Chapter Fourteen

Hermione

The door slams shut as I run to him. My knees buckle and I collapse at his side, a jolt of pain coursing through my body, but it's nothing compared to the feeling I get when I look at him. It feels as if there is something tied around my heart, and with every detail I notice, it gets tighter, making it hard to breathe.

He is exceedingly pallid with a slight purplish tint to his face. Blood surrounds him, soaking his shirt and the ground around him. The source, I realize, is his left arm. There is a huge gash that takes up most of his forearm. Tears blur my vision. I lean over him, frantically looking for a sign of consciousness, when he coughs.

"Hermione," He cries, his voice and breathing raspy. His chest rises and falls with great effort. We're face to face now. He barely opens his eyes; they are bloodshot, making the gray-blue stand out even more.

"Draco," I say, my voice cracking. I realize that he's crying. "I'm here, Draco, you're okay. Everything is going to be okay. I'll stay with you, I swear. I swear, I won't leave you." I gently push his hair off of his forehead, trying to think of what to do. My wand is in the common room- who would've thought that I would need it tonight?- so I cannot magically transport him to the hospital wing.

While I think of solutions, Draco seems to be getting worse. His breathing is now sputtery and infrequent, which affects my own. With every second, he becomes more distant. Until finally, he looks at me. Looks, but doesn't see.

"No!" I scream, cupping his face in my hands, "Don't leave me!"

It feels like my heart has been ripped out of my chest. I do the only obvious thing: with my shaking hands, I slowly pick him up, draping his hurt arm over my shoulder. Normally, I wouldn't be able to do this, but my determination to save him has unveiled a new strength that I've never known. I push the door open and stumble out, my feet clumsily stumbling beneath me.

And, with a feeling of great- but not total- relief, I realize that it is not only my heart that I feel beating, but Draco's as well. This inspires me to speed up.

As I run, I keep my eyes on Draco. So far, the only positive thing is his heartbeat- nothing else has changed. He's still just as pale. When I look down, I realize that my dress is covered in his blood.

"Hang in there," I whisper to him, "We're almost there." I wonder if he can hear me.

A minute later, we finally reach the hospital wing. I struggle the doors open and rush inside.

"Madam Pomfrey!" I shout, causing her to jump. There is a loud clatter as she drops a potion vial.

"Good heavens, dear," She exclaims, and I think I'm going to get scolded until I see her eyes widen. Obviously, she has noticed Draco, and the trail of blood he is leaving. Immediately, she emits a small squeal and scuffles toward me.

"What happened?" She asks frantically, taking Draco and putting him on the hospital bed. He's almost the same color as the white sheets.

"I-I don't know, I just f-found him in the Room of Requirement." I'm beside him now, sitting on my knees on the ground surrounding the bed. He shows no emotion as she assesses his injury, so I am assured that he is out cold. The look of concern she has on her face makes me uneasy.

"Stay with him," She instructs me, scuttling to her medicinal supply room.

"Always," I respond, grabbing his hand.

Clinking and crashing is coming from the room where Madam Pomfrey is, but I don't look back at her. My eyes are glued on Draco and my mind on his well-being. I wish that I could tell myself that he's going to be okay, but I don't know if it's true. Madam Pomfrey rushes back to us, a flask in one hand and a bandage in the other.

"Essence of Dittany," She whispers, jerking the flask open.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" I inquire, hoping the answer is yes. I need something, , to get my mind off of these scenarios in my head that keep getting worse and worse.

"Not at the moment," She answers, and she glances at our interlocked hands. As she dabs the Dittany on his wound, both of us look at it expectantly; Dittany is supposed to produce results immediately. Nothing happens.

"Why is it not working?" I ask, new tears filling my eyes, "It's supposed to heal him! He's supposed to be okay." She looks closer at the wound, and I can detect a sense of panic from her.

"A magical blade." She mumbles.

"What?"

"A magical blade," She looks up at me, "There are some blades that repel magical treatment and cannot be healed by the remedies of the Wizarding world. Nevertheless, I don't know someone could get one, only three exist... And they're expensive, expensive..."

"Who would have one?" I ask, looking at her, desperate for answers.

"I... can think of no one." For some reason, I cannot shake the feeling that she knows something. She fumbles with the bandage, carefully wrapping it around his arm.

"There is nothing I can do," She admits, bowing her head, "We'll just have to see what it does."

"Madam Pomfrey," I inquire, feeling a certain pain in my chest, "is... is he going to l-live?"

The way she looks at me makes me uneasy. The solemn look in her eyes tells me that there is no definite answer.

"I think it's best for him to get some rest. You should go, Miss Granger." She instructs me. There is nothing I want more than to stay by his side, holding his hand until he finally awakens. But I know that arguing won't work, so I let go of his hand.

"I love you, Draco," I tell him, not caring whether Madam Pomfrey can hear me or not, "I'll see you soon." I gently brush back his hair and kiss his forehead. As I walk away, I wish Madam Pomfrey a good night and exit the room. It's almost nine o'clock, and curfew is about to take effect. Therefore, there is no one in the corridor.

While I make my way back to the Gryffindor common room, I think of a subject that I haven't thought much about tonight- who did it? The answer hits me almost immediately: Ron. Of course! How did I not think of that? How ridiculous of him, I swear I'll-

Madam Pomfrey's statement floats through my head. The Weasleys have never had money, so there's no way Ron could have possessed the blade. Maybe he had someone to do it for him?

As I walk past the stairway that descends to the dungeons, I think of something to solve this problem of unknowing: Veritaserum. I could go down there and ask Professor Bane for some, but what are the chances he would lend a valuable potion to a student for an undisclosed purpose?

I'm going to have to steal it.

Professor Bane is probably still awake, grading papers or organizing tomorrow's lesson. It will have to be late- late- when I sneak down here. Harry's invisibility cloak will be of great use if he'll let me use it, and of course I'll need my wand. It's still in the common room, which I'm about to enter.

Inside, I see that the fire is just embers now, making it very dark. Draco's trunk is by the couch, clothes strewn out around it and shoes lined up beside it. My wand is on the desk. I walk over to it and pick it up. Due to my still-trembling hands, it slips out of my grip and falls into an open drawer filled with pieces of parchment. When I retrieve it, I see my name on one of the documents in neat cursive writing. Draco's. I grab the paper and open it up, revealing the message within.