If I Lose Myself

Chapter Sixteen: Draco

"Well!" Millicent screeched excitedly as she leaned in from across the table gossipingly. "I've heard that the little loser, Ron Weasley, was sent to the hospital wing a week ago. Still is there till' now, you know? He got himself poisoned by some nasty little mead Professor Slughorn gave him, said some of the professors. But it's hardly believable, isn't it? No, I reckon people just won't admit he's a terrible drunk!"

Draco's heart raced horribly. "Did Slughorn ever mention anything about the mead?"

Millicent shrugged. "Who knows? All he's told the professors was that he got it as a gift, and was about to actually send it off to Professor Dumbledore as a gift itself. Bloody terrifying, ain't it? If the professor had succeeded, by Merlin, Dumbledore wouldn't even be sitting at the great table this very second. It looks like someone's not pleased to have the old coot running the school. What an awful, though clever assassination attempt, don't you think, Pansy?"

Pansy scoffed at this irritably as she took a bite out of her meal. "I don't bloody care. I just hope that Weasley loser doesn't ever wake up from that blasted induced coma. It's the same thing that happened to Katie Bell. If anything, I'm glad the Gryffindors are being targeted. Although the situation is certainly bad rep for us now. People are beginning to suspect that the Slytherins are behind all this for revenge on the Quidditch matches."

"But Snape's hushed that all up now, hasn't he?" Millicent said defensively before grinning. "Professor Snape, what a great man. The only man that ever really believes us."

Draco scoffed at this, still feeling oddly jittery. The only man that seems to be stealing my glory, he thought bitterly, but he kept that thought to himself. He was still reeling from the news about Weasley, now feeling himself grow smaller at the very thought that all his attempts were becoming feeble wastes.

Before he could get up to give himself some air, block out the sound of people and everything else, his heart tugged downwards when he caught a name amidst Millicent's gossipy rant.

"—and Astoria, too, I heard. Just last night! Pulled out from Dumbledore's office—" But Millicent didn't have enough time to finish when Draco interrupted.

"What about her?" Draco asked gruffly, trying to sound and look disinterested as he poked on his meal, though he tried to meet Millicent's eye using his peripheral. To his greatest relief, Pansy was nowhere to be seen now—most likely have left after having her ear talked off by Bulstrode. The only reason Millicent seemed to be talking was because she thought Draco was still listening.

"Well, haven't you heard?" Millicent asked, wide-eyed as she scooped bits of mash in her mouth. "Astoria was in Dumbledore's office last night, Merlin knows why. And then I heard she just collapsed! I mean, I knew she was sickly, poor thing—but to be headed off to the hospital wing looking green! It's a travesty! Mum says I should be pulled out from school, you know. All these students getting cursed and everything, and unprecedented collapsing—"

"Do they know why that happened?" Draco frowned, trying to hide his concern but failing miserably. It felt like he was having one problem pile up after another now. "Why she collapsed, that is?"

"Who knows? One minute she was talking to Dumbledore, the next she's out of it." Millicent shrugged before raising a brow at him. "Why are you so concerned anyway? Didn't Pansy to tell you to come off her?"

Draco hadn't the time to answer her, because the moment his heart felt like clawing off his chest, he leapt from his seat and hobbled out of the Great Hall. He fidgeted with his tie nervously as he rushed up the stone staircases towards the seventh floor. His anxiety grew even more fervent when the stairs kept changing bloody lanes.