Lost in the head
Being awoken by the slam of the front door and the heavy footsteps that follow, echoing through the cold hallway. Draco quickly jumps out of bed, almost tripping as his legs get tangled amongst the silk sheets, wary of the fact that if he gets caught sleeping instead of preparing for the new Hogwarts year by studying he will be feeling the full force of his father’s rage for the next week or two. Getting dressed in a black dress shirt and grimacing when he notices the bags under his eyes through the mirror. Draco treads down the hall towards the staircase ready to greet his father in the living room where there is no doubt, he is waiting for Draco to make his appearance. Polished leather shoes travelling down the glossy marble stairs with rushed dignity, making there way to the living room his father and mother await him. Announcing his presence to his parents as he strolls into the dining room, his eyes locking onto his fathers as he feels a pool of dread forming in his stomach when he notices the vicious grin that decorates his fathers face along with cruel glint in his eyes making him look even more demented then usual. Eyes moving towards his mother as he makes his way further into the room where she sits on the couch beside his father looking towards the floor with a cup of tea in hand, not even caring to greet him. “Draco, I have recently come across some thrilling news that I figured you would be quite happy by, it is certainly giving me a large amount of joy” I shiver of amusement leaks out of his fathers usually cold voice as his eyes seem to glimmer with cruel excitement. “You see there is news travelling around the ministry about how dear little Harry Potter used magic in the presence of a filthy muggle and has now been expelled. Quite fortunate news if you ask me.” Cutting Draco off from even asking, staring down at the glass in hand whilst swirling the brandy within, letting out a vicious chuckle as the last words leave his mouth. Draco’s eyes widen in shock for a split second as he comes to comprehend what exactly his father just said. Of course, he knew potter was an idiot but what in the bloody hell was going through his pea sized brain when he decided to preform underage magic, in front of a muggle no less. His vision drawing back to his parents as he hears the sound of his mother standing up walking out of the room with her tea tray, giving no acknowledgement to the one-sided conversation that was just presented. His eyes snap back to his father as a new question arises in his head. “But Dumbledore surely would not accept the fact that he was expelled. We both know potter will somehow get out of his punishment, no matter the actions he caused and the consequences that should be set in place. Potter is just too important to that old oaf Dumbledore.” Leaning forward with a confused look on his face trying to reason with his father’s revelation. A snarl replaced any humor that was once on his father’s face. Sharp eyes filled with malice meet his own. “Draco if I wanted your opinion I would have asked.” Was hissed out “but considering that I did not, I don’t appreciate you speaking out of turn. Along with the fact that you consider the ministry foolish enough to let Dumbledore and that blood traitor Harry Potter get away with it is frankly an insult. In future I suggest you watch your tongue if you wish to keep it there.” His father speaks with a threatening manner not breaking eye contact, making Draco shiver with fear of what is to come if his father deems his behavior poor enough to punish. His father puts the now empty brandy glass down and stands up breaking eye contact with Draco as he strolls to the entrance to the lounge stopping suddenly at the door to speak. “Tomorrow we shall have a discussion upon the upcoming year and what goals you must reach, as you are aware many things are changing and we must prepare for these changes lest it destroys us and our family’s status amongst purebloods and throughout the Dark Lord’s ranks. So, I suggest you take this seriously as if you fail at any point in this upcoming year, you won’t be coming home to open arms.” Not even looking back to speak to him as Draco remains on the couch silently, then continuing to walk out of the room and from Draco’s sight. Letting out a breath he was unaware he was holding he glances towards his feet, hands on his knees as he slowly stands up and walks towards the same exit his father just left through, hoping to not come across anyone as he travels back up towards his room so he can ponder on the information he was given alone and in silence. Upon entering his room and quietly closing the door behind him all the tension leaves his body as he closes his eyes and leans the back of his head upon the door, opening his eyes again he makes his way towards his bed and collapses on the unmade sheets face down into the mattress. Torturous thoughts come pouring into his head as he tries to regain control over his own mind. Constant worry ever presents amongst the whispers of fear in his head echoing and getting louder the more he tries to block them out. Feeling tears start to fall down his face as stress start to take control of everything, he can’t stop them now as they continue to fall, never ending amount of fear, stress, and worry. Rolling onto his back thinking about what the conversation of tomorrow might bring him other than even more stress and the fear of pain caused by his father’s hand. His mind goes back to harry potter, the boy who lived yet did so many stupid things one would think he would want to die. The chosen one with mesmerizing green eyes who refused his offer of friendship there first year and to this day makes Draco want to scream in what he believes is rage and annoyance. Everything about harry potter is infuriating from the mudblood and the homeless redhead scum he associates himself with to his untamable ebony hair that shines in the sun. no matter what his thoughts always manage to trace back to harry potter. The greatest pain in his ass he has ever known. Draco falls of to sleep at the memory of the emerald eyes that have only ever held hate for him, but he has always been unable to stop getting lost in them. Waking up the next morning to the sound of knocking at his door and the voice of his mother reaching his ears telling him to prepare for the meeting with his father that would start soon. Draco slowly sits up on his bed rubbing the sleep away from his eyes as he realizes, he slept in the same clothes from the day before, his once iron smooth dress shirt and pants are now covered in wrinkles across the expensive fabric. Stretching his body as he makes his way towards his wardrobe for a suitable outfit for the meeting with his father. Making his way towards his father’s study Draco tries to mentally prepare himself for what awaits once he opens the door, inhaling deeply as he pushes the handle, making his way inside the spacious room. Draco’s father awaits him from behind the desk, not glancing up from the parchment he is writing upon not even giving a sign of acknowledgement to Draco as he makes his way to the chair opposite to his father. Sitting down Draco’s father looks up from the piece of parchment finally looking Draco in the eyes, looking him up and down to try and catch any imperfections his son may have let loose. “I understand your curious for the reason behind this meeting. Though I promise you it is of the utmost importance for you to indulge in this conversation along with the great benefit it shall ring you” his father speaks with a cool tone. “During the upcoming year you have been assigned a mission that you must complete. Thanks to the expulsion of that potter boy fortune is in our favor but to be truly successful we need to make sure victory is on our side. That is where you come in. whilst harry potter will not be at Hogwarts, his friends the mudblood and the blood traitor will be and from past experiences we both know that they have a knack of being nuisances and distractions to our goals.” His father explained in an irritated manner. His eyes quickly glancing back to the parchment then setting the quill in his hands down. “For the upcoming year, your mission is to discover what Dumbledore is planning along with to break up harry potter’s friends, without him to be the communicator amongst those two it would be easy to cause a rift causing distrust in potter’s group. Along with that there has been whispers of a secret order that has been formed by Dumbledore, you must find information on this group if you want to be any assistance or have any place in the dark lord’s troops.” He continues without any regard for the shocked and conflicted expression that had made an appearance on his son’s face. Draco’s emotions were going haywire, his thought were mumbled together and the only thing he could make out from the mess that consumed his mind was the pure panic of what was being asked of him. Dumbledore was known to be one of the greatest wizards of the age along with being the only person lord Voldemort had ever feared, yet he was being ordered to gather information about him and whatever he was planning from right underneath his nose. And if he were to fail the mission that was sent his way there would be no doubt that he shall be punished for his uselessness and insubordination. His eyes met his fathers once again from across the desk, sharp strikes of fear reach every bit of his body from the thought of what the future will no doubt bring him. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t do this. “I can’t do this father. What your asking, its to much. I will fail.” The words came out in a shaky voice, barley a whisper being heard. “How could I possibly find any information about this order you speak of, let alone the fact that there is the possibility it does not even exist. What will I do. And again, how am I supposed to cause a rift between that mudblood and Weasley scum. No matter what I do they won’t believe me along with the fact the only real influential power I hold is amongst the Slytherins and no other Hogwarts house would ever trust us snakes.” He gets louder as he tries to reason with his father’s words. trying to convince him that no, he is unable to succeed in this endeavor. A sharp sting flashes across his cheek and shock overwhelms him along with the white-hot pain of the strike his father had just given him. His eyes snap back up to his father towering form that looms over him. Pure rage overtaking his face expression with a snarl to match the anger that is clouding his eyes. His hand still raised from where he had hit Draco. A dull throb of pain is all he can feel as he looks into his fathers’ eyes, realizing the impact of his words. “I suggest you hold your tongue. You will be completing this mission whether you want to or not, this is not up for debate Draco. Less you want to prove your uselessness to the dark lord I suggest you pick yourself up and actually do something helpful for once rather than just being a waste of space and a disappointment to the Malfoy name.” voice raised in a demeaning tone as he glared down at his son. Fully prepared to strike him again if he dared talk back. Flashes of the past appeared in Draco’s mind from similar instances in which his father had hit him. All reminding him to keep his mouth shut if he wanted to leave the room without the feeling of everlasting pain following him out the door. Fear floods through his veins along with the onslaught of dread burying beneath his skin, ready to take over his mind to lock him away and keep him safe from the pain he shall feel. Another sharp stab of pain flashes across his cheek, making his reeling mind stop and bringing him back to the present and the situation at hand. Feeling a small trickle of liquid fall from his cheekbone from the sliced skin caused by one of his father’s rings. “Answer me now” his fathers voice rises along with the rage bubbling beneath his skin. He looks towards the ground, a quiver in his voice as he speaks. “Yes father. I apologies for my lack of faith in you and the dark lord. I shall not question your judgment again. I am happy to serve the dark lord and I shall use all of my power to complete the mission that has been given towards me.” Any emotion in his voice has gone, barley even controlling the words as they leave his mouth, like watching something else be in control of his body. He tries to think past the fear, the fear of his father’s hand. His emotionless expression hiding the raging storm of thought that create his mind. He needs to be useful to his father. He can’t disappoint him like he has done so many times before. He needs to make his father proud and live up to the Malfoy name, otherwise what use is he. What is he worth. He will just be another worthless failed soldier like the many who had failed the dark lord before him. He hears the sound of a chair squeaking against the floor as his father retaking his seat. A wave of relief washes over him as he realizes, he is at less of a risk of any pain to befall him. Releasing a shaky breath as he tries to come back from the pure fear that had overtaken him, he finally glances back up to meet his father’s demeaning gaze locked onto him. Eyes still cold his father looks over him seaming almost proud at the cut he left on Draco’s usually unblemished face. “You may go know. And I expect better of you in the future. I would hate for something unfortunate to happen thanks to your recklessness” was said in a sickly-sweet tone causing another wave of fear to creep through Draco and making him question why he even tried to reason with his father in the first place. Standing up from the chair, still not making eye contact with his father Draco makes his way to the door of the study. A cold silence follows him through the doorway, hypersensitive to the feeling of the blood sliding down his face accompanied by the silence echoing around him, shallow harsh breaths being the only sound along with the tapping of shoes being heard throughout the hallway. Opening the door to his bedroom Draco lets out a sign as he closes and locks the door behind him. Making his way to his private bathroom, fighting back the tears that wish to fall from his eyes. He looks into the mirror staring back at the broken oy reflected of its surface. Blood dripping from the slash in his cheek and eyes that scream a thousand words but not a sound comes out. Hands clenched on the counter as he glances down towards the sink, seeing the blood fall upon the porcelain creating a stunning contrast of red and white. He wants it all to go away. Why can’t it all go away. His fists clench, nails cutting crescents into his skin. Body shaking biting back the scream of emotion he wants to let loose. Harsh breaths can be heard accompanied by the dripping of blood as he tries to reign in emotions that can never be revealed. Quickly undoing the cuffs on his dress shirts sleeves his nails start to tear upon his wrist. Opening up old scars from the countless times before he has done this, red and irritated skin forming under his sharp nails as he attempts to dig in harder to try and draw blood. He needs it all to go away. Breaths growing sharper as his knees buckle, making him lean against the counter as blood and fragments of flesh get caught underneath his nails. He doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. The addicting pain of his tearing flesh all but soothes his broken mind, holding together the pieces that long ago shattered into broken fragments of sanity. His breathing starts to slow, and his eyes clear up, focusing on the damaged flesh, the torn skin that decorates his wrist giving him a sickly feeling of content. A broken smile appearing on his face as he tries to calm himself down. All thoughts come to a stop as his mind goes numb. Basking in the pain he has caused himself. Distracting him from his mental torment and the worries of the mission he has been given by his father. The addicting feeling of the pouring blood flowing from his wrists. Waking up from his clouded mind realizing what he had done to himself. Panic builds as he imagines what his parents would say. Ruining the perfect son they strive him to be. He stumbles trying to stand up from the blood and tear covered floor. Rushing to pull the bathroom cabinet open as he reaches for the med kit. Holding his bloody wrist against his shirt trying to slow down the flow and darkening his shirt in the process. Turning on the tap and putting his damaged wrist underneath, wincing at the sting whilst with the other hand trying to unwrap the roll of gauze. Hurriedly pulling his arm out from under the faucet he rushes to cover the damaged skin. The bulky fabric hiding the blood still leaking from the wounds. Shit. He needs to stop doing this. Why does he have to be so week. Why can’t he ever get anything right. He’s so hopeless he cant even control his own emotions enough to stop hurting himself. He needs to be better. He wants to make his father proud. Walking out of the bathroom, bloody footsteps following him he collapses in his desk chair leaning back trying to collect his thoughts. He will complete the mission that has been given to him. He will be successful.