Everlasting 2 (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Alex Hopkins

You hadn't slept in thirty hours. 

You knew of certain libraries in central London that had a magic section if unlocked with the correct type of passwords or magic. You had read every book that you possibly could have, and you realised that there had not yet been a wizard in the history of magic to cure themselves from a hex, or heal themselves using their own internal magic. Yet, no book said it was impossible.

There was that one book - that one specific book. It talked of blood magic - a whole other type of dark magic. It did not explicitly talk about healing oneself, but it discussed the power that a wizard's blood holds; when activated correctly, the wizard's blood was supposedly said to be one of the most powerful resources of the wizard in performing any type of magic. The wizard's blood could increase the power of any spell by even a thousand. Many wizards would use specific incantations when speaking to their blood in order to get it what they wanted it to do. It did not go into detail, only briefly mentioned some Latin words, and then discussed history of great wizards. You very quickly discovered that magical books were fairly useless for many things. Or, perhaps, you were bad at finding the correct material in the correct books. 

You spent fifteen hours focusing on this supposed blood activation. You lied on your back, you sat against the wall, constantly meditating, focusing on feeling the magic flow within your blood, but all to no avail. 

The final step was ... 

You decided to do this in the garden, rather than inside the house, for it could get messy. 

You waited till night time to avoid disturbing your family. When it was time, you sat on the grass and looked up into the sky. Today was an empty sky. The moon was shining brightly, and you could feel it smile at you. It had been a while since you spoke with it. But you were glad it was there; it seemed to be the only permanent thing in your life that had been with you since day one and carried through till present day. 

Inhaling, you did what was necessary. You used the blood from your own body, gently cutting your palm. They taught scouts this way in certain countries; they forced the scout to prove their courage by cutting a small slit on their palm, and then treating it themselves. You'd never been taught it in scouts - you learned to deal with cuts from the thousands of wars and fights you'd been in. Shocking. 

And the blood gently began to drip down your palm and onto the grass, and you could almost see it glisten in the light of the moon. 

Closing your eyes, you focused on the sensation of the blood dripping down your palm. 

"Restittuatur," you whispered, "restittuatur, restittuatur, restittuatur," you continued to whisper, over and over, over and over. 

Your eyes remained closed the more you said the words. The more you spoke them, the more you began to feel the words and convince yourself of their meaning. The experience of sitting and repeating the words to yourself felt like you'd only been doing it for five minutes. You did not realise that, in reality, you'd already been sitting there for a whole hour, repeating the words to yourself, over and over again, feeling them more and more, picturing the healing in your mind, visualising it, feeling it. 

The more you spoke the words, the more you began to feel a cold sensation in your palm; as though the blood spilling down it was becoming icy. Opening your eyes to check whether all was well, you discovered that the colour of your blood had shifted from its usual red; it was now a glistening, silver colour - bright and flowing as though it had spilled from the gates of heaven. It looked like the blood of an angel - glowing and imitating the flow of a silver fountain, natural and gentle. 

"Holy shit," you whispered. 

It must have worked! You could not quite believe your eyes. 

Tapping your wand against your cast, the cast immediately broke off into two pieces. The crack of the cast caused a painful and striking sensation in your leg, but you resisted screaming, biting down on your own teeth.