It was probably the most difficult ordeal Draco had had to overcome in the last few weeks.
He had tried several times to get down the bloody stairs of the house, without success. His mind was far too disturbed by recent events.
Daphne's death, coupled with the fact that he hadn't been able to attend her funeral, had been a hard blow. The bad news had locked him into a new vicious circle in which memories of his mother had become entangled.
He had felt so cowardly, unable to escape the prison that was his grieving mind. Too weak to be able to do anything but wait desperately for Pansy's comforting letters every day. Too proud and spineless to ask Granger to stop exclusively feeding him overcooked rice and overly salted meat. Too miserable to have to scrape the bottom of a soap dish for fear of asking for another cube.
He no longer recognised himself. Every morning when he looked at his face in the mirror he found himself on the verge of tears as he saw a man who was nothing like the one he wanted to be.
The magic calendar that Pansy had given him showed the tenth of September. Draco had been out of Azkaban for four months and hadn't left the upstairs of the house.
Wimp. Miserable. Cowardly. Weak.
Wynn didn't stay in the room as much as when she arrived. Perhaps she felt the gloomy climate of the room. Perhaps she wanted to get away from the negative atmosphere Draco was cultivating.
Pansy had offered several times to show him around the house, but he had refused. He would do it alone. He was far too proud to ask for such help.
It was becoming increasingly rare for him to deposit clothes in Granger's pink basket. He hadn't really dressed in a week. She had never commented about it. But then again, he didn't really run into her as he did his best to avoid her.
He would sometimes catch a glimpse of her through his bedroom window when she went to work. He often wondered what her job was. He kept his questions to himself. Curiosity was a bad habit. He had learned that the hard way.
He saw her with a cigarette in her hand almost every morning. He could see the smoke billowing over her hair, which she always kept loose. It looked just as tangled and voluminous as it had in their years at Hogwarts. She didn't take care of it, Draco was sure.
Her clothes were always the same–as were his, though he never asked for a change– and she had two pairs of shoes. Dungarees, faded shirts, long dresses from the previous century and a pair of battered black boots.
Muggle clothes.
He had become accustomed to them and even found a use for them. Some seemed more practical and light than the wizarding robes and cloaks he had worn all his life.
Sometimes, during the day on the weekends–when he didn't leave his room–Granger wore high, shiny, smooth shoes to the building that faced his window. She would come back covered in dirt, and even what appeared to be faeces. Draco found this repulsive and wondered what she was doing there.
All in all, he remained observant. He was content to watch his roommate's every move, without ever interacting with her. He watched the rain fall and the wind shake the first orange leaves from the trees until they fell to the ground. He read a lot of books without really caring to understand their meaning. He counted and counted again the floorboards of the other guest rooms.
Time seemed to drag on as he struggled every day with his anxieties, hoping to finally make it down those stairs.
The drag of time ended one Monday morning. Draco awoke with the sunrise which conjured a feeling of determination. A determination spurred by spite. Self-pity. Anger. Despair. He had had enough.
He watched Granger leave the house, then waited until the sun had travelled halfway across the sky while he ate his breakfast. He then made his way to the bathroom where he took a quick shower with a tiny bit of soap. He carefully brushed his teeth, avoided looking at the razor blade he dared not touch, applied his healing balm on his few not yet fully healed wounds, took a last look at himself in the mirror and left the room.
The next part of his morning ritual began. He entered the library, checking–as he did every time he entered a room–that it was empty, then went around the shelves to choose a book. This would be a pastime for him until he had the courage to go down the stairs.
He moved the armchair from facing his bedroom to look at the beginning of the stairs and sat down. From there began his daily hell, the period when he would lock himself in his head and fight against his parasitic thoughts.
What if the stairs were booby-trapped? What if someone was waiting for him at the bottom? What if there were other beasts living there? What if Pansy came to meet him and told him of a new tragedy?
The more he observed the steps, the more the hypotheses multiplied and increased his anxiety tenfold. He forced himself to read so as not to think about it.
Sometimes he imagined swallowing lots of dreamless sleeping potions in the hope that they would calm his destructive thoughts. He even considered the idea of forgetting everything that had happened to him. To forget his mother, his father, Daphne, Azkaban. To forget his suffering. He was sure that would solve all his problems.
After all, without his past, he wouldn't have any reason to anguish about walking down a bloody staircase, would he?
His heart was beating far too fast after twenty minutes of staring at the stairs. He attempted to return to his book, reading and rereading lines of text without understanding a word.
Was it about politics in Australia or tourism? He had no idea.
In fact, reading was of no use to him. It didn't distract him. He was still obsessed with the staircase in front of him.
He sighed and groaned in despair. He felt so weak, so cowardly.
He stood up abruptly, dropped the book on the floor and stormed down the first step. His heart was pounding and his fingers were shaking, but he didn't care.
He couldn't take this cowardice any more.
He put his foot on the second step and took a deep breath. It was just a bloody staircase. He shouldn't be afraid of it.
Three steps. Four steps. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.
He stopped and took a long breath, closing his eyes. He could do it. The whole thing was ridiculous.
He stretched his right foot out into the void, staring at the next step, but remained motionless.
What if something happened to him down there? What if–
His head was spinning and his muscles were aching from being so tense. He clenched his fists and squeezed his eyelids, then pulled back.
It wouldn't be today.
Today he would remain the pitiful man unable to walk down a flight of stairs.
oOo
Pansy was sitting at her desk, busy writing a letter to Draco. It was their daily correspondence, in which she was proud to tell him about the progress of her projects, but also Blaise's at his law firm.
She hadn't been to France for a few days and was planning to go the next day, but that didn't stop her from keeping their routine.
Draco's letters were never very long. He didn't talk about his day and just reacted to his friend's stories. She asked him every day how he was feeling, if his ankle or shoulder was still hurting, if his wounds were healing, if he was seeing Hermione, if Wynn was enjoying her new home, or what he thought of the house. He never answered.
He just gave his opinion on the projects that the Zabini couple were working on.
Despite this, Pansy didn't complain.
One of her greatest fears, when the Death Eater Law was announced, had been to find her friend in a bad mental state. She had been terrified that he would be unable to speak coherently, to think, or anything else that would prove a deterioration of his mind.
He wasn't affected that way, though. Draco was psychologically damaged—one would have to be a fool not to see it—but he was not mentally reduced by it. His thoughts were coherent, if anxious, and he was still the man she had grown up with.
He continued to give his opinion, without being asked by anyone. He continued to worry about her and her relationship with Blaise, which she described as strained lately. He had kept his neat handwriting and his strong vocabulary. He continued to sign his letters like a High Society Wizard, with his three initials. He was still as thoughtful as he had been in their last years at Hogwarts.
And that was what kept her from pushing him to answer all her questions. She was giving him time. She was giving him room. She knew for sure that he was not suffering and that he had all his wits about him. The rest would be rebuilt in time.
She was content to give him the company and support he needed in order to move on.
Of course, she often worried about him. When she didn't get an answer at the usual time, or saw how pale his face was when she visited him. But she never pushed him to confide in her. That was not her role. She knew Draco too well to know that it was unnecessary. She had already spent their sixth year trying to figure out what was wrong.
She would hit a wall if she forced him to talk about what was haunting him. For this reason, she just gave him what she could. Companionship, conversation, clothes, sometimes his favourite food. She kept her worries to herself.
She was about to tell him about the exhausting day she had had, spent in waiting rooms of lawyers who had mostly refused to see her, when a few knocks sounded on her door.
She was surprised to discover her husband's face peeking through the opening.
Here was something she had been hiding from Draco: she had been living in Scotland for ten days now.
Ten days of total solitude. Ten days of suffering and rest at the same time. A distressing contrast.
She missed Blaise terribly. He had given her the space she needed and had only contacted her three times by owl. She was more grateful to him than anything.
If she suffered from this distance, she knew it was for the best. Several times they had been separated for a few days to take a breather, but never for so long. This time, Pansy had snapped before she could ask him for a break and they had suffered the consequences.
She had needed time to clear her head. Time alone.
"Am I bothering you?" Blaise asked uncertainly.
She hadn't expected to see him, or even that he would cross the country to join her at their second home.
"I was writing a letter to Draco," she merely replied in a stammering voice.
"I can come back later if you-"
"No!" she exclaimed, far too quickly for her liking. She felt his face heat up and saw him smile stupidly, which only made her feel worse.
She had not wanted to show such infatuation at the idea of seeing him again. She had far too much pride to admit that this distance had hurt her.
Seeing him again, so close, after only ten days, made her heart pound in her chest.
"You can stay," she said in a small voice, without taking her eyes off him.
He was the only person on earth who impressed her so much. The only person who meant that much to her.
"Actually- I wanted to take you to dinner," he admitted, running a hand over the back of his neck. His gaze was shifty and his cheeks had coloured. She found him so touching that she almost forgot everything that had happened. "But I'll understand if you don't want to," he added quickly.
She couldn't help but smile, though she tried to hide it by resting her chin on her hand. Blaise was just as stressed as she was by this impromptu reunion.
"How should I dress?" she asked with a soft smile as she stood up.
Draco's letter could wait.
Blaise devoured her with his eyes as she replaced her quill in the inkwell and approached him.
"You're perfect like that," he whispered as if he had just seen an angel.
He held out his hand and she took it without hesitation. He pulled her to him and closed his eyes when she finally snuggled up to him. She felt at home.
The restaurant he took her to was a few blocks from their second home. The place was quiet, well-frequented and the food served was Pansy's favourite: Indian.
They were seated between a couple in their thirties and an old man who seemed to be a regular at the place. The waiters were friendly and the music was not too loud. Ideal.
Pansy ordered them a Naan dal and two bowls of rice.
She hadn't let go of his hand since they arrived and was holding it tightly for lack of contact. She needed to feel him close to her.
"Potter came to visit me this morning," Blaise announced after their food had been brought to them.
Pansy tensed immediately. She'd done her best not to think about all this last week.
"Did he come all the way to England?" she wondered, pretending not to be bothered by the subject.
"Yes, he went back and forth during the day. He had some final business to settle with the Ministry."
"He left Theo alone?"
"From what Potter said, Theo was actually the one who pushed him to come. He'd been staggering his trip for weeks so as not to leave him alone," Blaise explained with a shrug.
"And what did Potter want?" she inquired after nodding thoughtfully.
"He was mainly coming to see how things were going. After–"
Blaise cleared his throat, as if unsure if he should continue his sentence.
"After Daphne's funeral, Theo wanted to check in on us and have Potter come over to gauge how things were going. The letters weren't enough for him."
Pansy nodded gravely, not surprised that her friend was worried about them. Theo had always been like that, taking care of the group before he took care of himself. It was one of his best qualities, though it could sometimes be his biggest fault. Especially when he got himself into complicated situations for the sake of his loved ones.
He was often far too reserved to let them approach and help him. Draco and Theodore were the same in that respect, protected by an invisible shell that few could penetrate.
"Potter is going to apply to the French Ministry as an employee of their Department of Magical Games and Sports," Blaise said after a moment of silence.
This startled Pansy who had been lost in thought. She frowned.
"I thought he didn't want to leave Theo alone?"
"Again, he was the one who pushed Harry to apply. From what I understand, Theo couldn't stand to see him running around in circles at their house anymore."
"Which is understandable," Pansy winced wearily. "And what about Theo? What is he going to do with his days while Potter's away?"
"Potter will be able to work from home most of the time, so that shouldn't be too much of a problem. And they are adopting a cat."
Pansy laughed wryly, already tired of the conversation that was to follow.
"Because they think a cat is going to be enough to keep Theo company and calm him down when he has one of his meltdowns?"
"He's going to see a healer," her husband retorted.
"And you really think that's enough? Therapy like this will take months, even years. He's not going to manage to live on his own overnight just because he has some stupid cat that will hang around and stare at him when he's curled up in the corner of his room!"
Blaise remained silent, while Pansy felt a wave of anger wash over her.
She had to calm down. She couldn't fall back into such a state of mind.
"Draco's alone, too," Blaise muttered, as if in self-defence.
"We have no choice with him and you know it," she replied with a sigh.
She ran a hand over her face, overwhelmed by the turn of the conversation, and continued.
"Potter is too optimistic, that's one thing I've always hated about him. He thinks that things will be sorted out overnight, because he's done what he can. But he's not alone and he has to understand that. Theo sent me a letter two days ago, you know? He asked me to explain to him why Draco is in such a different state from him. According to his own words, Draco didn't open his mouth once when they saw each other! I didn't know what to say to him. I don't want him to get himself into a tizzy over this, I know him. And I don't want Potter to give up one more person, who we'll have to scoop up with a spoon, just because he won't be able to handle Theo if he wants to save Draco or whatever the hell else!"
Blaise frowned.
"Potter would never abandon Theo."
"Oh yeah? Wasn't that what he claimed about Hermione? And where are we now? He left her to rot in France for months thinking she'd get better on her own! And by the time he realised she wasn't, it was too late."
"He's trying to rekindle their friendship." Blaise fiddled with his briefcase with his fingertips. "They're going to visit her in a few days, for her birthday. Theo will stay with Draco and Potter will take Granger for a drive together."
Pansy gave another wry laugh and shook her head.
"I'm sick of this," she confessed with false joy. "I'm sick of the hypocrisy around here and all the false appearances. What does he think he's doing? He thinks that with a snap of his fingers, with a car ride, things will be better between him and her and that he can go back to his little business with Theo? That's not how it works."
"I doubt he means such a thing," said Blaise. "I think he is sincere, you know. I had a long talk with him this morning. He blames himself."
Pansy looked away to the window overlooking the city. The Muggle lights were on.
"I don't want to have this conversation with you again," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "I need to-I need-"
She didn't know. She was exhausted.
Blaise took her hand in his again.
"I know I've made a lot of mistakes lately, Pans'. I know I've let you down, but trust me. Please trust me. Trust him. Just this once. Take some time away from all this, focus on your foundation and let us handle it all."
She nodded and he kissed her hand, before asking the waiter for the bill.
She was far too tired to refuse. She didn't have the strength to fight.
oOo
Québec was a part of the world that Ginny had always wanted to visit.
She and Astoria had arrived three days earlier and once they had recovered from jet lag she could finally enjoy the beauty of the landscape.
After her fiancée had returned from England, where she had gone for her father's birthday, they had decided to escape even further, to desert this part of the world completely. Astoria had said she needed something new, something fresh, a break.
Ginny had agreed immediately. She refused to see the one she loved suffer and knew that Astoria seeing her family again had been difficult. She would have done anything to make her smile again. She had even agreed not to come when Astoria had suggested it.
She still remembered her words that evening.
"You are all I have, Ginny. I can't imagine a life without you, I would die. If you come with me, I'm afraid they'll say terrible things to you. I don't want to lose you."
She smiled at the memory. She didn't want to lose her either, that would be too hard. She trusted her. What they were experiencing was too beautiful, too perfect. She felt like a new person with Astoria. She was helping her become better and Ginny felt it every day.
She could hear Astoria approaching the deckchair where she was sitting on the balcony of their cottage. She was enjoying the late summer sun.
"You should put on some sun protection," Astoria advised her before leaning over to kiss her on the forehead. "Your skin will suffer and trust me, you'll regret it later!"
Ginny smiled as her fiancée giggled. She took out her wand and summoned a bottle of sun elixir to her.
"Would you mind applying some to me?"
She turned just in time to see Astoria smiling deviously. She positioned herself right between her legs, on which she spread the elixir.
"You're reminding me that I need to buy that magic epilator I found in a Moroccan shop," Astoria said, stroking her calf. "You could use it too, if you want."
Ginny realised that she hadn't shaved or waxed for some time. The fact that Astoria had noticed made her stomach tighten. She hated making a bad impression on her, she always felt like she was risking something.
She bit her lip and watched as Astoria continued her artwork, little abstract drawings on her skin. She tried to think of something other than the hair on her legs. It was really hideous, she should have seen it sooner!
"I ran into the neighbour when I was clearing out the rubbish," Astoria continued, kissing her knee. "He offered to show us around the neighbourhood and take us on a nice walk in the forest next door. What do you think?"
Ginny nodded with a smile, her torment relegated to the back of her mind. This was why she loved Astoria. She could always find a way to take Ginny's mind off of things when she saw her losing herself in her thoughts, even when Astoria didn't understand the problem.
This destination would do them a world of good. Ginny could not wait to photograph her fiancée in the Canadian countryside and enjoy every day of this trip, which would be a change from the air in England.
And that's it! See you next Thursday!
Thanks to Acciobraincells, Dressedpencil and DontStopHerNow for their help!
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