quidditch kiss cam | dramione

21. Traitor.

“The mark will guide you.”

The last thing he remembered hearing before opening his eyes into reality.

A glance down at his arm revealed another surprise.

Traitor.

The horrid word was scrawled across his inner forearm, droplets of blood still rolling down from the perfect cursive font indicating that it had been just carved. Draco's lungs had given out by the time he heard the window creak open and with a swift dash, the culpritʼs silhouette was already gone. His own vision had betrayed him- the dark cloak had masked everything about the intruder; from his appearance his words which Draco knew held double meaning. It didn't matter if he thought he had heard the voice somewhere before because the person was already gone.

Even if he did remember the voice at some point later, he wouldn't be able to put a face to it.

"Fuck!" he screamed, finally, it was epiphany. "Fuck! Fucking hell! Fuck!" the mark on his arm was burning again, this time, the pain was double; given the agony from the mark itself and the bloody word scrawled onto him like second skin. He was shouting at the top of his lungs, for what, he did not know. All the Malfoy heir knew was that it was making his eyes water and the world around him spin. He'd give anything in that given one moment to even fucking trade lives with nearly headless Nick if it meant that he had to live his life as a ghost for the years to come, only if it provided to be a substitute for the searing pain in his body.

“FUCKING HELL WHERE IS EVERYONE?!” He was tossing violently in the shaking single bed, as if his body had bend shackled. “Hermione!” he tried again, this time louder, his throat sore. “Hermione?! Professor! Potter?! Anyon—” fuck was going to regret this. “WEASLEY!”

It was only then that he saw Hermione make her way inside the room, she peaked a look from the door first, confusion written all over her face before finally seeing his state and pushing the door wide open to let herself in. Potter and the two Weasleys followed suit. “Draco?” Hermione cupped his hot  face in her hands. She ran her either  thumb on his cheeks while holding his face. With her brown eyes wide, she searched his own for answers. “What's wrong? What happ—”

But he beat her to it.

“Someone was here!” he stood up shakingly, his legs betraying him as he fell down on his knees, the mark was making him lose the little bit of sanity he held. “Someone—” it was becoming difficult to breathe, let alone speak but Draco knew this could be their only chance to catch the bastard who had just fled the scene; he might as well take his chances. Smart as always, Draco found a way to communicate with the four shocked faces without speaking. He jutted out his forearm, the other one where the mark wasn't tattooed on his pale skin to reveal the word traitor.

Ginny gasped and so did Hermione.
With one final look out the window and then at Potter, Draco had already passed out in Hermioneʼs arms.

But it didn't matter, he had managed to tell them— so when his drooping eyes saw Potter and Weasley run in the direction of the small window, he knew he had done the right thing.

The world around him was spinning but the thought of doing the right thing for once, actually played the role of the solid in this dizzy sway of restlessness.

——————

He was screaming.

There was a huge pool of blood right next to where he stood.

One look around him and he knew where he was— the dining room back at the Manor where everyone sat to discuss the Dark Lordʼs next tactic to take down the Wizarding World. The seat reserved for him, however, was taken for he was standing next to the head of the table, Voldemort himself.