WILD FLOWERS ✿ d.malfoy

13.

The past four days have been pretty similar. Class, friends, detention and fight. Fight and more fight. All against myself.

Neither Caelum or Carina nor Tracy know about the punishment I'm receiving. Neither do Hermione or Ron, as Harry tells me.

I walk towards her classroom, for the last time. It's Friday, last detention. Harry walks beside me silently.

"Last detention, eh?" he tries to sound jolly. I appreciate his attempt but make no effort to respond.

He goes quite; I feel his gaze on me. I quicken my pace.

"Are you okay?" he asks me. We're in front of Umbridge's office now. I turn to face him. His emerald eyes are wide, worried. I look away.

"Are you?" I open the door and take my seat as usual. Umbridge says nothing, just sits there and sips her tea. I write and write and write and write and finally feel like I can control something in my life.

Everything is a whirlwind at this moment. And I'm in the eye of the storm but somehow I'm also the shock waves travelling through the crust and the tides that destroy and weapons that maim.

"That's enough," she says. Umbridge walks over examining my hand. I don't look up at she waves her wand and clears all the blood on the carpet and table. I feel dizzy. Was there even a need to say that?

"These have done you good," she touches my hand, looking up expectantly. For what? A reaction. I'm not giving her the satisfaction. I keep a straight face, the pain shoots up my arm and I feel like wacking her with it.

"You may leave," she says, leaning back. I hastily get up, trying my hardest to keep steady on my legs.

I leave first, Harry in tow. "Celestia," he breathes, I wobble, "wait."

I feel like I'm floating. My head feels light, and my limbs feel lead. My vision is obscured, by what, I don't know.

"Celestia," Harry calls. I didn't realise I was running. The other way. I turn too quickly; my feet lift of the ground and I feel like I'm falling through time.

Harry is quick to catch me, preventing me from getting a concussion. He shakes me frantically. I can't feel my left hand.

"I have to get you to the hospital wing," he supports me up. The hospital wing? But I'll heal then. I don't want to heal. I don't want to live.

"That's right," Rosie says coldly, "That's the right path."

"Is it?"

"Suffer," she shouts. "Suffering is all you have. You should just die."

"Celestia, Celestia!" Harry is frantic now. I can't feel myself. I feel the cold stone against my back; I'm on the ground again. "No, no, stay with me."

"I'm right here," I whisper.

"Good," He holds my hand, "you've lost too much blood. I need to –"

"What about –" I try to lift my head. The world is spinning. I fall back to the ground. "–about your h-hand?"

"My hand is fine," I feel his arms underneath me, lifting me up.

"You're going to -" I heave for breaths. "loose t-too much b-lood."

"Please," I feel his chest heaving against my head, 'bout the only thing I feel. "Just stay with me."

I don't feel like it. I don't want to.

I feel my consciousness slipping away rapidly. I do nothing to stop it.