Black Swan

Chapter 18- Drowning in Oil


I awake, groggy and sore. Past events swimming in and out of my mind as my eyes adjust to the light.
My throat constricts, causing me to choke and cough, the dryness scratching.

The bed shifts and there's a hand on my cheek, cold yet gentle.
I look up, the lighting stabbing my pupils as I force them to adjust quicker, Draco swimming into my view.

I attempt to say his name, but a croak escapes instead and he brushes my hair away from my face

"You need to rest. Don't talk. Just rest" he soothes, his eyes pooling with a cocktail of emotions.
Fear? Concern? Anger?

I protest and decide to sit up, the room tilting in its axis and then steadying as I grab Draco's arm.
"What happened? Where am I? Are you okay? Bellatrix she- is she"

The memories flood back, a gate bursting open as the emotions tumble out with it.

Lucas. Lights. Dead. Bellatrix. Knife. Pain. Crucio.

Draco sits and doesn't move watching me pant as I remember and fit everything back together, my eyes eventually resting on my bandaged arm the stinging pain coming into focus.
I lift it into my lap, tracing the faint dots of blood that have seeped through.

"Who healed me?"
I realise that I'm lying in my bedroom, the place I had ran from hours before.

"I did" Draco replies, looking around the room, his eyes scanning the posters and pink walls.

"How" I ask. "Aren't you meant to be with the...the death eaters" I choke out allowing the ache of what's to come settle on my heart.

"Dumbledore is dead" I gasp.

Draco says nothing, he continues to look at the bedsheets, his hands curling in and out of fists.

"Yes. He is" he replies short.

I stare at him for a moment, willing the bile to settle back into my stomach before I speak again.

"Did you...Draco were you the one that-"

"No" he half shouts. His eyes finally meeting with mine.
"I didn't. I couldn't. I just, I froze. I was going to- but then I thought about you- what you would say. How would you react? And suddenly Snape...Snape done it"

I look. And stare. Not knowing what to say or do.

"Oh." I say
"Oh" echoes Draco

I move from the bed and shuffle down it, wrapping my arms around him hoping that he wouldn't push me off.

He didn't.

Instead he relaxes into my body, his hands wrapping around my waist as he breathes out, his cheek sitting on my shoulder.

"Do you hate me" he asks the question heavy in the air.

"No." I replied. Brushing his hair.
"I'm scared for you. But not OF you."
I stop and lean back to look at him.

"It's beginning. Isn't it Draco. It's happening, and you're going to be in the middle of it all"

He nods. I gulp.

Silence ensues. And my attention turns back to my arm.

"What did she do?" I ask, knowing that he will have seen it.

Draco pales and then leans forward, his eyes skimming over the memory.

"Ophelia.." he begins drawing in a breath and placing his hand on my thigh running his finger in circles.
"It's bad. It was bleeding so much, and I didn't know what to do. And when the bleeding stopped it-" he swallows a dry swallow
"It's bad"

I look down and begin wrapping the bandages, pulling them off eager to just see. Look at it.
The bandage loosens and then slips off my arm revealing the cut.

I gasp. Not realising I had been holding in my breath.

The death mark, etched into my arm. Ragged and torn.
It was well drawn, the hands of the artist clearly taking her time in making sure it looked well.
It was ugly. Branding me forever. The lines scarlet against my pale skin, dried blood sitting in spots where it was cut deeper.

I cover my mouth and close my eyes shut tight no longer wanting to look at it.
A sob escapes between my fingers and for the tenth time this week, I sob.

I'm engulfed in blonde, Draco wrapping his arms around me careful not to hit my arm.
He soothes me and rocks me, brushing my hair and hugging me tight.

"Lucas is dead. He's gone. Bellatrix she- and then the green light and he looked at me and died Draco. I watched it all seep out of his eyes.
I watched him crumble, and suddenly it didn't matter about Fae. Or me. He, my best friend. Was gone"

I wrack out sobs, feeling the sting of pain and loneliness.
I allow Draco to hug me tighter

"It hurts Draco" I sob clutching my chest and pulling
"It just hurts so much. To function and live, to breathe and be here. It just hurts"

He pulls back and holds me firm by the shoulders

"You will live Ophelia. Do you hear me. You WILL live. So long as you are walking and breathing you will live."
And with that he crushed me against his chest again. Refusing to accept the fact that slowly but surely, I'm falling apart stitch by stitch.

Hours pass and we lay in my bed not moving, occasional whimpers escaping my lips.

The sun sets and then disappears, the room shadowed in darkness.

We lie in each other's company, content with silence and the easy breathing of our bodies.

I feel numb. Stretched in all directions, my head aching and my eyes dry and itchy from over crying.
Draco's top was still damp from all the tears, his hands wrapped around me, playing with my hair or drawing shapes on my hip.

Eventually my eyelids grow heavy and I drift off into a dreamless sleep.

I awake stiff and sore. Draco is gone.
I stretch out, wincing as my Picasso drawing of a cut stings.
I sit up and look around the room, and my eyes fall in a folded up piece of paper.

I drop it. Feeling every nerve and vein burst and explode in my body. Breathing becomes painful, and my eyes shed tears automatically.

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