Draco was so sure of himself, that no matter how 'far' he had come to life, there wouldn't be someone willing to be with him— whether platonically, romantically, or whatever there is left. Truthfully, he never cared to such things. He never had taken interest to something so out of his reach, something so out of his league.
'Death eater'
He fears himself more than people fears him, but he isn't going to admit that, no chance he would admit that he himself is what he's been so afraid of.
He could still see the mark on his arms that were once visible, a mark so dark it hurts his eyes than lights would. It is him, after all. It is what reflects him as a human and as a son. It is what makes him so different than other people because it proves how cruel he was, to Harry, and to everyone.
He wants to say, "I'm just a kid." 'cause he was. But he can't because he knew he cannot just be' just a kid'. Ever since he was born into this life, he was already made to become someone whom what his parents thought he was meant to be. And he was. He was meant to be like that. To be someone so cruel to others, to be the way how his father wanted him to be— so everyone will know why he had that mark. A reason to declare his actions.
'He's deserving of it because of the way he treats people.' they say.
If he weren't such a weakling, he would proudly dare to say to his father that maybe, maybe people wouldn't be the way they are right now if they were raised right. If he weren't treated unfairly, he wouldn't have to be cruel. So bad and insane.
Draco knew since then that he couldn't, and will never have someone special in his life like how Harry had Granger and Ron.
'Would it be bad though if I have you by my side? Or the other way round?' he thinks, looking at you sitting beside the window of the library.
He hangs his head between his shoulder, deafening a sigh. He bit his lips, his shoulders trembled.
The war has passed, a new era has begun, yet his mind is still stuck in the past— lost in the deep end he could no longer get himself out.
Even if he wants you, and even if you want him, he knew he can't. He cannot love.
Who is he? What is he?
He chuckled, his lips quivered.
"Fuck."