During the arrival of spring, the evenings began to get warmer. Every day the morning mists would part their ways earlier and faster than before and the noon sun would get on students' nerves, as they were wearing thick, black robes. A tall first-year student with evenly cut platinum blond hair sat stiffly on a garden bench. His chest was moving up and down in a nervous spasm.
With his mouth open he was trying to catch gasps of air while simultaneously not getting anyone's attention. He was looking down, as pieces of his skin on his forearm would come apart underneath the pressure of his fingernails. It hurt. He's going to regret it during the evening bath. And he is going to regret it for the next couple of years if the wounds end up scarring into white stain-like shapes on his skin.
He hasn't even finished his first year and he's already been behind in two of his classes. If he doesn't bring a perfect diploma...he didn't even know what Abraxas can do when he learns about his son's failures at his new school. He was aware of what the older Malfoy does when his son misbehaves when he eats too much or when he's stuttering again... When Lucius failed in those fields he could at least have some vision of how his father would react. For now, he had no idea If Abraxas, when he learned about his awful grades, would fall into a fury, or he would just look at him with that contemptuous, cold grimace and execute a Meticulously planned punishment. On a sheer thought of what's awaiting him his slim hands started shaking even worse than before. He choked back the need to cry that started to rise in his throat and dug his nails into his hand even harder.
He didn't like Hogwarts. He had no friends, truth be told he rarely talked to anyone other than teachers during oral exams. From time to time other students would make fun of the way he acted, of his haircut or his quiet and slow speech. At least he didn't stutter as much as he used to, but now he had to put way more effort into every single thing he said.
Even though he spent the last Christmas here, because his father was on a business trip abroad, he still felt strange.
But he'd rather feel like a stranger in a safe place than go back home. He saw no solutions to this curse of fate. Every year he will have to spend at least two months in Wiltshire, where he will he forced to deal with Abraxas'es mood swings.
Well, there was one solution, but it was unattainable when he lived with his father. He thought of it way too many times. He even had whole scenarios ready, but didn't expect to make any use of them in the near future. But now, when the doom called holiday break was getting closer and closer, and he was suffering more and more failures ... Every time he thought about it he felt pure peace. The vision of everlasting escape from his father and all this pathetic life helped him to wake up every day. He can always end it all if he wants. By himself, for the first time on his own rules.
He had no access to poisons. He didn't want to use the Unforgivables, as someone could detect him. Muggle firearms weren't even at play. Because of that, just in case, he stole some razors from his father's office when the old man was absent.
Through all those months they've been lying forgotten in the pit of a nightstand, but the heavyweight in Lucius’s heart made them look like a good, if not the only, solution.
He took a deep breath and slowly rose from the bench. He had no more classes today. Usually, he would learn till the evening or lay down Idly unable to force himself to complete any task.
When he was walking through Hogwarts corridors to the Slytherin dorm room he felt so terribly small and insignificant. Every person he passed seemed to be bigger, taller, and their faces curled in almost derisive expressions of joy or anger. The whole world seemed to sneer at his failure, as if everyone already learnt he no longer had any will to fight left in him.
He's finally gotten to his room and locked the door. The bed was left in chaos, and books and clothes were scattered on the floor. The second bed served as a second wardrobe because his father made sure Lucius had no roommate in the new school. In the only letter his father's sent him since the school year began, Abraxas explained that there were no people worthy of living in the same room as a Malfoy heir. But Lucius knew well that his father just didn't want his son to get attached to anyone.
From one of the nightstand's drawers, he took out a notebook bound in black leather, small, rectangular pack with an image of a shaving man and a fountain pen he got from his mother. With everything in his hands, he sat on the bed. Putting away bed covers that have become rough and stiff from small blood stains, He arranged the items in a neat row.
Always, when he'd thought of taking his life, he had a vision of writing a letter to someone. Something like the last Confession that would take the weight off of him, and guilt from the people who could feel responsible for his death.
But when he was sitting there looking at the empty pages he slowly realized he had no one to write to. He didn't have any close friends who would care about his disappearance. There was no way he would write to his father …he'd rather have Abraxas never learn what happened to his son. The most proper person would be his mother, but what was the point of writing to someone dead for so long?
He's known her for barely 6 years and he found himself forgetting her face or the sound of her voice. But still, she was the only person he felt any attachment to. He kept asking himself - would she be happy that he'd joined her? Or Maybe he'll disappoint her with the weakness that made him lose the fight with everyday life. Or maybe neither of the two, because how could he be sure that there's anything waiting for him after death?
He's finally decided to let go of the philosophical matters surrounding the situation as he'll get to them later when he's in the Forbidden Forest.
Except that he had to get there somehow which wasn't an easy business. He knew some hidden corridors and the pavements onto which the castle's lights didn't shine. He'll wait until 11 PM and hopefully get out of school somehow.
For the next couple of hours, he'd been laying Idly on his bed and staring at the ceiling. He felt like he was fundamentally broken. He should've been thinking about his whole life and what he's going to lose when he takes it. But he wasn't able to formulate any Specific thought, except for the certainty that today is the day. 21 April 1967 will be the date forever ingrained into his tombstone.
The only thing tearing him out of the Lethargy was an old clock with a silver-plated Pendulum that beat its song every single hour. Finally, when the Timepiece beat 11 times Lucius packed everything he's prepared before into the pockets of his long black coat.
As quietly as he could he sneaked out of his room into the Slytherin dorm room, from where, under the excuse of having to use the toilet, he walked out onto a school corridor. Instead of going upstairs in the direction of classrooms, he walked down the stairs. They seemed to lead to nowhere, but the reality was that they were the only way to an old, abandoned storage room. At first glance it seemed to be an average basement room, however, the older students searching for amusement in drinking illegally stored alcohol Outdoors have found a secret tunnel behind one of the storage racks.
Carefully he closed the door of the storage room and trying to get his eyes used to the darkness he began searching for the secret corridor.
He walked up to one of the risks and started to move it away from the wall. Drops of sweat formed on his forehead and his knuckles changed into a pale bony colour as he struggled against the heavy piece of furniture.
Finally, he moved it far enough for a small tunnel paved with red brick to peek from behind.
The young teen had yet to begin his phase of sudden growth so he had no issue fitting in the cramped space.
He's never sneaked through this specific Passage before so he was ready for a long and tiring walk. He could rely only on the hands he placed on the walls and his shuffling shoes. Except for the sounds he himself made, the surrounding silence seemed so unnatural it made him uneasy.
After dozens of Steps that he began to count from the lack of a better occupation, he noticed that the darkness around him was slowly turning into dark blue of the midnight sky. It's been getting colder but Lucius would much rather be cold than burn in the sunlight, merciless for students dressed in all black.
The corridor began going upwards as if it were trying to escape the earth. Hardly avoiding an unfortunate accident he hit his shoe on a sudden Elevation. He squinted to recognise what he'd just walked into and was left with the impression that he'd finally got to a staircase.
Hugging the wall with both of his hands he stepped forward, even slower than before. When he got to what probably was a tenth stair step, an exit Began to appear. It got bigger and bigger, and finally, he set his foot on Dew-covered grass.
He couldn't see the castle’s silhouette, only the light setting warm colours onto bushes and small trees he stood between would Remind him that he's still in the school area. He had no idea which sire of the castle he was at or how he was supposed to get to the Forbidden Forest.
Slightly bent He headed along the wall. Trying to go as quietly as possible he hoped to not have anyone's attention. What he was fearing the most was meeting the Forester who lives in close proximity to the main forest entrance.
Of course, he had no intention of announcing his whereabouts to everyone by getting through the most frequented Lane, but who knew what the forester was up to at night? Maybe he was patrolling the Forest to make sure no students got killed by their morbid curiosity or stupidity.
Gradually the Dwarf trees began to gain height and their branches bent in grotesque, almost geometrical shapes. They reminded Lucius of a broken Limb that healed without a healer's Supervision. He's seen photos like that in old medicine books, especially when magic couldn't be used in the healing process.
He sank into the depths of the forest. He's been walking for quite a long time now, with small stops to make sure no one's following him. Fortunately, he was all alone here, except for the Bunch of magical creatures he, thank Merlin, hadn't encountered yet.
Soon, moss-covered stones started to appear before Lucius. They seemed to be covered by Bushes up to one meter which made the place quite private. He concluded that he wouldn't find a better place so He quickened his pace. He got to his destination and stretched as hard as before a quidditch practice. He broke through the dark leaves of unknown bushes. A small niche was waiting for him between the stones , and so he sat down and crossed his legs
He's Waited for a while so that his back would get used to the coldness of the stones and he took the Contents of his pockets.
He put the razor packaging on his knees so that they don't get dirty with moist soil. Even though he had no reason to worry about keeping them clean as he's going to die before any infection gets to him, he was of the impression that the dirt would take away some sanctity of the act.
He opened the notebook on a page which was supposed to be his goodbye letter. Maybe now, in the last moment in which he can change his mind, something will inspire him to write that damned letter.
He felt like he should apologize to his mother for being the disappointment he's become. But is there any point in apologizing to someone who's no longer in this world? If someone found him with such a letter lying next to him, he'd look like a complete desperate.
Lucius came to the conclusion that the best solution is to not write anything. It's his,and only his concern.
He swallowed nervously when he felt how his most hated omen of upcoming tears is forming in his throat. He felt as if someone pushed an 8 ball into his larynx , which he could choke out no matter how hard he tried. Lucius blinked repeatedly. Fortunately he didn't feel any wetness in his Reddened eyes, so he closed the notebook carefully and put it away. He put the cap onto his fountain pen, and for the last time in forever it made a quiet,click, sound.
With his thin fingers he held up the box that's been laying on his knees. It was small, about 4 cm wide and of even smaller length. A man was staring at him from the colorful box cover. He was holding a razor up to his chiseled jaw. The dark, printed eyes seemed to ooze with Contempt that seemed to say ,, look, you could've grown up to be just like me if you weren't so pathetic,,.
Lucius pushed the smaller side of a paper rectangle in, and blades covered in white, thin sheets of paper appeared on the other side. One, right on top, was without the paper. Usually, getting through one razor took him about a month or two, as he had to save. But for such an occasion as today, technically the last one he had, he's decided to take a new, shiny one. Carefully he took out the small packaging and hid the rest back into the box.
He put his little Treasures on the hard notebook cover, so that they don't fall into moist soil.
With shaky hands he started to unpack his chosen tool. The cold and shaky hands made him accidentally cut his fingertips a couple of times. He hissed, frustrated with his own inability to do such an easy task.
He rolled up the sleeve covering his left arm and looked at it. The bluish veins were drawn on the pale skin like rivers on a map. Close to his elbows were visible Scabs from his ,,earlier accidents,,. Thanks to them, he could feel the depth with which the silver steel would sink into his tissues. And he knew that he didn't put enough pressure into his previous wounds.
Before he went to Hogwarts his father made sure to properly educate him in all the leading fields of knowledge, including biology and anatomy. He knew that in today's cut he'll have to put way more power than into the previous ones, as veins were somewhere in the Subcutaneous tissue .
At least he was thin, so the chance of hitting an artery and causing irreversible damage to it was higher.
He closed his index finger and thumb around the center of the razor blade in a way that won't cut his fingers. Between a hole in the razor, originally made so that people can attach it into a shaving machine,he felt his fingertips touch each other.
With eyes wide open he gazed at his arm. He knew where he was supposed to cut. He was ready as never before, but the muscles of his right hand refused to cooperate. With not a small amount of struggle he put the corner of the razor to his wrist , closer to the left. Light pinch that this action caused put Lucius out of the lethargy.
He seriously was going to end his life at this moment. In the Forbidden forest. Next to school he hasn't attended for even a year. On a random April day in 1967.
What felt like a heavy, sticky hole, started to fill his torso. It was Rising, like a bile, from his stomach to his Solar plexus ,up to his clenched throat.
He hated this emptiness even more than he hated his father. It appeared out of nowhere and no matter what he did it never disappeared without the help of self destruction. Finally, he'll get rid of it for once and for all.
No-one else can help him.
He took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the shining blade. With as much pressure as he could make he made a line from his wrist to half of his forearm.
Like patterns made in dough loaves, the wound spread to the sides uncovering layers of his body.
The epidermis and dermis gave up quickly. The next one was Mischievously shining fat with its structure reminding Lucius of a bulging honeycomb.
Almost immediately the cut began to fill with Brightly red blood. It flew fast. With each heartbeat, it seemed to pour out like a wave from behind the gates of a dam that had been closed for too long.
What happened with his forearm filled Lucius with a mix of fear and fascination. He tried to clench his left fist, and the borders of the wound waved, spitting Streams of crimson with the movement.
He hit an artery. The blood was leaving his body faster than he expected. He was begging to lose sensation in his fingertips already, and his vision was becoming more and more blurry.
He was dying. Just like he's always wanted. On his own rules. But was that something he really wanted? Was there no other choice for him?
He tried to answer those questions, but couldn't form a coherent thought. Even though his heart was beating like crazy, the blood flow was decreasing. He leaned his head onto his arm having no more power to keep it up.
He felt sick and weak, he felt kike he's going to puke. His vision was turning black and between the Spots he saw a puddle of blood melting on his knees and the surrounding ground.
He closed his eyes and felt his breath getting faster and faster. Despite that he had an impression he's going to choke. Against his will, tears shining shyly in the moonlight began falling from the corners of his tightly shut eyes .
But Lucius could no longer feel them. He couldn't also hear the approaching heavy footsteps that resembled a walking human. Except for the fact that a normal man doesn't generate this much noise.
A shadow of a huge silhouette fell over the boy's body leaning against the rocks .
"Jesus Christ" whispered a warm, deep voice and tearing apart the thicket fell to Lucius's bleeding body.