Falling, falling, never stopping.
Hermione felt the sweat bead on her back from the heat. Voices called in distant cries, mingling in to one endless moan. The darkness taunted her with wisps of images, teasing ghosts of the imagination. The train kept falling. What was happening? She clung even more tightly onto her enemy, unable to let go, despite all hate. For now, he was the only lifevest left on a sinking ship of a falling train.
Draco shifted his feet. There was no way he was going to admit fear, so he held Hermione, slightly uncomfortably. Well, she was holding on to him, and with a delightfully painful grip. Managing to wheeze in a gulp of air, Draco leaned his back on one side of the train to keep balance. He darted his eyes around, searching for answer to the chaos. He finally noticed the quiet screaming around them, as if they were a half mile away from all civilization. A rancid stench reached his nose and he gagged, yanking away from Hermione, to retch in a corner.
What is that smell? Hermione thought. A light floral fume made her lightheaded, but, unlike watching Draco's retching, it was the pleasant lightheadedness. She could no longer tell if the train was still falling because she was wobbling almost drunkenly. Hermione reached out to hold on to the side of the train and, misjudging her distance, slipped to fall into a heap. She yawned tiredly and curled in a tight ball.
Draco looked irritably as the female form for a moment. He shuddered and felt like retching again. What the hell is wrong with her, he thought disgustedly. What normal person would sleep when they are going to crash!
Suddenly, a misty hazel-green light glowed dimly around Hermione. As he stared in morbid fascination, it grew brighter, creeping out to coat him. Draco's eyes flickered to his own body. Squinting, he determined there was a different color around him, something lighter. Shaken up, he watched Hermione, feeling sickened more than before. The cloud shrouding them became denser, deeper, and definitely scarier. The soft voices he had ignored increased in volume until he felt they were speaking directly in his ear. They sounded unclear, the words
Right then, he was actually hoping Hermione would wake up. Then at least he could watch her suffer as well. How would it be fair if he died horribly while she slept an arms length away. Draco continued staring intently, focused on waking her up, but not willing to move and shake her.
The voices chanted and by each moment, they became faster and louder. Draco couldn't determine the words they spoke in their wispy voices. His body began to hum and tingle in a slightly annoying way, like when a foot falls asleep. Only this time it was his whole body. From the way Hermione was shivering on the floor, she felt it too.
The sensation grew stronger and eventually more painful. Draco groaned. His nose began to bleed, his body started to jerk in spasms. What the fuck is happening! Faintly, he heard a yelp and whimpering, but it fell away as he was bashed in the head.
Stunned, Draco fell to his knees. No sound came from his mouth other than a hard breathing pattern. He blinked, but his cloudy vision would not clear. All that he knew was pain. Like Hermione before she fell asleep, Draco began to wobble. His arms were dead weights and he could not use them. He thought he heard a laugh as he was pushed. Unable to regain his balance, Draco collapsed.
More lights. More voices. But no more pain, thank immortals.
Pointlessly, as Draco fell into oblivion, he thought, is the train still falling?