Don't be ashamed to weep
Draco Malfoy has never been one to get emotional. His father has always told him it's a weakness, after all. Not only that, but he had also simply never felt the need to. Growing up wealthy does that to you, he supposes. He has always had what he had needed, and thus he never had the need to feel ungrateful, to throw a tantrum or to complain. That's simply how things are for him.
So naturally, he stays away from someone else's problems. He prefers toobserve all of that from the sidelines, rather than mingling with someone else's issues. He doesn't even bother fixing his own mess, after all.
And thus, he doesn't bother confronting other people about their feelings at all.
That doesn't mean he doesn't notice a thing, though. He's far from dumb. He notices a lot, especially as he is on more sides than one. He had quickly noticed an issue with Pansy, ever since the whole situation revolving Dazai. He has noticed more than once how many people actually care about and worry over Dazai, even if the brunette himself seems to be clueless. And he has noticed the mafioso himself.
He doesn't know what exactly is going on, but the other has been acting odd. Not so much as to raise many questions, so Draco expectedly kept his distance. But as the week went by, he has gotten sure of one thing; something was going on. He doesn't know whether Dazai himself has even realised it yet, but he acts like a cornered dog... for the lack of kindlier words. He looks even less taken care off than ever before, the dark bags under his eyes telling a story of their own. And that's not even mentioning the eyes themselves, or the one eye that's left, that is. It flicks over any surface it can, constantly, as if Dazai assumes that any lifeless object can jump him at any moment given. Andit's so blank. Sure, Dazai appears to be a bright boy once you look past the label of the 'demon student', but a smile cannot hide the emptiness that hides away in the dark depths that are his iris. And when you look closely enough, you might even almost feel that barrenness consume you like it does him.
Draco is no fool, he has long since realised that Dazai's humorous character is nothing but a facade to hide that emptiness. A mask that has very carefully been placed on top of the real Dazai, or another layer of fakeness. Draco doesn't even know how far the brunette's insincere words and hidden-away emotions go. He's an enigma, at best.
But, that put aside, Draco still feels that he cares, somehow.
And so, he finds himself worrying, too. It's well past curfew, and yet Dazai cannot be found at the common rooms. He knows that the mafioso is one to break rules wherever he can, and yet Draco feels as if an impending doom hangs above his head as if it's a cloud so dark and grey it cannot promise anything other than heavy rain and loud thunder.
So he made a decision. Dracocan't deny that he doesn't misbehave from time to time, but he tries his best to not get in trouble wherever he can. So, the sudden thought of going to look for Dazai past curfew is not something he often has. Yet he listens to the idea, and he too disappears from the common rooms.
Every hallway he passes is dark and quiet, eerily so. It gives the blond the chills, but he continues on forward. He doesn't know where Dazai could have gone to, he doesn't even know why he's gone. Perhaps something has happened, like that time with the troll at Halloween... Draco shakes his head.
He's probably fine, just being his idiotic self.
And yet, he cannot help but feel the nervousness spread throughout his entire body. He sets off to the first place that comes to mind; the gang's office.
He unknowingly picks up his pace, and soon reaches the all too familiar door.
And then he just stands there, not knowing what to do. Should he simply walk in and yell some curses out loud? Scold Dazai for worrying him, making him question his whereabouts. If he's even there. Should he knock? He logically knows he hasn't a need to, it's his room as much as it is anyone else's. But even while having that in mind, something makes him weary of entering it. He doesn't know why, how that comes.
He hesitantly reaches for the doorknob and twists it. The door makes barely a sound as he opens it just the slightest bit.
Nothing happens. He can only just make out the couch in the poorly lit room. Nothing seems to be going on, no sounds leavethe room, no voice speaks up. But when hedecides to actually open the door to enter, even if somewhat sceptically, he cannot help but let a gasp escape past his lips.
Red. It's the first thing he notices. The moment the moonlight can make it past the hindrance that is the door, it falls on a soaking wet puddle of blood. It's everywhere, leaking all over the floor, and it's so, so much. Draco can't help but stare as he holds his breath.
The blood, it's all over him too. He feels like throwing up. He barely manages to speak.
"Dazai..?" No answer.
His body moves before he knows it, as he kneels down beside the brunette, his friend.
"Dazai! Dazai!" He shouts, almost manically. Reaching out to the other boy, he tries to ignore the blood that soaks into his clothes. He shakes the mafioso frantically, with shaky hands of his own. Tears well up in his eyes and slide down his cheeks in flows of salty water.
"Oh Merlin, please, Dazai!" The desperation all but seeps in his voice, thick with panic. He holds the boy in his arms, all while staring at Dazai's arms. He doesn't know what to do. Panic clouds his mind, he can't do anything except for holding the other boy, clinging onto the brunette's clothes with trembling fingers. Dazai's cheek presses against Draco's own, it's cold and pale, much more than it used to be. All colour that had been in there seems to have been stolen away. It makes Draco hold the other just a bit more tightly. He's simply so useless. He is nothing without someone else, without his friends, the Hell Hounds. If only he could be useful. Could be smart and cunning like Dazai, supporting like the dumb Weasleys... Caring, like Blaise.
"Draco,".
Ah, Blaise. His voice.
He can't make himself answer, not physically.
"Draco!" A hand clasps onto his shoulder, and it makes him jump. And when he turns to look over his shoulder, a wide-eyed Blaise stares back.
Blaise stays quiet, then. His eyes flick over Draco, then Dazai, and back over the blond. He seems to swallow. There's panic in his eyes, too, and even so Blaise seems so much calmer on the outside. He's not useless. Not like Draco.
Blaise traces Dazai's cold cheek with trembling fingers, before he pulls his hand away again.
"I'll... I'll get someone... Just wait here, please. I'll..," Blaise says breathlessly, no even finishing his sentence, before turning around and running out the room.
He leaves Draco alone with Dazai still in his arms. Is he even alive? Draco hasn't even bothered to check. He takes a deep breath and slowly raises his hand to touch Dazai's neck.
And he waits, and he tries to feel something. He knows people's heartbeats are supposed to beat in their neck. He'sheard people mention it, surely, he has. It might've been that mudblood, Hermione. It must be some muggle trick. Wizards tend to simply use their magic to fix this, Like Madam Pomfrey would, but she's still gone.
And he tries to feel something, but he can't feel a heartbeat beneath his fingertips. He doesn't know if he's doing it right. He's never seen someone do it before, explain it before. He has never had the need to, obviously. And he thinks, Dazai might as well be dead already and Draco is hugging a corpse like some maniac, and it makes bile rise. He pukes before he knows it, making the bloody mess just a little less bloody.
And he continues to sob, to gasp, uselessly as he holds a dead person. He heaves and wheezes as he uncontrollably cries and chokes on his own saliva and hears nothing but ringing in his ears. He can't do anything; his body is numb. The only movement he manages are the violent shakes thatunconstrainedly rattle his whole being.
He's uncapable of moving even an inch, of thinking properly.
He doesn't notice when Blaise, his cheeks now too stained with wet tears, returns with Professor McGonagall. He doesn't notice the way they have to wring Dazai out of his grasp, or how Professor McGonagall urges Blaise to stay with Draco as she leaves with a too small figure that is Dazai in her arms. No, the only thing he notices is the way his vision blackens. He doesn't know why, though.
It might've been the stress, the panic.
It might've been the way he has barely had any air filling his lungs with the poor attempts of breathing through his cries and sobs.
Itmight've been dehydration.
He's not sure, though.
The only thing he's sure of, is that it has stopped, as he slumbers into a welcome sleep.