Draco & Salazar WHO: Draco Malfoy & Salazar Slytherin WHEN: Sunday morning. WHAT: Clearing his head. WHERE: Out by the lake. WHY: Draco has nothing but feels lately, KAY? :D RATING: PG
Draco had not felt so bonkers since his first few months in the village. He did not like it. He had come too far to allow himself to slip into that darkness again. He barely slept the last few days, which flew up a huge red flag to the boy about his condition. His mental healers, both here and at home, warned him he would never forget, but he could manage to control his triggers. At home? Easy enough. Here? When there was war chatter constantly? Debates about good and evil? Not so easy. However, he mostly hated the anger and the jealousy he felt again. How could he feel such powerful emotions when he was so bloody happy at his new age? Or was that why? He said as much to others. Reconciling his past village self not only with his current version, but also after the things he felt at eleven? He was not mending well. Why? Bloody well why?
Potter pushed him firmly off the cliff he had been tethering on. Oh, it wasn't Harry's fault and Draco already regretted the angry words regarding Dobby (though, really, Potter could act a little less shocked about Draco caring about things), but what could be done? Draco could spend his entire life apologizing for the war; it would never be enough and why should it? Everything in him told him to step aside and let Harry have everything here - Weasleys, Colin, Sirius, Potter's kids...
Selfishly, Draco didn't want to let go of them. Intellect told him he didn't need to anyway. Still, like he told Sirius, it always felt, since year one, there was a choice between Harry and Draco, never both. They were oil and water. Draco didn't want to hurt their children or their other mutual loved ones through fighting. He hoped everything had been behind a ward. He wasn't sure now.
He thought his biggest roadblock to sanity was his family. He meant what he said in his letters. He hadn't felt part of them, despite wanting it so badly for so long, in a while. Part of it was him; he knew that. He always doubted his place, but after aging down and seeing, not even through anyone's bloody fault, that he really was the outlier, no matter how kind some were when he wrote...it was just that. When he wrote, when he demanded attention...maybe if his parents, both as he knew them, had been there from day one he would have felt less alone or confused. Maybe if he didn't age up and read the adult wards under Parvati's guidance, things would be different. All Draco knew? Ever since, he was a ball of emotions. He could have stopped pushing Tonks. He knew that, but he didn't. He wanted to hurt her for no other reason than he hurt. He could have been less prickly about his mother toward both Regulus and Cressida, but he wasn't. He could have been more understanding, but he just bloody wasn't. It had been a long time since he deliberately said things to hurt people.
He hated that part of himself and he had been buried so long. He knew he needed to get the demon back under control. Saying goodbye to his family, in a sense, seemed a good idea. Now? He wasn't sure. He wasn't bloody sure of anything and everyone he'd normally go to was connected to Potter.
If he pushed everyone away, he could effectively say it was his choice. It had only been a matter of time. Now no one needed to feel obliged or guilty because of some past version of Draco the current one couldn't find.
Breathing was difficult. Sleeping. Eating. Finally, he gave up and went for a fly high up in the sky. He didn't go by The Pitch just in case Mr. Potter was there. Draco had enough to sort without adding Harry's parents into the mix. So far, he mostly avoided them other than a quick ward to Mrs. Potter. Lily, as she asked to be called.
He landed while it was still early in the morning. Damn. What time did he leave? His stomach twisted, but he knew if he tried to eat, he'd just feel sick. Instead, he grabbed the water bottle he brought and plopped next to the lake. He dipped his toes in, leaned back, and squeezed his eyes shut. "Get a fucking grip, you bloody wanker."