Chosen || Draco Malfoy

48 - Truth

"Have you ever thought about just running away from it all?"

Draco's finger stills as he ceases the tracing of random patterns on my arm. He looks at me, a flicker in his eyes. "Of course I do. All the fucking time."

"So what's been stopping you?"

He shrugs, emitting a heavy sigh as he rolls onto his back and sinks the back of his head into the pillow. "My mother... you."

"Me?" I raise my eyebrows, shocked.

The white-blond haired Slytherin turns his head and looks at me, his face instantly softening. "Of course. I promised I'd help you find your parents, didn't I?"

The knot of unease returns, and I try to swallow but a lump has formed in my throat. "You have enough shit on your own plate to deal with," I say hoarsely. "I've just got to believe that wherever they are, they are at least safe."

Draco doesn't argue but instead continues to gaze at me carefully. "What about Potter? Has he been looking?"

"He seems to think that the key to finding them is by saving the world." I scoff, thinking how ludicrous it all is. "He reckons that's why he's 'back': to help me finish the job he had supposedly started."

"How do you feel about that?" Draco asks, sounding amusingly like a therapist.

"I'm just a kid, Draco. I should be worrying about exams and dating, not war and missing parents."

"Tell me about it," he sighs heavily, putting his hands behind his head as he stares solemnly up at the canopy of the bed.

A silence falls between us, and I can hear the distant chime of a clock somewhere from deep inside the room.

I have no idea of what time it is, or even how long we've been dozing in the bed together. The sex wore us both out, neither of us having much energy anymore.

"Have you been eating properly?" I find myself asking, noticing how gaunt and exhausted he is looking.

A smirk plays at his lips. "You're sounding suspiciously like my mother now, Diggory."

"I'm serious," I say, feeling a flicker of irritation. "You're looking ill."

"I could say the same about you. I mean who cries over a pimple?"

"I'm just-" I sigh, rubbing my face, "-I don't know... all this worry over my parents- it's making me tired and emotional."

"Hey-" he murmurs, reaching his arms around me to pull me against him. His skin feels hot against mine and I can hear the steady beat of his heart beneath his solid chest.

I close my eyes as I feel cool lips press against my temple. His comfort is everything, and suddenly I never want to be anywhere but here in his arms, the thought of the outside world seeming overwhelming and unsafe.

"What are you going to do?" I whisper. "Now that the necklace failed."

I feel him freeze. "I don't know." His voice is tight. "And the less you know, the better."

"But then why tell me?"

"Because, as I said, I'm desperate."