𝐵𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 | 𝒟.𝑀.

23 | ﴾ Cowards ﴿

I was running, gripping the long white dress to avoid tripping. The shadowy hallways were very hard to navigate, much less see clearly with tears in ones eyes.

When I'd finished my part in the ghastly waltzing with Draco, I had barely pulled off excusing myself as exhausted to his family. Their masks were still floating across their faces as I had fumbled with my words, hoping I just appeared drunk instead of afraid. Once I had made it down enough stairs to disappear from the ballroom view, I had taken off running, kicking my shoes into the hallway without any regard.

I was on the first floor, running through the abandoned, freezing, moldy areas. I searched for a door that seemed familiar, the one that led to Draco's grandmother's room where I had slept before. There was no chance that I would willingly sleep upstairs in his room after being face to face with him in that mask. He hadn't even objected to my escape from the party, just watched me leave through the double doors from where he was stood next to his family.

I tripped on my dress, catching myself on the wall. My hand missed a grumpy looking male portrait by mere inches and he snarled in shock. "Apologies," I whispered to him, and kept going. I was now dizzy beyond belief, my breathing felt shallow and pathetic, as I dragged my hand along the papered wall. The hallway I was in was starting to look familiar as I reached the end. I blinked, rubbing the snot away from my nose from the crying. I decided to try the handle and test if I was at the right room.

The door swung inwards to a pitch black room. I pulled out my wand to cast lumos, but it didn't react. The wood felt dead in my hands as I shook it with dismay. My wand didn't work in the Manor - perhaps there was a charm to control visitor's use of magic. A true cage.

I was vaguely reminded that I had not lit a candle for the journey and would now be forced to sleep in a mysterious, pitch black room, filled with portraits glaring at me. Or even worse, I could be stepping into a room that was not the right one, housing god knows what. My toes were glued to the freezing floor as I stared into the abyss of the room, feeling the cool air pouring out against my face. The stench of must and neglect was rich and repugnant. What would be worse? Draco Malfoy - Death Eater extraordinaire, or the black hole in front of me? I decided to choose the room. I shuffled a toe forward across the doorway and stopped to listen, as though there would be any sound to listen for. Silence, except for the creaking and groaning of an ancient building in the winter night. I took another step, feeling my heart lurching as the darkness started to envelope me. After my third step, I reached a shaky hand out to prepare to grab the bed post and felt an odd spinning sensation. My breathing had given out to the panic attack and I fell back onto the wood - HARD.

My head collided with the ground in the exact spot it had smashed during Quidditch. The sound of my skull cracking was almost worse than the searing pain that immediately spread across my brain. I laid there in the pitch black, laughing like a mentally ill patient, finally giving into the insane breakdown that was a long time coming. I heard odd whispers in the room which should have been disturbing, but I had given up. It was probably the portraits laughing at me anyways.

My vision was trashed; even if light was spilling in from the doorway by a fraction I couldn't see it. I was busy laughing and crying, laying in the black bowls of the Malfoy Manor being digested, slowly losing consciousness. I felt at peace knowing I was as far away from the other inhabitants of the house as I could get. I fell deeper and deeper into the void, losing feeling of my limbs and my sense of time, once again.

************************************************

Click. Click. Click.

I sat up in a bed, straight as an arrow, wincing from the pain in my head.

Click.

The grandfather clock, surely. I mused, rubbing my forehead absolutely astounded with myself that I had even made it into the bed at all. The last memory I had was myself slipping away while lying on the floor.