Guiding Light || OC x Draco Malfoy

Chapter 17:

Window panes stretching for as far as I could see into the curved room showed the landscape outside the hospital. Elegant grey and white leather chairs decorated the ornate mosaic tile of the nicest room that I had ever been in. There were nurses and family members, and men and women dressed in the highest ends of fashion. Marble and granite covered the desk that floated like an island in the center of the dome-shaped area.

Catching my reflection in the darkened glass of a nearby room, I saw a pretty ghastly sight. Dr. Lavania's blood drenched a good part of my shirt and some splattered onto my face. The dribble that I had licked off earlier was now dried and spread near the right corner of my mouth. Dustings of ash and soot were on my face, thanks to the two blazing fires that were currently destroying sectors of the hospital. Miraculously, no fire alarms had been triggered yet, though maybe it has to do with the nature of the fire.

See, magical fire is nothing like the basic stuff we learned in Alchemy class back at Ilvermorny. The first lesson in my first year, sitting in a room full of my fellow Horned-Serpent classmates as we learned about basic elemental configuration. One thing that was drilled into all of our heads was the fire triangle. Equal parts of fuel, oxygen, and the spark that would start it all, balancing and mixing to create one of the most powerful forces on earth.

When you examine a fire made by magic of the soul, like we did in our fourth year, you find that there is absolutely nothing shared with a regular flame. Coming from forces within you and controlled by your will, magical fires don't need oxygen to keep them going; which is part of what makes them so dangerous. They can ignite anything, regardless of its composition or other factors like hydration, and never produce any smoke, just destructive heat. The spark can simply just appear if you want it to, no matches, sticks, or flint. Just you.

The fire that was rampaging unnoticed in the halls next to me would never go out unless I willed it to, or if something happened to me. I would allow neither of those things to happen now, so long as I could help it.

Turning away from the window, I walked around the area slowly. A few strange looks were elicited from a passersby and a few nurses as they came across the sight of blood-soaked and filthy me. The opinions of strangers were the least of my concerns as I continued on my trek for freedom. The circular design of this area reminded me of the hub of a wheel. Seeing the door I came through and all of the other ones that lined the walls only made that feeling fossilize more.

I feared that if I walked up to one of the nurses at the desk, not only would they recognize me, but they would perhaps collapse as well. I had calmed down slightly from before, the yin-yang slowing to a still image of power, rather than spinning so fast it formed into a black hole of all-consuming demands for power. Serene white was expanding and shifting to counteract the oppressiveness of its supplementary friend, but the aura of power surrounding both was still as present as ever.

In the few minutes that I had been in out in the open, I had come into contact with only a few people. None of them fainted at the sight of me, though they all turned to look at me with somewhat glassy eyes. My power was still radiating, but I was less of an immediate liability now. I still had the confidence, just same as before, although I felt a little more grounded now. I was aware of my feet moving, and the feeling of my simple cotton outfit as it brushed against my arms with the motions of walking.

My bare feet padded against the cool and smooth surface of the tiles as I walked to the other side of the room. Coming to a halt in front of a three-way stop, I was faced with a trinity of doors. Labels like Maintenance Roof Entry , Charm Reversal Ward C, and Left Wing Lobby gave me flashbacks to being a little kid on the playground. Hearing those ridiculous spoken riddles about power-outages, serial killers, locked doors, and a torture room in the attic.

As I stood there debating what to do, I heard the coming and going of people all around me. Voices murmuring about things I couldn't hear, doors swooping open and slamming shut. Everytime a noise triggered something in my head, I would whip my face around to see it, my horribly maintained hair flying wildly around my face. Most every other time that I looked behind me, it wasn't anything important, just a nurse, or another well-dressed person coming by to loiter around and wait on news about their loved ones. But when the door opened for what felt like the twentieth time, there seemed to be a little more to it than just a patron going about their day.

The door very opposite from where I had come in from opened, and the people that had emerged were covered in the same black powder that was currently dusting my face, and they were all visibly sweating through the hospital scrubs that were burnt to tatters on their bodies. The two frontmen were none other than my dear friends Alex and Carter. Always a pleasure to see them, even if covered in the remnants of my destruction.

Cheesy game show announcer voices started speaking in my head as I looked at and considered all of my options. 'Option number one: Move to the next ward and risk getting get caught. Go with 2; run to a different room and possible raise more attention to yourself, or maybe option 3: Even more people to raise alarm that you're covered in blood and are escaping from the hospital! Number 4 had me going up to the center desk and guards for some reason, because all of the choices needed to be thrown in the table, regardless of how absolutely idiotic they may be'

And then there was one left, and I had to admit that it wasn't too bad, especially compared to the other choices I was presented with. I could go to the roof and hide away. I know that I risk getting cornered, but with any luck, I can try to find a way out with my magic. Not the best situation in the world, I know, but given the other outcomes, it's the best I've got right now.

Casually strepping away from the doors, I mill about for just a minute, trying to throw off the guards in the room with me, and to make it less obvious when I approach the door on my fourth loop-around and slip through the crack that I opened for myself. Once again, I was met with a similar scene, peeling paint, chipped cement, and filthy windows. As I hicked my way up the stairs, I kept sparing glances at the door that was slowly recedeing behind me. No one was coming in yet, but based off of the eye contact that I held with Carter for a solid few seconds, that may not always pass as truth. I was just hoping to be too far enough away to know for sure.

Every few levels, there was another door. I knew what I was looking for, however, and none of the titles on the placards struck my fancy more than the expodition to the roof did. Passing by more identical metal entryways than I could care to remember, I finally got to my destination—or at least the last place the stairs could take me. Engraved in the chrome rectangle that hung beside the door were 5 words that I had never been happier to read in my life.

Roof Level Entry: Matinence Access.

Pushing in on the bar, the warm air of whatever season it was began to bluster through my hair, matting it further, if humanly possible. The narrow width of the doorway widened out considerably into the open 'celing' of the roof. Waist-high banisters made if glass, metal, and concrete lined the surprisingly large area, practically doubled thanks to the thin rungs nailed into the wall and the entire second level they led to. Taking in the area more, and basking in the all but forgotten feeling of the outdoors, I slowly made me way over the the little bars, enjoying the feeling as much as I could.

My decent up was as uneventful as 35 silver-plated tubes could be, and I was practically up all the way within the minute. Just before I took the final step and put my foot down on the cross-hatched cover on top of some huge fan, I heard the most bone-chilling sound in the world. Squealing like the floorboards in my grandmother's old house, the door to the roof opened and suddenly the souly-populated rooftop had some new tenants.