Traitor: A Draco Malfoy Story

fifty-eight

I was running as fast as I could, but it felt like wading through molasses, my feet hitting the ground excruciatingly slow even though I was trying as hard as I could to increase speed. Looking over my shoulder, seven Voldemorts were on my heels, quickly gaining. I don't know I got in this position, why I was running--besides the fact that they, he, was terrifying. I didn't even what I could do to get out of this. I fumbled for my wand but it clattered to the ground. As I stopped to pick it up, the seven copies of my father pounced on me. One of them stepped forward in front of the others, his yellow-nailed fingers reaching towards me.

"You can't escape your destiny, my little night monster," he sneered.

Birds were chirping when my eyes flashed open the next morning. For a split second, I believed that I was back at home before I realized that it was basically just a simulated projection. I groaned, a gesture that didn't do amazing things for my throat, and sat up. The bruise removal paste sat untouched on the coffee table next to my now cold tea.

I stretched my sore legs and stood up, a little shaky at first. I put more water on for another cup of tea since I planned on staying here for a good chunk of the morning. I was in no hurry to leave the sanctuary of Barb and John's apartment wannabe.

There wasn't any food in the pantry, which was a shame. It meant I'd have to wait until lunch if I decided to leave at that point. So I sat with my tea on the couch after I'd put everything back together, just staring at the jar of paste.

Finally, I got up with a huff and snatched it off the table, heading for the bathroom. Let's see if Draco's magic medicine actually works. Ron endorses it too, so it can't be that bad. I unscrewed the lid and looked at the purple goo, the smell so strong and acidic it practically burned the hair out of my nostrils. Yes. It can be that bad. Scrunching my nose, I dipped two fingers in the substance and smeared it across the finger-shaped purple marks on my neck.

An immediate tingling spread across my skin when it made contact and felt like it was going deeper. I looked down at the jar for just enough time to read and see if I had to wipe it off or rub it in or something--I should have read the instructions before putting something foreign on my skin but you know, whatever--and by the time I looked up, the paste was gone as well as the bruises. Huh. Even the tightness and gravel of my throat were gone when I tested out speaking. Impressive.

I moseyed over to my closet to see what would be in there, and I was met with a collection of Slytherin robes, white blouses, and black skirts. Very on-brand, Room, thanks. I wanted sweatpants, but I guess this was Hogwarts's way of telling me to get off my sorry ass and go find my friends. It was Sunday, after all. I should be enjoying my weekend before midterms started Monday morning. Shit, I should be studying.

I downed the rest of my tea and got dressed before saying a silent goodbye to my safe place and headed out into the corridor.

"There you are!"

"I told you she'd be here. Give me 10 Galleons."

The Ravenwood siblings leaned on opposite sides of the door facing each other. I looked to Jenna first, then to Ethan. "Hey, guys. What, did you spend the night waiting for me to come out from hiding?"

"Spend the night? No. Most of Slytherin house got blackout drunk last night to cope with the loss," Jenna said before running up and wrapping me in a bone-crushing hug. "But I'm here now, been here since 7. Splitting hangover-headache and all."

"I, on the other hand, assumed you'd be down with Hagrid, and now I'm out 10 Galleons so thanks for that," Ethan scowled at me, but the expression melted into a smile soon after. "How you holding up? We heard."