Bad Blood: A Dramione Fanfiction

Chapter Fifteen

Hermione

Sometimes, when something's wrong, you can tell. It's a feeling that emerges in the pit of your stomach, signaling that something isn't right. Over the years, I've learned to trust that feeling, and it is that feeling that leads me down the deserted corridor now. It's very early in the morning, so the castle is dimly lit. However, I don't have any trouble navigating through it; I know Hogwarts like the back of my hand.

Even though it's only been a few hours, I miss Draco terribly. He needs to be okay, and he needs to wake up. I miss his smirk, his laugh, even the solemn look he frequently wears.

It's amazing how someone can go from your enemy to your world in such a short amount of time. All these little details I never noticed before I loved him suddenly came into view: the way he blinks excessively when he's nervous, how he shuffles his feet when he's feeling particularly sheepish, how he rubs his hands together when he's happy. And the fact that there's a chance I could never see any of this again fills me with great anguish.

Why did this have to happen? Draco doesn't deserve this. This whole situation reminds me of something my mother always told me: Everything can collapse in the blink of an eye. It's how you build it back up that counts. Which, in this instance, means all of the things I will have to do to somewhat fix this incident: find out who did it, do everything I can do to help Draco, and cheer him up when he wakes up. Because he will, and I cannot doubt it.

As I open the doors to the hospital wing, my certainty seems to fade away. I immediately spot three people huddled over a bed in the far corner. My knees seem to weaken, but nonetheless, I run over there.

"What's going on?" I ask, my voice shaking. No one turns around or answers me. My stomach twists into a knot.

"What's going on?" I shout, pushing through them. Draco is lying on the bed, paler than I've ever seen anyone. The wound has not improved either, and he is still not awake. Frustration and anxiety rise from deep within me, and I want to collapse.

"Is he okay?" I ask as if I don't already know the answer. Madam Pomfrey, Arcturo Dogton, and Professor McGonagall all look up at me, their eyes showing a mix of seriousness and pain.

"No," McGonagall sighs, and they all look back down at him.

Please, please be alive.

I get on my knees beside the bed. I almost have to force myself to look at his face, but I do, and I see that his eyes are open. Hope fills my heart. My eyes fill with tears, but no one says anything. It's just silence until a slow, raspy sound emits from Draco. His eyes land on me.

"You're here," I say, barely audible, since that's all I can muster. A slightly noticeable smile appears on his face. The others keep their eyes firmly planted upon him, but mine drifts to his wound. Blood has started flowing steadily from it, dying the already-stained sheets an even darker shade of red.

"Arcturo," I yell, looking up at him, "help him!" But he just slowly shakes his head, keeping his gaze upon Draco. Finally, I look back at Draco. He's still looking at me, and he's still smiling. But when I smile back, his eyelids drift down ever so slowly, until they are completely closed. His body turns to stone. For a few seconds, I stare at him in disbelief until I finally register what just happened. When I do, I cup his face in my hands.

"Draco?" I whisper, his skin cold and lifeless under my hand. Then, my mind seems to confirm it. He's gone. I suddenly stand up. "Draco!" I scream, backing up. "DRACO, NO!"

The three people crowd around his bed to prevent me from seeing him. My world is spinning. Thoughts upon thoughts run through my head, but then there's nothing. Nothing at all. I fall backwards, and I feel a sharp pain in my forehead. Everything goes black, and I plunge into a world of nothingness.