The Dragon Variation

Chapter Twenty Six

Trigger warning. Threats of assault. Gore. Torture.

This chapter has some particularly unsettling and upsetting relay of an event. I will asterisks when it begins, but discretion is advised.

The Girl In His Nightmare

She wakes the next day and curses her pounding head before throwing back calming draught and nutrient potions.

She doesn't have many tell-tale symptoms of a pregnancy now fully nine weeks in, but her nosebleeds are relentless.

She sits for an hour practicing her occlumency.

She even stands in the mirror to see if she can see any growth. She doesn't. She does, however, press her finger just below her navel and notices a firmness.

It's real.

And Draco hasn't come to see her since, but she isn't going to wait for him to show to the west wing.

Breakfast appears by her bedside like it does every morning at half six exactly, with a lot of fruit this time and hardly anything greasy like she requested.

Olli groans and does her best to retain most of the flood.

She was never a morning person, even back in school. She cursed the large squid that would float by the window in Draco's room and make flickering light come through the cracks in the drapes and wish death on the Grindylows that would sometimes tap their little horns on the glass to be most irritating and squish their sickly little faces to the windows of the common room to scare the first years studying in the mornings.

She hated mornings. Draco loved them.

But now, she has to utilise as much of the day as possible.

She wanders to the west wing, getting lost multiple times before just asking Camila to show her the way. Olli figured that she should make an effort with becoming acquainted with her if she's to serve her as a personal maid.

However, Camila barely looked up and mostly spoke to the floor. She led Olli to the training room and promptly dismissed herself with a curtsey.

Olli walks into the centre of the room. The ceiling rises high above her, covered in renaissance paintings of Greek gods and angels. The windows stretch from the floor to the ceiling, letting in brilliant morning light.

Despite the dark magic humming in the estate, just as Malfoy Manor did, it doesn't seem dark at all. Not a drop.

It appears to be a more eerie type of magic. She knows it's there and operating—but she can't see it, can't detect it entirely. It feels like she's being watched and can't prove it to herself.

She glances around the room at the crash mats and dummies dotted about, along with punching bags and paired gloves. To her left is a wall of different aiming targets and bullseyes.

But something shiny and silver in the left of her peripheral vision catches her attention.

Rotating her head, her eyes meet with an entire wall cabinet of weapons against a large, expansive mirror.

A glass cabinet with a rack of knives of all styles and lengths, and handlings. Swords, throwing stars, bow and arrows, spears, and axes.

She never thought seeing such an abundance of weaponry would bring her eyes to light up like a child at Christmas.

In amongst it all, in the centre of the wall is a sword she has seen and even handled once before.

Perfect weighting, clear water-like silver, and a jewelled handle with crimson red ruby diamonds.