The Dragon Variation

Chapter Sixteen

Truce

Draco Malfoy

Breathless, chaotic panic completely engulfs me.

There is no light.

The mornings are still hostage to the darkness of December.

Nothing in the room moves. Everything is completely still. I wake to lie in a paralytic state, only able to stare at the ceiling. 

I fell asleep on my back with her tightly bound in my arms, laying on my chest, but now she's absent. She isn't here anymore. Where is she. Where is someone when I need them. I need her to get me down.

I wake up with an inability to shift a single muscle.

 I try so hard to even twitch a finger, but I can't feel a thing. All I can do is lie here and keep my hazy eyed fixed on the ceiling above her bed. I squeeze my eyes shut, locking them together to mitigate the fear. 

An unbelievable pressure crushes my chest; someone stacking heavy cinderblock bricks on my torso, slowly and gradually suffocating me. I grapple with my breathing, trying to remove the bricks but I'm confined in a phantasm straitjacket rendering myself unable to stimulate movement. I can feel the sweat pooling in my pores on my forehead.

He's here. He's here, in the room; I feel his shadowy figure intruding my space with his dangerous elements, striking fear to rupture my body. Trepidation and hysteria invade every one of my senses, I can feel him in the room, next to the mirror by her dressing table. He's there, not saying anything, just stalking me like prey. Don't open your eyes, Draco.

No. He can't be, it's not real Draco. It's not real. You're just having an episode. This isn't real.

I need to hear her voice.

I need her to touch me.

I need her.

Come on Draco, just move. Just move something, anything, Draco. Control your breathing.

God, where is she when I need her.

She doesn't know I need and depend her. I can't push her away anymore. I didn't know I needed her until I woke up like this after the party to see her sleeping peacefully next to me. Just seeing her in the corner of my vision set me free. I need her. She's the antidote. She's a cure.

Ophelia, come back. Where are you?

Please, pull me out, Ophelia.

Focus, Draco. Her hair. Remember the way her hair falls softly against her cheeks; remember the way her jet-black hair would swirl in the wind while walking through the courtyard. Remember the concern in her eyes when she worried about me, remember that feeling, remember the comfort you felt. Remember the time she talked you though the Philosophy of Alchemy during our study time, the way her eyes were engrossed in the pages of the textbooks, speaking so passionately about the subject. 

Remember her delicate hands guiding her quill. Remember the way her wand rests so perfectly between her fingers. Remember her laugh. Remember her smile. Do you remember the time she caught you staring, Draco? Do you the lush rosy colour her cheeks went? Remember, Draco. Come on. Draco; picture her in your mind.

***

"Are you okay, dear?" Mother stands beside me and strokes the back of her hand across my cheek. I sit arms folded, leaning forward against the marble breakfast island in the kitchen. She mirrors my troubled look in her morning eyes.