Vacivitas

Chapter Twenty-Two

"Pinky, go get Blaise. Quickly."

Through her delirium, Hermione thinks she hears a popping or cracking noise. Thinks she's on a cloud that happens to be solid and on fire.

A door opening. Someone smells like Floo powder.

"What the bloody Hell happened, Draco?!"

"I don't know, I don't know." Malfoy sounds panicked. Livid. Confused. "I don't know any fucking healing spells. I don't know why she did this. I don't understand."

"It's all right, mate." Blaise's voice, piercing through the fog. "We'll get it figured out."

It feels like the pain is getting worse. She wants to tell them, to let them know, but all that happens is a melody of pained moans.

"She's gonna fucking die."

"No, she's not."

"It's my fault. It's my fault. I fucking destroyed her, and it's my fucking fault."

"Draco, stop. It's all right. She's still here. Tracey, come over here and help me with this."

Hermione's confused. Destroyed her? When? Why?

A throbbing starts up in her skull. It hurts worse than before. The fogginess weighs heavier on her body.

She's drifting off. Sinking.

Did she do something wrong?

Is that why he's so angry?

She tries again to speak, letting out a sob because it hurts so bad and she doesn't understand what's happening or what she did wrong.

"I'm sorry," she says in a cracked voice. "I'm sorry."

There's suddenly a hand on the side of her head. Fingers grazing her cheek, her braids, her jawline.

"No, no, no." It's that scratchy tenor again—Malfoy's voice. "You didn't do anything."

"I'm sorry. Pl-Please forgive...Me..."

"Granger—fuck, you didn't do anything, okay? All right? You didn't do anything wrong."

"Draco, she's losing a lot of blood from her head right now." It's a woman's voice. It's familiar in a distant way, like a piece of the past slipping to the forefront of her mind.

"Pinky!" Malfoy's voice again.

"Pinky is here, Master!" A shriek of despair. "Miss! Miss is hurt!"

"I know, and that's why we have to be quick. Go to my potions storeroom. Get any potions we have that can help with this. Go!"

"Pinky will do it!"

The popping sound.

Hermione pants for breath. It hurts to inhale, and it aches to exhale. Her head lolls, leaning against someone's palm. She tries to open her eyes, but her eyelids feel so, so heavy.

"Tracey, here's my wand. Cast whatever spells you need to cast to fix this. Whatever will help. Draco, help me with her leg first. We need to set the bones."

"Malfoy," Hermione whimpers as she breathes out. "Why—"

"Hush, Granger. You'll hurt yourself more."

She wants to protest, but she can't.

Everything is fading out into the shadows again.

"Granger? Granger?! Fuck, fuck, fuck. Open your eyes. Open your fucking eyes!"

But she doesn't.

-

She exists, she knows that much, even if she's wrapped in darkness and smoke. Her body feels heavy, too heavy to move.