flower crowns | drarry

eighteen

eighteen
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blaise dragged his aching body back towards the great hall, his mouth hazy and lips sluggish from the uncomfortable amount of talking he'd had to endure. it had been a long time since he'd spoken so much. the war seemed to have stolen his voice, carving his words from his chest and making off with them. he had resorted to communicating in whispers and gazes since it ended, and seeing as his friend group consisted of other slytherin children haunted by the war, there never was much reason to attempt to speak any differently.

now, he felt tired. tired and worried. he'd seen draco stumbling off with potter, and if the circumstances were different, he would have felt apprehensive. but he knew draco and potter had grown close, and that potter would take care of him. yet he wondered about the severity of the slap that sent draco reeling back, and he worried about the glossy eyes of his friends.

amidst all that worry, a tiny twinge of jealousy surfaced.

blaise was used to being draco's support system, and vice versa. they normally kept their feelings to themselves, but every once in a while they'd break down, and cry on each other's shoulders when they did.

but now...

draco had harry.

harry, who was almost the opposite of blaise. harry was the chosen one, the savior of the wizarding world, a perfect boy who'd never been branded with the dark mark, or forced to play a horrible role of murder and darkness.

harry, who'd been on the right side of the war since the very beginning.

blaise didn't want to be jealous. he hated himself for feeling that way. after all, draco was finally making friends with people who weren't death eaters, scarred and hollowed by the war. and he deserved it.

after everything he'd been through, draco deserved to have friends who could smile.

blaise wanted desperately to feel only happiness for his friend who had finally found something to be happy about, even just for a moment. but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't push down the feeling that soon, draco wouldn't need him anymore. what use was he? he was just a shell of his former self, unable to pull a shred of joy from his shriveled heart.

and, above all that...

blaise needed to cry too.

right now, he wanted nothing more than to drop his ever-present facade and let warm, salty tears slide down his bronze skin, to let them stain him azure with overflowing sadness.

but then he remembered where he was. he'd been too lost in thought to notice that he'd stopped in front of the great hall and was leaning against the stone next to it.

a few students trickled out of the doors, glancing at blaise's hunched form and messy appearance before turning back to their friends, now with gossiping whispers on the tips of their tongues.

he stared at the large oak doors for a second before his eyes widened in realization. he hated himself for being so selfish. the traumatized kids were still in there, needing comfort, and what was he doing? wallowing in self-pity like a selfish idiot.

fisting a hand through his dark curls, blaise turned to rush back into the hall.

however, with his eyes downcast and head muddled with thoughts, he failed to notice the door opening, or the small boy stepping out of it.