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𝟎𝟎𝟕 - 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐦𝐞

QOTD: Are we Team Harry or Draco in this fanfic?
Next chapter at 125 votes <3

THE HALLWAY is closing in on her and her throat tightens. She can't stop looking— puts her trembling fingers to her mouth as she watches Harry and Draco, attacking each other viciously like two wild animals fighting for their mate.

It's ridiculous.

Horrifying, too.

She breathes like her lungs have transformed into a crooked windpipe and it dizzies her which seems to make everything go slow. Too slow.

As if in slow motion, Harry's fist lurches into Draco's face, and deep hues of scarlet splash onto the marble tiles. It reminds her of spoiled wine on forgotten nights.

She gapes at the rich liquid streaming down his alabaster skin with wide eyes and huddles deeper into her corner. 

It reminds her of the last time. It reminds her of Sixth year.

Draco had just apparated back to the Manor from Hogwarts after Snape had murdered Dumbledore. She'd been so afraid. Had waited for what felt like long, lonely hours. She'd thought Draco would die in the attempt. She'd have nobody left then.

So, when he'd appeared back, pale and haughty, she'd broken into a run. She'd thrown her arms around his shoulders, embraced him into the tightest hug she'd ever given him. She'd whimpered soft words, pressed her lips to the high arch of his cheekbone—

But tasted copper. Sickly, rusty copper.

She'd pulled away, blinked, and noticed then that her lips were warm and sticky with blood. She looked at her lover in front of her. His jaw was red and skinless. A burning hole of a wound greeted her eyes. Blood gushed out of it. And he'd just stared at her, his silver eyes begging her to look away but she couldn't—

He fell to the floor, and suddenly, he wasn't Draco Malfoy anymore. He was a lifeless rag doll. Not her lover. Not her soulmate.

Narcissa spun towards her only son. She hung over him, casting diagnostic healing spells.

Jade sobbed.

How could she not have seen that wound? Why had she been so focused on his sole presence that she might've hurt him even more?

She'd huddled away in a corner. Like she always did when things became too much for her to handle.

A few hours later he'd woken up. Instead of a gaping wound, there was now a mammoth of a scar slashed over his jaw.  It was the most displeasing shade of red she'd ever seen.

But she'd remember it. She'd remember Draco Malfoy's colour.

And when his eyes had locked with hers once again, he'd seemed so much older.

Defeat. That's what red reminded her of.

But that was then and this is now, she tells herself.

The difference could not have been clearer.

Instead of looking at her with bloodshot, beaten eyes, her Draco Malfoy pours red. Violent, not defeated. Smiling, not crying.

His teeth are full of it.

Red. Red. Red.

And he laughs maniacally. Just lets Harry beat him up.

Such an odd coping mechanism. She wonders what Harry would say if Draco didn't glamour away his scar. She thinks of it randomly.

Something's wrong with her. Terribly wrong. But why does everything go so slow?