quidditch kiss cam | dramione

22. The Calling.

Okay guys. I'm fishing this story in record 5-7 chapters. Buckle up. I've been working hard on this. It really needs to be finished. This is one of the best things I've ever written. I'm not letting this go to waste.

Also, starting off with a rather shorter chapter than usual just to get the rhythm going.

Draco remembers shaking.

He remembers screaming.

He remembers his throat getting dry from all the yelling.

He remembers his skin burning, like an branding iron is pressed hot against his forearm.

He remembers seeing faces behind his eyelids. Faces that showed death and desire wrapped up together in a bothersome duo.

He remembers wishing for it to stop. He calls out Hermione's name but his throat is closing up on him, he can't speak, can't force a word out of his mouth.

She's there.

She is shaking him by his shoulders with a force he didn't quite know she possessed. Judging by the movement of her lips, she is screaming his name, a perfect o leaving its mark on her mouth in a stressful aftermath. He is being pulled down and down, deep knot a void of nothingness that doesn't fail to slap the truth in his face— that he is falling and nobody is going to save him. That's what was left if Draco Malfoy; a pool of nothingness, a hallow pit for him to toss in his own worries, nightmares and thoughts.

He's falling.

His limbs feel detached to his body. He feels light, like a bird in a free sky, unchained by the shackles of what his parents taught him, what the forced him into. Free from the manacles of the rest of the gruesome people who have guided him all his life, guided him to evil. Of all th things he possessed, his heart, dear God, feels the heaviest. Till almost a years ago, he had constantly told himself that he didn't posses a human heart for he was too driven by his own actions and ideas. For a boy who had always wanted to bring out the worst in others and himself, if was the only truth Draco had believed. He had conjured up his own ideas, seeding them deep into his mind until he had grown to shape his life around those affirmative principles. He had constantly told himself, over and over, time and again that this was, indeed, who he really was— cold, manipulative, sadistic and selfish.

He never wanted to be this way, no.

All he had ever wanted was acceptance.

The chance to be told that he did not need to put labels on himself, to term himself to demeaning adjectives and that he was fine the way he was.

Fine.

Not grand, not extraordinary, not extravagant nothing, just fine. He had longed to be called normal, but when a little child does not get what he wants to hear, he goes astray.

Draco is the prime example of what you get when parenting goes terribly wrong.

And he accepts it.

Because what started from bad parenting has had him go through hell and back for the sake of his own self.

Look at him now.

How pitiful, one would say.

Consumed by his own thoughts. Too weak to put up a fight. Driven to the brink of insanity from past events. From to fits and nightmares thanks to trauma.

Is this was life, he did not want it.

All too fast, he's falling, deeper and deeper. He waits for his back to hit the ground, hopes to hear the sound of his bones cracking, wishing to just fucking die.