|Faith's Cruel Hands
Author: abstrusewriter PM
Draco Malfoy is diagnosed with a rare illness and has only months left to live; his mother takes him to Forks, WA to live peacefully until his expiration date arrives. There he meets a boy named Jacob Black. SLASH.Rated: Fiction M - English - Hurt/Comfort/Romance - Draco M. & Jacob - Words: 2,333 - Reviews: 17 - Favs: 26 - Follows: 58 - Published: 04-25-12 - id: 8057675
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: HP/Twilight isn't mine, get over it.
Summary: Draco Malfoy is diagnosed with a rare illness and has only months left to live; his mother takes him to Forks, WA to live peacefully until his expiration date arrives. There he meets a boy named Jacob Black. He warns the shifter that it weren't wise to become close to him—but the American does it anyway, with absolutely no regrets. I introduce to you a story of acceptance, love, and unconditional friendship. Slash/Draco/Jacob. Warning: Slash, homosexuality, strong language, talk of death and such. You've been warned, must I further warn you?
"I don't like walking around this old and empty house,
So hold my hand; I'll walk with you, my dear.
The stairs creak as I sleep; it's keeping me awake,
It's the house telling you to close your eyes.
Some days I can't even trust myself,
It's killing me to see you this way" - Of Monsters and Men.
Part I— Act I
I never expected things to end up like this, dying for another certainly wasn't my plan, nor was it what I ever truly thought would happen. I can't complain though, my last days were only the best. As I drift into this newly found darkness I can only mentally feel the smile etched into my memory, I can only crave more time, more life. This was a twisted fate, I only realised this now, and maybe saying goodbye isn't so bad—after all I was given the best parting gift. I was given Jacob.
December fourth, 2008,
I'm going to die soon. Severus tells me I've only got little over a year, can you imagine? I've got to live my life as if I were some muggle milk carton in a market. To know the exact date of when you're going to leave this damn world is frightening, I won't admit to anyone, but I'm terrified. I wouldn't be able to do all the things I've hoped for, have a child of my own, get married and inherit the Malfoy assets. And though I was terrified, I felt guiltier than anything. Dying meant I would be leaving my mother behind, leaving her to be alone for the rest of her life. Can you endure the thought, the thought out-living your own son?
Mother says that I shouldn't spend the rest of my days basking in self-pity, only coming out of my room to use the toilet and eat. Though, there really isn't much for me to do, is there? With death right around the corner I'd rather just keep to myself rather than have people fawn and worry over me—cry to me that they don't want me to go, don't want me to die. Who wants that, who wants someone to only remind you that even when you're gone you'll be leaving your loved ones behind to suffer without you, knowing you can't even be there to comfort them anymore.
"Draco darling, what do you think about America? Your father and I once went there, it was this little place called Forks, I believe, the nicest town—filled with muggles, but still peaceful. The weather wasn't spectacular, but it was nice… it was quiet," if Narcissa Malfoy were ever nominated for most devoted mother award, she'd win hands down. She, regardless of past choices during the war, loved her son more than anything in the world and would go against the highest odds to protect her son from harm. Sadly, her son's harm was coming from something even she couldn't prevent and it destroyed her soul every morning she woke.
Draco gazed at his exceptionally beautiful mother from his four-poster bed where he sat towards the head with his knees bent to his chest and a copy of the Daily Prophet in front of him, his gaze left though and returned back to his reading, "Honestly mother, you don't have to do this, I'm perfectly fine staying here in the manor. Actually, I'm quite fond of the idea,"
"You can hardly walk through the corridors without thinking of you-know-who went he used our home as a headquarters, and don't tell me that isn't the reason you don't leave your room. I'm your mother Draco, I know you more than you know yourself," she herself could hardly tolerate walking through the house without haunting memories overtaking her, and she didn't want her son to live the remainder of his life stuck with past memories of the war, "I'll book two flights for this Friday, sound good?"
The newspaper came flying down onto the bed and Draco readjusted himself to that he was sitting cross-legged, the defiant and appalling look didn't affect Narcissa in the slightest, "Mother, I've already told you- you don't have to do that. I'm fine staying here in my room, there isn't any need for any of this,"
"We're going to America and that's final," her tone raised and controlling voice now accompanying her motherliness, "I refuse to watch my son melt away, that isn't how I want to remember my son when he—when he…"
"When I die—"
"D-don't s-say that," Draco could hear her limbs shake and her voice crack and his expression softened. Narcissa looked on the brink of tears, denial etching itself into her eyes. The twenty-one year old sighed and moved from the bed and over to his mother, pulling her into a tight hug, "I don't want to ever hear you say that again, do you hear me?"
You'll need to accept it one day, mother, he wanted to say, but instead he shook his head and replied with, "Alright, I promise."
"Will you come to America with me, please?" the whisper was desperate and distraught, the feeling of apprehension coming from his mother only made Draco feel even more guilty about his situation, "Just come live with me in America, can't you do this one thing for me?"
"Okay mum," Draco whispered back, "I'll come with you to America; we can live there together forever, just you and me, how's that sound?"
Narcissa was still in denial, and Draco didn't feel obligated to make her see the truth, how could he. He held back a wince when she breathed, "That sounds wonderful, thank-you, my darling Dragon,"
He nuzzled the area between her shoulder and neck and they remained holding each other, feelings reverberating from each other. I wouldn't have the heart to tell her otherwise, I can't make her face the truth—but someday soon she'll need to, someday soon she won't have a choice… because someday soon I'll be gone and I'll never return.
December seventh, 2008,
"Mother, why do muggles insist on using these contraptions?" Draco asked as he tried to push his way through the spiraling doors that seemed to be the exit from the airport. The two remaining Malfoy's were left staring at the door in bemusement, how did such a thing exist? They understood sliding doors, opening by themselves as if it were operated by magic—but this? This was completely useless, "Do I just step through and it'll spin me to the other side?"
A man walked past them with a raised eyebrow as he looked to them, Draco could practically read the man's mind, and he must have thought they were completely barmy. Learning quickly from how the man made it to the other side both Narcissa and Draco stepped into the outside air of Port Angeles where they would take a taxi to Forks, Washington. That was even more dreadful than the flight in; Draco quickly decided that muggle way of transportation was entirely unreasonable.
The taxi was excruciating, yellow and dirty. Narcissa was squeezed next to the boy with her nose scrunched a bit; the smell wasn't too appealing either. It smelled of muggle fast-food and sweat, unpleasing the aristocrats such as the pompous Malfoys. The two hour drive was painful, uncomfortable, and quiet. When they arrived the taxi driver asked with a scoff, "Where is this place at?"
Draco cringed at the man's terrible accent, it was so impolite and hardly intelligent, and thankfully he knew not all Americans spoke like this, for if they did he'd be getting the next flight back to London.
"Oh," Narcissa piped excitedly, "It's the vacation home in La Push,"
There was a grunt as her reply, and in no time they arrived to the beautiful home just a few yards from the vast and large forest that looked remarkable. The house was just as beautiful, Narcissa made sure of it. It was made of the finest wood, and almost had a shine to it. The windows were large, large enough for them to see the beautiful furniture that they'd be using for the next year and a half. Draco was impressed, it looks quiet and too himself—Voldemort free.
"Thank-you for the ride, how much do I…"
Draco ignored the rest of his mother's sentence to the taxi driver, his attention fixated on the home that would be his until his dying day. He began to wonder if behind those walls would be his death bed, the place where he would die with his mother weeping beside him. He wondered how lonely that would be, how lonely he was at the moment, and how lonely he'll always be until death came to claim him.
"Dragon, darling, is something the matter?" a soft and frail hand was placed on his shoulder bringing him from his dark thoughts and to the graceful smile his mother was giving him, "What do you think of the home, isn't it fantastic? Your father and I bought it when we came to visit those years ago, but we never had the time to return. The boys on that old Indian reservation are nice too, maybe you can meet them—"
"Let's go inside," he didn't want to hear it. He told his mother countless and countless times again that he wasn't planning on making any new friends or speaking to his older friends. He didn't want more people to mourn over him; he didn't want to hurt anyone else. Why become close to someone if you're only going to leave them soon? "I'm eager to see what the inside looks like,"
"Oh! Come on then," Narcissa helped grab some of their bags, knowing Draco had been a bit weaker than he used to be and they walked to the wooden steps that lead all the way up to the second floor (below the actual home had been the garage), "I'll need to start a fire or we'll get cold in the middle of the night, shouldn't be hard with a quick charm,"
"Jake, dude, what's your problem? We can't hang around here we've got more patrolling to do," came Embry's voice inside of the russet wolf's head, "Why aren't you listening to me?"
Jake shook his head, looking up to his pack mate with a curious gaze, if a wolf could even give a curious gaze, "Sorry. You didn't feel that, did you?"
"Feel what, dude? Are you sure you're alright… If you're not up for this we can go see if Paul—"
"No!" The harsh tone made Embry step back in shock, "I mean, I'm fine, don't worry so much. Come on, we have a lot of work to do and we haven't got all night. We don't want Paul upset with us, do we?"
"Right…" as Jacob jumped past him and dashed through the woods, Embry gave a puzzled look and then followed after, his paws leaving large tracks through the moist soil. Something weird was going on with Jacob lately, and Embry was going to get to the bottom of it, soon.
Later that morning Jacob headed home to catch a few hours of sleep before the meeting that him and the pack would be having later that evening. Just as he reached the doors to his shack-of-a-home, he froze as the crisp cold air of the morning brushed past him. It was that smell again. Last night while patrolling with Embry something happened, there was a shift in the air that both delighted and frightened Jacob. It confused him, because it seemed that it only affected him, because Embry certainly didn't react the way he did. He sighed and tried to push the overwhelming scent away as he entered his home and went to rest.
Little did Jacob know, things were about to get very different.
There we go! I've wanted to get this posted for a while, because not only do I adore Harry/Edward, but I adore Jacob/Draco…. Please don't shoot me because of the plot and the situation with Draco. I'm saving him, sort of, so don't worry. You may not like the way I'm going to save him but you'll find that it's much better than him actually dying. So, with that aside I will allow you to tell me what you think about this new story—oh, and information on Draco's illness/cancer will be explained later on—it isn't a real and legitimate illness but one that I am creating for story purposes. Just think of it as a rare occurrence throughout the wizardry world.