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Demons	By : Madam_Weasley Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Draco/Ron Views: 3062 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any characters. I do not make any money from this story

Chapter List
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I spent the entire night awake. Pacing. I don’t sleep as it is, now I’ve got Malfoy living next to me. Begging me to kill him. Screaming because he’s alive. I’ve never had so much in common with him. It’s disturbing. I wonder who he was saying ‘sorry’ to last night.
                I take another shower, to try to energize myself. I eat a piece of toast that has no taste and head to work.
                Harry is sitting in my chair when I get there.
                “Lost?” I ask as I hang my cloak on the hook.
                “No. Just checking to see how you are.”
                “I’m fine Harry.”
                “That’s bullshit and you know it. Why won’t you tell us what’s wrong?”
                I’m wondering how they can forget what’s wrong.
                “Guess who moved into my building?”
                “I don’t know, who?” I can tell Harry knows I’m purposefully changing the subject but he lets me.
                “Malfoy.”
                “What?”
                “It seems like he just got out of Azkaban. Doesn’t have a wand anymore.”
                “Did you talk to him?”
                “Uh… we said a few words. Nothing much.”
                “How did he act? Still the same.”
                “Mate, not even Malfoy can go unchanged after spending time in Azkaban. He’s not the same. I can tell you that.”
                I can’t bring myself to tell Harry about the fight, well I guess a fight would indicate that he fought back, the screaming, or Malfoy asking me to kill him.
                “It was weird seeing him.”
                “I bet it was. Listen Ron, would you please come to dinner tonight? It’s Friday, you can stay if you want.”
                “I have plans for tonight Harry. I’m sorry. Maybe another time?”
                “I need your word. I’m tempted to make you do an Unbreakable Vow.”
                “Bit overkill don’t you think.”
                “Not at this point. No. I don’t. Next Friday then. I’m holding you to it. Even if I have to stun you and apparate you there.” I looked at him and forced a chuckle, he however was completely serious.
~~*~~*~~*~~
                I sat against the wall the entire night. I never moved after Weasley left. I do feel better now that my nose isn’t broken, but I deserved the pain. He shouldn’t have done it. Why did he do it? His words kept coming back to me. “It’s all your. He’s dead.” I don’t know who ‘he’ is. I don’t know any of the details from the war. I was given a trial almost immediately and then sent to Azkaban where I wasn’t spoken to until a few days ago.
                I have to know who died.
                I heard Weasley pacing all night. There was something oddly comforting about it. Like I wasn’t alone for the first time in a long time. I heard his shower start and the pop of disapperation.
                After he left I took a shower. A hot shower that opened up all of the injuries on my face. I scrubbed and scrubbed again. I stood there until the water turned cold, watching my blood swirl with the water and go down the drain. I dried, dressed and went to the kitchen to eat. After years of barely eating you’d think I would stuff myself. Food doesn’t interest me. I also realize I’m not all that sure how to prepare food. I’ve always had house elves and magic. I guess I’ll need to get in touch with Mr. Twilliger to figure that out. I find a box of crackers and eat about 10 of them and wash it down with water.
                I wander the flat, pacing. I have no books here. Is that a want or a need? Not even a copy of the Daily Profit. I do have my parchment from when I was in Azkaban. I wander if parchment would be considered a need or a want.
                I sit at the table to write but I can’t think of anything to write.
                I put my head down on the table and eventually fall asleep. I don’t know how long I’m asleep before I hear people moving around. It’s the best I’ve slept in a long time but I’m stiff from sleeping at the table. I stretch and list to people walking in the corridor. People returning from work. I need to think about getting a job. I wonder if Twilliger can get me a subscription to the Profit. Need or want?
                I use my parchment to start a list of things I would like to have. Twilliger can tell me if they are wants or needs. Parchment, Subscription to Daily Profit, books. I add on dress robes, if I have to try to find a job I should try to look presentable. It seems like a stupid thing to have when I have nothing but I’ve got conditions to live up to. I also make a note to discuss how to prepare food. I realize I’m feeling a little hungry. I eat another cracker and the hunger is gone. I looked at my body in the mirror after my shower. I’m nothing but sharp angles. You can see my ribs and my stomach is sunk in. I force myself to another cracker, like that will help me put weight on.
                I jump as someone bangs on my door. I didn’t think Mr. Twilliger was going to show up until next week. I slowly open the door. Weasley is standing there. I’m not sure if he can tell how confused I am through my split and swollen face. Neither of us says anything. I’m waiting for him to hit me again. To scream at me. To hex me. He just stands there running his hand through his hair.
It’s the first time I’ve really looked at him. He has bags under his eyes and they’re blood shot, He was never big but he’s a lot thinner now. He’s so pale that his freckles stand out more than normal. He doesn’t really look any better than me.
After what seems like forever the silence is very uncomfortable, I shuffle my feet and he runs his hand through his hair again. Suddenly he’s pointing his wand at my face and I know it’s coming. He’s going to finish it. I close my eyes and silently think “Thank you.” but it never comes. I can feel magic washing over me, but it’s warm and tingles.
I open my eyes and his wand is lowered. It takes me a moment to figure out what he’s done. My face, he fixed my face. I run my fingers over my eye, my lip.
“Why?” I ask him. My voice still isn’t back due to the fact that I keep screaming at night. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to speak again. Then I wonder if I’ll ever have anyone to speak to.
“I...” he looks at his feet.
~~*~~*~~*~~
                What the hell was I thinking? Why did I knock on his door? I can’t believe how long we just stand here glancing at each other and looking away. I finally fix his face. I can’t stand looking it. I did that to him. I hate that I did that to another person, especially one that probably didn’t deserve it quite that bad. I punched him once in what should have been 7^th year. If he didn’t deserve to be beaten then he doesn’t now. And the fact that he can’t even fix his face makes it worse. I could have beaten him and then kind of forgotten about it because there would be no reminder.
                “Why?”
                “I…” I look at the floor and can’t figure out what I want to say. “I…”
                This is where there would be snide comments, insults, possibly a hex. I don’t know how to communicate with him. Hell, lately I don’t know how to communicate with anyone. But after last night I felt a connection with Malfoy. He screams at night because he’s alive. I do the same thing. I can’t control it; it just rips out of me. I’m pretty sure it’s the same for him.
                “I’m sorry.” I finally get out. “I’m sorry for hitting you.”
                He raises an eyebrow and it almost looks like the old Malfoy. “Why? I wish you had hit me harder.”
                “What?” I’m really confused now.
                He turns from his door and walks back into his flat. He leaves the door open so I take it as an invitation to go in. I hesitantly step through the doorway.
                “Why do you wish I’d hit you harder? Are you mental? I thought I was going to kill you yesterday.”
                “Why didn’t you?”
                “You didn’t fight back. It lost the appeal. Why did you ask me to do it?”
                “To end the pain.” He slumps into a chair at the table. “To make everything stop. I’m not brave enough to do it on my own. I thought you would do it for me.”
                I sit across from him. Oddly attracted to this conversation.
                “This is the most I’ve spoken to anyone since my trial.” he’s picking absently at a burn mark on the wooden table.
                “Why are you here Malfoy? Why aren’t you at home?”
                He gives me a sad smile. “This is home. The Ministry owns my home and most of my money. This is me being reintroduced into society. “
                I moved here to hide and he’s moved her to be reintroduced into society. Our lives seem to be oddly parallel yet very different.
                “Since we’re having a civil conversation, can I ask you a personal question?” He’s not looking at me, his picking at the table.
                “What?”
                “Who was it? Who died? I never heard anything about what happened after the war.”
                I stiffen. I don’t talk about it. I can feel the backs of my eyes burn with tears and my throat close up. My breathing becomes more shallow. I don’t talk about it. Malfoy looks up at me and reads my expression.
                “I’m sorry. Never mind.” He looks back down.
                “Lupin.” his name leaves my mouth in a whisper. Malfoy’s head snaps up and his eyes are wide.
                “Collin Creevey.” His eyebrows lower in confusion. “Kid with the camera.” I clarify. My eyes are prickling more. I can feel the tears pooling in my eyes.
                “Lavender Brown.” His eyes widen again.
                “Tonks, Lupin’s wife.” Malfoy is a blur through the tears in my eyes.
                “Fred.” My voice cracks and the tears slide down my cheeks.
                He doesn’t say anything to me. He just looks at me and he looks like he’s going to cry too. Who would have thought I’d be sitting at a table with Malfoy crying.
                I wipe the tears off my face. “I have to go.” I shove back from the table and leave. I go straight to my bed and sob. I haven’t mentioned their names since the funerals. I’ll say him, her, he, etc. But never their names. I’ve not cried, while awake in a long time. I cry almost every night, but during the day I push it all down.
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