𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐎𝐮𝐭 {𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲}

| 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒 | 𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘴

In Greek mythology, Cronus was the leader and one of the first Titans. Upon learning that he would be overthrown by his own sons, he devoured each of his children - Demeter, Hades, Hestia, Hera, and Poseidon - to prevent the prophecy. He was eventually overthrown by his sixth son, Zeus. 

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d r a c o 

"That's enough, Draco," my father snapped. "Leave her."

Oh, how ugly my name sounded on his tongue, and how like music it slipped off Angel's. Her eyes were red and raw, cheeks swollen pink from where Codrus had hit her, but she was looking at me, and my body was made of nothing but water and air.

"Draco. Come," bid my mother.

I would not. The heavens could rain down upon my head. Every single atom in space could collide into an explosion that annihilated the universe, and I would not have come. If Merlin were willing, I would walk Angel out of here or die trying.

"Angel," I said. "My star. Let's go home."

My father would not hurt me. My mother would not allow it, and if there was one person he would listen to, it would be her.

But perhaps I had been spoiled by the honesty of Angel's love for too long. My father's love was of a different kind. It was a selfish love, one he only indulged if it served his purpose.

I never got to stand up. Pain exploded from the side of my head to my neck. I felt my body sway. I registered how the light from the windows refracted in Angel's brown eyes as I fell onto my side.

My mother screamed. "Silence!" There was a loud blast, and she stopped screaming.

A second blow came. And a third, and a fourth. My vision blurred, and a thick bile gathered in my throat, threatening to spill. But I could not move. It was like I had been Petrified, all senses in my body and limbs were lost. I watched as Angel launched herself at my attacker, only to be thrown back violently.

"YOU'RE USELESS!" My father's voice reverberated behind the blood that rushed to my head. "YOU ARE WEAK!" Each word came with the weight of his staff as he hit me with all his might, again and again. "All these years, I've tried to teach you to be a proper Malfoy, and this is how you repay me! You have done nothing but live to disobey me. Now, you can die for it!"

I could no longer feel the pain, but I could hear it. Wood on flesh. My flesh. The sound was dull and thick, like the thwacking of the Bludger during a Quidditch match.

Angel was up on her feet again, throwing her weight at Lucius, and like a rag doll, she hit the floor once more. She clambered back to her knees, panting. A drop of blood pushed itself from her split lip, rose-red. It was pretty, adorning her like a jewel. Even through the haze that clouded my eyes, she looked so beautiful.

Helpless, she reached out her hand, her fingertips resting close to mine. Touching, but not quite. My mind shot back to all those nights ago in the Astronomy Tower, when I had done the same. Cedric chose her, she had told me. I remember staring at her as she slept. Angel, what would you do if you knew I choose you too?

Maybe I had imagined the whole thing, because she was crying now, shouting something. Stop it! Stop it, please!

Oh, Angel. Sweet Angel. You overestimate people too much, too often. You think everyone has good in them, and that is not quite the truth. You think telling them to be good would make them listen, that begging would somehow unearth some buried compassion. You think it all because that was what your parents had taught you.

Mine taught me the opposite. They told me that no amount of crying or pleading would change the outcome of things, because if you allow yourself to be swayed by words or tears, you can be controlled by anyone, can you not?

I have spent the past two years thinking of how I can ever repay you for what you did for me. And then I began to wonder - what do I have of value to offer you? I am but a lost boy, crossing hell trying to find himself. I am sorry for dragging you along. 

There were days I wish I had not gone back to the Tower after the first night we met. But you see, the feeling that came with you, it was a drug. Compelling. Addictive.

I thought I could make you feel the same way. But you never needed me - or anyone - to help you feel love. Your parents had already given you enough of that to last a thousand lifetimes. And yet, I wanted to try.

My father has never known love. It is a foreign concept that does not exist, a fantasy made up by wolves to manipulate and control the sheep. He will not let you have me.

Which is why I know he will not stop beating me until I am dead.

But had I not sworn that I would love you until darkness consumes my vision, until my lungs give out, until my heart beats its last? 

This is me trying.