The scream pierced the drawing room in the most excruciating manner imaginable, scraping Draco's eardrums like rusted metal and burrowing under his skin to chill his bones. It shook him to his core as he stood there, grounded, heart thumping in his throat and his mouth opened slightly, unbreathing.

His deranged aunt was on the floor and hunched over the mudblood who had been his rival since Hogwarts first year, a wicked grin plastered on her face as she carved something into the other's arm. The Cruciatus curse wrenched another hair-raising scream from Hermione's mouth, and Draco flinched again. He looked away, finding it harder and harder to breathe, or to even stay in that damning room.

Narcissa came to him, walking over with slow, measured steps, and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. Draco glanced up at his mother with a pale face, wondering. Silently, she drew him to her, and together, they melted away into the darkness of Malfoy Manor.

His father's face shone with glee as they approached, but Draco only felt a heaviness descend upon him like a smothering blanket, trapping him inside a place he did not know he could ever escape from.

That night, the first of Draco's nightmares tormented him in his sleep, her screams echoing and striking a chord with the very depths of his soul.