No going back
Part I: Siege
Chapter 1: Through The Eyes
of a Snake
Disclaimer: I own nothing of this. I
have merely borrowed a few of J.K.Rowling’s excellent characters and will
return them in good condition will all limbs remaining. The initiative and imagination
is fueled by The Books and wonderful fanfics out there. You guys rock!
Fire,
screaming, shouting, barking, laughter…numbness, ice-cold fear.
He
put his head in his hands and stared at the walls of his dungeon.
Caged.
Pacing
restlessly for hours on end trying to fathom the confusing whorl of thoughts
going around his head.
Emerald
light, whooshing in a fountain of gushing water. Like a torrential green flood
sweeping past, rushing…roaring. Falling…
No…
Shaken
from a stupor, it’s not over yet.
Why?
Thrown
down steps. Wand in your back. “Move.” Running, running, running. Echoing
footsteps all around. Swooshing cloaks; cloaks of darkness, of a black menacing
hunger pulsating in the air. Bodies…
I
did this…
Tripping.
Face to face with a mangled body. Ripped and contorted into a grimacing slash
of a smile.
No.
Sick,
pale, clammy. Death swooping over on black wings through this black night.
…NO!
Pulled
up roughly by the neck of your robes, half-dragged, half-shoved onwards. Along
never-ending passageways and eternal stairways reaching into the gloom of the
abyss, a yawning hole devoid of all emotion.
Heart
beating wildly. Footsteps in hot pursuit. Claustrophobic, cornered in.
Guilt,
a leaden weight that plummets through the icy waters. Breaking through the
frozen lake until hot tears flow freely. Blinding, blurring…faint. Rubies
spilling like flows of blood.
It
wasn’t meant to be like this.
Then
cool night air on your face turning hot rivulets and streams into stinging
icicles. Freezing gasps ripping at your lungs. 50 yards… 40 yards. Run, faster!
30 yards. ‘Stupefy!’ Ducking, falling. ‘Run Draco!’ Picking yourself up on
muddy knees, robes torn. Trainers slippery with blood. Retching at the sight,
scrambling to your feet and grabbing your wand. Turning and watching the two
figures dancing in the flames.
A
crazed voice yells out to the stars and crescent moon. The smaller figure is
thrown to the ground but a huge winged shape rises up and screeches
banshee-like. ‘Run Draco!’ a hand grabs your elbow, and then the world turns
dizzyingly as you are spirited away into the night.
Head
in his hands Draco Malfoy wept.
