Draco had it all figured out. He would lead the life he was supposed to, follow his father’s orders, become just another one of the Dark Lord’s slaves, and everything would turn out fine. He was absolutely certain of it. Except he wasn’t. The thing was everything was fine except for those rare times when it wasn’t. It was entirely random. The thoughts would creep in, he would freeze up - the blood in his veins turning to ice and rendering him immobile for several seconds, and he’d think about how everything he’d been thought to believe might very well be wrong... but then he would push it all to the back of his mind, straighten his shoulders, smooth his hair back, deaden his eyes to his usual mask of carelessness and catch up with his usual crowd of Slytherins. After all, it was much too late for doubts. It wasn’t like he had a choice, the Dark Lord rarely gave second chance, he never let anyone leave alive. Draco had grown up hearing these two statements repeated over and over like a mantra - from Lucius to Narcissa to explain his devotion tot the cause and later from Narcissa to Draco to explain his father’s behavior. And there was nobody he could share his thoughts with because no one was to be trusted; or soon he’d find himself in Azkaban or at least locked in the dungeons: damn right he had heard those stories - before he could even draw his damn wand. And what good would that do? Maybe he could share a prison cell with his father. God knows he might be safer there than kneeling before the Dark Lord, hoping he wasn’t ripping his every thought directly from his mind. Of course, Draco didn’t really think all these things, they just entered his mind in moments of weakness. Times when he wasn’t surrounded by others, by his family, braging about his ‘‘special mission’‘ and threatening other Slytherins with the knowledge of his Darm Mark. Times when he was alone, in the darkness, in his room when his roommates were out, walking down an empty hallway back to class because the burning pain from his left arm had become so unbearable he’d to leave. Leaning against the door in the room of requirement and staring at the Vanishing Cabinet and wishing he could just walk out and straight into the clutches of goddamn Potter, whom he was entirely certain was out there at that very moment. Draco was sure it would be hilarious, but he didn’t really mean it He wasn’t going to turn himself in, because his father trusted him to bring honor to the family name. Even though the bastard had gotten himself locked in Azkaban, leaving Draco and his mother alone in a house occupied by Lord Voldemort. So maybe he didn’t really care whatLucius thought anymore, but Draco did care about his mother. So he returned every night to the Vanishing Cabinet and tried to figure out how to make the thing work. His emotions were entirely under control. At least, that’s what he thought.
It wasn’t like anything was out of the ordinary about that day, either. It was almost curfew, so it was just beginning to get dark outside. Draco was walking back to the castle from the Forbidden Forest, another ill fated plan to fix the Vanishing Cabinet, and he had to walk past the lake. Which was truly unfortunate, because someone was sitting there.
kaledo-art
andulkaphoto
areudirty
pixelskylines
tangentwithtanner
vaporwave
yousharknotpass