Snake fangs || D.M

Nineteen

"Arm"
"What?"
"Arm now!" I commanded, holding out my hand looking at Draco with tired eyes. He looked at me puzzled and a bit worried but he still agreed and handed me one of his arms.
I aggressively pulled up the sleeve, and he winced. I had forgotten his scars were still healing.
I searched his arm and then the other, but I could see nothing except snowy white flesh.

Draco looked at me searching and scanning for some sort of answer from my face alone. The air between us was dead. All I could do was stare at my feet in shame.

"Do you want to tell me what all of that was about?" Draco finally cracked
"I heard they have marks on their arms" I mumbled, still refusing to look up.
"Who?" Draco frowned
"Them" I snarled. The Slytherin took a step back, his face darkened, and his eyes narrowed.
"You don't trust me" he hissed
"I do trust you Draco, I trust you with my life and everything in between" I promised, still not making eye contact.
"You've been with Potter again, haven't you? He's been filling your head with lies, and you chose to believe Potter over me!" He yelled, his voice travelled into an echo from the oak tree by the lake.
"Believe me Draco I hate Harry for what he did to you, Potter is not my martyr, but it's not just him saying these words" I weakly explain. I was hoping it wouldn't come down to an argument. "I'm sorry but I guess I'll just be off" I sighed.

I turned around and began walking up, every step of the way Draco called after me. He wasn't finished with this argument, but I was.

"Dreams, dreams, dreams" I repeated looking up and down the library shelves, searching for answers. My vision was a bit blurry from the exhaustion, which made the task slightly difficult. Despite this, I was slowly stacking up a pile that had anything to do with dreams or visions.

"That's a lot of books there, Miss Woods, and so very close to curfew" I heard a calming voice inquire behind me, I turned around and saw an old man with a long beard covering half of his cloak, and grey, shining, thinning hair. He wore half-moon glasses that balanced on the bridge of his nose, as his tired and wise eyes looked through the glass and right back at me.
"Professor Dumbledore" I said shocked leaning on the shelf behind me
"Dreams, an interesting topic but not one in your field though, if I am correct?" Dumbledore quizzed, picking up a book and inspecting a few of its pages "Is there anything you need to tell me miss woods?" The old man asked putting the book back on the mounding pile
"Of course not sir, just a bit of curious research" I replied confidently, I didn't want anyone to get into any mess because of me, especially not Draco.
The headmaster nodded and turned around, walking the opposite direction to which he was previously facing.
I wasn't quite sure what was going on, or how suddenly I was wounding in the big ball of cotton yarn that is the adventurous life of the golden trio, the genius headmaster, or the prince of Slytherin, but I knew it left me with an uneasy feeling in my stomach.

The dream became repetitive. Every night the same uncaring and cold grey eyes would stare right through my skull until I breathed my last breath. Every night I woke in cold sweat running down my back, but I still couldn't figure out why.