Chapter 34

4K 156 44
                                    

A/N- Hey, lovely readers! Its been forever and I'm sooooo sorry. At first, I didn't write because I had a lot going on, which I still do, but I honestly just forgot to update... whoops. Tbh I don't have a lot of motivation to continue this story, but I will for you guys since you've been so wonderful. Speaking of which, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR OVER 50K READS OMG!!!! I never thought I'd write anything even close to this popular. And I really love read all your comments, so please keep it up. Love you all, and I hope you enjoy! 

Word Count: 1028

I sat on the bed of my quarantined hospital room, staring at the ceiling and thinking. It's been two days since Dumbledore told me he would help me. Two days since I've seen Draco. He has every reason to be scared of me, which just makes it that much easier to go without being with him. To keep him safe. Besides, it's not like he wants to be associated with me any longer. Not after all of that.

Hermione brings me my school work and my meals, much to my discomfort. Though, it is nice to see a familiar face. They have some of my professors come check up on me, but I know they're just looking to see if I'm trying to break out or something. Considering the fact that I willingly placed myself here, the only reason they need be concerned is if I happen to have another one of my uncontrollable outbursts. They say I'll be able to go back to classes soon, but I'm not sure that I want to. Not when I know how quickly rumours spread in our school. Not with the Daily Prophet in existence. I spent far too much time in the prying eyes of the press, them saying I was just a lying, self absorbed prick, determined to spread fear into the minds of the public. Now, they'd be saying I'm a menace to society that needs to be put down. Maybe they're right.

No, I can't afford to think like that. There are people who need my protection. Although, I'm not sure how well I'm going to be able to do that now.

Harry writes to me from his hospital bed as well. Says they won't let him leave. He fills me in on lessons with Dumbledore, and regular everyday things we'd usually talk about, like nothing happened. I appreciate it, but something definitely happened. We can't pretend I didn't hurt him. They won't even let him leave yet for Merlin's sake, of course something happened. Something bad. Still, I do my best to respond to his brief letters. I don't want him to worry.

I continued to just lay there on my plain white sheets, undone schoolwork sprawled out in front of me, until I heard a faint knocking on the door.

"Who is it?" I called back weakly, voice hoarse from its lack of use. They didn't bother answering, and instead pushed the door open to reveal one of the people I'd been dreading to see again. Dumbledore stands idly in the doorway of my containment room, with his usual half-moon glasses perched on the brim of his nose.

"You are free to go, Miss Potter."

Draco's POV:

I spent at least five minutes just pacing next to the entrance of the hospital wing. Peeking in the door, she was nowhere to be seen, but I knew she wouldn't be in the ward for usual patients. However, her twin brother sat cross-legged on his own hospital bed in the chronic patient ward. The Potter that I was also looking for. God, do I have to do this?

"Potter," I start, walking up to his bed with a faint grimace on my face. He didn't glare at me, or tell me to go throw myself off the astronomy tower, so I suppose that meant progress.

"Malfoy," he greeted civilly, but evidently reluctant to do so.

"I- er, I have a question. About Y/n," I ask slowly, not entirely knowing where to start. I hadn't had a normal conversation with Potter in... well, ever. "and I was wondering if you could answer it."

"That depends," he replies defensively, putting down his quill and parchment he'd been writing on before I approached. "What's the question?"

"Well, has she ever... done something like this before?" I ask cautiously. I can't risk him not answering. She's pretty upset with me at the moment, and I'm not too thrilled with her either, but she's still scared and hurt, and I have even less of an idea of what's going on than she does. The Potter boy simply sighs.

"Once before recently. Maybe when she was little, but wizard kids do all sorts of weird things when they're young, so if it happened, I didn't pay much attention." How could he not pay attention to something like that? Even as a child, if your sister does something as odd and terrifying as that, you should care to notice.

"When 'recently'? She never told me of this." I say, my voice more tense and stern than before.

"Do you really need to know?" he snaps, evidently noticing my annoyance.

"I'd like to." I answer without faltering. He just stares at me for a moment, before sighing in defeat once more.

"It was over Christmas holiday."

"That sure as hell was one eventful holiday for you all." I mutter in slight disbelief, distracted by an onslaught of new thoughts. She didn't tell me. Why not? Does she not trust me? Probably not, considering everything she knows.

"Yeah," he agrees in bitter remembrance. "If I remember correctly, it was your aunt that burned down the Weasley's house." Well, this was a horrible idea. I would like nothing more than to hex the Gryffindor out of him, but I don't. Instead, I bite back my snarky remark, and respond with something equally as truthful.

"I can't control my aunt's actions."

"No, you can't. But apparently you can't avoid being exactly like her either." he says spitefully.

"You really want to do this right now, Potter?" I growl, fists clenching at my sides. All diplomacy has gone out the window, and rage is a lubricant for the unleashing of curses now running through my mind.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do."

"Both of you, stop." A voice says weakly from farther inside the hospital wing. There she stands, a few metres away, in her school uniform, the headmaster walking beside her. Her cheeks are slightly sunken, and her under-eye bags are more prominent than ever. She almost reminds me of... me.

"Hey, Y/n." her brother says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Hey." 

The Girl Who Lived ☆ D. MALFOYWhere stories live. Discover now