Merely Misunderstood

Chapter Seventy-Seven

When my eyes bolted open again, I was lying on my stomach on a coarse blanket and stiff pillow, staring uncomprehendingly at a figure lying still beside me.

"Draco?" I rasped, reaching for him feebly.

The person didn't move. A slow rise and fall of their chest told me they were asleep. Upon further inspection, I registered the outline of breasts beneath bandages, and long dark hair over tan shoulders.

I blinked, letting my hand drop again. Not Draco.

It was then that I noticed the quiet — no shouting, no crashing, no booming of rounded spells. There was only a solemn hush, tinged with relief.

How long had I been out? Where was I? It seemed to be the Great Hall, but what had happened to the battle? Wasn't it raging in here?

I struggled to push myself up, but a gentle hand caught my shoulder, pushing me down again.

"Not so fast," a familiar stern voice chided. "You were badly wounded."

I craned my neck to meet the gaze of Madam Pomfry, an elixir of healing in her hands. She tipped it into my mouth, and I swallowed, my throat burning.

"What happened?" I asked hoarsely as Madam Pomfry checked my wounds, applying salves.

Her face tightened, a deep sadness coming to her eyes. "What else? The battle ended."

She didn't seem willing to say more on the matter.

I let it drop, sinking back into my pillow. After she shuffled away to tend to other patients, I lay there unmoving, mind muddled in disbelief.

Then, hurried footsteps reached my ears, heading in my direction.

That rhythmic step, step, step... I could recognize the gait anywhere.

Draco sank to his knees beside me, cutting me off from the dozing girl beside me — whom I couldn't help but find familiar, though her face was turned away from me.

"You're awake!" he exclaimed, sounding mildly grumpy. "Madam Pomfry didn't think to tell me until just now — 'oh, by the way, your girlfriend's not dead after all; she's been up for half an hour now.' The nerve!"

I giggled, then immediately winced as the movement sent a flare of burning pain down my back.

Draco brushed my hair from my face, gently kissing my temple before resting his forehead against it. "I was so worried you'd..." He took a shaky breath, unable to finish the sentence.

I hesitated before asking, "What happened?"

Draco sighed, pulling away to stroke the line of my cheekbone. "Marcus used some sort of slashing curse on you, sort of like Snape's Sectumsempra — the one Potter used on me, remember? Only the one Marcus used also left burns as it cut you, like a hot blade..." he trailed, his beautiful eyes becoming distant. "You passed out pretty much instantly, at the same time that I spotted your wand. I hated to leave you like that, but I had to make sure Marcus wasn't going to... that he wouldn't..."

I reached up, placing my hand on Draco's, which still lingered on my cheek. Kissing his palm, I murmured, "It's okay. It's over now. I'm here."

Draco's shoulders shook, and he ducked his head. I watched him, my heart aching. I longed to push myself up and cradle him to my chest, but even breathing was agony.

"Here," I coaxed, scooting over with difficulty to make room for him on my blanket. I patted the spot beside me, and he crawled over, lying on his side. He said nothing, just studied me with tears in his eyes, which I reached up to wipe away.