The Bracelet (Draco Malfoy Fanfiction)

Chapter 47

I press the flat of my hand to her chest, and feel around for a few seconds. When a faint heartbeat drums against my palm, a feeling of relief so intense overcomes me that it causes my entire body to tingle.

With a sudden urgency and determination, I scoop her up in my arms, and begin to trek off towards the dungeons again and back to the common room.

Her tangled curls brush against my forearm as her head flops to one side, the chill of her cheek pressing to my skin.

"It's okay," I say, my voice still corrupted by instability. "I'm gonna take good care of you. I promised I would."

I have to get back to my dorm, before it's too late, and that ever so faint heartbeat ceases to exist.

***

The long walk up the many flights of stairs seems to take an eternity, and when I finally burst through my bedroom door, my anxiety levels have climbed tremendous heights.

As gently and quickly as one can do, I lay Jennifer upon my bed, her limbs flopping onto the soft surface like those of a marionette doll, and prop her head up onto one of the pillows.

With inhumane speed, I dart towards the opposite corner of my room, and rip open the black duffel bag next to my closet.

It's something Snape had given me awhile back - a load of vials filled with potions that could be useful in practically any emergency that this world could throw at me. I assume, with my heart composed entirely of hope, that there has to be some sort of healing antidote in here somewhere.

I claw my way through the contents of the bag, barely able to see through my tear-blurred vision as vials fly this way and that, some even shattering against the floor behind me. When I've ripped my way to the bottom of the duffel, I pull out a vial containing a substance that seems as though it's liquidized crystal, reflecting slivers of every color of the rainbow.

The small bottle has a label pasted on top of it, stating that it will heal spell-inflicted injuries only. As far as I'd seen, Jennifer hadn't had any visible injuries, and a spell seemed the most likely cause of her fall.

Although I'm sure Snape intended for me to use this potion on myself, I rush back over to Jennifer's side, barely unable to pull the cork out of the top due to my uncontrollably trembling fingers.

A choked and frustrated sob rips its way past my lips as the cork finally comes loose, and I toss it behind my back, pulling her chin downwards to prop her mouth open.

With a shaking hand, I tip the contents of the vial down her throat.

And I have absolutely no idea what to do next.

I sit, watching her still figure closely, anxiously waiting for something to happen. My hands are clasped in front of my mouth so tightly that they've gone pale, and I feel as though I might throw up.

With each minute that passes, the worry growing in my chest, in my lungs, in my soul, consumes another part of me, suffocating me and making it harder and harder to breathe.

I have time, so much time to wonder how in the hell this happened. How in the hell I let this happen.

I shouldn't have been gone so long, I should've been here. I should've owled her and came to see her more often, shouldn't have trusted to her to listen to what I tell her to do, because I know she never does.