In My Dreams [Draco Malfoy]

chapter thirteen: aberfeldy

INDIGO

When Aria and I first became friends, there was a solid year in which I spent every moment wondering when she would betray me. My family had meant well when they decided to send me to muggle school, but my years being humiliated and picked on there had instilled in me the habit of regarding everyone as guilty until proven innocent. The same thing happened when I befriended Stephen and Su Li, though for a significantly shorter period of time. To this day, my first thought when someone approaches me with a friendly smile is 'what do you get out of being nice to me?'

Mum is the only person in my life I have never looked at with suspicion, the one person I have always known deep within me to be innocent. And there was not a word in my vocabulary to accurately describe the blind panic that surged through me when I had that dream.

Just as one could feel the cold medicine flooding your veins after a shot, the panic came hard and fast, caressing its way down the length of my body with ice cold fingers. I was out of bed in an instant, grabbing my dream journal, making a mad dash for the lavatory and closing the door behind me, so the others wouldn't hear. Within half a second I knew I wouldn't be able to get to the toilet in time, so I bent over the sink, dry-heaving then vomiting straight into it. Even when the vomit stopped coming, I felt too sick to straighten myself up. I was trembling. Cold sweat had beaded up all over my face and down my neck, but I was overheating with panic and disorientation. I did a cleaning spell into the sink, then (unsuccessfully) tried to clear my mind as I let the cold water run over my hands. Much to my own surprise, it helped with the dizziness, and I was soon cupping it in my hands and rubbing my face and neck with it, then pressing my now freezing hands to my stomach to settle any remaining nausea.

As much as I hated to admit it to myself, the simple fact was: I could handle watching strangers and acquaintances in pain. I could handle seeing their torture, seeing their mutilation, seeing their death, but I couldn't—nor would I ever be able to—handle seeing my mother's. I knew it sounded wrong, I knew it was wrong, to be so accustomed to pain and suffering, and I wished that it weren't the case, despite knowing that I would be much worse for wear now if my situation were otherwise.

I wrote everything I had seen down, but didn't stay in the lavatory for any longer. I couldn't afford to if I wanted to, since I didn't know when the attack would be happening. If the glimpse of the moon I had caught was to tell me anything, it couldn't have been long after 2 a.m., 2:30 at the very latest. With this in mind, I went back into my dorm and pulled on a bathrobeand trainers. Then, I rummaged around in my bag, took out some galleons, a few pound notes, and grabbed my wand from the bedside table.

I didn't know what the closest town or establishment to Hogwarts was, but I was willing to bet they had a telephone in the vicinity. Flooing there would only put myself at a greater risk, which Mum wouldn't like, and explaining all of this to Professor Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall so they could handle it instead would take time we may not have. My best shot was to hope that Mum had gone a couple of doors down to have a glass of wine and chat at our neighbor's house (like she always did on Friday nights) and was going home soon, so I could call there. If that didn't work, I would have to take a chance and call the house phone.

The tricky part would be getting out of Hogwarts and off of school grounds after hours... But I didn't let myself think twice on that front before I was tucking my wand in my belt and leaving my roommates once again.

Hogwarts was as quiet as a tomb. It was strange to see it this late at night. As I went down the steps of Ravenclaw Tower, all that could be heard was the obviously loud echo of my footsteps as I attempted to move as quickly as I could. For a moment I heard snoring rumbling down the corridor, and stopped in my tracks. I briefly wondered if Filch was dumb enough to sleep outside the Ravenclaw Common Room and keep a watch on us instead of the Gryffindors and Slytherins. Then, I realized that it wasn't Filch at all; it was the portraits.