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The first thing escaping my lips was a loud groan when I regained consciousness again, stretching my arms and legs after being in this state for god knows how long. 
                          
But then, just as I was about to open my eyes, my brows furrowed. The surface I was laying on was entirely too comfortable; not matching the last memories I had, at all.
                          
If they were to match, I'd probably be laying on the cold, wet stone floor of a dungeon somewhere. But, instead, I was rolling around in sheets that felt like they were made out of silk. 
                          
My eyes snapped open, my body bringing itself in an upright position almost automatically. 
                          
I scanned the room carefully, trying to find just a single object in it that seemed familiar. But there wasn't one. 
                          
I was looking around a rather grand room. The first thing I noticed the dark brown, king-sized canopy bed I was currently sitting in. Then, the dark green silk sheets that were hugging me tightly, almost like a second skin. 
                          
The nightstands were empty, and I felt disappointment growing within me at the realisation that personal objects weren't going to be what helped me identify where I was; because there weren't any. 
                          
The only things making the room seem not entirely hollow was the bed I was sitting in and the large bookshelf that spread across the wall opposite of it. 
                          
The books in it were sorted by colours, and I caught myself admiring how they faded from a black to dark red, brown, and so on. They all seemed rather old, the binding fragile, though they looked like they were in mint condition. 
                          
It's like they drew me in; my legs swinging out of bed to walk over to the shelf right after. My bare feet left no sound on the wooden floors; nothing but a single creek that echoed through the whole room eerily. 
                          
I didn't dare touch any of the books, never mind take one out. I felt myself grow satisfied by just reading the titles portrayed on the bindings. 
                          
Sonnets of a Sorcerer - I liked that one; read it my second year at Durmstrang. 
                          
Jinxes for the Jinxed, 
                          
Magick Moste Evile,
                          
Secrets of the Darkest Art,
                          
and one in particular that sparked my interest; 
                          
Advanced Apparition; Vanishing Cabinets and Floo Networks. 
                          
I remembered seeing this exact copy in Draco's dorm that morning after Christmas, thinking he must've had it out of Hogwarts library. Thinking he must've had a weird interest in Vanishing Cabinets and Floo Networks. 
                          
Though, looking back now, it all seemed almost too obvious. 
                          
"You're awake." 
                          
I turned around abruptly, startled, but not in a position to let whoever just walked into the room know. 
                          
Her voice was soothing, but that didn't mean she would be just as kind as she sounded. The woman seemed familiar, somehow, but at the same time, I knew I'd never seen her before. 
                          
"I apologise for the- well, the complications," She continued, still standing in the doorway. To my relief, it didn't seem like she was planning on actually stepping into the room. "I do hope waking up here was more pleasant than the circumstances of why you've been asleep for the past few days."
                          
Her eyes darted over to the bed, though my brows just furrowed; eyes still on her as if staring at her would somehow answer all my questions. 
                          
The way her voice sounded didn't at all match her exterior. Her gaze was icy, her brown eyes free from any emotions she might've been feeling. Her lips were formed into a straight line; the red lipstick the only colour her face revealed.