Imagine comforting your favorite Slytherin (Lucius, Snape and Draco options)
Slytherins were notoriously stubborn. It was almost as bad as a Gryffindor, though if you were ever to tell them that, they would absolutely lose their minds. Some would probably even send a curse your way for even suggesting such a thing. So you made sure not to - and tried to find a way to get through their stubborn skulls. In a time when the world wasn’t resting easy at all, when war was looming, when fights were brewing, when families were being stretched and even the school and ministry were dividing more and more, you had to find a way to comfort them. To ease their worries. To keep them focused on themselves and not just what’s going on. How are they supposed to carry on with their lives after this was over if they lose themselves in the process?
Requested by: @princessofthornsandroses
Although Voldemort didn’t have emotions, his followers often did. They joined for a number of reasons - family, the want of power, the feeling of helpness, the need for guidance, being bullied by muggles, or even just because their loved ones were threatened. It wasn’t as black and white as the Ministry tried to make it appear. They just had chosen the wrong leader. a bloodthirsty one. Your poor Lucius, he’d come to you after the meetings, would sit quietly in the dark room that was your salon, gazing at the fire, which was the only lightsource he would approve of. He hated when you saw him looking weak, so he stayed in the shadows.
But you joined him either way. If he came here, he was looking to not be alone. So you weren’t going to let him. You say beside him on your couch, sinking into the leather fabric, it feeling cool against your back. Lucius’s long blonde hair was tied into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, trailing down his shoulders. He was leaning forward, hands rubbing at his face. You lightly started to touch his shoulder, making circles with your fingers against the thick fabric of his coat.
“Lucius...” You said, slowly. “I know what you’re facing is hard. I can’t even imagine-”
“Because you were smart enough not to get yourself into this mess,” He cut in.
“What do you think I’m doing here, with you?” You asked, teasingly. You pushed some of the looser hairs out of the way, it was bunching against his face, creating a sort of draping effect that hid his pale skin. “Talk to me, L. I’m here. I’m ready to share the burden.”
It was a heavy weight to bear. But he gave it to you freely, knowing that you can handle it. You didn’t interrupt. You let him speak. The stress that was on his shoulders. The way that he felt like everyone was talking about him behind his back. At the Ministry, in his social circles. He was losing everything because Voldemort was losing. He had just been a stupid teenager when he had signed up for this in the first place. Full of resentment at the world and a haughty sense of self because he was a Slytherin with family money. He had believed he could do anything. Live through everything. But people were dying. Cedric Diggory had been killed at Hogwarts, under Dumbledore’s nose. What about his own son? How was he supposed to make it through? Even when this was over, the Malfoy name would carry a curse, a bad taste in the mouth.
You waited for him to let it all out before you finally said something. “But you’re not as alone as you think. You have Draco. You have Narcissa. I know there’s not much love between you two but - you’re still in this together. She’s still standing by your side. And you have me. No matter what happens. That’s three people, that will try to lift you back up whenever you fall. Please try to remember that Lucius. The sun will always rise again.”
He rested his head on your shoulder in an act of unbridled vulnerability. You kissed those white locks tenderly, and let him be there as long as he needed. As long as he wanted.
Severus still had nightmares about the night that he had walked into the Potter home. The way that he had seen his childhood foe spread out near the stairs. He had once thought that he would have felt good about that. But he didn’t. There was a sinking feeling deep inside of him, because if James was dead then - Lily. That was where the nightmares centered. On him holding Lily, the woman that he had loved. The only person that he thought that he would love - until you.
On the nights when this came back to him, he would always get out of bed as quietly as he could muster, trying not to wake you. But you were a light sleeper. You could feel the cold as soon as he departed bed. It woke you up every time. “You okay, love?” You asked, your voice heavy with tiredness.
He never could get over how understanding that you were. Anyone else would have yelled at him for waking them up at - three o’clock in the morning, as his clock was telling him. But not you. He turned around to face you, a black shadow in a dark room. You had grabbed at your wand, had muttered Lumos so that a pale light started to fill up the space, exposing the bags under his eyes. And the tears that were threatening to fall. “Come back to bed, Sev. Come lay with me,” You invited.
He accepted it. He had thought about going for a walk but now he felt so tired again, that his feet wouldn’t be able to carry him to the door. He collapsed in beside you, and was too weak to fight at the tears anymore. You cradled his head with your hands, pulling it to his chest, and he clutched at your arm with his very pale fingers. They were white-knuckling, but you didn’t complain.
“It’s in the past. And it was never your fault. You’re going to forgive yourself one of these days, sweetheart. You’re going to have to,” You muttered softly, taking in the smell of his hair. It smelled of the soap used on the laundry.
“I don’t know-” Severus said the words that he never said to anyone ever. He always knew. But not now. His guard was completely down. He was breaking down. “I can’t-”
“You can, and you must, Severus. For me, and for our baby, okay? We’re not giving them half a family. We’re giving them a whole family and I need you to present.” His hand went down to your swollen stomach, resting there. A child he never thought he’d have. He nodded, slowly, and fell back asleep to the sound of your heartbeat, and you didn’t wake him until morning.
If anybody asked, Draco Malfoy did not cry. His parents hadn’t seen him do so since he was a child. A very young child. He had learned not to, because it disgraced the family name to show any sort of weakness. Then going to Hogwarts, and being a Slytherin. He was no Hufflepuff, he couldn’t cry. He couldn’t show any emotions other than displeasure and pride. A scowl or a smirk, there was no in between. He could exaggerate, but he could not cry. Not even when he was hit by Hermione Granger in third year, he could not let a tear be shed.
If anybody asked - Draco Malfoy did not cry. And that’s what you would tell them. But he did. The two of you would sneak into the Room of Requirement, after figuring out what it did because of Potter in the fifth year. Instead of the large class-room type space it had been for the DA, it was a small and cozy den with a single couch, where the two of you curled up and he could show his emotions freely. You were the only one who he bore himself too, poor thing. You were the only one that he trusted.
“You did what you had to do, Draco,” You assured him. He’d grabbed you. He had come running here after the death of Dumbledore and had spilled his guts to you. Told you everything. His guilt was immense, even if he had not been the one to utter the spell. “You’re human. They put so much on your shoulders. I’m so sorry that they did that.”
He had his head on your lap. You were stroking his hair. His tears were soaking through your clothes, making them stick to your thighs. You’d ask the room to dry you off before you left. That wasn’t even a problem.
“He was going to let me do it -” Draco said, his voice breaking. “He just stood there. He was going to let me kill him. Actually kill him-”
“And you were hoping that he would fight back?” You asked, your voice steady, despite tears of your own running down your face. “So that maybe, maybe he would disarm you and you wouldn’t have to do it?”
“He could have- he really bloody could have done something!”
“You’re not a murderer, Draco. And that’s okay. That’s good. You shouldn’t be. You didn’t sign up for this. So it’s okay to feel how you’re feeling, love. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay. Somehow.”
At least that’s what you were hoping for.
You and Draco stayed there the rest of the night. His parents would be collecting him the next morning. Taking him away from all of this. Away from you. So you made the most of it, just holding onto one another until the coming dawn.
