It's been a while, but here's Chapter 6! Enjoy~!
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"Well, well, well—what do we have here boys?"
Harry stared cooly back at the snatcher, wand raised and standing his ground. "Step away from the Hippogriff. Under article 13, section 6 of the bylaws set forth by the Ministry of Magic, Hippogriffs are declared as an endangered species. As such they are—,"
"They are not to be hunted, taken as pets, or illegally sold," The snatcher replied calmly, nodding his head in acknowledgement.
"Then why are you capturing that Hippogriff?!" Harry shot back angrily.
The snatcher placed a hand on his chest as if offended. "Capturing? No, no—you misunderstand. We saw this poor Hippogriff knocked unconscious and tangled in chains, so we came to its aid! We're going to bring it back to our headquarters and take care of it before we release it." The man smiled smoothly, a mischievous glitter in his eyes.
"That's a lie! I saw you and your goons jinx it before tying it up again!"
"Your proof?"
Harry grit his teeth. "I don't need proof. I'm a certified Auror, and if I report you to the Ministry—,"
"Haha, how amusing..." The snatcher interrupted with a laugh, clapping his hands. "Still so naive, Mr. Potter."
Harry flinched and gripped his wand tighter, causing the man to let out another deep chuckle.
"Oh come now—you didn't expect me to recognize the savior of the Wizarding World? You may have grown, but I'm afraid you're still a child..."
The snatcher paced in front of Harry slowly, speaking with an air of haughtiness.
"Uh, boss..." One of the snatchers standing near the Hippogriff coughed briefly, hesitantly trying to get the attention of their leader. "I don't mean to interrupt, but I reckon this thing is gonna wake up at any minute—so I think we oughta skedaddle."
The leader of the snatchers hummed and nodded, remaining oddly refined and calm.
"You heard him, Mr. Potter. I'm afraid that I don't have the time to entertain children anymore, so—!"
He quickly slid his wand down from the confines of his sleeve and gave it a flick.
Before Harry could even mutter a counter-curse, he was sent flying backwards, hitting the ground hard. He groaned at the immediate jolt of pain, tasting blood. He didn't know what sort of jinx the snatcher had used, but his body felt heavy—pain clouding his thoughts. Gotta get up... He groped around dazedly, searching desperately for his wand.
"I'm sorry Mr. Potter, you'll have to understand that this isn't personal—I just need to make sure that you won't follow us..."
Harry used what little strength he had and lifted his head to meet the snatcher's mocking smirk.
"Stupefy!"
The jinx was uttered and Harry distantly recalled steeling himself for the jolt of pain as his eyes slipped closed and darkness consumed him—but not before he saw a flash of platinum blonde.
"My, my—now this is unexpected...," The snatcher crooned as he deftly deflected the jinx aimed at him. Draco kept his wand raised, shifting closer until he was standing in front of Harry's unconscious body—shielding him from the snatcher.
"Little Draco Malfoy, is it? You were about the last person that I expected to show up here. How's your father doing?"
"That bastard is none of my concern," Draco replied evenly, forcing himself to keep from getting goaded on by the man.
The snatcher stared him down, debating if he wanted to continue the fight. Just as he began to raise his wand again, a voice from behind him started yelling.
"Boss! We gotta go, this thing is gonna wake up soon!"
The small band of snatchers were still holding the chained Hippogriff, but the creature had started to show signs of stirring.
The leader sighed and shook his head. "Things can never be easy, can they?" He stared Draco down as he called back to his cronies, not taking his eyes off of the boy. "You lot take that creature back to headquarters—I'll catch up with you."
"A-Alrighty Boss, if you're sure..." The plump man turned back to the remaining group of snapped his fingers, motioning for them to follow. With a loud 'crack' the man had disapparated. Three subsequent cracks were heard and the rest of the snatchers disapparated as well, Hippogriff with them.
Draco grit his teeth in annoyance at letting them get away, but he knew full well that he wasn't in any position to take on the full group of snatchers—especially with Harry unconscious on the ground. The fact that Harry hadn't roused from his knock-out made Draco slightly more apprehensive of the power of the snatcher in front of him.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk...Naughty children should mind their own business..." The snatcher purred silkily, pacing in front of Draco slowly. His eyes drifted down to Harry's listless form and Draco instinctively side-stepped to cover his view.
"We're not helpless children anymore, so I suggest you don't underestimate me."
"Oh, quite the contrary." The snatcher laughed. "It's exactly because I know that the two of you aren't children that I'm not going easy on you. Believe me, I'd like to get away without harming either of you, but..."
He flicked his wand and casted another non-verbal spell. Luckily, Draco had anticipated the movement and was able to deflect the spell with a quick Protego.
"Ah. A quick study I see."
Draco didn't respond, knowing that doing so would lower his guard and give the man another opening for a quick attack.
"I wonder how well you can protect yourself, though...," The man paused, and again his eyes drifted towards Harry's form. "...while you're trying to protect him...?"
The comment caught Draco off-guard, and the snatcher used that opportunity to throw a jinx at Harry.
Before Draco could even move, the spell hit Harry square in the chest—the raven haired boy's unconscious form jolting at the impact of the spell. Draco wasn't sure what the spell had done until he saw a bright stain of crimson beginning to seep through Harry's clothing.
"Ah. Guess I used a bit too much power. Pity," The snatcher remarked casually.
The sight of blood caused Draco to abandon reason and he turned his back on the snatcher, running the short distance to where Harry lay. He dropped to his knees and ripped open Harry's coat, then his button-down shirt—surveying the damage that the jinx had caused. A large gash running diagonally from Harry's left shoulder down near his right hip was carved into his flesh—glittering drops of scarlet blood seeping out from the fresh wound. Draco's breathing quickened and his heart hammered loudly in his chest. He knew he had to do something or Harry could die. He raised a shaky hand and quickly began to chant healing spells—his wand emitting ribbons of bluish-green light that bled into Harry's chest. Using his other hand, Draco brought his pale fingers to Harry's neck, checking for a pulse.
It was weak, but it was definitely there.
The snatcher watched Draco tend to the unconscious Harry with a great deal of fascination and amusement.
"Turning your back to your opponent in battle? Tsk, tsk young Mr. Malfoy," The snatcher murmured. "I think you're in no position to follow us now...But just so you learn your lesson, I'll bestow a small parting gift before I leave." He smirked and raised his wand a final time, sending a spell flying towards the two boys.
Draco was still furiously muttering healing spells, not daring to stop for fear that Harry would lose too much blood, so the spell hit them both dead on. With that, the snatcher finally disapparated—leaving the forest in an eery silence.
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The impact of the spell actually didn't hurt that much, much to Draco's astonishment. It had been enough to knock him over, but other than that he really didn't feel any different. He looked down at himself and then glanced over at Harry. Neither of them looked any different either. He frowned and quickly resumed his spell chanting, his puzzlement replaced with an increasing worry as Harry's wound still refused to mend. Draco had been casting healing charms for long enough that there should have been some noticeable difference in Harry's condition—but nothing seemed different.
Draco surmised that the spell that Harry had been cursed with must have been some kind of dark magic that was impeding with the healing charms Draco was trying to use.
It's no use...I gotta get him to St. Mungo's...But there's no way that I'll be able to apparate him safely with his condition like this...
"C'mon Potter...," Draco groaned, his hands slowing as a wave of dizziness swept his body.
Draco suddenly felt a sharp jolt and gasped in pain—his wand falling from his hand. A deep stabbing pain had quickly begun to fill his chest, rendering him unable to remain upright. He fell to the ground, clutching his chest in agony as the unbearable pain seared into his skin like it was being carved by a knife.
"Ahhh!" he cried out in pain, searching desperately around for his wand to try and stop the pain. He found his wand and grabbed it, fumbling and tearing at his shirt to try and see the wound that was causing the pain. He ripped his shirt open and pointed his wand at his own chest, but saw no wound. His skin was pale and bare—no different from how it normally looked.
What? I don't see anything...Then why does it hurt so much?!
Draco gasped again as another jolt of unbearable pain shot through his chest and he slumped onto his back—his wand falling from his hand.
The last thing that he remembered seeing before he completely blacked out was the sky above him—clear and blue.
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Draco stopped speaking and let the ominous tone sit in the room for a bit as he took a languid sip of his coffee—all remaining eyes at the table trained fixedly on him.
"Ah, I think that's enough of the story for now. Shall we order our food now?" he suggested innocently, hiding the wide grin that he wanted to display behind a mask of feigned indifference.
"Dracoooooo!" Pansy whined, tapping her feet on the ground anxiously. "You can't just stop on a cliffhanger like that! Tell us what happened next!"
Blaise nodded his head vehemently. "Yeah, mate! You can't just get to the good part of the story and then stop! What happened next? Since you failed at saving your damsel in distress, did someone else come to your aid? Or were you all alone and abandoned in the woods for days—fighting off the wolves?!" he guessed dramatically, waving his arms around in the air excitedly.
Harry grimaced at being described as a 'damsel in distress,' but avoided commenting on it. Instead he shook his head. "Thankfully, we did not get stuck in the woods for days."
"Shh-shush!" Draco playfully swatted his lover. "You have to bait them in suspense! Don't spoil it!"
Harry chuckled a bit and rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, I won't. But as I stated earlier—I wasn't conscious for most of this part of the story, so there wouldn't be much for me to give way anyways."
"Harry, you don't have a scar from that wound now, do you?" Hermione piped up, her brows drawn down towards her eyes in deep concern.
"Ah—no, thankfully," Harry responded with a grin. "But I'll let Draco tell you all about that."
"But how do we know if what he's telling us is the truth, mate?" Ron spoke up with a frown. "If you said yourself that you were out of it, then how do you even know what happened while you knocked out?"
Harry grimaced slightly. "Welll...that was kinda what I was saying earlier about some parts of our story..."
"But I filled him in, of course," Draco replied smoothly, raising a fine brow. "There were others as well, they recalled what had happened after they found us."
"Ah, so you were found by somebody!" Blaise picked up keenly.
Draco scowled at the slip of his tongue. "Damn."
"Yeah, but how do we know you didn't lie to Harry about what happened?" Ron butted in again, narrowing his eyes at the blonde.
Draco opened his mouth to respond, but Harry cut him off before he had the chance. "Ron, honestly it's fine. Between what Draco told me, and what the other witnesses recounted to me after I came to—I pretty much deduced what had happened and it all seemed in line with the story that Draco had recalled."
Ron frowned but seemed to accept the answer, slumping back into his seat.
"Well then—I'm sure you'll spare none of the details, right Draco?" Theo quipped with a knowing smirk, staring down his friend with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.
Draco met the challenge with a tight-lipped grin of his own. "Wouldn't dream of it."
"Excellent. Then let's keep going, shall we?"
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"Quick, get me a stabilizing potion stat!"
"Potter has a nasty wound on his chest and it's not closing—we need to to bring him into the critical ward right now!"
"I don't see any physical signs of injury, but Malfoy's vitals are dropping—fast! We need to get him on that stabilizing potion and then send him to get a full-body scan to check for signs of internal injuries and traces of dark magic—immediately."
"On it!"
"You—I need the head of the dark magic medicinal ward down here, now! Explain the situation and tell him to meet us in the operating room!"
"Yes ma'am!"
"The rest of you—this way."
Florence paled as he watched his two young protégées being levitated through the hallway—both boys lain on crisp, white linen stretchers. Their bodies were completely still—a stark contrast to the many people bustling frantically around them. The staff entered through a set of wide doors, and Florence knew he wasn't allowed to follow them. He watched the two stretchers until the doors swung closed behind them, and he could see them no more. Florence sunk down onto one of the benches lining either wall of the dim, sterile hallway—cradling his head in his hand with guilt.
It had been only hours earlier that he had been sitting in his office, anxious as can be as he wondered how Harry and Draco were doing. The mission that Florence had sent the two on was rated extremely low on the danger scale. In fact, Florence wasn't even sure that the snatchers had been anywhere near the forest that he sent them to. The mission was meant more as a mock test of how well the two worked together. Even so, Florence had taken the precaution of specifically warning the two that they were not to engage if they spotted any trouble—and clearly that hadn't happened. Who knew that, as fate might have it, the duo would happen to stumble across a band of those snatchers?
All Florence could do was thank Draco for being sensible enough to send a patronus message back to the Ministry to him. The silvery-white cloud had flown through the air and into Florence's office—materializing in the air in front of his desk in the form of a snake.
"Knightly...surrounded by snatchers—Potter's trying to take them on...we need backup...please hurry..."
The elder wizard shuddered at the memory of how unsettled and panicked Draco had sounded. The way that the boy's voice trembled and his sentences broke as he gasped for air—Florence closed his eyes painfully and shook his head.
He had immediately rounded up a team of Aurors to go find the two—and upon arrival, found Harry and Draco unconscious on the ground. As expected, none of the snatchers seemed to have stuck around—and so the Aurors wasted no time racing the two boys to St. Mungo's.
Florence had gone absolutely pale with fear when he saw the large gash decorating Harry's chest. Though he and several of the other Aurors had tried to mend it, the wound appeared to be imbued with dark magic, and refused to close. All Florence could do was try to administer superficial first aid that would help ease Harry's pain and try to minimize the bleeding. Draco, on the other hand, seemed relatively unharmed at first glance—there were no large wounds on his body aside from a few scratches here and there, and he wasn't bleeding like Harry was. The only problem lay that he remained unconscious. Florence had tried rousing Draco, but nothing seemed to snap him out of his slumber. That was when the Auror then suspected that the boy must have been hit with dark magic as well—something that was keeping him from coming to.
Now at St. Mungo's—with half of the entire medical staff up and in a tither, trying desperately to mend the two young injured wizards—Florence couldn't tamp down the immense feelings of fear and guilt that tore at his heart.
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"Knightly...Knightly?...Florence!"
"..Wha-?" Florence jerked his head up in surprise at the call of his name. He blinked bleary eyes and looked around in confusion—he hadn't remembered closing his eyes for a nap.
"Florence."
Florence felt a hand settle on his shoulder and he looked up in surprise to see none other the Minister of Magic himself—Kingsley Shacklebolt, standing in front of him.
"Ah—Minister!" He hastily stood and smoothed the front of his robes down, doing the best he could to compose himself after being caught asleep by his superior.
Kingsley smiled slightly. "At ease, Florence—I'm here for the same reason you are." He held his robes and sunk gracefully onto the bench next to Florence—the faint smile immediately disappearing. "I received an informal report from Eddlson about what happened—but as you were the one who received the Patronus message from young Malfoy, I'd like to hear it from you."
Florence sat back down and shook his head sadly. "The message that Draco sent didn't give much information—all I could tell is that it was desperate. He was out of breath and asking for back-up...he said something about being surrounded by snatchers and Harry trying to take them on...that's all the message said, so I immediately rounded up a rescue team." He took a breath and Kingsley nodded.
"When we got to the spot where they were at—Laimen forest—we found them both sprawled in the ground, unconscious...Harry had a pretty serious gash on his chest, and it wouldn't close with any healing spells that we threw at it."
"Dark magic?" Kingsley questioned with a grave face.
Florence nodded with a sigh. "I believe so..."
Kingsley muttered a string of curses under his breath that had Florence gaping slightly. "What about Draco? How long have they been in here for?"
Florence disguised his shock with a slight cough. "We couldn't figure out exactly what happened to Draco—but he was knocked unconscious and we couldn't wake him up. I'm guessing he got jinxed with dark magic as well." He reached into his robes and produced a silver pocket-watch—turning his head ninety degrees to read the numbers. "I reckon it's been close to about 3 hours now since me, Eddlson, and the gang brought the two of them in here..."
Kingsley sighed and stood up, patting Florence's shoulder. "Alright. Thank you, my friend."
"Please don't thank me, Minister. This is all my fault."
"Florence, you know this isn't your fault. If any, it's mine—for sending two rookies out in the field by themselves...Regardless, none of us could have predicted that something like this was going to happen. We just have to be thankful that you and the others were able to reach Draco and Harry in time and bring them here."
Florence acquiesced with a nod, and Kingsley strode towards the front desk.
"Excuse me."
The nurse sitting behind the desk glanced up from her pile of paperwork, and her eyes bulged slightly. "M-Minister Shacklebolt—what can I do for you?"
"I would like to know the status of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. They were brought in a few hours ago and we haven't heard anything since."
"Ah!—Oh..." The nurse's expression went from star-struck to crestfallen in half a second. "Those poor boys...I believe they were sent directly to the critical ward..." She paused with troubled frown. "Hang on, I'll check."
The woman picked up her wand and flourished it a few times, muttering spells under her breath. Two clipboards with a hefty stack of paper on each suddenly came zooming from a hallway behind her—landing on the desk in front of her with a solid 'thud'.
She peered over them, tracing a finger down the text before tapping on one particular spot. "It says here that Mr. Malfoy was sent to surgery earlier but is now resting in the critical ward, currently anesthetized. And, Mr. Potter is—..." She turned her gaze to the other clipboard and squinted, then sighed. "It says that Mr. Potter is still in surgery..."
Kingsley sighed deeply. He wasn't expecting to be showered with good news, but he was still trying to remain optimistic. Harry still being in surgery after the three or more hours they had been in the ward was not looking positive.
"I understand," He relented with a sigh. "I wish to go see Mr. Malfoy for now."
The nurse cringed slightly. "Um, I'm afraid that there's been strict orders not to admit anybody to see the two..."
"That may be so, but I need to see them. Those two were on a mission for the Aurors and I need to discuss the information they retrieved immediately—it's extremely time sensitive and important." He wasn't exactly telling the truth, but he knew that one way or another he had to get in to see them—and he really didn't like flexing his 'I'm the Minister of Magic card' unless the situation proved dire. It was heading in that direction, though.
Surprisingly, the nurse relented pretty easily. "Of course, Minister." She almost looked relieved, as if she had secretly wanted him to go anyways. "If you'll follow me this way..."
She stepped around the desk and gestures down a hallway.
"Florence," Kingsley's deep voice called, and the Auror was by his side in a second—the pair following the nurse down a long, winding hallway.
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Several more winding corridors and an elevator trip later, the pair were gently ushered past a pair of wide doors—guarded by a stern-looking wizard on either side. The men nodded to the Minister as he and Florence passed through the doors, and the room opened up to a large space containing several beds and large cabinets that anyone would surmise would be filled with all sorts of medicines, potions, and other ointments.
The entire space, like any other hospital or medical ward, was completely stark white—and the strange scent of sanitizing potions and foreign medicines filled the air.
"Over there," The nurse directed softly, gesturing to the last bed in a row against the wall before bowing her head and leaving the room. As the doors closed, an eerie silence immediately feel upon the room, leaving Florence with even more a sense of anxiety.
Without a word, Kingsley slowly strode over to the bed—his feet shuffling softly against the linoleum. Florence followed a few steps behind, nearly holding his breath as he finally reached the side of the bed.
The figure that lay in the bed looked pale and fragile—face gaunt with dark circles and pasty skin that seemed almost translucent against the crisp white sheets. The only thing that distinguished it from a corpse was the slight rise and fall of his chest.
"Ah, Draco...," Florence murmured painfully, reaching a hesitant hand out towards the boy.
Kingsley swept a gaze over Draco's listless form and sighed deeply, taking a step away from the bed and beginning to pace—hands clasped firmly behind his back.
Florence merely watched, knowing how hard Kingsley must be taking the fall of his two newest Aurors. He still blamed himself for the mission gone awry, and staring at Draco's unconscious form now filled his stomach and chest with even more a sense of guilt and fear. He didn't know what he was going to do if Draco and Harry weren't alright. In his 20 some odd years of being an Auror, he himself had only been hospitalized twice—and his longtime partner Eddison once. The first time was actually due to a flub that his partner had made while they had been training together—a spell performed incorrectly which resulted in both of them being flung into walls. Concussed, they later found out when they awoke in St. Mungo's some hours later. Thankfully there was little recovery time that resulted from that incident—though Florence swore his chronic headaches were a result of that experience. The second time he was sent to St. Mungo's was after a rogue dark spell had hit him while he and his partner were rounding up a gang of snatchers. The recovery time for that particular incident had been a much longer and more painful process—as he suspected would be the case for Draco and Harry.
Kingsley strode back over to Draco's side, interrupting Florence's reminiscing.
"Though it may be hard to accept, there's nothing we can do but hope for the best." Kingsley advised wisely, clapping a hand on the distraught Florence's shoulder.
"I know...that doesn't keep the feelings of regret away though..."
"Mmm. I understand how you feel Florence..."
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When Draco finally reopened his eyes, the color that he saw first was not the pale blue of the sky above him, but rather, a blur of white. He blinked slowly, trying to make sense of things. He heard an insistent buzzing in his ear, and he wanted nothing more than to make it stop. He maneuvered his head slowly, trying to press his ear down into the pillow.
The sudden rustling sound startled the two wizards, and they glanced to the bed in surprise as they saw Draco blink his eyes open slowly—turning his head against his pillow and scanning his eyes around to get a view of the room.
"Ah, Draco!" Florence exclaimed, tears of relief in his eyes. He knelt down beside the bed and grabbed one of Draco's pale hand in his own two. "Are you alright? How are you feeling? The nurses here haven't told us anything!"
"Easy, Florence. Let him breathe." Kingsley reprimanded gently.
Draco frowned as he glanced around again. "Whe-Where am I?" He croaked with a grimace, swallowing painfully. He grunted and shifted himself into a reclined sitting position—still glancing around apprehensively.
Kingsley grabbed a glass of water that had been set on the bedside table, most likely for this exact purpose, and handed it carefully to Draco. "Easy now, you're at St. Mungo's," he responded, steadying the glass slightly as Draco brought it his lips with shaky hands. "Do you remember what happened?"
Draco took a careful gulp of the cool water before bringing the glass down and holding it with both hands. "Harry and I...we went on a mission together..." He made a face as he tried to recall what had happened. "We...started walking and we saw a Hippogriff...then a group of snatchers showed up..."
Kingsley nodded in understanding, quietly conjuring a quill and parchment to take notes as Draco continued.
"I tried to tell him that we couldn't take in that many, we were outnumbered...But he still wanted to and rushed out after he decked me."
"Was that when you sent me the patronus message?" Florence questioned gently.
Draco nodded. "I...knew we had to get backup, so I sent you that message...I jumped in to help Harry after, but all of the snatchers took off with the Hippogriff before we could stop them...Except for one guy." He frowned and ran a trembling hand through his hair. "That guy, I think he was the leader. His magic was really strong and Harry got knocked by one of his spells before I could do anything."
"Did you hear him say the spell, Draco?" Kingsley asked grimly.
"No...that guy performed all of his spells non-verbally. I-I tried to fix it, but it wouldn't mend..." Draco glanced down at his hands in his lap. "There...was so much blood—I couldn't stop it."
Florence's heart jumped in empathy and he rested a hand on Draco's back. "It's alright now, Draco. We have a team of the best healers here—I'm sure they'll fine a way to fix ole Harry up good as new."
Draco glanced up quickly. "You mean they haven't yet? Where is he?"
Florence paled slightly and his hand fell. "We're...actually not sure..."
Kingsley sighed and stepped forward, rubbing his temples. "After Florence and his team of Aurors found the two of you, they brought you straight here and you were both taken to the critical care ward—which is where we are now. After a few hours, we were told that you were out of surgery and in here—but Harry is still being tended to."
Draco nodded slowly, still trying to process what happened. "But why was I sent into surgery? I don't think anything happened to me..." He glanced down at himself, turning his arms and examining for any signs of injury.
"I'm not quite sure, myself," Florence replied slowly. "As soon as the healers took a look at you when we brought you in, they said that your vitals signs were all dropping extremely fast...Harry's were as well, but that was attributed to the large injury on his chest..."
"You weren't hit with any spells, Draco?" Kingsley asked.
"No, not—," Draco was shaking his head but paused suddenly, cocking his head with a puzzled expression. "Actually, I did get hit. We got hit, actually."
"You and Harry both?"
Draco nodded. "Yeah...When Harry's chest got slashed, I was afraid he'd lose too much blood, so I started trying to use healing spells on him...I let my guard down and we both got hit by some kind of spell."
"You didn't notice anything happen?" Kingsley pressed, his brow furrowing.
Draco shook his head again, a strange expression crossing his face. "Not really...Right after that snatcher hit us, he disapparated...which I did think was strange, but I was too relieved he was gone to think much more of it..." He paused and absentmindedly rubbed his chest near his shoulder as he continued. "Shortly afterwards though, I started getting this horrible pain somewhere in my chest—but I couldn't figure out where it was coming from since I didn't have any wounds there. That was the last thing I remember before I must've passed out, and then woke up here..."
Florence fixed Draco with a bemused expression, while Kingsley began to pace again.
"That is...peculiar...," Florence offered, for lack of better words.
The three lapsed into silence—Kingsley continuing to pace around the small ward, his face set into hard lines. Florence watched Draco carefully, but the blonde kept his gaze fixated firmly on the sheets covering his lap—his mind drifting off into thought.
Just then a chorus of low voices could be heard in the hallway, gaining volume slightly as they approached the door that Florence and Kingsley had entered not long before.
Draco held his breath, eyes trained warily at door.
