I don't want to open my eyes, because the world is spinning and I don't want to see the blood anymore. I can hear the screams though, they set my world on fire with pain and desperate sobs, and I wonder if I should open my eyes because little hot tears are coming out of my eyes and my throat is seizing up with stifled grunts as reality closes tight fingers over my hopes and I don't want to wake up anymore.
Slowly, I come back, and realize that I am the one who is screaming, and the hot crimson of blood and pain is replaced by dark burgundy curtains. I roll over and try to stop the crying, because I look awful when I cry, and anyway, someone is bound to hear.
But I can't and I bury my head in my pillow and try to block out the sounds of my own breathing. I can't take it anymore, I don't think I ever could, and I'm shuddering as wave after wave of memories come crashing down to engulf me like a sea of death. And I'm not even trying to hide myself anymore and then-
Something touches me.
I'm up in an instant, crouched on the bed like some wild thing with my eyes white and round and scared and I search the darkness but there's nothing there.
I slowly lie down again, and sudden, wonderful darkness washes over me as my eyelids begin to fall in sleep, and I barely notice a ghostlike touch on my bare skin as though someone has lain down next to me because for the first time in months I'm sinking into dreamless sleep without a potion, like I did when he was alive, but it doesn't matter because I'm almost asleep.
The next morning, when I wake, there is a slight indent next to me, as though the space was occupied by a body. There is a faint scent of vanilla and expensive soap on my pillow, a single strand of blonde hair resting between my clenched fingers and even though I know it isn't true I wonder for an instant if it was him.
But it can't be.
Because Draco is dead.
And I killed him.