It's the week leading up to the Christmas holiday's and I've been stuck in my dorm the last 3 days sick with the flu. I don't think I've been this bad for years. My body is aching on every limb, tendon and muscle; my nose is stuffy and I have this insatiable cough that won't go away.
Hermione's been dropping off notes she's done for me and giving them to Ophelia. Madame Pomfret has also been visiting me daily, giving me all sorts of ointments and potions to quicken my health.
I lay in my bed, sinking into my pillow, shivering at the cool air condensing on my window pane. Ophelia is the only person I've seen for the last 72 hours.
I've been drifting in and out of feverish dreams, waking in cold sweats alone in our dormitory.
I stare blankly into the ceiling above me, Ophelia had charmed the ceiling to mimic the night sky. It was most appealing when trying to sleep.
Turning on my side, I glance at Ophelia's empty bed before drifting off to sleep.
A blur of chaeos transcended into my mind. Fast figures moving past my vision. Black cloaks and green light flashing in and out. I reach for my face to find it covered in blood, a haunting laugh sounds from the right of me. I turn in an attempt to find its source only to be met with darkness.
Everything turns deathly quiet. I am in utter nothingness. I lift my arm in an attempt to see my hand but nothing is there, I am a ghost of the person I once was.
A few beats of silence filled with my erratic breathing before a scorching light pierces my perception. I lift my arm, realising the physicality of it has returned, to squint through the white.
In a buffer of frequent noise, the white fades. I squint harder past my arm - a gush of wind passing me, causing me to take a step back. I blink a couple times clearing my vision. Long streams of fresh wheat and grass surround me in a field.
I take a moment to look around, still squinting through the harsh sunlight. Something distant sounds from afar, a muffled voice hidden amongst the grass. I step in the direction of it, scanning the floor. The voice is louder now, a whimpering, whisper of my name.
Like tunnel vision, I desperately dash through the field. I only stop when I see blonde, dirtied hair waving in the wind.
I reach down in a large step to tumble on my knees.
Draco Malfoy lay face up, agonising cries escaping his lips.
Something in me shattered at the sight.
"What's wrong?" I lynch towards him, terror laced in my voice.
He mutters my first name over and over, a desperation clear in his tone.
"I'm here." I huff, restlessly, "I'm here, Malfoy."
He doesn't look at me, a shell of the person I saw not two weeks ago swearing Crabbe to secrecy.
I reach for him to lay a hand on his shoulder but it's met with grass - my hand has gone right through. My mind is wreathing in disarray.
He continues muttering the incantation of my name. I notice something oozing on his chest, blood.
In a fluster, I attempt to reach for the wound, my hand falling right through.
The blood is spreading on his white shirt, dark crimson painting it's portrait on his body. "No no no no." My voice wavers, echoing the field. I continue scraping through the soil beneath him, every attempt - my hand falling right through.
I feel a wetness on my cheeks, I reach thinking I'll find blood like I had minutes before but I'm crying - sobbing almost.
"Draco." I howl, my hands scratching through his ghost.
YOU ARE READING
The Amorist - D.M
FanfictionBelinda Delarosa becomes acutely aware of The Dark Lords return as she courses through 5th year. ( please, I urge you not to read this book if you are sensitive to smut, intense emotions, and abuse) All characters mentioned in this book belong to JK...
