Disclaimer: I do not and never will own any part of the Harry Potter Universe!
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He felt that hand- was it really a hand? - move into his chest- it was like a burning flame sweeping through his body. He felt himself start to shake as fire seemed to pump from his heart and heat coursed though his veins. When the force left him, he fell to his knees, still violently shaking.
“I am finished with him. Bring me her blood, now,” an icy voice said from somewhere behind Draco. He shuddered, wondering what was happening. Slowly, he turned around to watch the rest of the ritual.
He gasped at what he saw next. Floating above a blazing fire was some kind of swirling cloudy form- something that looked very much like a ghost of himself. Draco shook his head, trying to clear some of the dizziness. How could he be hovering over a fire if he was lying back here on the ground?
“Maybe I’m dead,” he sputtered to himself. With a monumental effort, he kept his eyes open. He heard a cracking noise, like the breaking of glass. Then he saw trails of red liquid snaking through the air, creeping towards the ghostly figure. Slowly, the liquid flowed through the wispy shape, giving it some kind of spidery skeletal form. The icy voice whispered, “From the essence of my kindred and the blood of my enemy, let life come to end death.”
Suddenly, the fire roared, its flames extending up into the night sky. Draco wanted to close his eyes to the searing brightness. But he found that he couldn’t look away. Mesmerized, he watched as the Dark Lord reached into the fire and pulled out a screaming infant.
With that, he felt a huge spasm in his heart and passed out.
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Awakened and drenched in sweat, Draco reached for the glass of water by his bed. His hands trembled as he drank the cool water. He was always so parched after this particular nightmare. He fumbled around for his wand in the dark. “Lumos” he said, when he’d found it. “Accio Louisa’s picture.” The framed picture zoomed from where it was hidden within the top drawer of his dresser. Lovingly, he looked at the picture of his daughter- she’d grown so much since she’d been born on the night of Voldemort’s ritual.