Bones ⋆ Draco Malfoy (3)

| EIGHT: Mystery on His Hands

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EIGHT MYSTERY ON HIS HANDS

     THE FIRST TASK MAKES its arrival pretty quickly, once Livvy accepts and understands the role he's got to hide behind, to keep himself okay. It was easy, for the most part, because he was simply just rocking around like he'd want to, and exploiting all of the confidence and narcissism in his blood. Hiding the mild (fucking massive) self-esteem issues was a little difficult, but it worked out in the end.

     (It didn't. It still hasn't. Livvy's still crying in the shower. And casually hugging his best friend when they were alone.)

     It's a couple days before, but Livvy's heard so much about it that he feels like it's in an hour's time. He hopes that his name will have some significance in history, because someone needs to document the amount of stress people are pushing onto him. Livvy's naturally stressed. Like, when he was born, he was stressed. He's always a little bit stressed, and because he's constantly stressed about something, the stress becomes background noise, so he's never really suddenly stressed, in the way that it affects others. So, because he's used to being a little stressed, randomers that ask him about the task think he isn't stressed. Which is good for his street cred.

     Although, his friends don't particularly get how the constant stress boils down to looking calm. Goddammit, if they saw his thoughts! It's filled with swearing and brackets and messes of words and phrases.

     But, whilst his thoughts are chaotic, on the outside, he's somewhat collected. Sometimes, that façade breaks. But, right now, it's working. Well. It's working well enough to fool anyone that has spent enough time with him over the past few years to know how his brain works. For the most part. Like, even Livvy doesn't know how it works, all of the time. And he's been stuck with the fucker for the longest.

     Livvy's head thuds off of his makeshift pillow, the cover of some hardback book. His face hits the library desk, and he looks up, and grimaces at Draco. "I was using that book," he says.

     "Yeah, thanks for the drool," Draco mutters.

     "It's no problem," says Livvy. He leans back on his chair, and he wishes he was shorter, so he could use the back as a headrest. "You know, you could make a clone with that DNA, and you'd be able to have two Livvy's!"

     Draco says, "I'm fine with the one."

     "Well, you only need one to fill the Livvy-shaped hole in your heart," Livvy replies, coolly. Coolly. Draco gives him an odd look. Livvy shrugs it off. Draco gives him a lot of weird looks. Always has, ever since the incident of '91, when they became friends, and Lucius Malfoy tried to fight Laurel because Briar punched Draco because small, more unaware Draco said something minor about Livvy's birth mothers, and Briar overheard, and Briar pulled a Gryffindor. Like she always does.

     "Oh, yes, the hole bleeds when you're not around," Draco grumbles. Livvy grins up at him, and Draco shakes his head. "How much did you write for the Divination essay — wait, no, I forgot you're you — how much did your sister write for you?"

     Livvy frowns. "About five hundred words for it?" he says. "You can copy it, if you want. Just, like, change the wording a bit."

     "No, I don't want to cheat on it," Draco says.

     "Because you're always against cheating," Livvy drawls. "It's not like you bought the entire Quidditch team new brooms so that we'd beat Gryffindor."

     "My dad bought them."

     "That's even worse, bro."

     "My dad doesn't do my homework for me."