In The Dark (EDITING)

A/N Sneak Peek

Sneak Peek for the sequel

The healer had just left me alone in the infirmary, to rest in my clothes, stiff and soaked in blood. Dyed in the scarlet paint that was woven between every fiber of the cotton. I reached out to touch it with my pale, brittle fingers, but stopped when the skin on my shredded arm was pulled. When more thick red liquid poured out.

The bunk beneath me was hard, the blankets thin, with a flattened pillow and mat to take the place of a mattress. Yet, part of me enjoyed the rest. Already, my headache had returned, throbbing with the double pulse of blood that now circulated through me. But then there was the metallic smell of flesh, a firm reminder that there is no peace here. Not yet, not while Hermione is still missing. I must find her. I must keep her safe as she did for me.

A distant sneeze grabbed my ear and lifted my head from the pillow I laid on. The room spinned and folded over itself when I forced my weak legs over the side of the mattresses and let my naked feet touch the frozen tile. A cool breeze from above felt like a blizzard rushing onto me, slicing my skin with the sharp knife of nature. A knife that I once loved, and one that now cut at me with a hunger.

The hallway to my right is obviously a new addition. The paint still looked wet in places. And overhead, the lights flickered due to bad wiring, leading me to the places where the electricity frayed and split. But one cord of power remained unbroken, flowing down the passage to the door.

To my surprise, it's actually not so grim as I would have imagined. The high, narrow windows are thrown open, flooding the chamber with fresh air and sunlight. White shifts shuttle back and forth between other patients, their bandages blissfully clean of blood. Soft conversations and a few dry coughs fill the room. No more. Not a single yelp of pain of crack of bone to interrupt the gentle noise. No one is dying here.

Blaise wasn't hard to spot. His leg was still elevated, held up by a professional sling. He had gotten a hex hit at it and his shoulder which had a fresh splint. He angled to the right, facing the bunk next to him with a tiny smile and little less dark expression. I couldn't tell who he was addressing as curtains surrounded each bed on two sides.

I had been lied to my entire life. Cheated out of my own well being for the greater good of others. Living a lie, as someone else, someone the others wanted me to be. But no more. I wasn't Draco Malfoy anymore. I don't know who I am, but I'm not who I used to be. And the new me wanted answers. For the first time, I wasn't afraid of the truth.

I shoved off the bed, forcing myself to stand on trembling legs. My hand reached out to the bare wood that held up my bunk and took hold for support. I shrugged off the pain and shuffled a foot forward, my skin sticking to the marble with every step. Yet with every movement I learned about new aches and bruises.

Hermione's scream still rang in my head, a dull whine that I tried to ignore. I could still feel the cold, dead tears that streamed down my face as I watched her be taken away. It killed me, tore my soul and heart, salted the burning wounds, knowing that I let her go. Knowing that I wasn't enough to save her.

Everyone I pass, every other injured man, woman, and child turns to stare as I walk. Or try to. The words, 'Draco Malfoy', echo from them and bounced off the walls into my bleeding ears. And despite the sweat pouring down my face, I straighten my spine, standing as tall as I could. The whispers followed me all the way up to Blaise's bed, to where I can no longer hear them.

His mouth moves quickly, muttering words I can't decipher. But he stopped short at the sight of me.

"Draco."