Weakness Guides The Heart

Chapter eight

Draco scolded himself. Why had so many thoughts surfaced in the classroom; how was the boy before him able to render his entire body useless, make his words weak; send his mind racing, heart speeding faster than the lightening striking his stomach, sending it plummeting to the bottom of his empty chest.

His eyes lingered in the mirror, his appearance bleak; eyes dull, the greys darkening, consuming the small rays of blue that once floated along the pupil; navy's no longer edging his eyes, instead a dreary darkness guarding his emotions. Bags loomed below them, bruised by sickly purples and browns; the only colours noticeable on his face. The rest was icy, freezing even the most delicate snowflakes that dared touch his skin.

Focus, Draco.

The words echoed around his chaotic mind. He needed to focus; needed to steady his thoughts; force his memories, his feelings, to the deepest, darkest caves of his brain, locking them away for eternity.

You must separate your feelings from your body, Draco, otherwise you will be destroyed

Desperately, he closed his eyes, shutting the patronising sunshine from his vision, allowing the darkness of his memories to consume him.

Death. Fire. Crumbling walls, buildings collapsing under the darkness of the wizard's rays. Cries. Defeat. Victory. Friends. Tranquillity; a joyous glee, laughter. A saviour, a boy with emerald eyes.

Why was he there, so clearly; his bright exterior reflecting the good flourishing within him, evoking joy, happiness, contentment.

A small smile quirked Draco's lips.

His eyes burst open, the smile fading, leaping from his battered lips; gliding down the darkest drain; a place cheerier, more bearable; a safer home.

The blonde wished he could join.

His eyes snapped back towards his taunting reflection; the emotions reflecting, sending his body into a frenzy. He needed to detach himself, neutralise his mind; steady the trembling fury flaming in his stomach.

It needed to be released.

A loud cry crusaded from his lips, jolting his body; his fist powerful at last, thrashing the delicate fragility of the mirror, shards falling; piercing every inch of skin they could find, revenge singeing their edges, daggering Draco's skin.

His scream echoed, deafening; destroying the ignorance of the walls, of the stalls; of the windows that allowed the crushing sunlight through. His hands fell, knees following; toes bending beneath him, legs failing to fight the tremble; his spine curving, dropping; neck, head, eyes sinking.

Silence stalked from the corners, encasing his deflated figure; a comforting hand grasping at the blood oozing from his knuckles, useless.

Draco's fingers began plucking at the shards, curiosity compelling his fingers to squeeze a little too tightly, thumb digging deeply into the wound; a sharp pain throbbing his hand, an intensity so strong, it occupied his brain, forcing all other thoughts to blur.

His eyes faltered, glancing at the thickest shard that had fallen beside him; a glint controlling his fingers, urging them to grasp the glass; its rough edges welcoming the blood falling from the injury, advising Draco to grab the shard a little harder.

The blondes' sleeve was forced upwards, icy skin exposed to the bathroom; a pleading twitch trying to sway Draco; halt his actions, but he was unwavering.

Draco held the glass against his wrist, a pleasurable sensation, eager desperation, forcing the shard deeply into the skin; unforgiving fingertips tugging the glass upwards; a bloody trail running along the length of his arm, from his wrist to just below his elbow; a road for his thoughts to race across, to escape his mind.

Everything seemed a little clearer, his feelings confused, distorted, twisting into pain; one emotion Draco could control.

He watched, entranced by the blood pouring from his ragged gash; a faint smile ghosting his icy lips, one filled with contentment; a twisted happiness radiating from his body.

His body felt drained; his shoulders slumping against the wall, legs hugged tightly to his chest; his wounded arm laying before his eyes, resting upon his knees, like a book; each page, each slither of blood, like a fascinating story; like poison intoxicating his mind. His head fell backwards, hair messily sprawled across the stones, tangled; each strand guiding thoughts from his mind, into the open air, where they could vanish; taunt another unsuspecting victim.

A sigh, relaxed, floated passed his lips, lingering within the air for the briefest of moments; another, more unsteady breath blossomed, one after another; endlessly trembling, unable to stop.

Draco was panicking, body feeling unsteady; the blood still gushing, freeing his being; the memories fuzzy, thoughts incoherent; names tangling with numbers, words replaced by dull echoes.

Hastily he stood, hand tugging the tap remorselessly; water cleansing the impurity of his actions, purifying his weakened skin; the cold sensation easing the pain, yet agonising his heart all the while.

Draco heaved his tie from his neck, the green flicks flushing with crimson as it wrapped around the wound, wielding it shut; trapping his remaining thoughts within his mind, but they were unclear, muted; weakened by the blood loss.

A shock of realisation streamed throughout his body.

He'd found the key; the key to tranquillity; the key to detaching himself from his emotions, his thoughts; his feelings.

Pain.