a christmas break | draco malfoy - 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐃

15

TW/ mentions of blood

Astera stopped in her tracks, her mouth slightly opened as her lips parted. Behind her she heard the quiet shuffling of footsteps, assuming Draco had run off after he heard Snape's low voice.

"Professor." she simply said, holding the book close to her chest as well as her wand.

"What are you doing at this time of morning?" he asked, his eyes furrowed and his brows raised. His arms stood folded behind his back, an intimidating energy rubbing off of him.

"I went out for a little light reading, sir. And you?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. As Snape opened his mouth to speak, her eyes caught a glimpse of Draco behind him. Her eyes slightly widened as he took slow and long strides in hopes of not running into his professor.

"My doing is none of your business. Tell me, Miss Lilith, do you often talk to yourself?"

"I do, sir." she quickly said, keeping her eyes on him and dropping them towards Draco when Snape looked away, "It helps me be present in my own thoughts. You should give it a try."

Snape looked at the student in front of him, bewildered at her smart and fearless remarks, "Right. To your dormitory. Breakfast will be ready soon."

Astera nodded, turning to leave. As she did, Snape's loud voice stopped her for a moment, causing her to turn back around and face him.

"Miss Lilith?" he asked, "Have you seen Mister Malfoy this morning?"

Astera thought for a mere second. Draco hadn't given her any clue or even mere mention as to why she should or shouldn't mention him to Snape. Then again, he could've just kept it a secret. She was sure there was more to things, but this, she didn't want to overthink it. Snape was smart, just like her. He could easily see through her.

"No, sir. I don't have any contact with him."

Without letting Severus ask more questions, she left, turning a corner and walking away from him. She looked around the halls, thinking she might bump into the blond boy, but had no luck. It was the same with breakfast. He was nowhere to be seen. She thought he might be hiding himself at the tower again, or just in his common room.

But Draco was stuck in the Room of Requirement. His task was still not finished and the Vanishing Cabinet was not nudging.

The same day, that night, Draco had woken up with a burning on his wrist. His eyes shot open, feeling as if someone put his arm over the fire. Turning on a lamp, Draco lifted his sleeve, his wrist red and burning. He felt the sensation grow with each moment, feeling himself hiss from time to time.

What is happening to me?

Draco ran to the bathrooms, putting his wrist under the sink. He scrubbed and scrubbed until he saw small red dots form. Blood started seeping out slowly in small amount, getting Draco's breath stuck in his throat. His cheeks were already stained with the tears from his eyes. The dark ink started to slowly form, creating a small picture.

A yell left Draco's mouth, echoing throughout the castle. His knees gave up, dropping him on the cold and wet tiles. The sobs from his mouth were heart wrenching. The skin where the ink was showing was bumped up, making Draco hesitant to even look at it. His chest felt like a tight rope was around it, or a hand was pushing him in, making each second harder to breathe. His forehead and neck were coated with sweat and his hands were cold and trembling. The air felt like thick smoke and Draco's nostrils felt like they were closing up.

He tried to make sense of his thoughts, to bring himself back to reality or to snap himself out of it, but his head was full of black smoke and screams that he couldn't even see clear. He was afraid. He was petrified and scared and lonely.

The burning had easen up, but he ruined it by trying to scratch the ink off. His nails dug into his skin, ripping it apart and making himself bleed even more. The tears on his face were big and fell on his wound, the salt making it burn even so. Draco had been hyperventilating, he had been shaking and throwing his head back against the tiles multiple times. He stopped when the energy was drained out of him and his body laid there motionless. The blood from his wrist stained the water on the floor, causing a small portion of it to turn red and scary.

Draco looked down, watching the skull and snake on his wrist, his mouth opening to let out a sob. Pictures of his mother flashed before him, as well as pictures of... Her. His mind replayed both of them, creating a soothing loop for him to relax to. As much as he hated to admit it, she was relaxing. She was nice. But that relaxation cut short as he looked back down.

Draco knew, sooner or later, his fate would come.

He was chosen.

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Thank you to those who have read these chapters. It truly warms my heart, especially when you add them to your public libraries.