CURSED [D.M]

-(63) always choose him

ZILLIAH is shaking from head to toe, her mind a maze where she is trapped running around in infinite loops. She can still see the woman, her cold and limp body, cackling in malice. She can still see her grandmother getting herself killed trying to save her. She can still see Sirius as he spites her for not saving him. She can still see Daphne as she says it was because she came to Hogwarts to see her that day that she got killed.

"Zilliah", she can hear a voice. His voice. "Zilliah, open your eyes", he says, soft and careful. She can feel him caressing her cheeks. She can feel him holding her ever so gently as if she is the most fragile thing to ever exist. "I'm right here, love. You're alright. Open your eyes."

She wants to. She really really wants to. But it's like these people- they won't let her escape this nightmare. Or rather it's she herself that has trapped her own mind in here. No matter how dreadful these moments are, it is the only time she can see them- the only time she feels their existence. If she opens her eyes, she will be sucked back into reality- a place where don't exist- a place where they have died.

"Zilliah, please come back to me", she can hear him mumble, his voice breaking. "Please open your eyes, my love."

But no matter how desperately she wants the dead back, she can't have it. These dreams are nothing but painful illusions happening inside her head.

She focuses on her breaths and forces her eyes open. As her vision aligns with those silver hues, she feels instant relief coursing through her veins. The light from his wand reflects the worry in his eyes. "I'm okay", she breathes, her voice barely a whisper.

He snakes his hands around the back of her neck and pulls her to his chest, kissing the top of her head. "I love you", he mumbles. "I love you. I love you. I love you", he mumbles over and over again, like it's his own prayer from his own religion to his own god.

She breathes him in, feeling nothing but his warmth enveloping her. She controls her breaths with much will and revives her mind from the horrific clutches it fell into. She feels his heartbeat as she stays against his chest and that's the only thing she needs to stay in this reality. He is the only reason she feels the need to be alive.

Guilt will always haunt her as long as she grieves over the dead. And as for grief, there's no escape from it. She could try to hide. But it will find her again. She could try to forget it. But it will strike her right in the face when it's time.

"I love you", Draco keeps mumbling, and she knows that moments like these- it's the only time her grief and her guilt will let her be- merely a short break to patch herself up, so they can tear her apart once again.

•

Tucking her hands in the pockets of her white sweater, Zilliah walks alongside Layla as she leads her to the fencing grounds. 

"Good sleep?", Layla attempts at a casual talk. But everytime she looks at Zilliah, it's like she is looking with great animosity.

"Mhm", Zilliah mumbles, pretending to look around but her mind is solely on Draco. He had to leave early in the morning because his dark mark had started burning. He had kissed her forehead and told her he'll be back as soon as he can before tucking her back into bed and dressing up. She had lain there, watching every slightest of his movements with extreme attention, like she's scared to lose it all in a heartbeat. Probably the after effect of her nightmare but she can't help but worry about him when he has to be away from her.

"Here we are!", Layla says, pulling her out of her thoughts. She looks around to see pairs of people everywhere, fencing, with utter delight on their faces.