Be My Wings {drarry}

Chapter Seven

CW: worry, mild homophobia, self-deprecation

Tuesday 1 September 1998

Draco

I wake up with the word 'mate' on my tongue and you practically bouncing around my mind, ecstatic. Did you see that too? I couldn't sense you.

No, no, it's like I was completely switched off, I couldn't see or hear anything. But I could feel it, Draco, you felt so happy, so... mate!

Mate, indeed.

On waking up, the constant emptiness I feel has been replaced with a low ebbing ache, but I don't care. I know what that dream means. It means my mate is close.

Mate dreams are designed to help you figure out who your mate is once you get close enough. But what is close enough? Does that mean my mate is on this train, or just in a town we went past? Curiosity eats away at me, but I can't find anything else out, until another dream.

To be honest, I'm not sure I want to know anything else. Because if I do, they will too. And if they know who I am, they might reject me.

Wait, why? Draco why?

I used to act like a bit of a prick, I know that. I didn't realise until I spent time with other people that my father's views were... not correct. I made a few enemies at school, plus being on the wrong side of the war... I wouldn't be surprised if my mate hates me. Merlin, what if my mate hates me?

"You okay?" Blaise asks.

"Mate dream."

"You think they're on the train?" I shrug.

"I don't know. I couldn't talk in it, or see them properly." In fact, all I really learnt about my mate is how well I fit into their arms.

"Well, we're nearly here. You should get your robes on."

Getting out of the train is hell. There are people everywhere, rushing to the carriages, trying to get one with their friends. I feel myself getting anxious again.

It's okay, Draco, you're okay. You want me to-

"You okay, Draco?" It's Blaise. He can probably scent my fear.

"Y-yeah, it's just... all the people..."

"You wanna wait it out? We can fly to the castle after all the carriages have gone. Give us a chance to stretch our wings, yeah?" That's actually a great idea. I nod.

I always forget how good flying feels until I do it again. It's like flying a broom, but a thousand times better. My wings are strong and reliable, and they're a part of me. I control them. I can stop flapping them for a few seconds, and let the wind hold me up. And just for a moment, I feel weightless.

Soon enough, we pass the carriages. A couple of people point and gape at us, mainly the younger years. I guess to kids who have only been raised in muggle society, people flying is pretty cool.

Eventually we reach the school. Blaise and I land in front of the grand wooden door to the entrance hall, and we walk in, making our way passed the first years heading to the small chamber McGonagall gave us our speech as firsties, where Flitwick now would, having taken McGonagall's place as deputy head when she became Headmistress. They gape at us, and I'm confused to why, before I remember our wings are still on display.

I look to Blaise for guidance subconsciously, but he just winks at them, and continues walking into the Great Hall. When the doors swing open, eyes lock on us, and I keep my head ducked down. Blaise takes my arm, which is a good thing; I would probably collapse due to my quivering legs; and leads me to the Slytherin table where our friends sit.