seriouslysnape's Harry Potter Book of One-Shots

The Road of Regret (Draco Malfoy)

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"I was wrong. So, so wrong."

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"I'm sorry." He whispered through the tears that were pressing hot against his lower lash line.

"Dray, there's nothing to be sorry about," You assured the usually bold Slytherin that was now nearly brought to sobs. "It's going to take some time. You need to be patient with yourself."

The sheets of your shared bed vibrated with Draco's trembling frame. A line of sweat had formed along his forehead, dampening the tufts of his white-blonde hair that had fallen in front of his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He apologized again, this time his voice sounding out as more of a pleading whimper.

There wasn't much else you could say to attempt to soothe him. Words wouldn't be of any service to him. No matter how many times you reassured him that it was okay and that he had nothing to be sorry for, he'd continue to beg and rasp for forgiveness. At this point, you had learned that there wasn't much else you could do other than to hold on to him and shower him with as much love as your heart could possibly offer.

The war hadn't been kind to Draco. It had scarred him in more ways than one. It had pressured him, beaten him, and hurt him to a point that was beyond exhaustion. The war had left him with questions. It had left him with all kinds of "whys" and "what ifs". It had left him with a sense of guilt that he hadn't even begun to work through.

The guilt was the worst part. And the guilt wasn't because of what the war had done.

The guilt came from what he had done.

Draco had been a survivor along with Harry Potter and his pals. Draco was amongst the survivors who had far too many of the after effects to bear. Draco knew that he could've potentially met a worser fate. A fate similar to that of Fred Weasley or little Colin Creevy. But no, Draco had been one of the lucky ones, and he couldn't help but think that it was because of his betrayal to the classmates.

"I was wrong. So, so wrong." He blubbered, shuddering another round of sobs.

"Draco, it....it wasn't your fault." You tried to comfort him despite knowing that words wouldn't break the surface, saying anything you could to offer him some sort of solace.

"It was my fault. I never should've-"

"It was not your fault. The war was going to happen regardless of the position that you took," You remarked sternly to him. "You can't blame yourself for what happened."

Draco's head was buried into your neck as he cried, his tears spilling down his cheeks and soaking into the cottony material of your t-shirt.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry." He apologized again.

The guilt crippled Draco. He hadn't gone a day since the end of the war where he didn't drown himself in the pool of regret that he had filled for himself.

That's where the continued, endless apologies came from. He wasn't apologizing for the fact that he could hardly go more than two nights without waking up in a state of sheer terror from a horrific nightmare. He wasn't asking for forgiveness from the fact that he felt like he was making your newly married lives a living hell (although, he had a healthy dose of culpability for that too).

He was apologizing for the things that he had done, and the things that had been a choice.

You held Draco in your arms. You held him tight and peppered him with kisses the best that you could. No one liked to talk about how sometimes the healing process meant that the hurt was going to have to get worse first. Draco was in the weeds of it all. It wasn't going to be an easy road for him, and you just hoped and prayed that it was a road that he'd make it to the end of.

Had Draco made crucial mistakes during the war? Yes. Had his mistakes potentially caused the near total destruction of the World of Wizardry? Possibly. Did Draco's mistakes cause the death of innocent lives and people that he truly cared about deep down? That one you preferred not to answer.

But Draco knew all of this. There weren't many (if any) questions that he didn't have the answers to. He knew the consequences that his actions had.

But at the end of the day, you still loved him. Because Draco Malfoy had never been a bad person to you. He had been hurt, lost, and desperate for a love and respect that he'd never get. In a lot of ways, you knew how that felt. The feeling of thinking that you had to do anything and everything for even a drop of someone else's love.

You had just wished that Draco had seen sooner that he was more than worthy of love.

"Dray, let's try to get back to sleep. You'll feel better in the morning." You suggested sweetly, persuading him to lie back down with you.

He didn't say anything yet, only situating himself back underneath the covers and snuggling up to you. His head rested against your chest, his tears now silent as they continued to stream his face. You remained in bed with him, rubbing his back and consoling him physically. He began to slowly feel himself grow tired again, and while he knew that his imminent slumber was going to be less than restful, he wanted to get a few words in before he fell asleep.

"I love you....and I'm sorry for everything." He said, and this time he was apologizing for everything that had been a result of his choices.

"I love you, Draco. I'm always here for you."

"Promise?" Draco whispered out as a squeak, and your answer was confident and without missing a beat.

"I promise."