𝒜𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒽 | 𝒟.𝑀.

52 | ﴾ Adventurous ﴿

A dark and frozen chamber. My legs bent up to my chin. A monster with an opening through a hole in a ragged cloak, showing off long fangs pointed at bizarre angles as if not properly anchored to a jaw bone. A searing scorch in my chest as portions of my soul were fed on. I was dead inside, and I would always be dead inside.

My eyes shot open from what was surely a nightmare, but seemed all too real.

I was in my bed with a large hood over my eyes that smelled like a forest. Draco's clothing, no doubt. His warm breath drifted down over my nose, his fit chest rising and falling under my head. I could hear his strong heartbeat with crystal clarity under his rib cage below my ear. He was warm and smelled unbelievably delicious, overwhelming my fruity bed with his piney musk.

My eyes lingered on the painful lightning bolt scar in the center of his chest. Every time that I saw it, I was reminded of that moment where his hair was yanked back by Voldemort's talons and I watched him twirl to the ground in sudden death. My world had collapsed in so many ways that day; I had lost both him and myself, and a demonic Veela had snuck her way into my life with the misconception that I was as evil as she was.

I detached myself from his sleeping body to sit by the window wall and stare up at the stars. My wrists were bound with orange, glowing bracelets that could only have come from the Ministry, and I pulled back the long sleeves of his hoodie to inspect them in the moonlight streaming in through the glass panes.

My eyes took in the landscape outside. It was barren and foggy, reflecting the cadaverous personality of the autumnal season. I quickly came to the recognition that quite a degree of time had passed since my initial arrest at the Ministry.

The last thing that I could recall was hanging by metal chains in a stone room, screaming at the top of my lungs from excruciating pain being inflicted by an Unforgivable Curse. I was certain that they were going to send me to Azkaban, yet somehow I had just awoken in my own bed.

Draco startled me by speaking without any warning. "What are you thinking about?" he asked in a tense, dark voice.

I jumped. He was sitting up in the bed, watching me with sparkling eyes in the darkness. His hair was much longer than I recalled, reaching down to his neckline. He was more toned, or thinner, I couldn't really discern. His eyes had bags under them; in fact he looked burnt out completely, like he had been grieving for an extended period of time.

I pulled the sleeves of the hoodie down over my hands and turned my face to the moonlight, "Something is missing. A lot is missing."

He moaned in his chest, hanging his head down. His pointy nose stuck out from his long straight hair, "What is the last thing you remember?"

I scrunched up my nose, "Being tortured."

His head shot up and his eyes widened furiously, "Tortured?"

I nodded, toying with the strings of the hoodie to distract myself from looking into his piercing gaze, "Mad-Eye, 'e used Cruciatus on me. A lot."

In a familiar fashion I noticed him stiffen like a board. He was evidently livid and unaware of what had gone down behind closed doors in level two that fateful day. His muscles had gone rock hard and his eyebrows flattened menacingly, "You mean to say to me, Madeleine, that you were subjected to the practice of an Unforgivable spell?" He stood slowly like the predator that he was, dropping out of the thick comforter with penetrating orbs. The anger seething from him had me almost feeling guilty despite being the victim.

I begrudgingly sighed in intervals, "Yes."

Draco paced around the dark room, disappearing partially into the shadows while toying with his thick strands of hair. His muscular abs were a sight to see even in the pale lighting, "I've changed my mind," he hoarsely commented somewhere near the fireplace.