Lullaby

The nightmares were getting worse. Draco Malfoy woke, his fist shoved against his mouth to stifle the screams. Every night, he woke like this, stifling the screams and holding back the tears through sheer force of will. Screams hadn't helped him. He'd screamed for his father, the first time. Lucius had sat outside the door, letting his master play with his son. He hadn't cared. Narcissa hadn't even noticed. She was too far gone in her drugs and her drinks. In the end, it was hard to blame her for seeking oblivion. And if the nightmares continued, Draco might find himself joining her.

He could still feel *his* hands on his, bruising, painful. Could still see those red eyes burning into him greedily. Could still hear *his* mocking laugh when he'd screamed for help. And that cruel voice, telling him that no one would help him.

He got up, rubbing his eyes, and crept silently out of his dormitory. Staring at the fire in the common room might at least take his mind of what had happened over the summer.

He knelt on the carpet, fixing his gaze and his mind on the dancing flames. Slowly, it all drifted away, until all that was left was the fire.

"It won't help," came a soft voice behind him. He jerked around and stared. It was Blaise Zabini, in a long white nightgown, holding a large teddy bear in her arms.

"Aren't you a little old for that?" he asked scornfully, nodding towards the teddy bear, taking refuge in the familiarity of insults.

"You're never too old for comforting, Draco," she replied gently. She sat on the carpet beside him. "But we're all too Slytherin to ask for it."

He looked at her sharply. "What the hell are you talking about?"

She ignored the question. "The nightmares get worse, you know. It'll eat you alive, until you start looking for forgetfulness in all the wrong places. And it ends with a knife or a jump or too many little white pills."

"How do you know?" he whispered harshly.

"Do you think you're the only one it happened to? He doesn't save cruelty for you specially. He likes girls, too. So long as we're young and pretty."

"I'm sorry," he told her quietly.

She smiled. "I cried myself to sleep and screamed myself awake for a long time. I charmed my curtains for silence so that no one would hear and look in. We're all too proud to let anyone know we're hurt."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because someone else told me," she answered. She rested her cheek on the teddy bear's head. "And it helped." She watched him struggle not to shed the tears. "You can cry, Draco."

"Malfoys don't cry," he said harshly.

"So pretend you're not a Malfoy," she replied.

The tears began spilling down his cheeks, and his thin body was wracked with sobs. She put the teddy bear down and pulled him into her arms, rocking back and forth. Softly, she began to sing a lullaby.