WILD FLOWERS ✿ d.malfoy

31.

There's a note on my bedside table when I wake up. Opening it, I see Hermione's neat cursive scrawl.

Dear Celestia,

Meet up tomorrow, Hog's Head at one pm. And about the fight, Harry will talk to you later. See you.

Hermione

I rub my eyes and get up. It's seven o' clock. How did I sleep in that long? Probably extra exhaustion and the sleeping potion. I open the glass bottle and pour five milliliters of the Draught of Peace and chug it down.

"Get up," I shake Carina. She rolls over and covers her head with a pillow. I sigh and look up. Smirking, I levitate a giant ball of water (my powers guys) over both Carina and Tracy.

Keeping my arms outstretched to control them, I inch towards the door knowing I'll need a fast escape. Three, two and one. I drop my hands to the side; the ball crashes onto the poor girls.

They shriek so loud the windows break. I laugh running away to the safety of the common room. I hear their screams from here. Everyone who is awake either thinks someone died or that someone is being tortured.

I crash onto the armchair, still laughing. I'm glad I got ready, there's no going back to my dorm.

I'm sitting in the Great hall, silently munching my granola bar when I hear them approaching. Uh oh. They're running straight for me. I would have been a fool to sit there and expect them to just do nothing, so I run.

I run around the hall, climbing on benches, knocking people aside, running on the table; all the while laughing like an absolute maniac as they try and fail to catch me.

"Celestia Morgana, you're going to die!" Carina shrieks as she climbs on the Hufflepuff table. Everyone instinctively pulls their plates aside, clearing a path for her.

"No, I'm not," I laugh, running to the other side, in between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaws.

I'm roaring with laughter not giving a damn about what people think when Tracy screams in pain. I stop, horrified, and race over to her; she's on the other side of the Gryffindor table. Lying on the floor. Bleeding.

"TRACY!" My heart is in my throat. My stomach seems to have gone stones. I lift her head and rest it on my lap. She's bleeding. A lot. Her eyes are shut tight, she's whimpering. Taking shallow and fast breaths.

Everything seems to be moving in slow-motion. I can't fully fathom anything. I can see things but all I see is her blood. Blood and more blood and blood everywhere. Blood on my hands. Blood staining me.

No No No. Please. Hold on.

I whip the scarf from around my neck and hold it to her wound. It drenches almost immediately. I'm thankful for my instincts, because they have saved me when I couldn't think straight. And they can quite possibly save Tracy.

I conjure up a stretcher and Carina and Caelum and quite possibly the whole of Slytherin helps. The seventh years perform some complex healing charms while some of them support the four sides of the stretcher and run towards the hospital wing. A few people act as barriers clearing a path for them to take.

Carina is crying. And I am incensed.

I get up, my hands are shaking. They're hot. Red hot. The air seems to have gone thicker – just by a little. But I'm not calming myself down.

I turn around. I can imagine how I look. I'm drenched in blood from neck to knee, eyes wide and murderous. Blood on my hands and face and neck.

There he's standing. Seamus Finnigan. A look of utter horror in his eyes. He tries to inch away as I approach him.

"You," I grab onto his collar shaking him violently. Fire is burning in my veins. Lava is drowning me. I press my wand into his throat. "You absolute fucking -!"

I'm blasted backwards. My back collides with the Slytherin table and pains shoots up. Pain and agony. I feel it like a bang. It's all over me. It's burning me. It's pure agonizing traumatic pain that makes me wish for death.

I let out a scream. And another. A pure bloodcurdling scream. There's blood. Everywhere. And this time, it's mine.

My head is spinning and the world seems to be blotting. My jaw hip spine neck head nose eyes jaw everything hurts. That pain is killing me.

I feel their hands; I hear frantic voices and screams and shouts, but I can't get up. I can't open my eyes. I can't move. I'm blinded by pain. It's too much. Too much. I can't fight it. I can't take it.

"You thought that you could kill people and have no consequences," Rosemary cackles. "It' your time to suffer."

"Again."

I feel myself shutting down. I feel my thoughts slowing down. I whimper.

I fight to remain conscious.

And fail.

--a/n--

Oooo, let the suspense build up.
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Pramiti xx