requirement | dramione

0.33

There was a tone of annihilation in the Dark Lord's voice and he gathered Draco into his knife-like grip, scarring him forever. 

Draco didn't remember much of the ceremony. Aside from the fact that Aunt Bellatrix was there to act as secondary bonder and the Dark Lord's snake wove herself  up his right arm, then around his chest, and up to his neck. At one point, Draco was sure that Nagini would kill him before the Mark was finished.... 

And then he woke up on the floor of LeStrange Manor, very much alive. Burdened by the weight of dark magic forever. 

In the Room of Requirement, Draco forced himself to open his eyes. He looked down at his left arm and watched as pills of deep red liquid seeped from his skin. Bright red blood pooled on his forearm and, in a thin line, slowly ran down to this wrist. The fingernails on his right hand quickly stained red. 

He stared until his own blood seemed foreign. 

"Episkey." He tried to mend the bleeding, just to amuse himself. The Dark Mark repelled his magic with a sting. There were some forms of magic, almost always Dark, that would go to any lengths to keep one from altering its purpose. Even if it meant killing its owner, the Dark Mark would refuse any magic that wasn't explicitly meant for contacting a master. 

He wondered, just for a moment, if the Gryffindor was smart enough to find her way around that one. 

Draco pressed his head back against the Cabinet. 

He wasn't sure how long his eyes had been closed when he heard the swing of the door groaning in the distance. 

 "Draco?" The Gryffindor's voice echoed in the cavernous room. 

He didn't move to stand, but listened for the crumbling creek of the door as it reverted itself back into a simple stone wall. Her shoes clicked against the stone floor, quietly at first, but growing louder. 

He tried to sit taller. Flattened his gray long sleeve over his bleeding arm. Tried to blink haziness away from his vision and thought about standing up. He placed his hands on the floor on either side of him, pushing into the cool stone. When he did, the stitch in his arm tightened into a sear of pain, throbbing at the pace of his heartbeat. He retracted his arm, fist clenched tightly to keep vulgar words at bay. A shock of heat traveled through his spine, sending a fog into his brain that was unforgiving– draining him even more than before.

The Gryffindor's steps rounded through the final bend of the pathway between shelves and fallen chairs. In the next moment, she was standing in front of him, staring down at the boy on the floor. 

He kept his gaze on her knees. If he looked up to greet her, she was likely to see the echo of pain on his expression. 

"Oh, hi.... Are you alight?" She asked, tiny black flats on her feet shuffling as if she debated coming closer.

Draco wondered what he would do now. His options were to stand, greet the girl, but risk falling into a fainting spell. Otherwise, he could stay seated on the floor, perhaps yell at her to leave.

His jaw clenched under the pressure of his decision But the his body relaxed, unable to produce the energy, giving in and shrinking back into the Cabinet. 

"Fine." His tone was harsher than he intended and he didn't lift his eyes to look at her. 

"Draco...." The hum of her voice was thick with sympathy and hesitation. 

He watched as her feet finally moved. Her tiny black flats came towards him quickly. He counted her steps. One. Two. Three. And, in a smooth motion, she lowered herself onto her knees and knelt next to him.