dream • 001
- Draco's eyes opened to the sound of screams. Not just any screams though, no. This voice was familiar to his ears, one he'd heard for years and years. It was the terrified voice of his mother.
He'd never known her to be so loud, though he'd never actually seen her anything less than regal. She was his mother, after all - he had to get it from somewhere. The fact that her shrieks were echoing throughout the manor told him something was wrong.
Before he had even realised it, he was downstairs, standing alone in the large foyer of his Wiltshire home. Open-mouthed, he gaped blankly around. Blood. Tonnes of it. Puddles around his bare feet, staining the soles. Gore, hanging from the chandelier, hanging from the stair rail. His stomach heaved, and it was everything he could do to keep from retching right then and there.
Somewhere between his conscious attempt to keep the contents of his stomach in check and his eyes glazing over the dead body of his mother staring back at him emptily, he found himself on his knees. The back of his throat burned, his whole body shook, and his vision was blurry from the tears that ran down his face without regard for anything.
She looked so content in her death. That fact in and of itself proved difficult to take in; it was so completely juxtaposed to the noise that roused him that it made his blood run cold.
Whispering began to echo in his ears, a wordless hissing reminiscent of a snake; it seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, the very idea of it making his head spin more than it already was. He struggled to push himself up, to focus his mind away from the remaining sounds of screams and whispers, to not look up at his mother. One hand slid in the blood as he fell forward; a whimper tore from his throat, his body shaking visibly to the empty room as he lay there, pathetic.
Draco~
He froze, breath catching in his throat as another familiar voice trilled in his ears. There was no way he could move, no way he could turn to look at the figure that had joined him in the foyer.
Draco, dearest~
The voice trilled again, almost cracking in its latent insanity. His eyes willed him to at least look. Turn his head and see exactly what he was dealing with. He had probably been better off not doing so, he discovered quickly enough, as a glimpse of his aunt flashed before him. A wand was held to her throat; though the whispers stopped briefly, leaving him in silence, the sound of pained shrieks filled his ears again.
When his eyes screwed shut, he didn't know. When he curled into as small a ball as he could, he also couldn't place. All the blond could tell was that he was frightened, and that he was next.
---
The next screams were his own, but they didn't seem to cut off abruptly like all the others before them. No, they continued, loud and shrill, echoing through his room, down the hallways, and through the entirety of the cottage he was freeloading a room of from Granger. Draco cut himself off quickly with one frozen hand to the mouth, stifling any sounds that wanted to tear free.
Blissfully unaware of everything around him, he merely sits up in his bed, looking to be a combination of dazed and numb; his hand eventually slid from his mouth to his lap.