dragonfly || d.m. [✔]

nightmares again,

Calm down, darling, I'm here.
—

a r i a  s t u n n i n g s

As I lay on my bed in Draco's dormitory, I could hear him breathing and see his chest rise and fall with each breath he took in.

I, however, didn't seem to have much luck in the sleeping category. My eyes were wide open, my brain more alive than it was during the day. I could probably concentrate much better on Flitwick's wand-waving and arm flailing much better now. 

Looking into the night sky, my mind was comforted with the silvery orb of the moon glowing in the darkness. One of those stars -- one of those tiny balls of fire -- were my mother. She never came back, so I could only guess what had actually happened, or what she had done. 

Would my brother be a star too? The 'correction home' never keeps anyone for long, they either dispose of them or send them to an asylum. The time is usually three years and my brother had already resided there for two and a half years.

Two years, ten months, three days, one hour and-

I look at the watch.

Five minutes.

Two years, ten months, three days, one hour and five minutes. Call me crazy, but I was obsessed with counting each minute, each second he existed in that dreaded place.

Six minutes.

Draco mumbled, "Go away."

I smiled as I looked at him, he looked angelic. 

But as he turned over, I saw something that made my eyes widen. The dark mark was imprinted upon the pale skin of his arm. The mark which had caused it all.

"Sis, people are going to tell you a lot of things. But you need to know the truth. It wasn't me. I would never murder anyone, really, it was a Death Eater. I would never-," they started dragging him away from the window and me. "SIS! REMEMBER DON'T LET THEM-," they clamped a hand upon his mouth and bound him with chains as they dragged him away.

That was the last time I saw him. After that, Aunt Couldings slowly washed him away from my life -- but even after you whitewash a wall, you can still see spots of the original wall peeping though. 

I'll remember, Jack. You're innocent. And you're my brother. 

But even as I think so, I feel tendrils of doubt creep up and I hate it. My brother is innocent and he is my brother. 

"Dragonfly?" a voice asked me.

"Yeah?" I replied, ignoring the butterflies.

"Why are you still up?" he asked me.

"The sleep of reason brings monsters," I quote the famous painting.

And it does. That's why I daydream -- I can control what I think of. If there's one thing I'm scared of, it's sleep. 

I didn't always have insomnia, I brought it upon myself by doing anything to not let my eyes close at night. Because they say that your dreams come true, but they forget to mention that nightmares are dreams too. 

And if anything, I don't want my nightmares to come true. Not at all. I don't want my brother to be executed, I don't want to be captured by Death Eaters. I don't want any of it.

I will do whatever it costs me to avoid them.

Draco climbs into my bed. "Do you have insomnia?" he asks.

"Yes."

"I'll help you sleep," he offers.

"No, thanks," I say. "I don't want to sleep."

"Why?" Draco asks me.

"I don't want to. That's why," I say adamantly. I was not about to open up to Draco, even if I had known him when I was a child. I zipped the hoodie up. I'd developed some trust issues since childhood; trust issues about Death Eaters especially.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, reaching out towards me.

"Don't touch me-," I snap at him. "With your dirty Death Eater hands."

I watch silently as Draco's eyes widen. "I-I can explain."

"No need," I say. "You're probably using me for the Dark Lord."

"No, Libelle, it's not that-," he starts but I don't let him explain.

"I really don't know anymore," I say. "Death Eaters killed the man, or so my brother says, now you're a Death Eater," I choke up. "I thought I could trust you and Aunt Couldings left the house a few months before I came to Hogwarts, but she still isn't back-," I look up to not let a tear fall. "Seriously, Draco, I cannot understand anything that's happening in my life anymore."

The tear slips down my right cheek and just before it falls onto the bedsheet, his finger comes up to wipe it. He lifts my chin so that my eyes meet his and pushes my hood back. 

He doesn't flinch when he sees the scars littering my face and it's really a little thing, but it means a lot. To me.

Draco pulls me into a hug and whispers into my silver hair, "You're going to be okay. I'll make you okay."

I can't hold it in any longer. My tears wet his white shirt as he pulls me closer and closer. "You're going to be okay," he whispers again.

But I can't keep on going like this -- I need to let him go, or I'll take him down with me. And I don't want to do that. At all.

I don't want to ruin him just for my selfish needs. If he keeps going on like this, with me, he'll not be able to stay afloat: I'm a rock and I'm weighing him down.

He left later and by then I'd forgotten all about him being a Death Eater.