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fragment i :
core
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When he reads ‘incense’ as incest, Theo knows it’s time to give his eyes a break.
He shifts to stare at a random spot of color in the otherwise bland room they were almost denied in St. Mungo’s, which just so happens to be the monitoring spell that’s set to go off if Draco tries to escape. The thought prompts a scoff from Theo, quickly followed by a scowl. Anger clouds his thoughts, sudden and cloyingly thick, that it forces a ragged breath from his lungs.
Theo isn’t even sure who he’s angry at.
Only that the rage has been there for a long time.
The intensity of it makes the throbbing at his temples sting sharper, and it almost acts like a signal for the rest of his body to start protesting too.
His arse is numb, his shoulders ache, and the hand cradling Draco’s own is cramping.
Theo looks over at the blonde and swallows the frustration down.
The first time they’d seen each other after Draco’s sentencing, Theo could hardly believe it was the same arrogant, pointy bastard he’d known all his life. Granted, Draco had been off all throughout sixth year, but it hadn’t been as bad.
Even now, a week after his release, the blonde still looks like death.
Draco’s hand spasms.
Theo flinches.
He had braced himself for more thrashing and screaming when the other boy had woken up earlier, he’d braced for the begging, the crying. The only thing Theo hadn’t expected was the relief, and the way Draco had calmed even more when he had started speaking.
“Easy, Malfoy,” he hears himself say. The voice that comes out of his mouth is hoarse from hours of reading out loud. “Easy.”
When Draco gasps himself awake once more, Theo shifts closer.
Grey eyes blink open.
Fear.
Confusion.
Panic.
“Draco.”
The gaze sharpens, the eyes narrow, and then—a flash of embarrassment before the walls come up. Everything else about the pointy git is sluggish, but there’s immediate recognition.
Good, Theo muses to himself. At least there’s that.
Seconds tick by as Theo gives the blonde the space to gather his wits.
Draco’s lips part.
The sound that comes out isn’t quite a word.
“Don’t,” Theo says quietly, reaching for one of the potions on the counter. He takes the stopper off and offers it up. The blonde doesn’t take it. “Dreamless Sleep. Brewed it myself.”
When Draco finally accepts the offering, his hand visibly shakes as he knocks it all back.
“You were supposed to take a small sip, idiot.”
“Theo.”
“Yes?”
“Theo.”
“I’m here.”
“Am I—is this…?” Draco trails off, eyes going glassy, voice going small. “Theo…?”
“You really shouldn’t have taken that entire bottle,” Theo says with a sigh, leaning on the bed, placing his book on the blonde’s chest. Its heft makes Draco wheeze. “Shall we continue? The book is called ‘Dynamics of Magic: An Introductory Study on the Coreum Arcana’. We were on chapter sixteen before you nodded off.”
Draco’s eyes flutter. A pale hand flops over the cover of the book.
“Eager, are we?”
A huff. A wheeze.
“If you die from this, I’m going to kill you.”
Theo waits until Draco slips under again. When he’s sure the other boy is completely out, he leans his head down and breathes out a heavy sigh.
Fucking Azkaban.
Fucking Voldemort.
Fucking Death Eaters.
The last thought makes a cold feeling run down his spine, his heartbeat picking up as his chest constricts. He tries not to look at the Dark Mark on Draco’s arm. Theo stares at his hands instead, at the ink stains and the remnants of floo powder around his fingernails and the slight tremor running through them.
“It’s fine,” Theo whispers. “We have time.”
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
“Isn’t that right, brightboy? We’re fine.”
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