Finding My Way Back

A few hours later, Pomfrey finally released him from the hospital wing. He walked down the empty corridors and stairways, heading toward the Slytherin common room. Thankfully the last classes for the day were currently in session so he didn’t have to worry about running into anybody yet.

He suddenly smiled to himself when he thought about Potter still stuck in the hospital wing. Before he left, he decided to look in on him and see how he looked close up. The boy definitely had been pummeled. Although he was still sleeping when Draco left, the blond still felt it necessary to sneer down at him, telling him he got what he deserved. Potter had just groaned.

He stopped at the stairs leading down to the dungeons, turning his head toward the Great Hall. He quickly scanned the surrounding area, noticing the mirror he had stopped in front of earlier. He still couldn’t understand why that mirror meant anything. Perhaps because that was the last memory he had before he woke up in the hospital wing.

He furrowed his eyebrows and walked slowly to the mirror. Once there, he took a look at himself and frowned, noticing the marks on his neck. He lifted his hand up to the bites and sighed. Why couldn’t he remember? He continued to stare at his image, his eyes focusing on the ones staring back at him. His body shivered, believing they looked different somehow. They kind of looked cloudy, almost as if he was…

He shook his head and turned away from the mirror, heading back toward the stairs leading to the dungeons. It was always like him to think the most extreme. He had hit his head when he fainted. Nothing more. He was sure the memories would come back to him later. Even Pomfrey had told him he would slowly start to remember some of those hazier moments in his head.

As soon as he was in his common room, he headed straight up to his bedroom. He was still feeling a little tired and just wanted to sleep for a bit. When he entered his room, he took a brief glance around, glad that none of his roommates had skipped their last class.

He moved toward his bed and slipped inside the covers, pulling one of his pillows closer to his chest. He suddenly jerked away, furrowing his eyebrows. He stared down at the pillow and slowly leaned in, taking a big whiff. He shook his head and looked around his bed, wondering if there was anything there to help him understand. He knew that had to be his so-called lover’s smell, but why wasn’t anything clicking inside his head? How could he have had sex without even knowing it?

He snuggled back into his bed, this time grabbing a different pillow that didn’t have the boy’s scent, and closed his eyes. He was starting to get a bit scared, wondering what other things he couldn’t remember. Of course he could recall his own name, his roommates, his best friend, his professors, his family. He knew he was in Slytherin; he knew exactly where the common room was. He even knew who Potter was and how much he hated him. So what was he missing?

***
With all the strength he had, he ran through the forest, hoping he would be able to make it out on the other side. He heard the screams following him and knew they were getting closer. His body began to ache, pleading for him to stop and rest. He ignored the pleas and continued running, not wanting to be caught again; he couldn’t be caught again.

He turned to his left, spotting another boy running at the same speed as him. The boy suddenly turned to him, sweat pouring down his face. They were both in the same shape as the other, fighting for survival. They were so close; just a few more steps and they would be free.

He was almost to the edge of the forest. He could see the opening and knew he had to somehow slip through before he got caught. If he were caught before slipping out of that patch, then there would be no going back. His life would forever be locked in the forest.

He pushed his body forward, exhausting all efforts. He turned to the boy again, seeing him struggling to keep up; he was always a bit weaker than him. He suddenly saw him fall and knew it was only a matter of time before they swept him away. For a brief second, he contemplated if he should stop and help him or continue running.

He continued running.

He was almost there. He could see the light shining through the brushes and knew he was almost free. He could hear the heavy panting coming closer. He made sure not to turn around, knowing exactly what he would find if he did. He heard some cackling off to the side and cringed. No, they were not going to catch him; he would break free.

He reached out his hand when he saw the opening, hoping there was someone waiting on the other side to pull him out. His body was burning in agony. He reached out a little further, praying that he would make it, hoping that he could make it.

He suddenly saw a boy’s face staring at him from the opening. He looked simply evil as he watched him run. Okay, so it looked more like pity, but same difference. He ignored him, knowing that all he had to do was enter through the opening and he would be home free. The boy suddenly held out his hand as if he wanted to pull him through. There was no way he was going to take his hand. No way.

“Get out of my way,” he screamed at him, realizing he was blocking his path.

“Give me your hand,” the boy demanded.

“Piss off,” he yelled.

“Stop being such an arrogant prat, and take my hand,” he firmly voiced.

“You’re mad if you think I’d take anything you’re offering,” he affirmed.

Okay, he knew it was stupid of him. He knew he was only a few feet away from freedom now, but he still couldn't help how he felt. He bit on his lip, contemplating his next move. He heard someone yelp but didn’t turn around, already aware of whom was taken back. Poor Blaise. He didn’t have a chance.

“Malfoy, take my bloody hand,” he heard the boy say again, this time sensing a bit of fear in his voice.

He soon realized why the boy was afraid. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood up straight when he felt the warm breath behind him. He closed his eyes and continued running; it was right behind him.

Putting all other thoughts out of his head, he extended his hand out, hoping the boy was serious about helping. Thankfully, the boy saw his gesture and quickly leaned in closer, allowing his arm to slip through the brush.

“Just a little further, Malfoy,” he added, straining himself forward.

He reached out, hoping to feel his hand soon. Tears began to roll down his cheeks as he began to tire from the run. His body was about to give up; he knew it would fail him. He looked over at the boy once more, seeing his face of pity suddenly turn into determination.

“Potter,” he gasped, his hand finally touching his.

“Hang on, Malfoy,” he cried out, as he tried to pull him through. “I’ve got you. Just hang on.”

He tightly held onto his hand, feeling himself getting dragged through the opening. His body started to relax a little, sensing that it was almost free. He soon closed his eyes, feeling a sweet sensation take over.

Then suddenly, his world crashed. He quickly opened his eyes, realizing he was getting dragged back into the forest. He gripped Potter’s hand tighter, screaming for him not to let go. Potter planted his feet in the ground as he tugged with all his might to pull him back. His entire body was suddenly being used as a rope in a game of tug-of-war.

“I can’t hold on much longer,” Potter warned, his grip slipping a little.

“Potter, please,” he begged. “Please don’t let me go.”

Potter stared down at him and firmly bit his lower lip as he began to pull again. Draco started to feel his body move forward again and couldn’t help but wonder where Potter suddenly got all this super human strength from.

“Just look into my eyes, Malfoy,” he demanded.

He didn’t even hesitate as he followed Potter’s directions. Their eyes met and he suddenly felt safe. Worry seemed to leave him for the moment as he continued to stare.

“Just a little bit further,” he grunted, Draco’s body almost halfway through the opening.

His hand began to sweat, causing him to slip again from Potter’s grip. “Potter,” he whimpered. “I can’t hold on anymore.”

“Don’t you dare give up, Malfoy,” he growled. “Don’t you dare leave me.”

“Potter,” he sobbed, his hand finally leaving his as he was dragged back into the forest.

He stared over at Potter, noticing him screaming, yet not able to hear a sound. His body tensed as he felt the creature’s arms wrap around him. He turned to look at the person who had finally captured him and froze.

“No!” he screamed out, sitting up straight in his bed, sweat covering his body and sheets.

He quickly looked around his room and took in a deep breath, realizing it was all just a bad dream. He stood up from his bed and moved toward the bathroom, needing to splash some water on his face.

After washing his face, he stared at himself in the mirror and sighed. He pretty much knew what the dream was about, but the part about Potter definitely had him confused. Why in the world would he dream about him trying to save him?

He shook his head and turned away from the mirror, lifting his left arm. He raised his shirtsleeve and frowned at the pale skin before him. He knew that in just a couple of months his father would come for him. Ever since he was a small child he knew he was destined to follow in his father’s footsteps. Nobody could save him; not even the world’s beloved savior could save him.

He closed his eyes and sighed, the dream coming back to his mind. He still couldn’t understand why Potter was there. Sure he pushed the Gryffindor away in the beginning, but then suddenly he was asking him not to let go. Why? Why, out of all the people he knew, would the one person he hated be there to help him? And why, after all that, was he not able to save him?

He inwardly growled at the thought, heading back toward his bed. He lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling, frowning, for the real question was, why did he even care?