𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋 | draco malfoy

chapter 73

A JOURNEY WITHOUT YOU

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𝐍 𝐎 𝐕 𝐄 𝐌 𝐁 𝐄 𝐑 𝟐 𝟕 𝐓 𝐇

The adversity of the first few weeks showed on Draco. He just looked so sad. His shoulders gravity-drawn. In his eyes there were walls built with him so lonely on the other side. A winter days gloom crept inside him and seeped into his pores, travelling to his heart that started beating with more languish.

As a few weeks passed, he grew less surly. At least it appeared as such.

He seemed... better. More alleviated when he sat in the Great Hall with the other Slytherins. When we made eye contact in class, he would sometimes send a light-hearted smile-there being no pain about our scarce communication and diminished ties. Nothing hurtful about the new routine where we were absent in each other's lives.

That hurt.

But I couldn't blame him.

I needed time to work on myself and I didn't expect him to wait around.

Maybe it was better for him to see he was more fortunate without the burden I was. Maybe he would learn he no longer needed me, that he no longer wanted me.

That hurt but if it were the case, I could never blame him.

I had spent the last few weeks having excessive conversations with Snape on a regular basis. He would ask me how I'm feeling, if I'm sleeping and eating, if I feel a sense of contentment.

Admittedly, I had started feeling more alive than I had in a long time. I appreciated the prick of the breeze and the colours of autumn turning cooler as winter slowly eased in.

I had to learn how to take care of myself, how to hold myself together and deal with my problems on my own, to not have to lean on anyone-yet still knowing I had a village of mates to lean against if I needed a hand.

I learned how to fix myself alone.

A brutal journey that was far more difficult than I imagined it could be.

The loneliness of the nights left me feeling hollow inside. But as time went on, the loneliness grew into a solitude. A sweet privilege it would be to have the company of the one who loves me-yet there became a peace in being alone. Knowing I could be alone and be okay. Knowing there was no longer any pain, any resentment towards the world and life itself for me to feel empty in the solitary confinements of my room during the cold nights.

I fell apart entirely. Unraveled and broken.

To claw my scarred flesh off and fill my emptiness with anything solid I could find.

I tried to distract myself from the hopeless feeling in the pit of my stomach. The feeling of not wanting to move or get up. The part of me that felt missing-the missing piece I couldn't find no matter where I looked.

Then came the craving of numbing agents. Drugs I could so easily obtain to give myself a moment of euphoria and bliss. All my worries washing away, even if only for a brief moment. How alluring the idea seemed-like I was being hypnotized and drawn towards it magnetically.

It was hard to stay away from a comfort I knew existed, a comfort I had already experienced and knew was blissful.

A brutal journey.

Every wound reopened.

Every terrible feeling felt excessively.

Every haunting thought trying to pull me back under the black clouds that would suck you in and entrap your soul in the darkness.

All this time, since the day I was rescued from that basement, I couldn't heal because I was pretending I wasn't hurt. Instead of facing the shadows looming over my head, I ignored them and pretended they weren't there to begin with.

Distracting myself, using drugs, even relying on Draco's comfort to help me feel freed for even just a moment.

So, I stopped pretending.

I was empty and then, I let sunshine and birdsongs fill my cistern.

It's heart working, this healing. You can't think your way around it. You have to feel it.

Be enough for yourself first. The rest of the world can wait.

I became enough for myself. Each scar and blemish that was stained into my flesh as a subtle reminder of my crucifixion, no longer bounded me. My own story carved into my skin but did nothing more than tell said story. A story I could either let break me, or strengthen me.

I was in control of that.

For the first time, I was in control.

I wasn't being controlled by Samael Hadeon who desperately kept me in his grasp even after his demise. I wasn't a pawn in Mara's game. So long as I'm playing my own game, she can't control me.

As they say, like the moon, we must go through phases of emptiness to feel full again.

Granted, I lost myself for a long time. Maybe that was what I needed in order to find who I am now.

As for the blonde-haired angel. He had me in his thrall-the only servitude I'd permit myself to relent to. His mien washing away the blood of brutality off my skin. His voice more soothing than a thousand caresses. His touch softer than a feather stroke. He knew me inside out and loved me for what I was, in defiance of the demons within me that tried to mar his seraph. You brought me far enough from my fears for now the only fear I have is losing you.