Draco Malfoy x Reader - Your Years At Hogwarts

Blood

'She's not dead is she?'

'No she's losing blood you idiot.'

You could hear something faintly, like soft whispers that were only just inaudible.

'Calm down boys.'

'Well why is he here?'

'Because I am, deal with it!'

You could feel something throbbing inside of your head like a beating heart. It ripped and tore away at you, screaming at you to make it stop. But you felt no pain.

'Boys, calm down, she's - well - going to be fine.'

'No she's not, she's lost too much blood!'

'Is there anything?'

'I'm sure she'll be fine.'

There was a strong sense of doubt in the latter voice as if it were almost sure that what it had just said would be wrong. You wondered who the voices were.

'There's really nothing?'

'Well... no boys. No. The only time I've ever seen a blood transfusion was with a muggle doctor.'

'She can't be touched by a muggle doctor! I won't let her be touched by filth like that.'

Your breathing was shallow, as if you were in a trance: so deeply connected that you felt relaxed, almost.

'There's no magic?'

'Not any that is truly legal. You can't just summon blood... the ministry would never allow it!'

'Then we need to find a doctor.'

The ease and silence filling your mind was beautiful. It filled your soul with a million happy thoughts, of quidditch, of magic, of your grandmother...

'There is no time. She could be gone within an hour with no blood.'

'Get Dumbledore then!'

'Dumbledore won't know how to perform muggle surgery.'

The meadow, behind your house, with it's magnificent pink roses and white lilies. The way your grandmother would smile and tell you it was okay when times of trouble arose.

'Then you do it!'

'I don't know how to perform muggle surgery! I may be a nurse but I am no muggle surgeon.'

'Madam Pomfrey, you're the only one who can!'

Glimmering in the morning light, the window, the one you broke and you cried over for ages; the one your Grandmother said she would replace and it didn't matter.

'Even if I could, I would need at least two pints of blood, not to mention the same blood type as hers! How can we ask of that in less than an hour?'

'... I know.'

When you first got on a broom, the wind whipped your hair around your face until it was a tangled rat's nest above your head. You had to brush that for hours.

'There are four main wand cores, four blood types. They probably match blood types as well.'

'I don't know Mr Malfoy, that's just an assumption you have made.'

'It's the best we have.'

When you were in Diagon alley, receiving your first wand. A wand with a core of unicorn hair. The perfect wand for you.

'But who has... What is her wand core?'

'I thought she called you a friend, Potter.'

'Now, now Mr Malfoy - this is a serious situation here.'

The train. Harry. Ron. Hermione... Draco.

'It's a Unicorn's tail hair, like mine.'

'So... are you saying...'

'Yes, yes! Whatever, I'll do it! I'll save your little girlfriend Potter.'

Kissing him, lying down with him, laughing with him, playing quidditch with him, everything with him.

'Mr Malfoy, we would have to take two pints of blood! Are you sure you would like to do this.'

'Yes, write a form, make a contract, whatever! Just do it before it's too late.'

'Yes, okay. I'll need a needle.'

When you saw her, your very own mother, standing, talking with the Malfoys: the people who looked after you.

'Just do it.'

'Brace yourself Mr Malfoy, the numbing spell will only do so much...'

'I'm FINE!'

Your father threw you against a wall. You threw Pansy against one too. Your mother betrayed you and you betrayed your friends. Draco Malfoy lied to you and you couldn't even tell your friends who your father was.

You we're just like them. You harmed people. You backstabbed and lied and killed. You were no better than them. No better than your father. In fact, you were just like him.

It was almost as if you could see him standing before you in the gloomy mist, jeering and spitting at you as if you were vermin. As if you were not even his true daughter. And you swore you could hear him shout "WAKE UP!" but his twisted acts furthermore continued. 

His gruesome tongue swept out of his mouth as he grinned at you, taking a small step closer to you. A step you didn't want him to even consider taking.

His eyes narrowed into slits as he looked over you, surveying his creation that he most probably loathed as you loathed him. If only he could understand how much you felt distaste just looking at him.

But, then, his mouth opened into a wide O.

'WAKE UP!' he shouted.

'Please...'

***

"Please wake up!"

Your clammy hand was gripped tightly in another's. You could feel it but not see it. Your eyes would not obey you when you asked them to open. You tried to force yourself but you couldn't, they felt glued shut. Maybe a goblin had come in the night and sewn your eyes up like your grandmother had said they did to naughty children. But would bad thing had you done?

The hand was suddenly pulled away leaving your craving it's touch - the touch that made you feel safe and secure. 

"She needs rest." came a female voice from further away. "Come back and see her tomorrow."

You didn't hear anything after that. Nothing of the hand you were touching, no female voice fore guidance. Only shuffling feet and a pull of a curtain.

You felt immobilised. Stuck. Helpless. Isolated. 

And you hated it.

***

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