Sensorial (Dramione)

Chapter 3. Barriers

There was just...so much blood.

Everywhere.

Soaking his socks and squelching between his toes. Drenching the ends of his robes. Slicking the dark floor a sickly burgundy colour...

Draco gagged.

The metallic tang had wrapped tightly around his tongue and he could feel the bile rising in his throat as each second passed.

Whose blood was it?

Draco looked down at his stinging left arm to see that his mark had been mauled. It was unrecognisable. A smeared mess. He watched as three droplets of ruby red blood dripped down his arm, along his fingertips, and into the pool of crimson that lay on the floor of the manor.

No. Definitely not all his.

"Mudbloods, dear nephew." Bellatrix cooed from The Dark Lord's side.

"M–m...—Mudbloods?" Draco choked.

His aunt gestured her head to the left and Draco looked in horror at the pile of bodies that lay discarded by the fire place. There were nine or so people. All of them lay lifeless. Unmoving. Some of their jaws still hung open as though they had been murdered mid-scream and all of their eyes remained open. Dull.

Dead. All of them.

The Dark Lord grinned.

"The sacred mission has truly begun." He rasped.

Draco's ears stung and he felt his pulse quicken. He wanted to do something. Anything. Mudblood or not, this was a death that nobody deserved. They had been stripped of their dignity and were piled on top of one another as though they were nothing more than piles of rubbish. If anything, he wanted to at least close their eyes for them. Help them to attain peace.

Oh Merlin.

"If you will..." His red eyes found Bellatrix's and she grinned with glee.

"With pleasure, My Lord."

A scream tore it's way out of Draco's mouth as his aunt fired a curse at the pile of bodies and he watched the corpses burst into flames.

"Draco."

"Draco!"

He surged up from his bed, chest heaving to catch a breath and his sweat-soaked pyjama shirt clinging to his chest. Draco followed his arms to find that his hands had desperately grabbed ahold of Blaise, who was hovering by his bed anxiously.

Oh Salazar. A dream. Just a dream.

"Merlin's beard, Malfoy, you nearly woke us all with your bloody shouting." Blaise eased himself out of the blonde wizard's grasp.

"Sod off."

His throat felt dry and Draco noted that his tongue suddenly felt too big for his mouth. He needed to leave.

With a wave of his wand, Draco had dressed into a standard robe and his shoes found his feet.

"We're going to talk about this later, you know." Blaise called from his bed.

Draco barely tilted his head to the side to acknowledge him but nodded and silently left the dormitories.

He slithered through the dark common room and he estimated he was somewhere near the leather sofas when the flames in the fireplace suddenly burst to life. Draco swore at the sight of Nott.

"Going somewhere?" Theo mused.

Draco rubbed his palms into his eyes and turned away from the fire with a frown. His stomach churned.