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A Spiders Web	By : twodollartrick Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 2488 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-End
- 2-Green
- 3-Bruise
- 4-Learning
- 5-Solo
- 4
- 5
I'm so empty inside

and my tears, I can't hide...

...So I'll hurt to take away the pain.

I threatened myself with a premature death, but it was no use - my arm was raising on it�s own accord and my fist rapped sharply on the unoccupied painting that guarded the Gryffindor common room. I drew my arm back quickly and positioned it next to my side. That looked overtly obvious, so I stuffed it into my pocket and leaned against the wall. No, that looked too posed as well. I put my hands on my hips before repositioning them so my arms were folded. There, I looked cool. And just in time too, because a fat lady with an extremely red face came panting into the picture.
�Password?� she wheezed, sounding like she�d just completed a ten mile run. To the nearest bakery and back, more like.
�I don�t know, I just want entrance,� I replied matter-of-factly. She stopped breathing heavily, her face instead contorted into an expression of someone who had just witnessed a murder taking place.
�You ... You want entrance without ... knowing the password?� she asked in a hushed voice.
�Yeah,� I replied defensively. Against my best interests, I added, �Is that a problem?�
Her shock was replaced with haughtiness as she encountered my rudeness. �I�m afraid that is against regulations,� she replied in an affected tone. �Nobody gains entrance to this room without knowing the password.�
This bitch was beginning to test my patience and it took every bit of willpower not to retort back. Instead, I took a deep breath and counted to five silently. I then smiled widely. She smiled too, no doubt knowing what was coming.

�May I please enter? I need to speak with someone. It�s very, very urgent,� I said, flash smile still plastered on my mouth. So was hers.
�I�m afraid you may not enter. It is most unfortunate that you have a hearing problem, so I�ll repeat what I said to you earlier. Nobody gains entrance to this room without knowing the password.� Her sickly sweet tones faded as she added, �Not even a most arrogant person like yourself.�
�Listen,� I spat angrily, losing my patience with this fucker. �I need to get in there to talk to someone about something important. Now if you don�t let me in, your precious frame will end up in flames, got it?�
She raised a disbelieving eyebrow. I plunged my hand into my robe pocket and drew out my wand, pointing it at her threateningly. She snorted in an amused manner. I had Ignitio on the tip of my tongue.
�I�ll say it for the last time, my dear boy,� she informed me in a smooth voice. �Nobody gains entrance to this room without -�
�Look I�m getting in one way or another, it�ll just save you a fiery death if you complied with my orders,� I shouted angrily.
�Orders?� she fumed back. I�d touched a nerve. �Orders? Listen young man, I control who gains entrance to this room, I give out the orders! I don�t let just anyone in, especially not anyone who arrogantly commands me like you. Now be off with you before I inform my fellow portraits to give you the utmost grief whenever you pass them.�
�I�ll command who I like, when I like and how I like,� I roared. �If you think I�m going to listen to some ... Stupid, fat old fool like you, think again. Now for the last time, let me in before I -�
�Before you what, Mr. Malfoy?�
I spun around and found myself face to face with McGonagall. She was staring at me coldly.
�Well?� she asked, folding her arms and raising a dagger-like eyebrow. I didn�t respond, I didn�t know what to say. Someone else had plenty to say on the matter though.
�That arrogant little boy threatened me with violence,� the snitch announced importantly. �He said that if I didn�t give him entrance to the room this instant he�d set my frame on fire.�
McGonagall nodded at the fat bitch and turned back to me. �I don�t suppose you have an elaborate counter-argument do you, Mr. Malfoy?�
I had three working overtime in my head. Like spiders webs, they were individually weaving themselves into strong stories; definite excuses that would get me out of the situation I was faced in. But I don�t know what it was. It might have been the fact that McGonagall was gazing at me in the most disapproving of manners. It may have been the fat lady�s unconcealed gloating. It could have even been that I was tired and didn�t want to put up a tough front anymore. Whatever it was, I didn�t bother to use fiction. I didn�t even bother to respond, I just gave a half-hearted shrug.
�And how am I meant to decipher that offhand gesture, Mr. Malfoy?� old McGonagall asked. �I ask you again, is it true?�
I gave a single, affirmative nod. She couldn�t hide the initial surprise on her face but she quickly recovered her expressionless expression.
�Right then, follow me,� she said, marching down the corridor, heels clicking on the stone floor. I trudged along behind her. The fat lady gave triumphant smirks.
�Make sure he�s punished well,� she said, following us through her neighbours portraits. �Have him clean some frames. Have him learn some respect for the portraits in the school. He doesn�t know how hard it is doing what we do. He needs to learn that we don�t just open up doors for anyone. Might I suggest you teach him a lesson by -�
�That�ll do, Beatrice,� McGonagall called over her shoulder without stopping.
---
A weeks worth of detentions for threats of defacing school property. Stupid bitch. Like I care about shitty detentions anyway. I don�t care about anything any more. It�s like the life�s been sucked out of me. With a slight chill I wondered whether this is what being a resident of Azkaban felt like. I walked lifelessly across the school grounds, kicking empty cartons of pumpkin juice whenever I passed one. I was poisonous. I was actually poisonous. My body was damaged and my soul tainted. I was inevitably going to die. I knew this was what being a resident of Azkaban felt like.
Fuck, I had to find her. I don�t know why I was so desperate, Pifflin had said over and over again that there was no known cure for it. But I held on to a last shred of hope that she�d know something that he�d forgot to mention. Having her aunt go through it, she�d have gone through first hand experience. That must be more insightful than any information a text book could carry, mustn�t it? I needed to find a way of asking her about it without her getting too suspicious, though. More importantly, I needed to actually find her first ...
... Which proved to be much easier than expected. Fate had decided that it had dealt me enough unfortunate cards for today and let me take a short cut. Presented in front of me, sitting reading a book and partially hidden by a tree was Granger. I took a step towards her before hesitating. How do I approach this situation? Too late; she turned around and saw me hovering a couple of metres behind her. She snapped the book shut and stood up defensively.
�What do you want?� she snapped in an obviously bad mood. And I wanted to tell her what I wanted. I so wanted to tell her that I was lost and needing help. That I was begging for her knowledge to help me out of this sticky situation. Just to tell her that I needed to hear comforting words from someone who had been through this shit. Just to tell her that I hated the illness just as much as she did, that I was suffering just like her aunt did, and more importantly, probably like she did too. Just to tell her that I understood what it felt like to die from inside, knowing that every breath I took fuelled the leukaemia, making it stronger, easier for it to spread around and touch the parts of my body that had managed to survive for this long yet slowly and sadly becoming toxic too. Just to tell her that I needed a friend.
But I was a Malfoy. Never before have I been ashamed to say, or even think that. But right now I was. Because it stopped me from saying how I really felt. It knotted my true feelings rigid and replaced them with bitter words that I didn�t mean.
�Don�t take that tone with me, mudblood,� I snarled, inwardly taking back every word I uttered. �You forget your place sometimes. I wouldn�t want anything from you.�
�What is your problem?� Granger exploded, hating me as much as I hated myself. �You come over to me and then insult me? What the hell have I ever done to you? I just want to get on with my revision without having this shit thrown in my face, alright?�
And I wanted to apologise. To tell her I was sorry for being such a bastard. And the words were on the verge of rolling from my tongue. But the Malfoy name snatched them back and replaced them with acidic improvements.
�What have you done to me?� I spat, answering her question. �Living for a start. I hate your guts you fucking cunt. You�re a mudblood, therefore, you are shit. No, worse than shit. You shouldn�t even exist on this planet, I wish you�d drop dead and die.� I turned cold as I knew what was coming next. I begged my mind not to comply but it didn�t listen, it was commanded by the Malfoy name. I pleaded with my vocal cords to break down and stop working, but they were being controlled by the same source of higher power, and the next words tumbled out in a choked voice. �Pansy�s right. I wish you�d suffer from leukaemia.�
I howled inside. I wanted to hurt myself, to grab a knife and slash my throat and wrists and every other part of my body I could touch because I didn�t deserve anything less. I was the worst fucking human being in the world. I didn�t mean it. I didn�t mean any of it, and how I wish I could have told her this, to stop the soft flow of tears running down her cheeks unashamedly. She didn�t hit me or insult me back, she stayed rooted to the spot, unable to do anything other in stunned sadness that someone could be so fucking cruel. I was the one that could be so fucking cruel.
�Yeah, well, I�m going now,� I concluded spitefully. �Cry harder.� I turned on my heel, a stream of my own tears cascading down my cheeks.
---
I was hurting. Outside and in. Hurting outside was my body, a former shell of the strong life it once led. Now my joints were seized up and locked into a painful position. But I couldn�t feel it because of the hurting from inside. My soul. I felt numb, like I�d lost all feeling of my character. I knew that wasn�t entirely true, witnessing again the tears of Granger as the scene continue to replay itself in my mind. It had been doing it all day, and now, at night and all alone with no distractions, it was worse. I felt a vague bruise pulsating with pain and willed it to hurt me harder. I deserved every ounce of shit I got. I deserved leukaemia. It made a right choice when picking me as its host to carry out its evilness. It must have saw something similar in me than it had in itself; we both caused devastating pain with devastating consequences.
I don�t remember falling to sleep, but I must have done because I work up sweating like mad. The sheets from my bed had been kicked off as usual, and although I felt like I was in a boiler room, I still wanted to wrap them around me; I felt cold inside too. More importantly, I couldn�t breathe.
Well of course I could breathe. But it was hard. Oxygen was inhaled into my body through short, sharp, rasping and desperate breaths. I flung my arm outwards, trying to grab hold of something that would help me but my hand reached out onto nothingness. I attempted to sit up, using every bit of faded strength I had to prop up my body with my elbows, before falling back down with submission. My head pounded excruciatingly, so much that I thought I would throw up from the pain. I felt a sickening feeling stirring in the pit of my stomach and lying down wasn�t helping matters. With an audible groan I forced myself into a sitting position. Air flowed more easily now, though not half as much as I needed. It was beginning to make me feel faint and small specks of white light danced and flickered in front of my eyes from lack of oxygen.
I rolled out of bed and stumbled into a standing position. My legs wobbled dangerously and threatened to give way but they did well and carried me, one shuffling foot at a time to my door. I leant heavily on the door handle and stopped, most of the energy taken out of me. I breathed faster, not getting enough air and my vision continued to blur. I was so hot sweat was trickling down my forehead now, but I was shivering uncontrollably. I tightened my grip on the door handle as my whole room slid sideways but it was to no avail and I crashed out onto the floor.
---
�You look like you�ve been in a fight with a rhinoceros, Drake!� Pansy said in awe, looking at my face.
�You look like a rhinoceros,� I snapped, buttering my toast so hard that I was cutting into it. Her words were true though, I looked terrible. I woke up this morning and found myself in the same position as I fainted in last night and the events came flooding back to me. I lay there for a while, glad that it was easier to breathe and deciding that nights were definitely more difficult to get through than days. I struggled into a standing position and found myself face to face with my reflection. To my horror my face had two large, ugly purple bruises on it - one on my forehead and one just above my chin. I touched them delicately but even the simplest of touches made me wince. Summoning my wand to me, I tried in vain to conceal them but it didn�t work. No, these were bruises gave to me from something that magic couldn�t prevent.
�They just look so awful,� Pansy continued, staring in utmost disbelief. �Not that you look awful or anything,� she added hastily, seeing the fuming scowl on my face. I didn�t answer and carried on buttering my toast.
�Sure you�ve got enough butter on there, Drake?� Blaise grinned. I looked at my toast, slightly bewildered. I�d buttered it so much that a melted butter river was flowing freely from all sides of the toast onto my plate and slowly oozing down the front of my robes. Everyone nearest giggled and I�d had enough.
�Fuck you,� I snarled, throwing my knife down with a clatter. Blaise looked taken aback. �Is it any of your fucking business how much butter I put on my toast?�
�Drake, it was just a joke, no need to get mad over -�
�MY NAME ISN�T DRAKE.� The whole hall practically turned around from their breakfast and watched my little outburst at this shout but I didn�t care. �Don�t fucking call me Drake,� I continued, lowering my voice to a hiss. �Or Drakey,� I snapped, throwing a venomous look at Pansy who squirmed uncomfortably. I huffed and threw myself into the back of my seat and folded my arms. Nobody said anything for a while, knowing how foul of a mood I was in. But there�s always one person beyond stupidity, always one person who doesn�t know how to tread carefully.
�Draco... Aren�t you going to eat your toast?� Pansy asked timidly.
�No.�
�...Well ... Are you going to eat anything? I mean, you just look so unwell.�
I shifted position in my seat, willing her to shut her fat mouth.
�You�re starting to look skeletal,� she whispered, �like Potter.�
I pulled out my wand and waved it across the length of the table. At once, all the cutlery; the plates, the cups, the knifes, forks and spoons flew into the air and shattered together, erupting in a shower of glass over the hall. As it sharply descended to a mass of screams, I waved it again and the falling debris of the mess I�d made disappeared as quickly as I had created it. I stared around the hall calmly.
You could have heard a pin drop, so you could have definitely heard McGonagall�s screech from the staff table. Her hoarse voice screamed at me to wait outside her office. I glumly got up and walked out without saying a word. Eyes followed my path and I hastened my walk quicker as I started to feel the easy tears come into my eyes.
Malfoy�s never cry. My father told me that when I was young. His father taught him when he was young, and his father�s father taught his father. I was six when Gregory Branch told me he would use his older brother�s wand to let a monster loose in my room while I slept. I was so terrified that when I arrived at home I ran straight into my father�s open arms.
�Drake, what�s wrong?� he asked concernedly, holding me at arms length and examining me. Through racketing sobs and big gulps I told him everything that had happened. He sighed and gave me a reassuring hug, telling me that Gregory wouldn�t do that. That he was just lying to get me scared, but if it made me feel any better, he�d let a monster loose into his bedroom. I�d giggled naively. My father was nothing short of a superhero through my childhood eyes.
I walked faster to McGonagall�s office, willing this memory away, but it continued to play out.
�But,� he said, holding me at arms length again, �there�s something that I have to tell you, Drake.� He sat me on his knee and said, no plainer: �Malfoy�s never cry.� I gave another sniff, breaking the rule he�d just told me. Wiping away my tears, he repeated the motto. �Malfoy�s never cry. Even in private. We must always hold our heads high, Drakey. We must toy with other people�s emotions to control our own better. We have a reputation to protect, which is why we must never cry. Do you understand?�
I nodded and wiped away my tears with a balled up fist. �Never cry,� I repeated. Father broke into a grin. �That�s my boy,� he smiled.
And now, here I was, breaking the rule. That was the last time that my parents had called me by my nicknames; Drake or Drakey. I guess the little talk between us signalled the start of me becoming a man. Which was why I couldn�t bear it when I heard anybody calling it me. It reminded me of that day. It reminded me that Malfoy�s shouldn�t cry and it reminded me that I was breaking my father�s promise with every tear I shed.
I turned the corner, wiping away the last of my tears and knocked full force into someone.
Potter.
�Watch where you�re fucking going,� I spat. Potter bunched his fists. I hadn�t seen him face to face since the fight in Potions class, and hadn�t seen him at all since Pansy and I had both fought with Granger on separate occasions. I expected him to punch me in the gut and I didn�t bother tensing myself up for it. I let him aim at a free shot.
But his fists unformed and his features became concerned as he took me in with his eyes. I narrowed them in confusion before realizing he was looking at my face.
�What the hell are you looking at you fucking prick?� I snarled. Potter sighed wearily.
�I was just wondering if you�re okay,� he said flatly.
I�m not. I�m not fucking okay, and I wanted to scream it at him. To yell it in his ear until my voice was hoarse and he was deaf. To cut open my wrists and watch the infected blood seep out of the wounds and show them, stick them in his face and smear the tainted infection across his mouth. Do I fucking look alright, Potter? Is this the sign of someone that looks like everything in life is going okay? Do I look healthy? Do I look like I�m going to undoubtedly die? Does it look like that every second you live your happy fucking life, I�m fucking losing mine?
�Of course I�m okay,� I snapped.
He shrugged half-heartedly. �You just look a little sad, that�s all,� he said jadedly.
He cares. And I hate him but I want to thank him, for being the one person that noticed. I want to hex him into oblivion while giving him a friendly hug and whispering how much it meant to me. I want him to fucking drop dead and die so I can sit on his grave and tell him how much that one line changed my opinion of him forever.
�Well I�m not so mind your own fucking business,� I said shortly.
He turned on his heel without saying a word and I turned on mine.
I bring it all on myself.
- 4
- 5
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A Spiders Web