Siren of the Black Lake

The black lake cast shadows along the empty common room, the greens and blues mixed with the darkness that danced across the cold floor. The beauty, unnoticed by the rest of the world, tucked soundly into their four-poster beds. The sound of nothing but his own breathing filled the space, but his mind was a constant battleground, flitting through memories that he could not unsee. His hands shook at the recollection of the torture they endured, the pain they caused. He gripped his hand at the thought of all of those who would never live because of him, either from his own wand or his cowardice.

Draco didn't know how the others endured the never ending demons that lurked over the entire castle. How did they walk in the corridors without hearing the screams of the fallen, seeing the lifeless eyes staring up at them, never too close of their own will again? The war had killed more than just those that were buried, because he was a shell of who he once was and who he could have been. His dreams had once been an escape he relished, but not even those were safe now.