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A part of her died just a few minutes ago. It's like a Cruciatus has been set upon her heart. Like someone tore out her stomach and intestines, twisted them, and then stuffed them back inside of her once again. Her dinner found its way out of her mouth. She vomited violently, her cheeks flushing. And when she was done, her stomach felt empty and hallow – just like her heart. She choked on her breath and staggered backwards when the contents of the letter she received echoed inside her head once again.
Then, she ran.
She ran as fast as her legs could carry her. She ran blindly, turning randomly to the left or right at the corners that cross her path. She bumped into many bodies, and she ignored their shocked or angry shouts. She sprinted, the only sound she could hear where her loud and fast footsteps and her panting. She sucked in as much oxygen as she can while she went, breathing quick and hard. She went on for a full five minutes and she never once felt tired. She did not stop even when she heard the yells of her friends. She did not stop even when she heard Harry and Ron going after her. She did not stop even when her best friends stopped and let her be. She did not stop because either way, nothing can be changed.
She continued to dash down a corridor and she found herself smacking head first into someone who groaned when her head made contact with the person's chest. The impact pushed both of them to the cold, hard floor of the castle. The person she landed on gave a shout of pain as his head slammed hard against the ground, already seeming to cause a bump. But she could not find herself bothering to care. With her head on the stranger's chest, she finally wept.
"Get of me!" the boy ordered. She would have known his voice if she had only listened but her sadness drowned out all the sound in the world, and it was only her and her sorrow.
"Move!" the stranger said louder this time, attempting to sit up, but her head was in the way. Irritation growing, the boy gritted his teeth together. She had crossed the line when she had made a dark, damp spot on his robes.
"I'm – I'm sorry," she choked out, attempting to stand. But she fell onto the ground beside the boy, her legs now weak and tired from the non-stop running. She sobbed harder and curled into a foetal position. The crying girl did not let out a sound other than her sobs. She just could not care.
The boy stood up quickly and gracefully, and then brushed off the dust on his robes. He sent a quick glance at the girl lying on the filthy ground beside him and then at the damp spot on his chest. He cringed but stopped himself. The sight of her so fragile, broken and helpless on the floor made his heart shudder. He had never seen her at this state before. She had always been so full of life, intelligence, angst and ferocity. Never like this. The fire in her soul was blown out. He considered casting a sleeping charm on her and send her up to the Hospital Wing, but that's just a very unlike him thing to do. He would have blurted out a string of insults her way, but what's the use when she's already hurt enough or when no one was there to witness his malice? Even though he was a cold person, he was not all heartless. There were limits. He hesitantly took a few steps away from her, and then walked off, never looking back.
"Granger, get a grip of yourself," he muttered softly, but loud enough for her to hear.
And that was enough for her to open her eyes at the sound of her name and lift her head to glance at the boy's direction.
The boy was Draco Malfoy.