Something Golden

43.

December 24 1996

There's a sudden pressure on my left wrist, my eyes dart open and I see my father hovering over me, his hand pinning me down. "Father-" I'm cut off by the back of his hand meeting my cheek. "Shut up boy." He growls, removing a dagger from his pocket. "Never allow yourself to be vulnerable." Is all he says to me before running the tip of the blade across my skin, cutting open my left forearm.

I want to scream, I want to tell him that it hurts, but I know better. Showing pain, struggling, it only makes the lesson go on for longer. I'm biting down on the inside of my cheek, my teeth piercing the skin, the metal taste of blood trickling down my throat.

It's almost over, it's almost over, it's almost over.

This hurts more than usual, it feels like my blood is on fire.

I don't know how much longer I can last.

I'm about to cave, a whimper just on the verge of escaping my lips when he stops. My right hand flies over to the fresh wound, my blood dripping onto the wood floor. My father's eyes are dark, his breathing heavy. He's looking at me with so much disgust, like I'm the worst thing that has ever happened to him.

"Vulnerability leads to death, son. You must remain sharp at all times and never trust anyone, no matter how well you think you know them."

I'm yanked awake, a pair of hands on my shoulders shaking me. I shoot up and reach for whoever's neck is in front of me. The second my fingers grip onto them my vision focuses and I see Theo.

"Easy mate, it's just me." He tells me.

I release my hold on him and drop my face into my hands. I'm drenched in sweat and I'm still struggling to catch my breath. "Sorry." I mumble.

"It's alright." Theo reassures me. "It was that dream again, wasn't it?" Lifting my head, embarrassed to even look him in the eyes, I nod. "I thought those stopped?"

They did. I haven't had one of those in a few years. Ever since I began suppressing certain memories and feelings the nightmares went away but now here I am, Theo's face full of concern and sympathy just like it was in the past when he would wake me up and tell me that I was screaming again.

"Why is it happening again?" He asks.

"Not sure." I shrug. "Perhaps my occlumency isn't as strong right now. After getting shot I can feel that my body is weaker."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

Thankfully Theo knows better than to push me when it comes to this topic. He gently pats my back before standing up and leaving. I lay back down once the door closes behind him but I don't fall back asleep, I can't. Instead, I just lay there and stare at the ceiling.

I wish Granger was here.

I've always hated the idea of sharing a bed with someone. Sharing and having someone invade my personal space are both things I'm not a fan of and then you also factor in the chance of me having those nightmares, allowing someone to see that pathetic side of me.

The nightmares first started when I was 12, the day after my father did in fact cut my arm open in the middle of the night with a dagger that was dipped in poison. I remember having to suck the poison out because magic didn't work on it. For years I would wake up in the middle of the night just like I did today, drenched in my own sweat and apparently screaming.

I don't know why that particular instance was what caused it all to begin, it wasn't the first time my father had done something like that to me. He began giving me "lessons" once I turned 6, said it was time for me to grow thicker skin and prepare myself to become the perfect Malfoy heir.