I hate you - I fucking hate you! I HATE YOU!" He cried, switching his gaze to Lucius' stormy grey eyes. He didn't miss the flicker of hurt that flashed across his expression, and as he felt - for the second time that day - the needle being inserted into his arm, he relished in his father's pain.
His body began to relax against his will, became heavy, his mind so cloudy it was like he'd stepped out into a patch of fog. The sedative worked instantly, but his father didn't release his hold - he kept his hands planted on his biceps, his face hovering in front Draco's, watching his expression as the drug took affect with apologetic eyes.
"I'm sorry, son - it's for your own good," He tried to explain, hoping Draco would understand,
Draco's eyelids drooped against his will, false, manufactured sleep coming forth to claim him. For his own good. Just like Theo had tried to kill him - for his own good.
"I'm not your son!" Draco whispered, and his eyes fell closed.
"Right, straight to the couch, and I'll make you a cup of tea," Pansy insisted, trying to support Draco's weight even though it was completely unnecessary. He'd been discharged from the hospital an hour previous, a welcome relief after the 3 week stay in which he had been recovering. He was, physically, perfectly fine - bar a few sore spots, but nothing that would prevent him from walking unaided...it was his mental state that was the problem.
He was grateful to be away from the hospital though, relieved to be away from the gossiping nurses and judgemental doctors, but most of all he was relieved to be away from his father.
He shook his head slightly to try and dislodge the thought, to rid himself of the image of Lucius - the sound of his voice echoing in his ears - and concentrated on Pansy.
Her lounge, though quite small, was tastefully decorated in forest greens and stainless steel. Her huge cushioned sofa, however, had been equipped with a king-sized duvet in shocking pink that Draco assumed had come from her bed, and a ton of squashy looking pillows. She caught his raised eyebrow and smirked, holding her hand out towards the improvised bed, "Voila!"
"Pan's, you really didn't have to go to all this trouble - I could've gone to a hotel...-" Draco murmured, feeling oddly emotional. His comment was completely untrue, of course - he had yet to be left alone due to the admission he had made to Pansy that he had wanted to die when he was with Theo. She had since decided that he was suicidal and was deemed unfit to be left alone. "I don't deserve any of this," he added, feeling ashamed for how appallingly he had treated the woman before him.
Pansy, however, held up her finger in warning, her expression stern, "Firstly, hush! You and I both know that no matter what your...mental state, I would never have you stay at a hotel alone when I have a perfectly decent place for you to stay. And secondly, I don't want to hear any of that...-" she added softly, stepping in front of him and lightly placing her hands on his shoulders. She didn't miss how he flinched when she did so. "I don't care what he said to you, what anyone has said to you - you deserve nothing but the best, do you hear me?"
Draco shrugged, squirming beneath Pansy's touch. He didn't believe what she was saying, but he knew better then to answer back - one of the lessons he had learned out of all of this was to just keep his mouth shut and do as he was told.
He allowed himself to be steered towards the couch, and spent a majority of the day watching mindless, feel-good chick flicks with Pansy whilst eating junk food. He'd almost allowed himself to forget, even for a short while, everything that he'd gone through - could imagine that the last 2 years hadn't happened and that he'd never left the comfort of Pansy's side - but he couldn't let himself have that small reprieve, couldn't let himself forget.
Pansy sensed Draco's mood declining further and further, and flicked the T.V off. Draco glanced at her warily, confusion clouding his eyes as the film cut off midway through, "This film is appalling, why the fuck are we watching it?" She laughed, dumping the remote control on the coffee table. "I've got a bottle of Vodka in the fridge - been in there an absolute age - what do you say to a little housewarming party?"
Draco frowned, his hand sliding through his hair and scratching at the back of his neck, "What do you mean?"
"Well, I figured you could stay with me...permanently. I know it's a tad small, and we'll need to find somewhere bigger, but I think it'll be perfect! I really think we'll have a lot of fun...and we can take care of each other..." She explained, her eyes pleading for him to accept.
Draco stared at her in wonder, sure that he had heard her incorrectly, "Pans', I don't think that's such a good idea...I mean, what about Blaise?" he asked, shifting around on the couch to get a better look at her.
She gazed back earnestly, her hair falling into her eyes from the messy knot she had made at the top of her head. She hadn't changed at all during his absence, even down to her slouchy pyjamas - a pair that Draco realised with a jolt that he had given her the Christmas before they had stopped speaking. It suddenly hit Draco how very much Pansy must have missed him.
"What about him?" she asked with a shrug, "It's not like he doesn't know you, or that anything would happen. Besides, I don't care what he thinks - you're like my brother, you come first!"
Draco's eyes slid closed as shame and guilt settled over his head, "I'm a terrible person-" He began to say, wishing, not for the first time, that he had made different, better choices, "You shouldn't be doing this Pans', you shouldn't be giving me the time of day, let alone asking me to move in!" he moaned, sliding his hands into his hair and clutching desperately at the roots.
He didn't understand why she was being like this, why she had come running when he had asked for help - why she bothered with him at all!
Pansy tried her best to keep her voice light, to restrain the frustration and conviction that was desperate to break through, because she knew the last thing Draco needed to hear was another angry voice, "Well, I am, so it doesn't really matter, does it?" she countered in a soft but lofty tone.
Draco released his hair and gazed at Pansy's face, scrutinizing her earnest expression -looking for any sign that would contradict her words. She gazed back, seemingly allowing him the time to find whatever it was that he was looking for, and when he heaved a small frustrated sigh she gathered he believed her, though, apparently, he took no pleasure in her swift forgiveness.
"Draco, look, you can't change what happened, and beating yourself up about it is only going to make things worse. All you can do now is make sure that you never put yourself through anything like this again." Pansy advised, shifting closer to him, reaching out to innocently brush a few strands of hair from his dull grey eyes. She physically gasped when Draco flinched so violently he almost fell off the couch.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to frighten you." she explained, shifting back to allow the blonde some space. She berated herself for the idiotic move, remembering what Lucius had told her before Draco had been released from the hospital.
Lucius had sat behind his desk in his clean-cut office, his expression heavy with regret as he had gazed at her. It had been three weeks since he had sedated Draco, three weeks since Draco had declared that he was no longer his son.
Apparently, her best friend was blaming his father for inflicting yet more pain on him, and during an explosive argument that had taken place afterward - an argument that Lucius had regrettably lost his temper and declared that Draco was an idiot for ever falling for a parasite like Theo in the first place - the two men had been unable to speak amicably. Though, Pansy had to give him credit - it wasn't due to lack of trying on Lucius' part.
No, Draco believed that Lucius was against him, and there was simply nothing that anyone could say that could change that thought process.
Lucius had shuffled a bunch of papers on his desk, trying his best to hide the displeasure in his expression as he handed over the care of his son to Pansy.
"You must be especially careful not to startle him, Pansy, he is in a very delicate state of mind." He had informed, "Unfortunately paranoia is something that is unavoidable for someone who has been in his situation - he is going to believe that anyone he comes into contact with is going to harm him, which is completely understandable. You have witnessed for yourself the hostility he has developed towards me since the sedation incident, and we don't want him alienating anyone else - he needs his loved ones around him at the moment - he is going to need all the support he can get now that he has had his training license revoked…"
She needed to tread carefully around Draco, give him time and space to work through what he was feeling. Lucius had already been disowned by Draco, and had allowed himself to be the scapegoat purely because it appeared to help Draco to deal with his issues. Issues that didn't seem to want to go away.
Pansy had helped Draco the best she could when it came to the police enquiry and sub-sequent court hearing. Theo had been arrested and charged with assault and battery, and administering a drug without permission, but his solicitor - the vile Weasel Woman - had been good - good enough to get him a minimal prison sentence for what he had done.
Draco had suffered a more severe fate. He had been given a 3 year suspended sentence, ordered to pay £5,000 in fines, and had been banned from ever practicing medicine again - something that had destroyed Draco and Lucius in equal measures.
It had been a hard few weeks, but Pansy was determined to get her friend back on his feet and acting like the boy she had grown up with.
Shaking her head, expelling the train of thought that had carried her away, Pansy refocused on the man before her. Draco looked embarrassed by his reaction to her touch, his hand dragging through his limp hair in a habit he seemed to have acquired during their separation.
"So, vodka?" She asked, a small smile on her face, "and then maybe we can go about fixing the mess your hair is in!"
Draco's face broke into a watery smile, his eyes crinkling a little at the edges…and 2 years later, his hair and his life had been repaired beyond recognition. Until the fateful day when he walked into a building emblazoned with the logo 'Aurors LLP'.
To Be Continued…
Thanks for reading xxx