FAILSAFE

Chapter Six

Draco stared at the flickering of the fire, the shadows growing more intense as he remained in the room long after Ginevra had gone. He wasn't sure how to process the feelings without blocking them out—so he attempted to suppress them. He built a dam to keep them at bay, but the harder he tried, the more they seemed to swell up inside him. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on reinforcing the stone, but the sound of her voice in the classroom echoed in his mind, drowning out the feeling of peace he used to find in the water there. Brick by brick, the wall grew, blocking the water's current, and causing it to become still like a sheet of ice. With his eyes closed, he thought back to the sound of her laughter at his jokes, and the sting of her retorts when he was cruel. The terror in her eyes, and all the ways he hadn't wanted to fail her. All the ways he did, because she had begged him not to leave her alone there, and yet he did.

It was too much. 

With his magic, he meticulously constructed the wall, stone by stone, until it glowed brightly in his mind, fortifying it to be unbreakable. The sound of chatter and laughter grew louder as students trickled back into the room. He squeezed his eyes tighter in response, trying to steel himself before the whole thing came crashing down. He could feel the settee beside him move as the water became more agitated. The voices of those surrounding him increased while he went through the motions of placing himself behind the stone. He didn't dare open his eyes. Draco inhaled harshly as he continued to think of all the things too heavy to carry—all the things that could pull him under in a moment—if he let it. Before they locked him in Azkaban, controlling his magic was much simpler, but now that he had regained it, he felt the strain of trying to keep it in line. Occluding was like a muscle—the more he practised, the stronger it became, and the stiffness of his attempts gradually diminished.

A loud crash had him opening his eyes; Granger's laughter from across the room pulled his focus toward the sound. He sensed the water in his thoughts changing, yet he kept hold of the stones. He watched her laugh so freely with the Trio, and the pain in his chest grew, along with a thick coating of envy that sluggishly oozed through his body like mud. Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes again, feeling the warmth of the stone as his hands moved over the cracks. His fingers tightened into a fist to stop them from shaking, and he used the rock to drive away all his fears.

Draco struggled against the water, feeling the sweat running down his face and the stinging sensation in his palms as his nails dug into them.It had been so long since he needed help, and the water trickled over the side at the embarrassment. Pansy had first helped him in sixth year when Severus taught Draco more in-depth methods to protect his mind and himself. Initially, he said no. Yet after the countless anxiety-ridden sleepless nights, his stare fixed on the canopy above him, he had no other option.

He felt her miniscule touch on his hand, a tapping sensation that was both familiar and unfamiliar all at once–one that brought him back to an earlier time.

With a pounding heart, Draco had swallowed his pride and knocked on his godfather's door in the dead of night. When the professor opened the door, Draco could feel the emotion radiating from his godfather's face. His expression was one of pity, but still he said nothing. He simply opened the door further, moving to allow him in. As Snape delved into his mind, the younger wizard found himself too exhausted to defend himself, and his attempts to construct barriers to guard his thoughts crumbled. The next night, Draco thought books would be the best way to store his thoughts, but as soon as Snape stepped into his mind, the books burst apart with a thunderous crack; the air filled with the fluttering of paper and the smell of ink. Draco opened his eyes to find Snape's compassionate gaze replaced by a storm of rage, as he marched out of the room. He should have known Severus would see her, the library in his mind mimicking the one he so often watched her in. The following night, he stayed away from his office, afraid of having to give an explanation when he didn't have one.