𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

Chapter 7

Alone

Draco brushed his fingertips over the glass orb, his own drawn expression reflected back. He drew the tips of his digits over the dark, reddened wood of the shelf it rested on and he hated it. It mocked him, covering its imperfections, hiding them, waiting for him to fall for its trickery before maddeningly revealing them in one fell swoop. Everything betrayed him, he just didn't know why he allowed it. The imperfections were there for him to see, displayed evenly, and yet he chose to believe it to be faultless. It was through his own error that he was stuck with the flawed, lying, heartless bookshelf but then, he could always disown it, rid himself of it.

"Must you touch everything like an impertinent child?" His tone was strict but Draco could hear the undertone of amusement in his voice.

He withdrew his hand but he didn't turn to face him as he knew the other wanted him to. He appreciated his hospitality but not the company. Not that Draco truly felt his presence as he was sure he had never been more alone in his life. It was an 'alone' that came from independence and freedom but it was still alone. So utterly alone.

A caring, if not somewhat impatient, voice asked, "How are you?" Draco scoffed and he heard a responding chuckle as he added, "Today. Just today, how are you?"

Draco turned to look him in the eyes as he said this, he bit his lip, and sighed sadly but firmly, "Lonely and angry and depressed and terrified and stupid and ashamed and pathetic and pitiful and—" Strong arms and potion-stained fingers slid around him and held him close. Draco allowed his eyelids to darken his vision as he inhaled the scent of safety that the powerful man gave off. He hadn't even seen the other man move from his seat as he had been so entrenched and blinded by his own emotions.

A soft, clenched voice whispered, "Enough now." His arms, his embrace, said more than his mouth ever could, more than he would ever allow it anyway. His body whispered its love for him, its undying devotion and protection of him, its support, and its reliability and Draco was grateful for all of it. He needed it now more than ever and would never have expected to have it willingly offered by this or any other person.

But this was the only remnant of 'family' that he had left, the only source of guardian-esque type comfort that would ever be offered to him, so he reveled in it. He hated that he needed this. Needed the comfort. He was so pathetic, unable to face himself any longer. He had had to flit off to Italy just to be sure he wouldn't go crawling back. Which was why he had come to Snape.

He knew his godfather would never allow such a thing, not after what Harry had done, and Draco had left nothing out. Snape was now the only person whose mind housed the same knowledge as his own. And clearly Draco wasn't wrong in thinking it was enough to drive anyone mad. There had been endless amounts of yelling at first, admonishments, curses, threats, and pure, irate fury. Draco had nearly trembled at Severus' reaction but after the initial tirade, there had been whispered words, loving embraces, and sincerest apologies.

Draco had known that Severus cared for him, after he had risked his own life to save his, but he had forgotten how much in their absence. But the man had been absolutely livid.

Snape removed his hold and Draco bit his tongue to reprimand himself for missing its warmth. He needed to learn this. He needed to be...alone. God, he hated that word. The finality of it, the reliance of self, the necessity of it. If he had been truly attempting, he would have changed his name, gone to Azerbaijan, made a life for himself, and started over, but he simply didn't have that kind of resolve. Maybe that was why he had stayed so long, perhaps he had needed the familiarity.