Dead and Alive (Drarry)

Chapter Five

Draco didn't know where he was going. Just allowed his feet to take him somewhere. Anywhere but there, his thoughts told him.

Since seeing Potter, everything started changing. Emotions that he suppressed many months ago, began to resurface, clouding his brain. Memories of the past flashed in front of his eyes and reopened old sores.

Memories of sitting in class day after day, and going out to play football. Wind flowing through his hair, heat burning the skin on his back, blood pouring from his body, disappointed looks from his peers. Each one left a bad taste in his mouth. He wished he could just forget. He tried to, but they always seemed to stumble out of the shadows within his broken mind.

He walked for hours, only stopping to eat and use the restroom. Bags had begun to form underneath his eye lids, and his skin was now a sickly pale. At first glance one would say he looked dead.

Draco's eyes blinked slowly. His tiredness was finally starting to get to him. It felt like at any moment his body would give up and fall to the floor. But he kept going, stumbling forward, as hard rain splattered against his face.

It wasn't until he reached his destination that he finally fell to his knees. Lifting his head, Draco peered up at the dark castle. Its shadows loomed around every square inch, causing it to look as if it had just jumped out from a horror film.

Never had he thought he'd be back. There were always too many painful memories that came with the school. A certain darkness to it that even kept away the voices.

Draco lay there on his knees in the mud for what felt like hours, but was really only a few seconds.

A wave of emotions crashed over him. He opened his mouth, letting out the most painful sound, however it fell deaf upon his ears. Tears streamed freely down his face but he did not care enough to wipe them away.

It was only a matter of minutes before the castle was alive and awake. Mumbled shouts emitted from the building, and then suddenly there was a spotlight pointing at him. His eyes closed forcefully, but could still see the white light clearly through his eyelids.

The ground vibrated with their footsteps. Their yells growing louder, closer.

Draco stayed still, his body wouldn't move. The ground stopped moving. Someone shouted at him, but he didn't understand them.

And then someone was grabbing him. Their fingers dug deep into his skin, hurting him.

He cried out, trying desperately to push them away.

Stop it! Stop touching me!

He fought, hitting, kicking, and screaming.

Stop! Get your hands off of me! Don't! Touch! M-

Suddenly the person's gun barrel was flying towards his face. It hit him on the forehead with a loud thunk.

His body hit the ground, slamming his head on the floor.

He could feel it. The blood, dripping down the side of his face. His ears rang. He couldn't hear anything. His eyes blurred, and then closed.

Ron Weasley was sound asleep when he was awoken by sound like no other. A high pitched cry, filled with pain and sorrow. He sat straight up in his bed, the sweat pouring from his forehead and down his face. He heard shouting from outside his door. Quickly, he got up, turning on the lamp beside his bed and got dressed.

When he stumbled out into the hall, people were already up and rushing towards their stations. Ron grabbed his gun from where it lay against the wall, and hurried to the exit. As soon as he stepped foot outside, one of their spotlights lit up, falling upon a figure lying in the mud.

"Who is it?"

"Are they infected?"

"What do they want?"

"Are there more?"

There were too many questions, not enough answers. Some people were already within a few feet of the figure, and yelling.

As Ron got closer, he saw a man he couldn't recognize yelling at them, his gun drawn.

"Get up!" he yelled.

The figure stayed still, not even acknowledging them.

"I said get up!"

When the figure didn't comply, the man stepped forward and grabbed the back of its neck.

The figure immediately started flailing and making soft whining noises. It acted like a frightened or injured animal, kicking out and pushing the man away.

Ron could see that something was clearly wrong.

"Hey, sto-"

He was cut off as the man raised his gun and hit the figure over the head with it. There was a horrifying pause, and then their head hit the ground with a sickening crack.

Ron watched as the matted blonde hair was suddenly soaked with dark red.

Without so much as a second thought, Ron was at their side, pressing his hand against the wound to try and stop the blood flow.

"Get back! Someone get me a towel!" he yelled out into the crowd forming around them.

"I said move your arses back and someone get me a bloody towel, are you all deaf?!" he asked when no one had moved.

It was as if his words had forced everyone to action, and the crowd quickly dispersed. It was only a few minutes later that someone handed him a white towel.

It was still pouring rain, but it did not bother Ron that his clothes were soaked. He slowly turned the figure over, making sure to keep his hand over the wound.

His body tensed as soon as he saw the person's face.

His blonde hair was plastered to his face, wet and covered in mud. But Ron could recognize that pale face and pointy nose anywhere.

"Holy fuck it's bloody Malfoy."