Oh man, this chapter took three years of procrastinating to get written. But here we are!
There is a very serious trigger warning for self harm (non explicit, just temptations &thoughts/behaviors) that is really for the whole chapter. I will add a quick recap at the end for anyone who may feel the need to skip.
Draco knew the moment that his door slammed that he was picking a fight. And part of him knew, truly, that it wasn't a fair one. That Sirius and Remus, and even Severus, were not who he was angry with. But at that moment he didn't care, or couldn't care. Rage had been bubbling under the surface all day, and it had to come out.
It only took moments for someone to come find him, Sirius of course. The werewolf seemed all too happy to leave Draco to his cousin. Yet another person who can't be bothered.
Draco had his back facing the door when Sirius came in, the door opening quietly, in stark contrast to how it had been closed. "Would you like to talk about it?" Sirius asked in his good natured 'I'm trying to relate to you' voice. Draco almost laughed.
But he didn't, instead he turned around twirling the small silver blade in his hand. It was a potions knife, its sharp edge glinting in the artificial light of the room. He hadn't been able to believe his luck when it had managed to escape Severus's scrutiny the day he had searched Draco's belongings. And now as he turned and took in Sirus's face when he saw it, he realized with a jolt that he had probably overplayed his hand. It's worth it, he told himself firmly. Blades can always be found, or made. Fights take effort. Draco had learned the art of picking a fight from his mother, although it had taken many years to truly observe the process. She knew her power was greatly more potent when wielded sparingly. He had probably learned just as much about picking fights from Aunt Bella, although much of what he had learned from her was how not to pick a fight. Still, one useful lesson watching his aunt had taught him was the importance of committing to the moment. Sure, he would lose his blade, but if he played his hand right and truly committed to making this a row, consequences be damned, that might be just as satisfying as a blade anyway. And it would certainly distract him from the horrible pit that had been forming in his stomach since Severus had shown up at Hogwarts and asked him to come to the hospital wing, since the Aurors and the doctors and the social workers. Nothing since that day has made sense, it's as if the world has flipped upside down and I don't even know how to walk anymore. But fighting is something I know how to do in any dimension.
Siriur's face only flickered with concern when he spotted the blade. Draco pushed aside his disappointment though when he heard the man speak. "Alright kid, lets just calm down and talk about things." The man's voice wavered a bit, and Draco smirked.
"I've been talked to death, I'm done talking. No one listens anyway." He said indifferently.
Sirius took a hesitant step into the room. "I get that, sometimes life feels really unfair as a kid."
Now Draco couldn't hold in the laugh, it came out almost as a bark, and reminded him eerily of his Aunt. "You think my life feels unfair?" He abruptly stopped twisting the blade and held it steady in his hand, bringing it to the center of his body and gently pressing the tip into his left index finger. "My life has been a lot of things, but fair is not a word you could use to describe it. And it's certainly not a feeling, it's a fact."
Sirius nodded slowly, he wasn't exactly surprised when he came in after Draco and found him with a knife, but he couldn't hold back a bit of his shock at how unhinged the boy seemed to be. Clearly madness runs in our family, he thought bitterly. As he watched the boy now, calmly holding the knife so close to piercing his hand, he couldn't help the violent flashbacks to the pool of blood outside his door, and Harry's paper white face begging him for help. He was even thrown further back to darker memories, ones he only recalled in brief mirages of the truth. His own blood pooling on the floor, the bored and disappointed tones of his mother finding him.
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. You need to focus on Draco right now, pull yourself together. He's right, his life has been monstrously unfair… You're all too familiar with that feeling. What can you say to help him right now? "You're right," he said quietly. "I don't know what went on in Malfoy Manor, or why you've been taken from your parents. But I know them, I know our family, our kind. And I can guess. The word fair does not hold significance to our parents, does it?" Draco didn't respond, but he had paused in his twirling of the blade, it seemed as if he'd been thrown off his axis a bit, so Sirius continued. "I can guess your parents were more focused on grooming the perfect pureblood heir than showing kindness or empathy; or love." He winced, his words hitting closer to home for himself than he had meant them to. "And then you were ripped from them, which probably needed to happen, and is probably a relief. But merlin, the guilt you feel. You failed, you betrayed them. And deep down, you're happy about that which only makes it worse. You're right, none of that is fair."
Draco considered him for a moment, the wild gleam in his eyes fading. "Shut up" he snapped, anger replacing madness all too quickly.
How dare this man, this failure, who turned his back on his own family pretend that he understood what Draco was feeling. "You know nothing!" he was shouting now, any pretense at a controlled assault, a fight of manipulation for his own gain flying out the window as his emotions took over. The room rattled dangerously and he knew he had truly lost control. Who cares? Let them see what it's like to deal with an out of control Malfoy. Perhaps they won't be so hard on my parents when they realize what they've been dealing with!
"You're pathetic! You think you can come in here and pretend you understand me, because we're 'relations'? Your family disowned you for a reason, and you have no right to act as if you know a thing about mine!'
"You think it's unfair, that I'm conflicted about all this crap? I'm not conflicted, I'm bloody furious! Who had the right to decide that I couldn't cope, did anyone ask me what I wanted? Of course not! Because they're all just concerned with making themselves feel good. 'Oh look, the Malfoys are a wreck. They have all that money but they still beat their son. They aren't so superior anymore are they? Rotting in jail while their son bounces around with no one to care for him? HOW IS THIS ANY BETTER? AM I MORE LOVED, MORE CARED FOR? LIVING ON THE CHARITY OF STRANGERS? TOSSED AROUND AND FORCED TO BEND TO THE WILL OF WHATEVER IDIOT HAPPENS TO BE IN CHARGE EACH DAY?" Things were flying around the room, something shattered in the hallway causing Sirius to duck, but Draco couldn't stop himself, he wasn't even sure what he was saying anymore. "AM I SAFER PURGING IN YOUR CRUMBLING BATHROOM THAN I WAS IN THEIRS?"
"And the one person who's ever given a crap, who I might actually be able to trust, what's he doing? Oh he's off fighting a blood war, saving the whole wizarding world from the mess that my own family helped bring about. So I can't be mad at him, now can I?"
He breathed heavily, running out of steam just as fast as it had bubbled up. Sirius glanced at him worriedly, then around the room, apparently taking in the damage. "Man, I really need to figure out how to ward this place from accidental magic before you hormonal teens burn it to the ground," he muttered, seemingly more to himself than to Draco. He pulled his wand and muttered a few quick spells to take care of the worst of the damage, then considered the boy in front of him. That's what he is truly, just a boy, Sirius thought mournfully. He wondered if Draco had ever dared to lose control so profoundly before, had ever felt safe enough to do so. A question for another time, he told himself wearily. And probably another person altogether, he isn't wrong, I'm a stranger and I've really no right to ask it.
Walking forward into the room more, moving slowly to avoid starling Draco who seemed to have checked out a bit since he stopped shouting, Sirius considered what his next step should be. "Alright Draco," he said after a moment of thought. "Here's what we're going to do; you give me that blade, and I'll get you some dreamless sleep. I'll stay with you until you're out, then you can wake up tomorrow better rested, and if you want we can continue the discussion about you attending the Salem Center day program with Harry. Because despite what you may think, you do have some say in what happens in your life. Snape was the one who wanted you to go, but while he's not here to explain himself I am happy to reconsider the plan. I can't promise anything will change, but you will be heard."
Draco considered him with a guarded expression, his eyes flicking between Sirius and his outstretched hand. "And if I refuse?" he asked obstinately.
Sirius had to smirk at that, damn if this boy doesn't remind me of myself. James I know you're somewhere laughing your ass off and telling me I'm getting my just desserts right now. "Then Remus and I will arrange to take shifts staying with you overnight, for your safety." He replied as calmly and evenly as he could manage.
Draco stared at the older wizard for a long moment, wondering if he dared call it as a bluff. But the idea of someone watching him sleep was a bit too intimidating. And I probably would still have to give up the blade, he thought bitterly as he dropped the knife silently into the outstretched hand. Then he followed Sirius silently through the hallway.
Sirius led him into his room, dropped the blade lightly on the top of his chest of drawers, and started rummaging through the bureau. Draco cast his eyes around warily, he had never been in Sirius' room before. It was a mess, the bed unmade and trash littering the floor. He must have forbidden the house elf from coming in for some reason, he thought idly. As he looked closer, Draco noticed other things; an open drawer that had several more blades in it, destroyed furniture shoved into the corners, empty liquor bottles carelessly kicked halfway under the bed. And this is the man who's supposed to be responsible for my mental health, he rolled his eyes. By that time Sirius had turned back to him, holding out a vial.
"Just a single sip" He instructed, then he popped the returned vial onto the chest of drawers next to Draco's confiscated blade. "Come on, let's get you into bed before you drop" he said with a smirk. Draco could see it now, the tiredness around his eyes, the slightly sallow look of his skin. He glanced suspiciously at the man's arms, which were covered by a long sleeved jumper. It was winter, and the house was always drafty of course, but Draco couldn't help but wonder.
It took everything in him not to slam his bedroom door behind him as Sirius fled back to his room, which only made the flashing images of his childhood worse. He had seen that Draco was comfortable and drifting off soundly, then gone to check on Harry and Remus. Once he had confirmed that all was well in the rest of the house, he had made a mumbled excuse to go to bed early.
He closed his eyes as he leaned against the door, locking it with a quiet wandless spell he'd known since childhood. The images flickered past his mind almost too quickly to absorb; Harry laying outside his door so pale Sirius had thought him already dead, his mother screaming at him to not disgrace the family name, his father with a grim face explaining to the mediwizard how unruly atgnd terrible Sirius was. Claiming him insane had been a last ditch attempt, a scandal on its own, but better to have a son who's insane than one who consciously chose to defy family tradition. It had been the summer before first year, and long before he'd ever cut, or attempted to end his life. He barked a laugh, sinking to the floor with his back still against the door as he allowed his mind to dwell on memories he had buried so long ago. There had been so many times in his life where admitting him to a psych ward would have been the responsible thing for his parents to do. They had refused, had mocked him and blamed him; punished him or ignored him depending on their mood. But that summer before his first year at Hogwarts he had been saner than he's ever been since. And he had known, down to his core, that his parents were teaching him a lesson. Pull yourself together and learn to hold up the family image, or else. We have the control, and you have no recourse.
Too bad he had learned a different lesson altogether. He had met a beautiful young witch who was kind, who had parents who had cared for her and loved her. He had learned what family could look like when it wasn't seen as a source of power to be manipulated. More importantly, he had learned that muggles were good and decent, that the wizards were the ones who were vile and without morals. His rebellious nature had been set alight with the fire of purpose. He knew for certain now that his parents could not be trusted, that they were wrong. He also had known that he couldn't beat them, that he would not win. But damned if he wasn't going to bring the whole house down with him.
He laughed again as he cast his eyes wistfully around his dilapidated bedroom. I suppose I was right, I can hardly claim to have won… but I am the last man standing. He reached up and plucked the blade that he had confiscated from Draco off his chest of drawers. He considered it for a long time, twirling it in the same pattern that Draco had. His fingers itched to roll up his sleeves, and for a long and terrible moment he was sure that he would. But instead, as his mother's face flashed before his eyes, screeching about disgrace and dishonor, he threw the knife instead. It imbedded deep into the post of his bed frame with a satisfying thud. He stared at the knife for a long moment, and even stood to go fetch it, but his eyes fell on a bottle of firewhiskey that was still half full, which had rolled under the bed. With a sigh he lifted it and drank as fast as he could. Then he turned around and grabbed for the vial of dreamless sleep, taking a carelessly large gulp before falling into his bed fully clothed.
As he drifted to sleep his thoughts swirled around Harry, his mother, even James seemed to loom at him in the darkness. He had expected to feel shame, but it was anger that burned deep inside him as he slipped away into the empty nothingness of sleep.
Trigger warning recap: The chapter alternates between Draco and Sirius' POVs. Draco picks a fight when he gets home from the day program. The fight ends with Draco agreeing to take some dreamless sleep, and Sirius massively triggered. He is tempted to use Draco's blade which he confiscated, but instead drinks a bunch of firewhiskey and takes some dreamless sleep.