Chosen || Draco Malfoy

44 - A Childhood Lost

Draco keeps hold of my hand as we slowly enter the building, the heat of our palms pressed together offering me a degree of comfort.

I hold my breath, and I can tell he's holding his too. Inside it is dark, all the curtains drawn despite it being still dusk outside.

"Keep right behind me," he orders quietly in my ear.

I do as he says but let go of his hand to draw my own wand. Like fuck am I not defending myself. This feels horrifically like the graveyard all over again, except we are inside my own home and this should be the safest place in the world for me.

As we creep quietly through the house, we see no sign of a struggle. Nothing unturned, no blood spatters, nothing. A far cry from Slughorn's 'home'.

The stairs creek under our feet as we slowly ascend them. My heart is in my throat as we near my parents' room. When we go inside, I am confirmed by what Harry told me. Unmade bed, teeth in glass, wardrobe full of clothes.

"I don't understand-" I whisper shakily as I carefully straighten out the sheets on their bed, tears stinging behind my eyes. "It looks as though they got up in the night and just... left."

"That or they were taken," Draco mutters wryly, inspecting Dad's teeth with horrified awe.

I go through all their drawers and cupboards for clues. I find a bag of wrapped presents and a sealed card with my name written on in Mum's writing. My birthday presents. Of course they hadn't forgotten.

"Oh god-" I choke, dropping the bag so that the carefully wrapped packages spill across the floor at my feet.

Before I can crouch down to retrieve them, hands grab at my arms from behind, and rather than push him away, I twist around and allow Draco to pull me into his arms, reaching up to grasp his back as I bury my face into his shirt, his scent alone comforting me.

"It's okay," he murmurs, his voice muffled into my hair as his arms tighten around me. "We'll find them, I promise."

"You can't promise me that," I mumble into his chest, "you can't promise me anything."

"I can promise to help you."

"You already did that and then I found out you lied to get me naked in the prefects' bathroom, remember?"

"I already explained about that," he says stiffly. "It wasn't about sex-"

"Ha! Really?!" I scoff, lifting my head to glare accusingly up at him. "So, if I'd removed my towel and asked to jump aboard, you would have said 'sorry, this train is full, better luck next time'?"

He hesitates, his eyes flashing as he runs the tip of his tongue along his upper lip. "That's not fair. I don't think I'd ever decline sex with you. I fancy you like fucking crazy."

We hold one another's gaze and I can feel the tension mount. But then quite suddenly I realise we are stood in my parents' room and this is the last place I want to be having a discussion like this.

I step back, forcing his arms to fall away from me.

"Let's get out of here," I murmur, hugging my arms as I avoid his eye. "I doubt we'll find anything else."

I go to turn, but to my alarm, the room appears to tip. A hand catches at my elbow, steadying me.

"For fuck's sake," Draco mutters, "have you even eaten today?"

The shake of my head propels him into action, and he strides forwards, forcefully taking my hand.

"You're not going anywhere until I've seen you eat something," he demands, leading me at once towards the door.

I'm too emotionally shattered to argue and simply let him pull me away.

Outside it is already getting dark. Downstairs, Draco moves around the kitchen, looking for food. I sit at the kitchen island and stare numbly at the wall where photos of myself laugh back at me: from birth to toddler to teenager. The last photo taken was of me with the Triwizard Trophy, looking glum as fuck. I remember Dad trying to get me to smile with Mum pulling silly faces behind him as though I were simply a grouchy toddler refusing to say 'cheese' and not someone who had just witnessed their friend getting brutally murdered.

A steaming bowl of tomato pasta is placed down in front of me. I blink down at it, and then back up at Draco, surprised.

"It's all I could find," he explains airily as though him - of all people - suddenly becoming a culinary chef was no biggie. "Everything in your fridge is off. I emptied it into the food bin. The pasta should be fine as it was dry before I cooked it. I found an unopened jar of sauce in your cupboard. It's not much, but it's still food at the end of the day."

He takes the stool next to me, and together, side by side, we eat our pasta in a companionable silence.

"Your parents love you a lot," he says nodding towards the photos once he empties his bowl clean.

"Yeah, of course," I mutter glumly, pushing my own food around with my fork. "Don't yours?"

To my surprise he just shrugs. "They have to, I suppose. It's in the job description."

I experience an odd sense of pity for the boy sitting next to me, and for the first time since I'd done it, I feel bad for having turned him into a ferret. Especially when thinking back, he'd genuinely been trying to impress me with those tragic badges.

"Draco," I say quietly, "why are you here?"

I am expecting him to say something arrogant and cocky - to tell me he's after a blowjob again. But instead he looks up at me sharply, a frown creasing at his brow. His eyes seem almost sad as though my question has disappointed him.

"Because, Cecilia, whether you like it or god damned not, I care about you."

I still. And, as I look at him, I suddenly can't quite breathe.

Pushing his bowl aside, he reaches across and tenderly cups a hand to my neck, running a thumb softly along my jawline. He leans forward and dips his head to press his lips against my temple, and then my nose, and then my lips, kissing me sweetly for a second.

"Let me look out for you," he breathes, breaking the kiss to rest his forehead down upon mine. "Let me take care of you."

I can feel myself melting, and all I want to do in that moment is to cocoon myself in his embrace, to let him unburden me from all this crap and all this darkness. I want to lose myself in him completely, and possibly never get found again.

Which is why I find myself leading him up to my bedroom and allow him to fuck me over my childhood bed as he chokes me and calls me a filthy slut, the posters still plastered on my wall all watching on in horror (the poor, traumatised Tornados).

Afterwards, we lay tangled under my pink Chanel duvet, sweaty and satisfied as we wait for our lungs to recover and our hearts to settle.

He kisses the bruises along my throat, making me sigh and shiver against him.

"I do fucking care about you," he murmurs, his voice vibrating pleasantly against my skin. "So fucking much."

I'm too exhausted to answer. Instead, I stare at the street light streaming in from the gap in my sun, moon and stars curtains, thinking sadly of the childhood I'd left behind, longing for the simplicity of it and wishing with everything I had that my parents were simply asleep across the hall.

"Do you think we'll be safe here?" I whisper, my voice sounding so small and childlike.

Draco's arms tighten around me, and I feel his heart beat defiantly beneath his chest. "I won't let anyone hurt you. I promise."

It's the best I can ask for in that moment, and, as I close my eyes through a wave of exhaustion, I realise I'm so fucking glad he is here.

*****