𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 [𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞

DRACO stared up at the ceiling as it began to move.

Blood rushed through his ears as his eyes slowly opened and closed—he was completely distant from reality. He hadn't taken noticed of how still his body remained while everything and everyone seemed to move around him.

His breathing had become the only thing he could focus on. He tipped his chin to his chest slightly as he watched it rise from his lungs expanding, and watched it fall as he deflated.

He glanced down at his feet, twitching them underneath the light covers. And he suddenly caught sight of what was further beyond the end of his bed; he realized he wasn't in his room, but in the corridor.

He was still lying flat in his bed where he remembered falling asleep, but somehow, he was moving—his bed was moving. He let his head fall to the side, his eyes dropping to the floor and focusing on the dirty black wheels shuffling on the tiles.

Draco took a mental note of the pattern the noises made; first travelling smoothly along a tile, and then the abrupt clattering of when it moved onto the next tile. 

Smooth—clatter! Smooth—clatter! Smooth—clatter!

The familiarity made a small smirk appear from the corner of his mouth. He liked this; it was something he could rely on that would never change. It comforted him to know what was coming, since he almost never did with anything else.

Even when his bed turned a corner, the pattern was still the same.

The back of his neck had begun to cramp so he let his head fall back against his pillow and watched the ceiling pass by above him. Again, he found another pattern to follow.

White ceiling—light! White ceiling—light! White ceiling—light!

He blew out a low chuckle at the pattern.

"What are you laughing at?"

Draco tilted his head back to look at Healer Granger who had her brows raised out of curiousness and wore a tiny smile. She was the one pushing him, but why he didn't know.

"Oh." He said to her. "I'm not too sure."

She laughed at this, "Really? I'm pretty sure you are."

"Nope."

She shook her head as she turned left and Draco saw a row of elevators at the end of the corridor. They were headed straight for them, yet he still didn't have a clue where she was taking him and why.

Draco listened to the slight ding of the elevator and watched as the doors separated, Healer Granger immediately pushing the stretcher in. He could only hear the sound of a button being pushed and the sudden close of the doors before they began to travel upwards. 

His heart pounded wildly in his chest—so strongly he thought it might beat out of his body. His back was turned to the door, simply waiting for the sound of the ding before ending up somewhere.

And then it did.

Healer Granger pulled him back out of the elevator and twisted the bed so that he was feet first again, looking ahead. They only turned left once more before pushing him into a room, with Healer Abbott, Healer Scamander, and Healer Whitmore all waiting for them.

Draco scanned the room. It looked similar to the one he had been staying in, only there were a few differences. For one, there was no bed and no counter, the window seemed smaller and the whole room seemed more compact. There was a single chair standing in the middle of the room where the healers were waiting behind.

He didn't like the look of it at all.

Healer Granger pushed his bed towards the lonesome chair and used a levitating charm to sit him in it. He wrapped his fingers around the wooden armrests as he stared back at her. He was terribly confused.

Draco breathed heavily as he glanced around at the healers in front of him. Healer Abbott then turned on his heel and attached some sort of device to Draco's head. There were four black rubber wires digging into his temples while he felt a cool chill of metal on the crown of his head.

He really didn't like this.

Healer Scamander stepped in front of him, sliding a vial of something he didn't know into his mouth and letting it pour down his throat. It tasted bitterly. Healer Abbott hurried over to a tray and picked up a remote.

His head shot up at the blonde man for a quick moment, "You ready?"

"Ready?!" Draco's voice wavered as he began to panic. "For what—what is this? What are you doing to me?"

"Relax, Mister Malfoy, you won't feel a thing."

"You didn't answer my question." A low cry wrenched itself from his throat as his heart had begun to beat faster and harder in his chest. He felt like screaming. They were trapping him—he was trapped. He had no way out, and it was killing him. They were taking control of his life, he hated it. "Tell me what this is?"

"Breathe." 

"No." His eyes widened as his fists began to shake. He looked down and he suddenely realized he was strapped to the chair; they wanted to restrain him. 

What if they were—no they couldn't be. Yes, yes, they could and they were. They were going to send him back to his coma. They didn't want him here—nobody did. They were going to send him back to his death like sleep. Where he could hear all around him but couldn't do or say anything, where nobody ever visited even though he was there for seven years, where he was all alone. No. He couldn't be alone again. He couldn't be. He needed people and nobody was ever there. He was alone. He hated it. That was exactly what they were doing. He was trapped. They were sending him back to his state of misery where he could be out of their lives and away from their problems. No. He was going to be alone. Why would they do this to him. Why?! They were going to paralyze him permanently, or maybe even kill him. He was alone—he would always be alone. Why did nobody care about him? Why was Healer Silverspoon allowing this to happen, or perhaps he has no idea. He couldn't be alone anymore. He couldn't, he couldn't he—

"You need to calm down, Mister Malfoy." 

"No." He shouted, his tone wrapped in hurt and fear. "I know what you're doing—you're going to send me back to my coma." Healer Granger opened her mouth to speak, her face soft and riddled in sympathy, but he continued before she got the chance to. "You're going to send me back there. Please, please don't. I don't want to be alone anymore." Tears pricked in his eyes; he swallowed hard. "I can't go back there. I can't—I can't. Why are you doing this? Do you really hate me that much? Don't send me back, please I can't go back there. I—"

Draco froze as Healer Abbott pushed down on the remote he was holding. He felt his tears streaming down his cheeks, but he couldn't wipe them away, even if he wasn't strapped down. His body went still.

"Five."

His head suddenly felt very heavy.

"Four."

He fought to keep his eye lids open, but it soon became very difficult for him to achieve. 

"Three."

His throat went dry.

"Two."

His chest deflated very slowly, and it took a lot of his effort for it to inflate again.

"One."

Draco's eyelids shut, and everything went dark.