Empty Spaces

Chapter 37

Shock, anger, disbelief... Only a lifetime of being raised as Lucius' son could have kept Draco's stance and expression neutral.

"Why are you here?" he asked, maintaining his calm and collected demeanor. Gather information, analyze, observe... Plan your move. And act last.

"Is that the sort of greeting you give dein liebhaber?" Markos asked, leaning forward on the desk. His face, Draco noted, was thinner, with dark shadows framing the sadness in his eyes. Empty eyes; eyes whose fire had given way to darker places...

"You left me," Draco said coolly, "You made a deal... A deal you would be wise not to turn your back on so carelessly."

"The worst decision I ever made," Markos confessed, the pain visible across his face, "Writing empty words alone in an empty house with an empty bed. Pages and pages filled with letters that hold no sustenance! An artist without a medium, a dancer without a body, a writer without words, what is life without the flames of creation? My very world is covered in darkness, liebling, my life, gone..."

"You made your choice," Draco replied, his initial anger beginning to subside into understanding, "And I've made mine. I've moved on. So should you."

Markos simply looked up with his dark, empty eyes. It was a look Draco knew all too well... How many times had he seen that look before, the look of someone who had lost everything, moments before Lucius delivered his ultimatum...

"Tell me, liebling, have you ever been alone?" Markos asked, his voice constricted, "Truly alone... Where food becomes tasteless and no drink can quench the relentless thirst... The stories you have to tell are trapped in your mind with no way out, your head tells your body to move on to the next day but your limbs have become lead and your fingers frozen... The more I try to resist, the more the ropes pull ever tighter around my heart..."

"Yes, I know the feeling," Draco said softly. "But we're not having this conversation here. Meet me outside, eight o'clock tonight, alright? Just so we're clear, we're still through. But I will help you, if I can..."

It was such a big if. Still, he had to try. Andor Markos was many things, good and bad, and as much as Draco wanted to see the man suffer, nobody deserved this. Betray the family and pay the price. Nobody backed out of a deal with Lucius and lived long.

Draco raced to his room the moment he closed up the desk, a million things running through his brain and a million more tearing at his heart. He could do the easy thing and let Markos suffer what was coming to him. Except that he couldn't. If he sat back and did nothing, it made him no better than Lucius himself. The cycle would stop here, with Draco, the last Malfoy...

"Harry," Draco said, pulling his boyfriend into their room and shutting the door, "Markos is here, he needs help, and I think I'm the only one who can help him, so that's where I'm going now."

"Wait– what– What the fuck?" Harry asked, holding up his hands, "Markos... like... Asshole Markos, that Markos?"

"No, the other one," Draco rolled his eyes. Eight o'clock was approaching quickly. "Yes, he's an ass. But he has no idea what he's gotten himself into... fucking idiot."

"Why...why are you about to help him again...?" Harry asked, incredulous, "You can't be serious. What did he do, come back begging for your forgiveness?? Please tell me you didn't actually fall for that crap–"

"Well, yeah, that's why I need to help the fucker–"

"HE ACTUALLY DID!?"

"Will you shut up and listen to me!? Do you remember why he left in the first place?? He left because my fucking father paid him a shit ton of money to get out of my life. Except the fucker has gone back on his end of the bargain. Only you don't DO that with Lucius. Betray the family and pay the price–"