Battle Scars {Draco Malfoy}

Prologue

The haunting image of snarling teeth flooded Clara's vision as she struggled to block herself from the incoming attack. The agonizing pain of her skin being ripped apart like paper, caused her to scream out but no one came to her aid. A burning sensation swept across her face as the werewolf took another swipe at her before she could make a grab at her wand.

She wasn't at all prepared to take on a werewolf during the Battle. Let alone one that wasn't even in full form, but just as vicious as he would be if the moon was full. His teeth were sharpened and his nails appeared to filed into claw like daggers that clawed away at her.

 It was foolish of her to not expect the unexpected. However, never did Clara believe that the castle would fall under attack. Never did she believe that the Dark Lord would come so close to gaining the ultimate reign over the wizarding world. Never did she would come so close to death at such a young age.

With her wand fully in her grasp, she turned on the werewolf that she had managed to kick back enough to give her some room to act. The wolf-like man went in for another strike, wanting to deliver the final blow and kill her, but at the last second, Clara threw out the knock-back jinx launching the werewolf back several yards from her.

It gave her enough time to wipe the blood that was pouring into her left eye clouding her vision. She would have to find a Healer and fast, the blood pooling around her was a sure sign that if she didn't get help fast, she wouldn't survive her attack.

She could see the werewolf standing back up on his feet, his face full of rage that she dare deny him the opportunity to take her life. She attempted to scoot back but was only met with the castle wall. She held up her wand once more as he came charging towards her.

As the incantation left her mouth to disable the werewolf once and for all, Clara lost sight in both eyes from the blood, leaving her only to pray that her spell hit it's target.

When no further attack came at her, Clara slouched back as her body was giving in to the blood loss. She wept silently to herself, the salt and water of her tears mixing in with the blood caking on her face.

"Clara?! Clara?!" She felt her body being moved but she could no longer bring herself to speak, she was sure if she opened her mouth the only thing that would come out of it would be terrible screams. Her body was carried awkwardly back into the castle to the nearest Healer.

She could hear the gasps of those that she had fought alongside of, she could hear the cries of her peers.

But more importantly, she could hear the doubt in the Healer's voice. Doubt that she would survive such an attack.

Doubt that she would live.

If she were to die though, Clara only hoped that it wouldn't be for nothing. She held onto the sliver of hope that Harry Potter would defeat the Dark Lord and drag the wizarding world out of the darkness that tried to enslave them all.

Her wand slip through her fingers as her entire body was overcome by numbness. No longer being able to feel any part of her body scared Clara even more than the intense pain she had felt earlier. She believed that she was dying right then and there.

However, fate had other plans for Clara Easton. A plan that would make her feel weaker before it made her feel stronger. A plan to make her feel hate before she felt love.

A plan that would involve giving another damned soul a second chance.