magnolia ~ h. potter

forty-six

CHAPTER 46

[ DO YOU EVER THINK ABOUT DYING? ]

________________________

"OH THANK GOD you're awake,"

The first thing Emily registered when she came to is that it smelled stuffy. It was the same smell every single grandmother's closet reeked of. She opened her eyes, only to find herself staring up at a very low, wooden ceiling. Suddenly, a familiar face appeared in her vision, leaning over her.

"I thought I'd dosed you wrong," said Draco Malfoy, relief written all over his features.

"That hurt," Emily croaked, and he let gave a small smile as he helped her sit up.

"I heard it can be unpleasant," he said bashfully, "But it was the only thing I could think of,"

"What exactly did you do?" she asked, as she took in her surroundings. She was in what appeared to be a small attic, and Draco was kneeling by her side, bowing his head slightly to stop it from grazing the ceiling. Strangely enough, the small room was empty except for the pile of blankets she was lying on.

"Draught of living death," he said, "I'm sorry I made you think you were going to die, Emily, I really am, but I had to make it believable. I only stunned you, and then I gave you some of the potion. I only came back for you later, when everybody had gone to sleep,"

Emily frowned. "You knew it was me?"

"From the first moment you looked at me," Draco admitted, "I recognized your eyes. . . the hazel and the gold specks are pretty unmistakable,"

"Gold specks?" Emily asked, confused. She had never cared much about her eyes, they had always just been brown. Emily could remember how fervently she wished they were a more striking color when she was younger, and how many things she had tried to change them.

Draco nodded. "I would know them anywhere, if I'm honest. It was always the most striking thing about you. I wasn't completely sure at first, I thought maybe I'd made it up in my head. But then I saw the scars on your arms, and you said that thing about the walls. . . I knew you were the only one I had ever said that to,"

Emily struggled to process the information. "Where am I?"

"Still in the Manor. A couple of years ago, I found a sliding panel in the back of my closet. . . guess my Grandfather really was paranoid in his last years. I found this room and nobody knew about it in my family so I kept it that way. Never knew it could be so useful," he said, and Emily tried to sit up straighter, but let out a sharp breath as pain shot through her arm. Draco had bandaged the wound, but Emily could still see the image of the dark mark carved into her skin burned into her mind.

Draco followed her line of sight, before bowing his head.

"I'm really, really sorry I didn't do anything sooner, that I just let them hurt you. . . I'm sorry about everything I ever did, Emily," he said, his voice pained, "I know you must hate me right now and you want out of here as soon as possible, but you can't leave, not until you've healed. After that. . . I'll help you go anywhere you want,"

There was a moment of silence, before Emily spoke. "I don't hate you, Draco,"

Draco looked up at her surprise.

It was true. At one point last year, Emily might've believed she hated him after he had told Harry about her assault. But, Draco had saved her life, at great personal risk, and that wasn't something she could ignore, "I can't pretend what you did last year wasn't unacceptable, but. . . you saved my life, you're hiding me, you're even healing me. We were friends once, Draco . . . and hate is a strong word,"