25. Avoidance, Austen, and a Very Determined Malfoy

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"Anxiety is new," Theo said lightly. "She used to just repress everything."

"I still do," I muttered.

Pomfrey nodded sympathetically. "School after trauma is hard, dear. But you're managing better than you think."

My throat tightened.

She closed her notebook. "You're both cleared. Come back tomorrow morning and let me know how tonight goes. Get rest. Real rest."

"We'll try," Theo promised.

I wasn't so sure.

As we slid off the beds and collected our bags, Pomfrey walked us to the door.

"Be gentle with yourselves," she added softly.

The moment the door opened, I stiffened—half expecting Draco to be right there, leaning on the doorframe, ready to start the conversation I'd been sprinting away from for hours.

But the corridor was empty.

Quiet.

Safe.

Theo patted my shoulder. "Disappointed?"

"No," I said.

Yes.

He smirked. "Let's get breakfast before the entire school wakes up."

We stepped into the hallway.

And my heart kept pounding—

Not from fear.

From anticipation.

The moment Theo and I stepped out of the Hospital Wing, I felt lighter.

Not better, but lighter.

A tiny victory.

We'd gotten in and out without—

"MOVE!"

Theo and I both jolted.

Because barreling around the far corner like a man possessed—hair windswept, robe flapping, expression somewhere between panic and fury—

Was Draco Malfoy.

Storming the corridor like he fully intended to invade the castle by himself.

Theo choked on his own breath. "Oh, this is going to be—"

"NOPE!" I hissed.

I didn't think.
I didn't breathe.
I just grabbed him by the sleeve, yanked him across the hallway, and threw both of us behind the nearest tapestry.

We slammed into the stone wall behind it.

Theo let out a strangled laugh. "Rae—Are you serious?!"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up—"

He clamped a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking with barely-suppressed laughter.
Because yes—Theodore Nott, my so-called friend and moral support—was thoroughly enjoying this.

And honestly?
He had every right.
I was acting like a fugitive who had escaped Azkaban.

A shadow passed across the tapestry.

Close.

Too close.

Draco's voice echoed down the hallway—low, frustrated, frantic.

"Where the hell is she?"

My heart stopped.

Theo's hand fell from his mouth in delighted shock. "He's—oh Merlin—he's actually hunting you."

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