Broken

Blood

March

A girl's screams ripped through the air. Boys were yelling frantically, the sound floating up from the dungeon. 

Draco cowered on the hallway floor, hands covering his ears.  Tears streamed down his cheeks. 

A woman's voice summoned him. 

Scrubbing his face, Draco shakily walked into the drawing room.

Hermione lay in a crumpled heap, blood dripping down her arm.  His Aunt Bellatrix crouched over her, a bloodied knife in her hand.  His mother and father stood by the fireplace, watched carefully by Fenrir Greyback.

Hermione's eyes snapped open.  She looked straight at him.

'Help me,' she whispered.

'I can't,' he sobbed.

Bellatrix smiled cruelly at him.  She offered him the knife, glistening red with Hermione's blood.

'This is who you are, Draco.  This is who you will always be.'  Bellatrix started laughing.  Her laugh became high-pitched and cruel.

'This is your fault,' Hermione whispered.  'Everything.  It's all your fault.'

Heavy books tumbled to the floor as Draco lurched from the sofa, gasping.  Echoes of laughter faded from his mind.  Draco staggered to the window and threw it open.  Chilly air brushed his sweat-soaked body as he retched.  He leaned heavily against the freezing stone, shaking.

Creeping through the quiet house, Draco jumped at every shadow.  Reaching the kitchen, Draco searched the cupboards frenetically.  He scattered herbs and sauces with increasing desperation.  In a dark, dusty corner he found a half-empty potion bottle.  He gulped the bitter liquid then poured the remnants into a flask.  Draco's hand twitched as he tucked the flask into his pocket.

'Draco?'

Draco cringed, knocking the bottle onto the floor.  He snatched up the pieces of broken glass.  Draco cried out in pain as blood trickled down his hand.  His mother crouched by his side, face creased in concern.  Eyes wild, Draco stumbled backwards.

'Get away from me!'

Narcissa lay a cool hand on his cheek.

'Don't touch me!'  He leaped to his feet and ran from the house.