Nov 04, 2007 22:32
Date: June 4th, 1998
Characters: Draco Malfoy (Introspective)
Location: Achernar, Essex
Status: Private
Summary: With the fear of his impending hearing, Draco can't sleep.
Completion: Complete
It had taken several hours of lying in the darkness for sleep to finally envelope his shattered body. It was probably Monday already, by the time Draco's tightly closed eyes finally relaxed, a long breath falling out of him as his heartbeat slowed to a more reasonable pace. Sleep was a bliss reserved for the good people of this world, and Draco was certainly in no position as to be named such. Not until after the hearing, at least.
Perhaps Harry Potter slept blissfully, with clouds instead of pillows, the warmth of his heroism cushioning him into comfortable sleep, but Draco did not. He could not imagine anything worse than the soft bed underneath him, swallowing him down so that, although not claustrophobic, he had felt trapped, as though in the jaws of some great monster.
The darkness had not been dark. Even with the candle out, and the curtains drawn, flecks of light pierced the room. Draco had spellotaped them to the wall in earnest after two hours, but the light still brought the shadows to life; the ancient handcarved furniture crawling like beasts into his peripheral vision. The moon crawled across the window, and finally things had begun to darken once more.
Even his own body seemed determined to fail him. His heart rushed, and though he tried to slow it, breathing slowly, it crescendoed with each inward breath he took, pumping a thunderous beat against his chest. Every minute was an agony of time ticking onwards from the mantle clock, until Draco wrapped it up in socks and buried it in the bottom of the wardrobe, under his namesake's old robes. He wouldn't mind.
And then there had been the warmth. Who had made it so uncomfortably hot? It was too much. With every effort that Draco made to keep his mind from the hearing the following day, had he managed to keep himself awake more effectively. So yes, sleep had been achieved with considerable difficulty.
Peace had claimed him for no more than an hour when the nightmares began.
He was inside the castle, and everywhere he had gone, there had been Gryffindors. Faceless, yes, but the robes had given them away for what they were. In each room he came to they laughed at him and closed the door. He kept running, not sure what he was fleeing from, or when he had begun running in the first place, and as he turned a corner he caught the reflection of a man chasing him; flying after him, black robes billowing. Voldemort.
Draco ran faster, panic building in his chest until his heart burned like a firey coal, and his chest split. He felt broken, like a toy wound back too far, the spring torn asunder. It hurt to run, and as he thought so, he stumbled, falling and falling, the castle falling apart around him.
He landed hard on solid ground, around him the falling pieces of Hogwarts tumbled together into vast, towering shelves full of shattered things. Voldemort landed neatly in front of him, his hood covering his face, standing high above him.
"Draco Malfoy, you despicable little worm," he said, his voice high pitched and mocking, "How dare you think that a Slytherin could ever be forgiven..."
It was impossible to get up, though Draco struggled. His limbs felt as though they were entangled, pinned into place, and Voldemort stepped closer, lifting his hands to draw back the hood from his face. Draco didn't want to see. He screamed, tugged...
And fell out of bed, his arms and legs wrapped in tight blankets that prevented him from freeing himself quickly enough. Horrified, Draco looked around the dark room, fumbling for a wand on the bedside table that wasn't there. With no light, Draco crawled back onto the bed, pulling the blankets tight around himself, pinning his back against the headboard, dilated slate eyes darting back and forth across the pitch room.
Just a nightmare. Just a nightmare. Just a nightmare...
draco malfoy,
place: private residence,
june 1998