Chapter 12

Draco stares at his father. He isn't crying any more, his breathing is so soft his chest barely moves and the tension has fallen from his shoulders. He is very still. Lucius hasn't moved yet, but Draco is sure it won't be long before he comes around, and he needs to make a decision before that happens.

His life thus far has been guided by other people, from the control his parents wielded when he was a child to the influence his peers had over him in his teenage years. Even the media has led him to change his behaviour, to strive to be the attractive, charismatic socialite they want.

For the past few months, it has been Severus.

He needs this decision to be his, and only his. Severus' watch tells him that he's running out of time. He closes his eyes and blocks out the world.

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Severus taps his foot against the rough concrete of the platform, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders. The station is almost deserted, as he knew it would be. There's an announcement which he barely hears. A plastic bag is blown against his leg by the mild wind. He shakes it off irritably.

It's dark for so early in the evening, not like the smooth, inky blackness of a clear night, but like the dim haze of winter fog. The clouds hang low in the sky, more grey than white, and the quiet rumble of thunder promises a storm.

Severus thinks of dingy corridors and cracked prison walls. He thinks of brightly coloured liquids in glass bottles, pounding music, white sheets against flawless skin, flickering street lamps, silver cuff links, shattered porcelain, cigarettes held by elegant fingers to perfect lips, bruised lips, the moving pictures of the Daily Prophet, long legs sprawled over the arm of his chair, his watch, his scars, Draco's eyes, Draco's sneer.

The clouds finally burst, and the rain comes in floods, soaking the sun-drenched earth. It's cool against Severus' upturned face. And as the first fork of lightening pierces the sky, and the rolling thunder is joined by the sound of wheels on train tracks, Severus is sure he sees a flash of white-blond hair, and a thin plume of smoke approaching from the distance.

Fin.

A.N. Thank you everyone who's read and reviewed :) I'm thinking of writing a sequel, so any thoughts on this would also be appreciated.