The Girl Who Lived (Draco Malfoy x OC)

The Verity

March 16th 1997

In all her years at Hogwarts, Harper was lucky to have never been petrified before. Sure, there were fleeting moments in class when they dueled that Ron somehow threw the spell over her, but otherwise she had lucked out from the curse. Her ears were ringing vibrantly, so loud she wanted to wince, but couldn't move. She felt like the human carnation of dead frequency. Head to toe, she was absolutely numb. Almost like the one time she went to the dentist as a child. They gave her a shot and she couldn't feel or move her face. Now she couldn't move anything.

Her brain was sending the signals, but nothing was eventuating. It was infuriating. She couldn't feel the cold stone beneath her bare arms and legs. She knew she had fallen and hit her skull on the tough floor, but didn't resonate any pain. The humming in her ears was getting louder, almost deafening. All the while she couldn't move, she just laid there. No one had revealed themselves to her, which frightened the Gryffindor. How could you petrify someone and just leave them there? Was this some sick joke?

She half expected Pansy Parkinson to make herself known.

Harper focused on the tall ceiling, wondering if she could wordlessly and wandlessly Accio her wand into her hand. Then again even with it between her fingers, she wouldn't be able to perform a spell. Instead, she blinked maddeningly, thinking it would trigger her body back into action. Of course, that didn't work, and she remained forced to stare at the roofing. In her paralysed state, she began to spiral through thoughts. The newfound knowledge of horcruxes resurfacing to her. What good would she be for Dumbledore if she couldn't even get up? Surely, a Professor or Prefect would find her soon.

Then, as the buzzing in her ears slowed, the heavy knock of footsteps sounded. It was coming from behind her and though she couldn't feel anything, she knew her hairs stood on end. The person, who Harper assumed was the culprit, lowly chuckled. A voice so familiar and a quick memory of before she was knocked unconscious returned. She had heard that laugh. The fear then rushed through her at a rate to rival a Harpy. Her heart beating like it was trying to escape the cage of her body. She desperately tried to move her arms, fighting the spell, but it was all dead weight. The only way out was to order her slow frigging brain to function, to demand solutions instead of this crazy-making circling anxiety.

And then he stood over her and Harper could see him clearly.

The last time she felt this vulnerable she was laying on the rough grass of a cemetary, pain singing her limbs as she looked up at Voldemort.

"We could have done this the easy way, Potter, but you rejected that." His voice sounded so different, threaded with something sinister.

Briefly she was grateful for the paralysis that stopped her from whimpering. Harper felt so powerless and small in his presence. She refused to show him that though. He couldn't know he was having that effect on her.

"Now it's the hard way," he chuckled.

He bent his knees and crouched beside her head, reaching forward to tuck one of her amber hairs behind her ear. Considering what he had done in the past, Harper didn't know what he was capable of. In all honesty, she scolded her inner mind, she should have seen something like this coming.

His caramel eyes devoured her limp body from there, a smirk tugging at his lips. She wanted to throw up and scratch her skin off, the way he was looking at her felt violating. His fingers drifted down her face, to her neck, stopping at her shoulder. She couldn't see or feel what he was doing. Whether he was gripping it, tickling, rubbing, pinching; she was so numb. When he leant in and breathed in her hair, it was like he was pouring gasoline onto the blaze of fear in her chest.