The Boys Who Suffered

Chapter 3 - West Tower

It was late in the evening; the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts were filled with pale moonlight forcing its way through. Remus was on night watch, guarding the old castle to make sure no student was wandering after curfew. His long and worn-out jumper covered his body tenderly, stained with his favourite tea and chocolate, swaying as he walked.
Whenever it was his turn to check for misbehaving teens sneaking out at night, he happily obliged. Not because he enjoyed catching them, he was known amongst students for always letting them off the hook, no, he enjoyed it because he admired the serenity of the night.It was true that he had spent countless nights screaming in pain, clawing at his skin. But on a normal evening, you would always find him wandering, searching the perfect spot to stargaze.

Tonight was different, he wasn't in the mood to stare at the sky and wonder about life. The look on Draco's pale face, the single traitor tear, the gasp for air, it all haunted him still. He blamed himself for it, he should've known that the Slytherin had been stalling for a good reason. It was just that somewhere in the back of Remus' head, he had hoped Draco was afraid of clowns or something else silly. He hadn't expected such darkness.

As he passed by some of the windows, the nightly breeze trying to get inside his skin, he decided to revisit his old hiding spot. For old times' sake, he made himself believe. The werewolf walked up the stairs which he had climbed numerous times, leading up to the West Tower. Instead of finding the peace he had hoped, there was instead an unexplainable change in the atmosphere. It suffocated him slowly, a feeling of such despair he would've thrown himself of the tower had he not known better.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher scanned his surroundings for this source of sadness and found a dishevelled Draco Malfoy siting on the edge of the windowsill, his feet dangling off the edge. His shirt had wrinkles all over, his jumper was stained with what seemed tears and his tie had been thrown into a small puddle of water somewhere in the corner of the room, if one could call it such. Everything which screamed ruthless Slytherin had been removed, and before him sat a stripped teenage boy, afraid and without a word to say against his demons. His pale blond hair was messy, eyes puffy and red. It looked as if he had been crying since- since when? No one had seen him after the lesson where it all went so horribly wrong.

"Draco?" Remus whispered in disbelieve. He didn't know what else to say, should he greet him with a smile, or a soft hello? How did one greet a man so broken it made even his heart skip a beat? He ought to know, he said to himself without making a single noise, for he had sat there often enough, he remembered so vividly how Sirius talked to him until he calmed down enough to leave the West Tower and be carried to bed by the boy he loved.

The blond looked at him, eyes red and puffy after many hours of crying, tears still rolled down his cheeks and fell down onto the ground, suicidal as they were and as he seemed to be. His usually mischievous glance was dim, lifeless almost. He didn't look like the student to talk back, to bully other sorcerers, to be arrogant, all he looked was broken, one foot in this life, one foot in the darkness his demon so desperately tried him to walk into.

"Professor," the boy whispered. The word didn't sound any louder than a whisper, but Remus Lupin heard it none the less.

"Are you alright?" the old Marauder asked him. The question was left unanswered, I mean what did he expect? Remus cursed himself under his breath, he hated being asked this question all those years ago and swore to stupefy any adult who would dare do that to him again. Now he found himself to be an adult. The teacher somewhat hoped for Draco to fulfill his old promise, but the boy did not.

"Mind if I join you?" he then continued, filling the, quite literally, deadly silence between them. Sirius Black, always apt to break the rules and be the most carelessness of them all, used to say this to him when things got really dark inside his mind. He just hoped the young Slytherin turned out to be somewhat like himself.

Draco Malfoy nodded, too afraid to refuse his teacher's request. He wasn't as sturdy as he made himself out to be; he was as fragile as they came, but only when no one was around to watch him crumble.

Remus Lupin, a dangerous werewolf and, truthfully, a soft man at heart, accompanied his student at the edge, his feet now too, dangling. The Malfoy heir, their only son, shuffled aside without making a sound. He had stopped crying, swallowed down the many words he wished to say and just shivered in the evening breeze.

"You know, it's not worth it," the old wizard Moony spoke up. His voice was filled with sadness, he understood how Draco felt. He had done so plenty of times, but he had always had three people behind his back, catching him. Draco seemed to have no one with whom he was that close. Crabbe and Goyle weren't the sensitive type, nor were any of the other people the young boy surrounded himself with.

"How would you know?" the blond snapped. There it was, the arrogance, the walls which he had built around himself. No one could come in, no one, and when they tried he bite back like a wounded dog, just as he did now. Remus had expected so, he had done this too, to Sirius, James, Peter, anyone who dared set a foot into his comfort zone. He always seemed so impossible to hurt, Draco, a bully of many, though now he had broken down, naked for the world to see, stripped of his mask.