Soft Kidnapping

[putorius]

As the dust settled around the school, Draco felt more lost than he'd ever thought possible. It may have been a nightmare, but he had a purpose, something to focus on, something to work toward. Even if the loss of life, family, and status were the driving force, it was still something that told him precisely what he needed to be doing. It gave him a guidebook on how to treat people, how to behave, how to find the next step even when uncertain. It gave him a path to follow. But now? Now it was all gone. Not just the path, or his end goal, but his reasons for going forward. He'd been dropped in uncharted wilderness with nothing more than his broken moral compass to guide him.

He drifted through the corridors with less life than one of the ghosts. Some students stayed on to help with the rebuilding. Others stayed because the had nowhere or no one to go home to. Technically, Draco had both. But the idea of returning to the manor where his family had been terrorized, little more than prisoners, for so long twisted his stomach. He missed his mother, but he wasn't so sure if he missed his father. He knew he should, but instead there was a strange hollowness inside him where any feelings should be. As if the things that should be in there cancelled each other out.

Mostly, he stayed away from people as much as he could. It was easier than trying to figure out how he should talk to anyone. Even those from his own house. In his aimless wanderings, sorting through his own thoughts, he didn't realize how close he'd come to the Ravenclaw tower. All he knew was that he found himself in a quiet spiral staircase. He sat down, his back against the wall. For doing so little, he found himself incredibly tired. The result of restless nights. For when he tried to sleep, his mind would circle back on all the reasons he could be punished, crimes he committed for the sake of survival. No, not all of them could be blamed on that. Not everything had been a direct order, like attempting to kill Dumbledore. Some nights it was the all too vivid memory of his attack on Luna. Of what he'd almost done. In some of the dreams that haunted him, it didn't stop at almost and he'd wake up wanting to be sick.

As he sat in that quiet stairwell, he tried to listen to nothing but the quiet around him, as he shut his eyes. Hoping he could rest for just a few moments without being disturbed.

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[putorius]

In the quiet of the stairs, he'd started to drift. It wasn't quite sleep, but it definitely wasn't awake. That strange phase of being where everything floats, the real blends with the unreal, memory and dream are the same. Dimly, he knew he was still sitting on the stairs, he could feel them hard beneath him. But that was a fact as distant as the sky on grey day. He knew he shouldn't sleep, that this was a terrible place for it. But still he hoped that maybe the unfamiliarity of such a place, a spot not tied to memories, could allow him a little peace. Just for a moment.

However, in that way the mind plays tricks in the dark, so does it play tricks in half sleep. He heard the footsteps but didn't care. Not at first. But his mind tried to give them form, give them shape. Tried to match the sound to the owner. Possibilities mixed with fears. Before him lurked any number of figures, some impossible, some dead. None of them he wished to face. Old enemies, old rivals, his father, then just as they stopped. Just as she spoke, the deepest fear took hold. It warped her voice into something different. Something high, but much darker. More sinister. And from the artificial darkness his mind had flooded the stairwell with, a pale face with gleaming, slitted eyes surged out of the shadows, hissing his name.

He sat up with a start, a pitiful shout as his arm flew over his face to shield him from the imagined horror. But like so much ice cold water, reality rushed in to sober him quickly. He blinked, staring at the girl before him. Where fear once sat, dread took over.

A nightmare of a different sort. One where he'd been the monster.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" He growled, reaching up to brush back his mussed hair.

[creidim]

As he sprung to life, Luna remained still as stone, staring at him curiously. Ah, so he'd been... well, not quite asleep - but close to it. His guard had been down, was it why he jumped so suddenly? Her lips pursed for a moment; no, no this was something else. Sadly understandable, she admitted to herself, some small pang of sympathy stirring in the pit of her stomach. They would all have nightmares, wouldn't they?

Some, more than others, it seemed. Curious and not so curious.

At his question, she tilted her head. Her vacant curiosity remained in her expression. She pitied him. It had not... entirely been his fault. This war had made messes of them all; she was not the only one who had been broken, she was not the only one who would need to try and place those pieces back together again.

"This is the way to Ravenclaw Tower," she reminded him gently, and then, looking around, an afterthought. "It's very quiet here, isn't it? Peaceful."

There's a pause. The initial curiosity she'd regarded him with has now long since faded. She turned her gaze back to him and stared, motionless and quietly sad. He had been terrified when she'd roused him. Something shifted in her chest, something she couldn't quite explain: terrible and heavy and sad.

Finally, she dipped her head. "Perhaps we should talk."