Disclaimer: I want Draco. Too bad he's property of the lovely J.K. Rowling. But that's what my head is for! Enjoy.
Ch. 29
It was dark, and something was prodding me.
"Mate?" I heard a deep, familiar male voice say. They jabbed me in the shoulder again, and I groaned. I wished they would stop.
"Mate!" They said again, sounding a little more urgent.
That's it. My eyes forced themselves open crankily, and I looked up to tell them off. Still drowsy from sleep, I looked up to see my intruder.
What the ruddy hell?
Blaise was looking over me, his hand still against my shoulder blade from trying to prod me awake. Now I knew why that voice had sounded so familiar.
"Blaise?" I croaked. There was something off with my throat. It felt raw and scratchy, as if I was sick. Now that I thought of it, my hearing seemed a bit off as well, like I had been underwater. I looked up curiously at Blaise again. His head was bowed slightly, and he seemed to be breathing harshly.
"What's going on?" I asked him, and out of nowhere, the urge to laugh became present.
I didn't.
"I've just had to shake you awake." He replied, sarcasm hanging lightly onto his words. I smirked, propping myself onto my elbows. "And why was that?"
Blaise took in another loud breath and shook his head. He seemed as if he wanted to smirk too, and I could see the natural curve of his lips bend up faintly.
"Because you were nearly screaming your head off. Thrashing around quite a bit too." He added.
The smirk slid off of my face. I cleared my throat painfully. Well that explained a few things, didn't it?
"What?"
Blaise shrugged, but the look in his eyes showed that he was serious, and above all, concerned. He moved to the armchair a few paces away from where I was, facing me. Had I really been screaming that loudly? I had obviously been thrashing, I could tell that by the way Blaise's body was slouched against the chair, looking tired and downbeat.
"Yeah. I guess you were just having some really freaky nightmare…like the ones from the summer you used to tell me about." He muttered, his hand running over his shorn hair.
Nightmares.
During the summer, they had been hell to endure. I would have one every night, filled with screaming, torturous voices, flashes of me writhing in pain, being tortured –
But that was what happened during my days at home for the summer. Malfoy Manor was my worst fear when my father was present, and had been so since the summer after third year. Especially since the Dark Lord had decided to use our house as headquarters for all of his Death Eater's gatherings…
Blaise knew about all of this, of course. He was aware of my nightmares, the torture, everything. He knew that my father abused my mother with the Imperius curse, that he craved to see right with the Dark Lord again since failing to retrieve the prophecy during my fifth year, and attempted to do so by using me as a puppet, flailing me around for the Dark Lord's needs. Voldemort had once wanted Blaise to recruit as a Death Eater, as his mother had been linked to many powerful men, all of whom, had ended up dead. He didn't give in though.
Blaise had been given a choice, unlike me.
Although I didn't remember anything, I trusted him. I sighed, frowning. My eyes still ached from their abrupt awakening. I had thought the nightmares had disappeared. I hadn't had one since the first week of school, since I had met Hermione in the bathroom. Ever since then, the only seemingly disturbing dreams I had had were of her, but those had disappeared long ago as well, hadn't they? At the thought of her, I wondered what time it was. I looked around, for the first time since I had awoken. We were in my room. When had we gotten here?
I turned to Blaise, who was still sitting resignedly in my armchair.
"What time is it?"
"Nine twenty-three."
She would still be awake. I had the strangest urge to run to her, find her, ask her why this was happening. She knew everything, didn't she? I laughed inwardly. But how would she know? She didn't know anything about my nightmares. Blaise's eyebrow rose.
"Why are you smiling?" He wondered. I hadn't realized I had been doing so. Tentatively, I raised my fingers to my lips and traced over them. They brushed against my teeth. I must've been smiling largely.
I cleared my throat. "No reason. When did we get here?"
Blaise scoffed skeptically, but dropped the subject and answered my question. "Wow, you must not remember anything. Have you been drinking?" It must've been a rhetorical question, because he spoke again before I could shake my head no. "Well I suppose a recap is in order. After our last class, we talked about your whole little Granger issue, and then went to dinner. We came here to your room about an hour later, just to chill, and you said that you were going to put your head down because you weren't feeling well. You started murmuring and I thought you were just talking in your sleep…I was getting ready to leave when not five minutes in you started hollering your head off. You were thrashing and sweating and then you just screamed…I had to wake you up after that." He finished, and he looked so concerned that it seemed unnatural.
I shuddered. I felt guilty for letting Blaise see all of that. Although he was aware of my nightmares, that didn't mean I wanted him to witness me having one. This had happened once before, when he had stayed over at my house for a few days the summer of fifth year. He had had to call the house elf to wake me up, and I had apologized for letting him see it. My nightmares were something private.
I didn't know whether to apologize or thank him.
It was quiet for a few moments, and in the dimly lit room, I could see Blaise looking impassive in his chair. He had apparently turned the lights off before attempting to leave, and only a small lamp lit the room. I cleared my throat.
"What did I say, Blaise?"
My voice was still croaky and dry, and I regretting talking the moment I felt it.
"Sorry?"
"In the dream, I mean", I continued. "Do you remember what I said?"
Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Oh, nothing really. For the majority of the time you just mumbled and screamed."
I let out a sigh of relief. No surprise there.
But apparently Blaise wasn't done talking. "Well…there was one thing you did say." He said, looking slightly guilty.
I nearly choked.
"What?" I said, as urgently as I could, and my voice nearly cracked again. There was strange buzzing in my ears. "What did I say?"
Blaise shrugged. "Well you said something that sounded like a name. But you were yelling – I could be mistaken…you also said something about 'not her. Please not her.' You kept repeating that."
I buried my face in my hands. There was silence again; I didn't make an effort to get rid of it.
Not her?
Why could I have possibly said that? I wish I could've remembered at least a sliver of the dream –
Without warning, a pang of nausea hit my stomach, and the buzzing in my ears became ever more prominent. Confused, I attempted to look at Blaise again, but I couldn't. My eyes were starting to blur over.
It was as if fire was crawling up through me, seeping through my veins, and into my throat. I heard myself hiss in pain. I bit back a moan. Maybe I had woken up too abruptly, I thought, trying to convince myself that this was normal.
But no, no, this wasn't normal at all. My fingers were trembling at the amount of pain that was mysteriously beginning to plague my body.
What was happening?
"Draco?" I heard Blaise call out from a few feet away, but in my position, his voice seemed oddly farther than that. "You don't look so well. Maybe you should go to the Hospital Wing."
"No." I managed to reply through gritted teeth. "I'm fine, really."
The urge to grasp my stomach was beginning to become unbearable. Blaise's unnaturally concerned face returned, along with a tiny, almost invisible smirk.
"You don't seem too sure about that mate. It's probably just something you ate at dinner."
I nodded my head jerkily.
As my body heat increased, the rest of it became a blur. Something rose in my stomach, and before I could protest, I was running towards my small bathroom, and my head was plastered against the toilet seat.
I had barely managed to take a breath before I wretched horribly, bringing up acidic sick that burned my throat and made my eyes water. My whole body heaved and my hands went up to grip the base of the toilet before I vomited again. Tears were streaming out of my eyes.
Everything seemed fuzzy, uncoordinated, and somewhere farther off I could hear Blaise calling my name. After a few moments that felt like months, years even, my body had seemed to have gotten rid of whatever had been disturbing it, and I collapsed against toilet seat, panting and shuddering. I closed my eyes for a few moments, trying to will away the still slightly there pain in my now empty stomach, and the acidic taste that remained on my throat and tongue.
My mind was fuzzed, and somewhere, I could hear the prominent sound of hissing.
Strange.
I didn't make the effort to clean myself up when Blaise entered my bathroom, but instead, I simply looked up at him with estranged eyes. I resisted the sick urge to laugh again. I couldn't trace it either. Blaise looked down at me, tut-tutting and shaking his head, his arms deftly crossed over one another.
"Oh yeah. A visit to the Hospital Wing is definitely in order."
VVVVV
I had waited till early Thursday morning to go to the Hospital Wing, so that way I wouldn't be seen or questioned.
All of the students were still in their beds, warm and drowsy, not having to wake up for classes until about two more hours. There were some teachers around, prepping for their classes, and they hadn't questioned me either.
Alone and nauseated, I walked to the Hospital Wing in the light of the dawn that shone down the halls through the stained-glass windows. My stomach quivered uncomfortably, and my hands shifted to it.
I had thought this would've gone away by now.
It had been nearly ten hours since I had gotten sick, but whatever it was, it refused to leave my body. I had tried spells, Muggle remedies, anything I could remember that cured sicknesses, but they didn't help. None of them had.
I had only managed to slightly dull the pain by taking two Muggle painkillers with a cup of tea. I frowned as my stomach went through spasms again. Trying to take my mind off of the nearly mind blowing pain, I counted the stones on the floor as I walked.
Nearly there, I thought determinedly.
One, two, three…
I wondered what Madam Pomfrey would diagnose me with. I wondered if it would be as bad as I was starting to think it was. Why hadn't I been able to figure it out myself?
Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…
What if I was too sick to attend classes? Or to tend to my duties as Head Girl? My stomach nearly cramped again at the thought of losing my title due to some bloody sickness. I imagined how guilty I would feel if Draco would have to take on both positions by himself until they found a suitable substitute or god forbid, replacement. I didn't like the fact that someone would have to replace me either, thus taking away the friendship Draco and I had built under such difficult circumstances.
That to me would be one of the worst parts of my resigning, and I couldn't help the indescribable, bubbling feeling of jealousy that came with the thoughts of him interacting with another Head Girl, one that wasn't me.
Thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven…
I hated how conceited and selfish that me sound.
However, it was the truth, and the truth was always better than the unrealistic.
That was just the way life worked, I supposed.
Before I could count sixty steps, I was standing at the doors of the Hospital Wing. I smiled, eager to get help for my ailing stomach, and I pushed open one of the large, wooden doors as silently as I could.
With the door quietly creaking to a close behind me, I surveyed the large place. It was dimly lit, only by the light of the morning, and a fire crackled in the fireplace a few meters away. It was warm in here, and cozy. My eyes rested upon Madam Pomfrey's desk, and when I saw that she wasn't there, I wondered if she, like the students, was still asleep. My stomach shifted uncomfortably at the thought of the painful wait I would have to endure before receiving medical attention.
Slowly, I walked my way into the Wing. The hospital beds were empty as it was too early for patients, and only sound in the room was the chirping of the birds outside and the crackling of the fire. I decided it would be best to check Madam Pomfrey's office, which resided at the back of the Hospital Wing.
As I walked towards the back of the spacious rooms, I surveyed the beds again, just to see if anyone was checked in. So far, by the neatness of the beds, it looked as if no one had been here in the past few days. I kept on walking, and as I did, I saw that I was mistaken.
Far off, in one of the last beds in the room laid a tall, pale boy with shockingly white blond hair.
My heart skipped a beat, and immediately, just like in class yesterday, my conscious fleeted with worry. I wished it was someone else, but the evidence was so obvious it was hard to lie to myself. It couldn't be him.
It couldn't be.
As strong as my urge was to run to Draco, I didn't. The pain in my stomach wouldn't allow me to. Instead, I quietly hurried over to his bed. From my view, only side of his face was visible, as his body was covered by a thick, blue fleece blanket, the top of his blonde head protruding from throw, giving him the odd look of a stuffed puppet. I stopped directly at the edge of his bed, and my fingers gripped the bedpost at the foot of his bed as I anxiously looked him over.
He seemed paler than usual, not the pure, creamy tone he usually was, but instead a blotchy white, his skin tinged with hints of purple and grey. His lips were flushed, along with his cheeks, and even when he was ill, he still managed to look incredibly attractive. I stepped closer to him, and before I knew it, his head was at level with my waist, only a few inches away.
As he slept, I took in his visage. His head had tilted slightly to the side, giving him the look of a curious, innocent, sleep ridden child. I felt a small smile creep up against my lips as I looked at him. Underneath the blanket, which was tucked underneath his chin, I could see his chest rising rhythmically with each breath that he inhaled and exhaled. His eyebrows were furrowed slightly, and I resisted the urge to smooth them out against my fingers and brush away the stray strands of blonde from his face into his already bed tousled hair. Content, I watched for a bit longer and began taking in the minor details of his features, like the way his light eyelashes dusted over his cheeks as he slept, and the way his long fingers curled slightly when they would accidentally emerge from their confines in the blanket. He had the hands of a pianist, and although it seemed odd, I somehow relished in the fact that we had something in common. Looking at his fingers brought back memories of cold winters and hot summers spent at home with my parents, where I would sit in the family room and play the piano for hours on end.
Somewhere in my subconscious, there was the need to hold his hand.
I didn't know how many minutes I stood there, just watching him. I didn't bother to count either.
All I knew was that as I looked at him, albeit asleep, he still managed to bring me comfort that I hadn't felt in days. Weeks even.
Just as I had been about to reach out and touch the blanket covering his body, my fingers nearly inches away from the fleece, Madam Pomfrey presented herself with a large and cheery greeting, breaking the barrier of peace and sensibility that I had managed to conjure while looking at the sleeping Slytherin.
"Miss Granger! Lovely to see you! Is there anything I could assist you with today?"
At the sound of her voice, I nearly jumped. I turned around to see the plump witch, relieved at the fact that I would be receiving medical help, but torn at the fact that it had cost my observation of Draco to do so. I put on a smile and turned away from Draco, also deciding to take a few steps away from him and sit on the bed beside his, so that it wouldn't look as suspicious.
"Hello, Madam Pomfrey", I greeted her. "I'm not feeling too well and I was wondering if you could maybe give me a potion for it?"
Madam Pomfrey nodded and got out her magical clipboard and quill. "It all depends on what you have my dear. What are the symptoms?"
"I got sick last night after a nightmare and I tried to sleep it off with a few Muggle aspirins and a cup of tea but I was still sick this morning. I feel really nauseous, mostly in the stomach area. It hurts when I walk as well." As I spoke, Madam Pomfrey's quill scribbled expertly onto the clipboard.
She gave me an odd look, her eyebrows raised in surprise. She might've thought I wasn't looking, but I didn't miss the furtive glance she gave Draco, who was still sleeping.
"Is there something wrong?" I asked her. She seemed worried.
Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat. "Not at all my dear! Mr. Malfoy simply had something very similar, that's all."
I could feel something block my airway. The worry had returned.
What?
She smiled consolingly again, obviously seeing through my façade. She could see that I was distraught. She gave me another look before glancing at Draco again, and this time her gaze was questioning. Did she think something was going on between us? In any other circumstance, I would've blushed. Attempting to be rid of the awkward silence and realization that was beginning to fill the room, she excused herself.
"One moment my dear and I'll be right back with a potion that should put you right!" And with that she turned and hurriedly walked away before disappearing into her office again. I turned to Draco again, my head swirling with thoughts. All of this seemed odd.
I wondered how the both of us had managed to catch the same bout of sickness at the same time. I wondered why Madam Pomfrey had seemed so skeptical, why she had looked from me to Draco like that. Curious to see what she had given him, I turned to his bedside table. There were three potion bottles. One read 'Mister Magic's Restful Sleeping Drought', and the other two were a matching set of stomach relieving liquid medicine and pills. Judging the way Draco was sleeping, it looked as if he had taken all of these. I shook my head as my fingers brushed against the bottles. If our sicknesses were so similar, then why didn't Madam Pomfrey just give us both the same remedy?
Something wasn't clicking.
I looked around and made sure Madam Pomfrey was still in her office. My eyes darted back down to the bottle of the stomach relieving pills. The pain was unbearable, and it seemed that whatever she had given Draco was working, and well.
Very well.
I wanted it, and I cringed at the fact that I felt like some drug abuser. But the pain was too much to think clearly, and if I didn't do something about it, and fast, I knew there would be dire consequences. I was sure that Draco and I had the same illness, so why not relieve myself as he had? Without another thought or pause, my hand stealthily reached for the small bottle of painkillers, but before the tip of my fingers could touch the bottle cap, a long, pale hand shot out from beneath the blue fleece blanket and seized my wrist.
I jumped violently at the unexpected surprise, and it had taken all that was in me not to shriek.
With his hand still tightly wrapped around my wrist, Draco looked up at me from his bed, his cheek still resting on the pillow where he had been sleeping. I wondered if he had been faking all of this time, and I felt a heated blush invade my chest and cheeks at the thought that he could've been aware of my watching him all along. His eyelashes were still dusted over his eyes, making it evident that he was still somewhat drowsy. He held my gaze for a moment, quiet all along, and as he looked me over I felt myself worry my lip. My unexpected jolt hadn't been beneficial for my stomach pains, and I could feel it increase by tenfold, along with the anxiety in my chest. Draco exhaled and his grip slackened ever so slightly. Looking up into my eyes again, his face broke out into a lazy, mischievous smirk.
"Stealthy one, aren't you Hermione?" He mused, his knowing eyes never leaving mine. They seemed to leave an imprint, making me unable to speak.
I gulped.
Why did he always manage to catch me by surprise?
VVVVV
Hey guys! So I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter since it's been a bit of a wait, but good news! I'm on winter break right now, so I'll be able to write more often! Any suggestions or comments on the pace of the story? Please feel free to let me know! Reviews, ideas, and constructive criticism are most welcomed! Thanks for reading! Love to all!
