Not Quite Dark Magic

Anxiety

Draco stared down at his hands, counting the seconds.

Twitch.

He grimaced, but continued watching in silence for another 48 seconds before—

Twitch.

He sighed. There was no more denying it at this point. He was literally twitchy from being seperated from Granger. When it had started it earlier, he had chalked it up to the lack of breakfast. As the day continued on, however, it became harder to ignore. He found his mind drifting to Granger, attempting to reach out and check on her through their bind before he came to his senses and pulled back. This would last all of five minutes before the process would repeat.

The twitching was now happening more frequently, and the worst part was that he wasn't sure the next time he'd be able to stop by and see her.

It had been four days since he had left the safe house after feeling a burning in his Dark Mark. He was being summoned. There was no time to say goodbyes, and seeing as Granger wasn't in the room, he merely asked Potter to explain.

He was regretting that now, wishing he could have had that last close contact before being sent off to Romania to do the Dark Lord's bidding.

He wasn't given a timeframe on how long he'd be here, though that had been true for all his missions prior to this. It had just never bothered him the way it was currently.

He cursed and began pacing as he felt himself reaching out to check on her once more. This bloody bind would be the death of him. Attaching himself to anyone was dangerous, something he hadn't done in years based solely on principle. He needed to focus, needed to keep everyone around him safe. If he didn't love anyone, then that was less people the Dark Lord was able to hold over him.

But now he was a leech on the muggleborn, practically feeding on her life force in order to feel even minorly stable.

He stared at his hands, which were now twitching every 47 seconds. He groaned and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. He could only hope this mission would be quick to wrap up. Then he would be given the next few days off and he could go to the Order, get his fix like a bloody addict, and be off to complete the cycle all over again.

If he thought things would be complicated when he sent his original proposition to the Order, he'd had no idea what he was getting into.

--

Three days later, just a few minutes before his group was to take a PortKey back to the manor, he felt a strong surge bleed out in his chest. He faltered in his walking speed, but seeing the odd glances he got from the Death Eaters around him, quickly righted himself and double checked his Occlumency shields were in place.

The feeling— it wasn't his. Clearly something had happened to Granger, though he wasn't able to identify it. Panic flooded his senses, numbing his fingers and blurring his vision. He took a moment to calm himself before exploring it further.

After a few deep breaths, he was able to discern that it wasn't life threatening. He couldn't pinpoint how he knew this, but he trusted his instincts. It didn't do much to stifle his anxiety

He couldn't go to her right now. It would be another half hour, at least. He would need to go home, grab the things Shacklebolt had requested of him and only then would he be able to apparate over. He thought about apparating first, and then coming back for his things, but logically he knew that was too dangerous. No, even if it pained him he was just going to have to be patient, lest he risk the entire Order.

His fingers were constantly twitching, and to cover this up he had kept his hands in his pockets or clenched in fists at his side. His chest ached unbearably and he fought the urge to rub at it. The arrival of the anxiety only amplified his feelings of unease and he found himself repeatedly counting to sixty, literally counting down the minutes until he could ease himself.