Untitled Part 1

28

*Still in the flashback a month ago*

Draco's POV:

Just as I stepped foot in, it felt like someone had just walked over my grave. I felt the color drain from my face and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, my legs wouldn't move and my voice could not pass my lips, my body trembled like a leaf, my heart missed a beat.

This certainly did not feel like home.

I stood still for an instant as my eyes traced along the site.

Nothing's changed.

Everything was still colored jet black.

The malevolent, diabolical ambience suffused the atmosphere.

The cold air that had been so still on previous days had gain a slight movement, as if it had discovered its direction yet was content to meander at its own pace, causing shivers to run down my spine.

Not even a minute has passed and I started to feel my fingers twitch uncontrollably when flashbacks started to approach my psyche.
The subconscious of my mind couldn't help but reminisce the majority of some horrid memories that came with living in this place.

I mentally shook my head authorizing myself to sense back into reality.

This will be the last time in which I have to cooperate with this atrocious aura.

I thought to myself in attempt to calm down even though thoughts like this aren't even close to the definition of comforting.

I've been standing here for a while, I had to get on with what I came here to do.

My hands found company with the leather of my sweatshirt (which was technically Harry's) brushing away the remaining dust off of it.

The muffled voices were unpleasantly audible from where I was standing, and that made me feel sick to my stomach.

I sensed my fists tightened due to the state that I was in.
I was frustrated.
Mad.
Malfoy's don't get scared.
Suck it up.

My jaw clenched even more as I recalled what my father would always say.

Well at least I won't be hearing anything from him again after today, that's one perk.

And just as I thought my condition couldn't get any worse, here came the sudden pessimistic thoughts.

What about mother?

I can't just leave her.

What if she's the one to pay the prize?

What if father or the dark lo-

A heavy sigh left my mouth allowing the negative assumptions to get cut off from my head.
I kept reassuring my own self by saying that she'll be more than fine, especially without me.
She doesn't have to worry about neither me nor my pathetic feelings any more.
She's not going to be obligated to comfort me and spend all of her time checking up on me, feeding me, when she should be living her own life as I'm now grown.
I can make my own decisions.
And I'm choosing to set free not only her, but him too.

I'm very much aware that the feeling is mutual.
The feeling of fondness.

It was pretty hard to fight every single nerve in my body that was telling me not to grab the sleeve of his sweater, that was currently on me, and permit the addictive scent of it to flow through my nostrils.
Because if I did, I'd probably melt right on the spot.