Altered for the Altar

I wake up with a nightmare pressing against my eyelids, the horror-like thing running its chilled, bony fingers down my body till I’m shivering in fear. Huddling into the duvet, I try to hide from the darkness that was seemingly encroaching from every corner of the bedroom, but it’s inescapable; it’s underneath the blankets and waiting for me when I shut my eyes. The scenes from the bad dream play like a movie over and over again and no matter how hard I try to remind myself that it wasn’t real and that the darkness really holds nothing horrible, I still nearly break out into a loud sobbing fit.

The quilts get flung off my body and I only stop to grab a cardigan I’d draped over a cushioned chair before padding into the living room. Light begins to eat away the dark as I draw closer to the fire place roaring with orange and flickering red flames. My breaths become easier, but my body still trembles with the remains of slight panic. I decide to sit on the floor instead of the sofa in hopes that the warmth from the flames will warm my skin and seep into my bones. Situating my nightgown, I rest all my weight on one hand while running the other through my tangled hair, yawning a little while blinking away the traces of sleep.

What I think must be a couple of minutes passes before the wish that Draco was awake slips casually into my thoughts and puckers my lips in an unconscious pout. It was thought of so easily and without a single doubt, and that revelation startles me more than the thought itself. I knew that Draco and I were growing close—you couldn’t depend on someone as much as I do on him and not have some kind of relationship—,but I didn’t think it had grown to this magnitude.

Taking my bottom lip in between my teeth, I stare in a daze at the dancing blaze, losing myself in my thoughts. I try to decipher whether or not I do care for Draco in that way, and decide that I must if I’d agreed to go on that date, the event feeling like it was scheduled years ago. This realization sends my heart hammering and eyes widening. It’s not only a few seconds afterwards that I remember I’m wearing an engagement ring he’d bought especially for me and the cemented promise of our impending vows; I feel ridiculous then.

I’m in the middle of trying to fight off a fierce blush that I can feel scorching my throat and eating up the skin of my cheeks when the sound of a floorboard creaking makes my head whip around. For what feels like the millionth time that night, my heart starts to thud much too hard and a surge of fright pricks my system.

“It’s only me,” Draco calls, smiling easily as he appears out of his bedroom doorway. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

With a shaky hand, I go to wrap my sweater tighter around my nearly naked frame and attempt to ignore the way Draco’s gaze lingers on my barely clothed figure. I sit up straighter and cross my arms in front of myself.

“S’alright,” I murmur.

He walks further into the room, taking a seat beside me and sends another relaxed smile that tugs at the corners of his tired grey eyes. I can’t help but return it.

When he looks to the fire, I take the chance to observe him. He’s wearing creased pajama pants and a plain t-shirt that sticks to his chest, shoulders and arms. His hair is mused but appears like he’d been running his hands through it and his face is marked with the lines of sleep. I think he looks beautiful.

He catches me staring at him when he flicks his gaze over at my figure and I’m not quick enough to look away. But I don’t let my orbs linger on him because of another wave of heat I can feel rolling over my expression.

I feel his fingers tuck a strand of wayward hair behind my ear, then as it tucks underneath my chin and tilts my head up. I swallow thickly as he catches my eyes and runs his thumb over my cheekbone.

He smiles slowly again. “You look tired. Couldn’t sleep?”

When he draws his hand away, I have to clear my throat and remember how to talk.

“Uhm… Bad dream,” I eventually murmur.

“Was it a real bad one?” I just nod because remembering what consumed the majority of the dream scares me too much again. Draco scoots closer, so our shoulders are touching and his fingers are able to rest atop mine. I smile at his actions. “I hate those little buggars. Take you for a real turn, don’t they?”

I can’t help it: I let my head fall back in a chuckle at his words, resting it against his shoulder as I try to stifle the giggle with the palm of my hand. Instead of pulling away from him because the contact intimidates me, I shift closer, so I can properly rest my head on his shoulder, and take comfort in his warmth while I continue to chuckle. The fire had done little to ease me, but the feel of his body against mine is doing wondrous things. I smile and nuzzle the top of my head against his neck.

We stare at the flames, not bringing up how cozy we are, just letting all the precautions and fears go as the orange glow of the fire soaks up the room. I stare into the flames, chewing my lip again as the dream involuntarily plagues my mind again. The urge to tell him what it was about pushes at the back of my throat and it only takes a moment of rationalization before I begin to explain what I’d dreamt.

“It was about you dying,” I murmur. I feel him look down at me, but keep my gaze steady on the fire. “I dreamt that Voldermort had murdered you. I don’t know why, exactly, but I remember that he made me watch.”

A moment of silence, then, “I wish I could tell you that you’re safe from him.” His tone is low and he’s removed his hand from where it was resting on mine in order to run it through the tendrils of hair that were laying on my cheek. He cards his hand leisurely through it before I feel his breath touch the strands. “It’ll be alright, though. I’ll do anything… You’ll be safe eventually. That I can promise.”

I don’t know how to respond to that; I just nudge closer to him and hug my arms tighter around myself. Thoughts whirl through my brain, though, whizzing and nearly crashing into each other as I try to figure out if this moment will be something that will make us stronger or weaker in the upcoming events. Will Draco’s want to always keep me safe put him in danger? Could he get hurt while trying to protect me?

Chewing on my bottom lip, I try to work out the outcomes of how everything will end. The future is muddled with Voldermorts uncertainty, though, and I can’t predict anything beyond the things that Draco informed me of earlier. This frustrates me because, for the first time in my life, I have risked worrying about something other than my family. Draco has wedged himself in that space where only my mother and father use to reside, nestling himself in neatly with his slow smiles and pretty eyes. And I don’t know if I can keep him as safe as he’s vowed to keep me.

I’m not strong like him and this new world is too foreign and complicated for my brain to quickly adjust to. I don’t think I’m equipped to save him if it came down to a fight. This further annoys me, causing my teeth to bare down on my lip so hard that I taste iron. It pools in my mouth and alerts me to the fact that I’d been worrying it too hard. I run my tongue over it while pulling my head up from Draco’s shoulder, smiling when he glances over at me in question. His eyes furrow when they land on my lip but I raise a hand to wipe away the blood my tongue hadn’t cleaned up.

“Will you teach me how to use that… What do you call it?” He looks at me quizzically. “It looks like a stick.”

Chuckling, he says. “Are you talking about a wand?” I nod and he laughs a little, my stupidity at what the magical instrument was called seeming highly amusing to him. “Why do you want to know how to use a wand?”

“Don’t you use it to protect yourself?” I ask.

“Yes, but, you aren’t planning to challenge someone to a duel soon, are you?”

His tone is still comical and I can tell he isn’t taking me seriously. I don’t know if he thinks this is just something that I’ve thought up to help the time pass or if he’s dubbed it curiosity; whatever he’s suspected, it’s wrong. But I don’t blame him, as I know that I’ve been nothing but weak and too fragile ever since I’d set eyes on him. Now, however, I want to try and be better. The path is foggy and I don’t know if I’ll even be able to, but I have to try. If Draco was going to risk his life for me, then I could do no less for him and I had to be prepared.

“No, of course not. But…,” I trail off, a blush heating up my skin now. The redness eats up my neck before scorching my cheeks and I try to duck my head, but Draco leans down to snag my eyes again. He’s still smiling, though looking gentle and patient. I take in a deep breath and remind myself that now is the time to try and not be such a coward. “I don’t want to be defenseless. You exhausting yourself while trying to keep me safe isn’t logical.”

I berate myself inwardly at my efforts to expose my real reason for wanting to learn, feeling stupid and embarrassed. But another emotion swims in the mix of those and it makes my heart thud erratically in my chest: the fear of rejection. I know I had rationalized this out earlier and I’d settled myself, but now, as he’s sitting beside me and I’m faced with exposing how I really feel, I can’t be as certain as I was before. I won’t risk it, not without sufficient proof to back up my hypothesis of him returning my feelings.

“If you’d went to Hogwarts, you’d definitely been in Ravenclaw, d’you know that?”

My eyebrows furrow. “What’s Ravenclaw?”

Tucking a piece of hair behind my ear again, he smiles at me, and the way the glow of the fire plays on his eyes makes them seem like they really are glittering. I almost swoon because he looks so handsome and just manage to catch myself.

“A house at the school I went to. Everyone sorted into it worked harder than anyone else to make good grades. Studied all the time, spent hours in the library, that sort of thing. You’d fit in.” He winks at me to let me know he’s halfway joking and I roll my eyes before shoving his shoulder.

From there, I let him tell me more about his school. I’m aware that he diverted around the question of teaching me how to use a wand and feel slight miffed, but decide to let it slide for now. We have a lot to deal with and though I feel like me knowing to defend myself would be a great benefit, I don’t want to push. We’re comfortable and things feel easier than they ever have before; I don’t want to ruin that.

As he talks, I curl back up into his side, resting my head onto his shoulder again. I listen to the stories he tells and try to imagine a boy who was regarded in such a way as he portrays himself. He paints someone who was cruel, vulgar, and selfish, someone who didn’t at all resemble the man who was idly tracing a pattern on the top of my hand. I don’t think he’s telling the truth because how can he be so easy and warm now?

When I voice this, another chuckle slips from his mouth. The warm air from that reaction splashes over my face and alerts me to how close we’ve allowed our heads to drift. I swallow thickly as I chance a glance at his lips.

“It took me a long time to realize what world I’d grown up in,” he murmurs, one of his hands coming up to cup my face.

“What made you realize?” I breathlessly ask.

He presses his forehead against mine and grazes his mouth softly over my lips. I shut my eyes while wrapping a hand around his wrist, moving closer because there was too much space between us.

“When my father told me I was being used as a pawn to get an army.”

That hurts my chest and I push myself forward, claiming his lips in a heated kiss that I hope he can feel everything through.