Bad Blood: A Dramione Fanfiction

Chapter Nineteen

Hermione

Arcturo Dogton arrives within ten minutes and urges us to leave the room. Madam Pomfrey, McGonagall, and I stand just outside of the doors of the Hospital Wing. The two beside me are talking- whether to me or to each other, I don't know- about Draco. His sudden relapse has scared all of us.

"I cannot fathom the reason as to why he would decline once again," Madam Pomfrey sighs, flipping through the pages of a medicinal book.

"Nor can I," McGonagall concurs, staring down the corridor, "Do you know anything, Miss Granger?"

I can hear that she asked me something, but it doesn't register in my mind. Therefore, I just continue glaring at the floor, almost like I think that if I glare hard enough, my problems will vanish. It doesn't work, of course. I suddenly become very aware of their eyes on me.

"No, ma'am," I mumble, shaking my head. I feel deflated. For just a few moments, I was truly happy: Draco was awake, and he was okay. But now he's slipped from my grasp once again, and nobody knows what to do about it.

"If things continue as they are now," McGonagall says, "he will have to go home."

I jerk my head up to look at her. "He doesn't have a home to go to." I retort.

"Surely he has somewhere to go. Doesn't he have an apartment?" Madam Pomfrey pipes in.

"Yes, but sending him there wouldn't solve anything."

"And how do you conclude that, Miss Granger?" McGonagall inquires, crossing her arms.

"Sending him home would be just the same as sending him to die," I explain bravely, "He doesn't have anyone to take care of him. He doesn't have a family anymore. Just give it a week, and he'd be gone- for good, this time." Neither Madam Pomfrey or McGonagall say anything. I maintain eye contact, trying to seem confident. Draco will not be sent home if I have anything to do with it.

In the next few minutes, Arcturo emerges from the doorway quite a few times, offering trivial updates on Draco's health. He tells us of almost everything he does and how Draco reacted to it. He gave him a potion, his breathing slowed; he covered him in a blanket, his shivering stopped. After we have been standing outside for almost an hour, he appears again and motions for us to come inside.

"He's awake." He claims as we walk towards the far side of the room where Draco is.

"He doesn't look like it." I argue, crossing my arms. Arcturo gives me a pointed look before continuing.

"He's conscious, rather. He's just asleep now."

Draco just lays there, his chest slowly rising and falling. Color has returned to his face. Despite the good news, I am reluctant to feel hopeful. I remind myself that this has happened before, and look where I am now.

"What happened to him?" McGonagall asks the question I cannot seem to get out. The Healer scratches his head.

"I must know some background information before I decide," He declares, "How did he act before he passed out?" McGonagall is about to speak, but I beat her to it.

"He was fine, completely fine. McGon- The Headmistress began to ask him a few questions, and it looked like the harder he thought, the more distant he got. He threw up, sat down in that corner," I point to the wall on the opposite side of the room, "and passed out."

Arcturo thinks for a moment, twirling the end of his beard. He looks at all of us in turn, and after a minute passes, he finally speaks.

"Aha!" He exclaims in a true elderly wizard fashion, "I know just what's going on."