Draco, Part 4

                                        

                                              
Draco, Part 4
Draco hadn't slept at all. He hadn't even gotten up from the floor. He just curled up in a ball and cried. He didn't answer the door when Pansy banged on. He didn't go eat. He just needed to suffer for what he had just done. The image of Potter's crumpled, pained face would haunt him forever. Why? he screamed to himself. Why did you say that?
But he knew why. There were always shades of truth and lies with him, but there were also facts. Fact 1: he was pureblood, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. He had a duty to marry another pureblood. Fact 2: he was gay. He knew it. He always knew it, though he could never act on it. Fact 3: his father would kill him slowly if anyone found out about it. Well, kill might be overstating it. He'd undoubtedly disinherit him. His father would invest the Malfoy holdings to his third cousin, twice-removed before he'd allowed an abomination like him to have it. There was only one thing worse than a mudblood and a blood-traitor in Lucius Malfoy's eyes, and that was being an open homosexual. Closeted was completely fine. Bang the guy or girl next door, but still marry and produce an heir.
Draco cried more. He'd never be free to do what he wanted... because of fact 4. He loved Potter more than he loved life itself. There was nothing truer than that. He sobbed harder, remembering how Potter was trying to connect to him, trying to reach out an offer of friendship and even companionship. It hurt worse than the Cruciatus to push him away. He had to. Because of the last and final fact: Harry deserved a life of love and happiness.
Draco knew that he would bring Harry nothing but pain and misery. He was... tainted. Corrupt. They were enemies since day one. The rivalry, the name-calling and fighting were just preludes to the big stuff. Voldemort, the Dark Mark, Dumbledore and the Battle. Fucking hell, he nearly killed Potter's best friend... and his teammate, Katie Bell, too.
Holy Merlin... how could Potter even think about wanting him? Why had Potter reached for him? Called him back? Why? Who would want him? Draco thought derisively.
He wanted to just die. He just stayed on the floor, intending to wallow in misery forever. Pansy knocked many times, but she couldn't get through his wards. He lost count of hours... days....
"Draco! Let me in! You need to eat!" Pansy yelled.
"Leave me alone," he growled.
"I'm not leaving you alone! It's been three days! You already missed Monday classes!"
"I don't care. I'm not coming out."
"Draco... please... let me in or so help me...."
"Fuck off!"
She did. Logically, Draco knew that they wouldn't let him stay in here forever. Eventually, she'd get McGonagall, but just for a bit longer, he could be alone in his thoughts. He dazed in and out of consciousness until it was night. He was sure Pansy came again, but he was too out of it to care. He did feel the wards give, but couldn't open his eyes to see who came in. He felt hands hoist him up under his armpits, and he was lifted into someone's lap.
"Pan-sy," he slurred, drained physically and emotionally.
"Shh... drink," a deep voice said, as a potion vial was pressed to his lips. The voice wasn't Pansy's.
"Wha...?"
"Just drink, Draco. It's just a Revitalization Potion, okay?"
Draco tasted the herbal potion enter his mouth, and he swallowed diligently. His heart rate picked up, his stomach settled and he felt more awake. Someone pushed his bangs out of his eyes, while the other hand gripped him tighter, possessively. His mind finally cottoned on to that if it wasn't Pansy... who was it? He opened his eyes and looked up.
Oh, fuck. It was Potter.