Alexandra Dursley {Golden Trio}

Chapter 122 - Pink Carnations

:)

 Al was in the library revising for her Alchemy exam when the bell for dinner went. A few of the students cleared out, but it was only five o'clock, and she wasn't particularly hungry yet - she usually waited until the last half an hour before dinner finished, when the Great Hall was quieter and she had more of an appetite.

 She continued to write out the method for the Battersea technique when Anne and Marlene rushed in glancing around. Al knew something was wrong, as their looks mirrored those of the Weasley twins when Harry had had a quidditch accident in their third year. Al had stuffed her revision materials in her bag and stood up before they could even reach her table. "What is it?" Al asked urgently, though keeping her voice low.

 "Potter and Malfoy had a fight," Anne said, "In the fourth-floor boys bathrooms - they nearly killed each other. He's in the hospital wing."

 "Oh, Merlin," Al said, her chest filling with dread and worry. And then an unmistakable anger that she reserved for occasions such as this. "Where's Malfoy now?" she demanded ferociously.

 The two girls' faces fell, and Al knew something was even more wrong. "Malfoy's in the hospital wing," Marlene said quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder, "Potter attacked him." Al sat back into her chair, numb with disbelief and confusion, her legs somehow refusing to work.

 "Will Malfoy be okay?" Al asked quietly, looking up into the confused eyes of Anne and the pitiful eyes of Marlene.

 "Snape left the hospital wing to go to dinner just as we passed it to tell you," Anne said, "So probably, yes."

 "Right," Al said, fumbling for her bag strap and pulling it onto her shoulder, "Thanks, you two, I really appreciate it." Al left the library, her mind whirring, feeling numb with worry and confusion from her head to her toes. She had no destination, only her thoughts. Harry attacked Malfoy. He could've died. And then they would have never been able to make things right between them. But Malfoy was a Death Eater. He was trying to kill Dumbledore. He had almost killed Ron and Bell, and had come close to Bell's friend, and Slughorn, and Harry too.

 Al stopped, looking around and wondering where in the castle she was. One door from a set of double doors was propped open to her right, and when she looked in it appeared to be the hospital wing. Neatly made beds lined the sides, and the setting sun poured in through the tall arched windows. All was quiet - not a sound could be heard. It felt like someone had died, like in the hallways of Grimmauld Place. She spied a bed with the curtains drawn around it, before turning around and heading to the alcove.

 "He's sleeping," a cool voice said from the doorway behind her, "And he doesn't have any visitors. They left for dinner." Al turned around and saw Madame Pomfrey stood in the door looking at her intently and calmly. "You can come in if you like."

 Al nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat, and following the matron into the hospital wing and down the ward. The strong smell of disinfectant and cleanliness filled her nose, slightly overwhelming at first. Pomfrey pulled one of the curtains to the side and Al stepped past her.

 She heard the curtain drop behind her and footsteps fading away. Malfoy's blond head poked out from beneath the sheets, resting neatly on the crisp pillow, with the rest of his body tucked away. He looked pale - paler than usual anyway. Five chairs scattered the area around his bed, but Al didn't sit down in one. She stood, rooted to the spot and staring.

 His bedside table was littered with half-empty bottles and vials of potions, a full jug of water, and an empty glass. It looked clinical and barren and made Al feel a little bit sick. "Orchideous," she mumbled, and a bunch of pink carnations sprang from her wand. She placed them in the jug of water, fumbling with them until she was happy with the arrangement, before sitting in the chair closest to her and putting her wand back in her pocket.

 Al reached out and held his hand gently in hers, rubbing the back of it gently with her thumb. A single tear dropped down and splashed onto the floor. "I'm sorry this happened to us," she whispered, swallowing the lump in her throat, "I'm sorry things turned out this way."

 She was vaguely aware of footsteps heading her way, but only acknowledged them when the curtain was drawn back, and she hastily dropped his hand looking around for the source of the disturbance. Narcissa Malfoy stood in the opening, staring horror-struck at her son lying almost lifelessly on the bed. Snape and Madame Pomfrey stood behind her, looking at Al with faint curiosity.

 Al's stomach felt heavy, and her breaths became sharper at the sight of his mother. She had watched, without intervention, as Al was tortured until she begged for death. She had allowed her husband to secure her capture once, and fail once again, as he tried to kill the people she now knew as friends. When she had once felt comfortable in their home, she now loathed them with every fibre of her being. And with her appearance came a reminder of all that Snape had put her through.

 And yet, when Mrs Malfoy looked upon her only son, it was distinctive fear that filled her usually emotionless face. Al stood up to leave, and Narcissa's eyes shifted to her, a faint frown line forming between her brows. Yet her hand did not twitch to her wand, and nor did Al's.

 "I won't say anything," Al promised hoarsely, "Not here."

 Narcissa swallowed and nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. "Thank you."

 Al moved past her, past Snape and Pomfrey and was halfway to the door when Narcissa's voice carried softly down the ward. "Pink carnations?" Al turned around at her curious face and nodded slowly and stiffly. Narcissa looked taken-aback, then pitiful, then grateful. "Thank you," she said again. Al nodded silently and headed to dinner, feeling as though she probably wouldn't be able to stomach much.