The heavy wool cloak adorning Draco's shoulders helped to ward off the chill of the brisk autumn evening, and the hood served to hide his signature platinum locks that would have surely given his identity away to any aurors that may have been patrolling Knockturn this evening. Despite the warmth the overly expensive garment provided, it did little to heat the chill that had settled in his bones for an altogether different reason.
Granger's infuriating words floated around his skull like a slow leaking faucet.
Drip-coward
Drip-weak
Drip-waste of space alpha
DRIP-USELESS
The words swirled through his mind like a maelstrom made of every single one of his smothered emotions.
The witch had no real idea what it was like trying to survive under the Dark Lord's reign, and if given the opportunity, he'd like to see her make a different choice than he. Save his family or run and let them die. It was a choice, but a terrible one, so he'd taken the darkness within himself and accepted his fate.
The smell of piss and mildew assaulted Draco's heightened senses as a rather short wizard with a threadbare cloak and rumpled clothes knocked into him as they passed down the dark narrow lane.
Draco snarled, releasing some of his fury meant for Granger on the stranger, "Watch yourself."
The short fellow straightened slightly out of his stooped position as he turned toward Draco's cloaked form, "fucking tosser."
alpha and wizard sang.
The prospect of letting off some steam pleased him more than it should have, and the fact that he was so eager for a fight should have been an indication that he should lie low. In his heightened state of anger, he was likely to cause more damage than strictly necessary. But, not only was he raring for a fight, but so was his alpha, the two agreeing on something for once.
Turning on his heel so he was facing the stranger, Draco's hand shot out and gripped the man by his throat, the bones beneath his fingers so thin he imagined how easy it would be just to apply a bit more pressure to feel them snapping like a twig.
More. His alpha urged.
A soft chuckle laced with cold fury ghosted past Draco's lips on a breath, a puff of steam rising between the two men as Draco dipped his chin and looked into a pair of frightened eyes. A sick sense of pleasure slithered through Draco's gut as he ran his tongue over one of his sharp canines, the heady emotion wrapping its way around his intestines in a layer of inky black poison that trickled through his veins until it circled his heart. The fear practically seeped through the old man's pores, feeding that dark part of Draco further demanding payment for his sins.
"Do you know the things I could do to you? The pleasure I would take in making you beg for an end to your pointless fucking existence?" Draco hissed, tightening his grip, eliciting a strangled wheezing noise as the man fought for air, little silvery puffs floating past his lips as he struggled. His bony fingers, bent and swollen from arthritis, ripped at Draco's hand in a futile attempt to free himself.
Make him beg.
"Pl-, Pl"
"Now you see, please just isn't going to cut it. I've had nothing but shite on top of shite this evening, so I think I'd rather you took that 'please' and shoved it up your arse," Draco said, loosening his hold on his rage, letting the wave rip through him as he dug the tip of his wand into the soft belly of the stranger, casting a silencing charm before he funneled all of his emotion into the hawthorn wand between his nimble fingers.
"Crucio." A shuddering breath of relief filled Draco's lungs as the horrid curse skated passed his lips. The tight ball of emotion he'd hoarded within himself relaxed as his magic inflicted all of his ire upon his victim, whose silent screams fed on the darkness within himself.
"Take it all. Every fucking thing I cannot allow myself to feel, you will take all of it," Draco swore desperately, his breaths coming in quick pants as he followed the thrashing man to the cold cobblestones, his knee digging into the hard stone painfully as he hovered over him. The fear was evident in the dying man's face as his pupils dilated, and he feebly gasped for air.
"Draco!" Blaise's hushed but alarmed voice cut through Draco's increasingly frenzied mind, forcing him to end the connection between the trembling wizard and himself. The fresh scent of piss assaulted his senses as he took a deep breath in an attempt to center himself.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Blaise bit out.
The question itself was simple, but Draco found himself without an answer. Instead, he stared blankly at Blaise, hoping he would just go away, but knowing his luck was not that good.
Blaise grimaced in obvious displeasure but cast a few healing charms and canceled the silencing spell on the wizard at their feet. "You bloody idiot, follow me," he growled as he gripped Draco's elbow and quickly Obliviated the now whimpering man, before he pulled Draco in the direction of his tattoo parlor.
If Draco weren't afraid of attracting the attention of the less seedy class of wizards that occupied Diagon Alley, he would have put up more of a fight against Blaise as he dragged him through the progressively less filthy cobblestoned streets.
Draco kept his chin down, and his hood pulled tight over his head to hide his identity in case they ran into any unwanted visitors, such as a late-night auror patrol. That's just what he needed to top off the last 24 hours, running on fumes due to lack of sleep, a fucking bizarre end to a mission, Granger's appearance… Yeah, a fight with an auror was just what he needed to complete this fuckery of a day.
The bell above Blaise's shop jingled as he pulled the ornately carved door open. The artfully chiseled snakes writhed around the square frame, chasing each other's tales, the image a play on the ancient ouroboros symbol. Blaise had told Draco once that he felt a connection with the ideology behind it. The shop was a place to remake oneself into an image one wanted to see, and Blaise helped make that happen by inking beautiful images into people's skin.
"Get your arse inside. Now," Blaise snapped, the anger in his voice leaving little room for argument as he shoved Draco harshly between his shoulder blades, causing him to stumble into the dimly lit shop.
Draco clenched and unclenched his fist as he turned to look at Blaise, his anger still simmering under the surface of his skin, just waiting for another reason to lash out. Charcoal eyes met his as the two alphas measured each other up. Blaise was nearly as tall as Draco but much less experienced in battle, his mocha skin far less scarred than Draco's, but his eyes held an intensity that was not to be underestimated.
"What the fuck is your problem, Draco? Are we back to this shit again? Should I grab a bottle of Ogden's, it'll round out this recreation of the old Draco you seem to be going for."
Anger lashed through Draco with whiplike speed, the sensation like a kick to his gut as he fought every urge not to ram his fist into Blaise's nose. Heavy breaths escaped him as he continued to do nothing but glare in response. The fact that Blaise had thrown his old shameful habits in his face only served to feed his anger.
"Did something happen today? Is that why you're acting like a monumental arsehole with a death wish? What if someone else had seen you?" Blaise's questions came at him in rapid succession as he refused to answer.
"Did you follow that lead?"
alpha and man demanded.
"Does Theo know where you are?"
Fucking stop
"Is this making you angry? Being forced to face your actions?"
Fucking desperate plea banged against his skull.
"Feeling something in that cold heart of yours, Drake? Say ," Blaise placed a hand over Draco's chest and shoved lightly, the action the final straw that flung him over the edge.
"FUCKING STOP!" Draco roared as he slapped both palms against Blaise's chest and shoved, knocking him onto his arse. Without sparing him a glance, Draco spun around and swiped everything off the counter behind him. The contents clattered to the ground around his feet in a mess of parchment, ink, and quills. Fueled by his all-encompassing rage, Draco felt his fist connect with the brick wall, once, twice, and a third time before the bone cracked, and he finally roared for a second time, the sound ripping through his throat in a sound of raw pain.
"Are you going to tell me what's going on now?" Blaise asked as he picked himself up off the floor and moved to take a seat near the door. His expression conveyed nothing but patience now, a stark contrast to the goading one he'd sported while egging Draco on.
"You want to know? You want to know why I am at my complete wits end? Why am I ready to rip my own mind from my skull to allow myself a moment's reprieve from the constant fucking battle with my own blood instincts? Hermione Fucking Granger, that's why."
Blaise blinked once and then twice before a slow grin spread over his face. "You found her, didn't you? She's the one."
If Draco weren't nursing a few broken knuckles, he would consider wiping that smirk right off Blaise's face. Instead, he sent him a scathing glare. "I found three omegas, and Granger was one of them."
Stark white teeth clamped onto Blaise's bottom lip as he nipped at the supple flesh. He nodded to himself and stood before shuffling over to Draco, crumpled parchment skating over the floor as he toed it aside. "You done with the theatrics now? Got all your hate for me out in the open?"
Hate was a word that Draco reserved only for the wicked master who controlled his life and his father. The emotion was one he was incredibly familiar with when he allowed himself to feel anything at all. So, when Blaise spoke of hate, the fight began to drain from his mind and body.
"I could never hate you," Draco whispered as he dug the heel of his palm into his eyes. Shame coated his insides as he let the memories of his actions settle over him like the grip from a Devil's Snare, all-encompassing and impossible to escape from without a light to chase away the darkness.
"Fuck, I'm so fucking fucked," Draco groaned as he tossed his head back until it thumped against the rough brick of the wall.
Blaise sat beside him and reached out to take Draco's right hand in his own, examining the damage he'd inflicted upon himself. "Is it really so bad? Having found your omega?"
Draco chuckled darkly before pulling his hand from Blaise's grip and letting it drop to the floor. The motion sending a jolt of pain up his wrist, but the pain was second to the overwhelming number of feelings dragging him down. "I'm one of the leading generals in the Dark Lord's army; I'm emotionally inept because I've buried everything I feel as a means to survive, and I'm not meant to be an alpha, Blaise."
Blaise flicked his wand, and a small green bottle soared through the air until it landed in his open palm. After pulling the cork out, he took Draco's hand in his own again before casting a quick Episky, the bones piecing themselves back together painfully, followed by droplets of Dittany stitching the torn and bloodied skin until only patches of dried blood remained. "What does Granger have to say about everything? I'm guessing quite a bit."
Draco huffed a humorless laugh as he thought of Granger's face, her big brown eyes so full of life despite the hell she'd been through over the years. He thought of her sharp tongue and her refusal to hold anything back in order to spare her alphas feelings.
Could he be that? Her alpha?
A feeling of such longing washed through him that his bones felt heavy with it.
Yes, our alpha practically sang at the thought.
"Oh, she did. She said I was useless, called me a coward, a boy playing at war." Draco scoffed as he rolled his head back once more, his eyes catching on the moving mural on the ceiling. He'd asked Blaise once what the symbol stood for, as it wasn't one he'd seen before. Blaise had explained that it was a triple spiral, otherwise known as a triskelion, that had many believed meanings, but for him, it symbolized life and rebirth.
"Is she right?" Blaise asked as he rested his arms on his knees, his gaze soft on Draco's.
Draco wanted to shout the word no from the top of his lungs but no longer had the fight within himself to lie. To himself or anyone else. Hehadbeen useless. Hehadbeen a coward. And hehadbeen a boy playing at war. Because to truly fight for something meant that you had to believe in it, and he couldn't honestly say he ever believed in the Dark Lord's cause.
"Yes." The single word was so small but devastatingly hard to expel from his body. Once it was done though, Draco felt a new sense of relief at having admitted his darkest feelings of shame aloud.
Compassion shone in Blaise's dark eyes, his lips turning up slightly at the corners. "Well, how are you going to change that?"
This time, when Draco laughed, it was full of humor; the idea that he had a clue what to do to change the course of his life was beyond laughable. "Fuck if I know."
Blaise joined in with his laughter as he took Draco's hands and helped him stand. "Good thing your mate is infinitely smarter than you. I'm sure she'll have no issue with giving you some direction."
"You're probably right," Draco said with a new level of warmth to his voice. "Fucking witch has been busting my balls since the moment she woke up. Tore through my closet, ripped a fucking curtain rod off the wall, and assaulted me with it. I'd say Hermione Granger will have no issue with giving me orders."
Blaise howled with laughter as Draco pointed out the bruise next to his eye, the remnants of a battle lost to his omega.
Our alpha purred happily.
Yes, our omega.
"Good luck, mate. It's about time someone put Draco Malfoy in his place," Blaise sniggered as he plopped down in his artist chair beside his station.
The mention of being knocked down a level brought on a rush of memory of what had transpired earlier this evening flooded Draco's mind, causing feelings of deep-seated self-hatred to crawl through their veins, a small trickle morphing into a rush of darkness that painted his insides with shame. "I fucked up tonight, Blaise." The admission tasted acidic against his tongue.
Blaise nodded somberly as he picked up his tattoo iron and motioned for Draco to take up his position on the table. "Yeah, you did. Unfortunately, there is nothing you can do to change that, but going forward, you can do better. I gotta say, I miss my friend. The Draco that felt things and lived for something. I know that guy is gone because he was dealt a shit hand in life, but I hope to see you happy again someday, Drake. In that spirit, I am adding a new piece, lay on your stomach," Blaise instructed.
Draco had let Blaise choose a few of his pieces and had no issue trusting him to pick something fitting if he felt it was right. After a few moments of silence where Blaise fiddled with his iron, wand, and ink, Draco spoke. "We found Luna and Pansy too."
A heavy silence met Draco's statement before Blaise finally responded. "Pans is alive? Lovegood too?"
Draco nodded after laying down, his chin moving against his forearms, and his back bare once he'd removed his shirt. "They're alive. Both at my place." He knew he should have been more cautious with his words than he'd been this evening, but Blaise kept the shop heavily warded against unwanted intruders and listening ears; that would have to be enough for tonight. "You should come by and see Pansy; she'd love to see you."
The clearing of Blaise's throat alerted Draco to his discomfort as he waiting for a response. Blaise cleared his throat again. "I don't know Drake. You know how things went down the last time we saw each other."
Draco knew; he could perfectly recall the horrible things Pansy had screamed at Blaise in her anger. She'd been furious at his judgment of Draco for having taken the mark and continuing to serve under the Dark Lord. Blaise's mother had done her best to shield him from the dark underbelly of the wizarding world, which Draco's own parents had failed to protect him from.
Draco had been like a brother to him, and the fact that he'd not disclosed the danger he and his family were in to Blaise and the others had been like a knife through the gut to his friend. He'd raged about the numerous properties his family owned and how his mother would have helped them escape Britain, but still, Draco chose to be thick-headed and make an irreversible choice, one that was branded into his skin. Blaise had refused to speak to Draco for most of seventh year leading up to the Battle of Hogwarts, where things had come to a head, and Pansy, in an anxiety-ridden fury, had called Blaise a shameful excuse of a friend if he was willing to abandon Draco in his time of need before she'd forcefully slapped him across the face. The sound of it had rung through the Slytherin Common room, followed by Blaise's racing breaths. Draco had clenched his wand in fear of retaliation from Blaise, but he'd merely shot Pansy a scathing glare and stormed out of the dim chambers. The battle ensued shortly after that, and Draco had lost track of his friends; that was the day Pansy went missing.
He defended that if he hadn't been so stubborn and set on being angry at Draco for a perceived slight, maybe they would have all stayed together, or maybe Pansy would have had at least one of them to watch her back.
Draco told him it was all nonsense because neither of them had any hope of controlling the outcome of the battle, but of course, Blaise hadn't listened.
"She could probably use a friend," Draco said as his eyes skated over the black and white tile beneath the tattoo table where Blaise methodically altered the use of his wand and the iron.
Blaise scoffed softly before responding. "Good thing she has you and Theo, then."
Draco drew on every bit of emotional intelligence he possessed as he tried, for the first time in a long time, to be sympathetic to his friend's feelings. "I'm no good with this sort of thing, and Theo is preoccupied with Luna. Come by my place tomorrow and see her, Blaise."
A few more minutes of silence lapsed before Blaise spoke, his voice tinged with unspoken emotion. "Okay, but if this ends in a fight, it's your arse."
A feeling of pride settled over Draco at the thought that he'd made minuscule but still forward progress toward utilizing emotions long buried, such as empathy and even anger, both of which left him mentally drained but satisfied.
A cooling and cleansing charm skated over Draco's skin, pulling him from the ruminations that had garnered his attention for an unknown amount of time.
"You're all set," Blaise said as he pulled a mirror from his side table and handed it to Draco as he sat up.
Draco's keen stare evaluated the vivid black and gold scales of the fierce dragon with eyes charmed with a shimmering silver color not dissimilar to his own. Between the beast's gaping maw, sporting numerous jagged teeth sat its pointed tail, held in suspension as it waited to be consumed by itself like the great serpent in Greek Mythology. The beginning of the cycle of destruction and recreation. Within the circle of its body sat a triskelion symbol, painted a crimson color to reflect the blood Draco had sacrificed throughout his life. Every drop that he'd forfeited thus far would not be in vain. He would use this symbol of rebirth and recreation to rebuild himself into the man he wanted to be.
With the symbol of rebirth etched into his skin, Draco felt a new purpose settle deep within himself. Somehow, he would prove to himself that he was worthy of it.
Stepping out into the crisp evening air felt different than his initial entry into the hidden wizarding community. His anger had dissipated, and his mind felt clearer now that a new sense of purpose had begun to take root. With a fresh perspective, Draco began to stroll down the streets of Diagon Alley. There was less filth in the streets compared to Knockturn Alley, but that was where the differences ended. Across the street from where he stood, he could see Flourish and Blotts, the bookstore where he'd spent countless hours with his mother poring over the stacks of books so he could choose the perfect one to add to his personal library in his chambers. He and his mother would read a chapter every evening together. These were the memories he cherished most about her. The warmth she'd brought to the darkness that was his life. Now, just like his mother, the light of the bookshop had been snuffed out. The once gleaming windows showcasing the latest release were now boarded up with the Dark Mark burned into the faded wood.
How much change had Draco missed as he buried his head in the sand to avoid facing the feelings he had about his life and the choices he'd made? Countless other shops had been vandalized or shut down as he continued his stroll through memory lane.
Fortescue's, where he'd enjoy a Berty Bott's every flavor ice cream with his mum. How many times had she chastised him for eating the cold cream too fast, dripping the brightly colored liquid over his clean clothes, but it never failed that she'd take a soft cloth between her nimble fingers and gently dab at his cheeks as he smiled toothily up at her.
Zonko's, where he'd pick out numerous joke boxes for him and Dobby to engage in prank wars, he'd never told his parents about, but he was sure his mother knew.
All of it was gone, and in part, it was his fault. He'd furthered the Dark Lord's goals and now he needed to do everything he could to help make it right.
Maybe he could prove to himself that he could be good, and maybe along the way, he'd be able to prove to Granger that he could be the alpha she needed. The thought sent shivers down his spine as he and his alpha purred with satisfaction at the thought.
We will no longer serve the Dark Lord?
No
We will be alpha.
Yes
We will make her ours.
Yes