Carpe Noctem (DRARRY)

Chapter 2- Try To Be Civil, He Says (Mhm, Yeah, Sure.... Maybe)

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Chapter 2- Try To Be Civil, He Says (Mhm, Yeah, Sure... Maybe)

~Draco's POV~

His stomach ached and his head whirled. He woke to this, with shortness of breath and his heart beating out of his chest.

Where am I??

He got up quickly, almost falling and bracing himself against the wall as his knees buckled. What's going on??

These were not the stone walls of his bedroom. Other beds were around, other kids sleeping, their chests rising and falling. A few made noises or snores.

Who are they?!

But stronger than these feelings were a killing headache, like a blinding pounding inside his skull driving him back to sit on his bed.

He could hear a creaking. Little, little creaks, like someone walking through the hallways. Draco pulled himself back on his bed, tugging the thin sheets back on his body. They felt too much like hospital sheets, though these were faded green.

He knew he hadn't been careful enough. He knew he wasn't careful enough with his pointy-toothed smiles. He knew they had poisoned his drink at dinner, these footfalls were The Ministry, and they would shove an iron stake through his heart and enjoy it.

Scrambling, helpless, he was left to reach for the only thing he knew would make him feel better. The pills. Underneath that essay- he pushed it off the bedside table- nope. That's it! Under his bed. Laying on his stomach, he was able to fish out the small white bottle.

Hands shaking, he poured out a few more pills than he meant to. Oh, that's fine. Draco popped them into his mouth, eyes closing in bliss. Inside the irony flavour was a safety that he found nowhere else. Not in his friends, or family (if you could call Lucius that).

As he finally swallowed them dry, Draco calmed his breathing. His heartbeat came down from its high, and the bright white bottle made him blink and reassess the dark room.

The creaking had stopped, and only comforting silence awaited his ears. Soon, his headache dulled to a muted soreness and his stomach just smarted faintly from time to time.

And with the pills in his hand, he fell asleep.

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The next day, he awoke at a good four am. More hours of sleep than he had gotten in a while; not to mention the lack of nightmares. Hmm. Must have been really tired, then.

Despite these hours of slumber, he still felt very slightly dizzy, and his stomach ached like he had tasted arsenic. He recognized these feelings, along with the unceasing thoughts of red, blood, gore, raw meat. Things that made him feel animistic. He snapped his thoughts away, disgusted with himself, and downed a couple pills. He didn't bother counting.

So, his blood needs were satisfied. He should have no problems, right? Incorrect. Shadows with eyes were plaguing him throughout the night and into the day. He was starting to think he was crazy. At least he wasn't hearing voices.

Looking in the mirror, his face pale and his eyes crazed, he had barely a trace of sanity left (or so he thought). Tearing his eyes away, he went to sit on a toilet lid and bury his head in his hands. Another shadow followed him into the stall, and its mouth opened in a smiling crescent. It was mocking him.

Draco threw a punch at it but just hit the wall behind. His fist hurt. Ugh.

It was the hardest thing he had ever done to get up off that toilet seat. Because in his head called the tantalizing fantasy of staying in there all day, ignoring everyone's calls for 'DRACO MALFOY!!'