The "Draco Malfoy" Thing (Drarry)

Shatter Me

Draco ran down the dark corridor, the sound of hissing close behind him. His hand ran across the uneven stone walls as his feet slapped the wet pavement. He ran until he could run no more, hitting a wall, "Damn!" he muttered. The hissing grew louder, nearly upon him now. He turned with his back against the wall, staring out into the darkness, hardly seeing anything in front of his face.

"You cannot run from me." 

Draco's stomach flipped as he recognized the voice coming from the abyss, "I'm not afraid of you!" he yelled back in an attempt to hide his worry. 

The voice laughed, the sound resembled nails on a chalkboard, "We both know you lie, boy." It spat back, "Just look at those scars, they tell your secrets." Draco looked down at his arms, staring at the scars against his pale skin. He took a closer look at his arms, they were glass, porcelain to be exact, like they dolls his mother used to collect, his scars reduced to scrapes and cracks in the otherwise flawless design. "So fragile, tell me, do you think Potter can put you back together once you've been broken?" The corridor brightened slightly as a tall figure stepped out of the shadows. 

Draco glared at his father as the man raised his wand and uttered the Unforgivable Curse, leaving Draco in a pile of broken glass.

***

Draco sat up in his bed drenched in a cold sweat. He wiped his face dry and quickly climbed out of bed, rushing down the stairs and into the common room. He collapsed into a nearby armchair, holding his head in his hands. He kept replaying his dream in his mind, kept seeing his father's face, with his wand raised the way his hand used to, before the bruises were formed. 

He felt his hand start to tremor as he attempted to summon a glass of water to no avail. He glanced at the clock on the wall, it was nearly morning, no point in going back to sleep. Usually, the nightmares left a lingering panic for a few hours at the most, but none had ever been that...vivid, never that real. Draco rolled up the sleeves of the old t-shirt he'd stolen from Harry's trunk and examined his faded scars. The faint lines looked so old, it was hard to believe they were less than a year old, especially with Draco's tendency to scratch at them. Hard to believe everything that had taken place over the last few months. 

Draco felt reborn, he was respected not because people fear him, but because they actually like him as a person. He was no longer the angry boy who tormented his piers out of spite, but the one who brings together groups of people for study groups, Quidditch games, and Hogsmeade outings. 

Draco felt like a new person, but it was nights like this one that pulled him back in time, back to when his life was a series of secrets to be kept and promises to be broken.  

***

The sleep-deprived Slytherin climbed the stairs from the dungeon to the Great Hall clutching his arm, lost in thought.

"Hey."

Draco looked up to see his boyfriend waiting for him at the top of the stair case, "Hey." He replied in a much less cheerful manner. 

Harry frowned, "What's wrong?"

Draco shook his head, "Nothing, I didn't sleep well last night, that's all." He placed a quick kiss on Harry's forehead before leading him by the hand to the Great Hall for breakfast, "So, what's got you so chipper this morning?"

Harry shrugged, "I don't know, I just feel happy today, I for one slept very well."

"Well, that's certainly a nice change of pace." Draco joked as they sat down with their friends at the Gryffindor table, "Morning all."