THE VISION THIEF - D. MALFOY

20. astrid

"Let. Go!" I say through clenched teeth as I shove myself away from the blonde idiot with a permanent scowl etched into his features. "You can barely walk without almost falling over," he snaps. 

"Well I certainly don't need your help!" I retort.

"McGonagall literally told me to help you."

"Since when have you been one to actually help?" I sneer.

"Since it's taken you nearly five minutes to move 20 yards," he exaggerates and glances back towards the door of the hospital wing, which is tauntingly close, reminding me that I truly am moving at a sluggish pace. 

"I'm fine, Malfoy," I sigh out. 

"You know you can't do everything on your own, right?" He says. 

"Yeah, but I can try," I respond, letting my stubbornness get the best of me, as usual. I turn right back on my heel and begin the long trek to my Aunt's office. I stumble here and there, and I'm nearly positive I look like a homeless woman currently, hobbling through the hallways in last night's makeup and some pajamas that Minerva had Capri bring for me. I feel awful for the way that I haven't told any of the girls about what's going on. They're probably going crazy wondering how I ended up in the hospital last night, and now I'm leaving the school and Hogsmeade for the first time since I got here. 

I sigh. I'll make it up to them when I get back, I promise myself. 

I make it not even halfway down the hall when another sharp pain in my abdomen shoots up my side, causing me to stumble. Malfoy is quick to rush to my side. He grabs me as I nearly fall, placing a hand on the small of my back, and quickly sliding it around my waist, the side where I'm not injured. He pulls me into him so suddenly and I stare at him with wide eyes as an intense heat overcomes me. 

His touch strikes me so suddenly, so abruptly. It runs trails up and down my body and everything about this is different. His touch feels new, refreshing, and unknown. It terrifies me. 

I despise it. The way his touch is making me feel. The way he is making me feel. Why in the world am I so affected by this moment? Maybe it's the heavy blush that bursts to the surface of my cheeks. Or maybe it's the way neither of us say a word and stare at each other in an endless silence. The way we are so close that his scent mingles with mine as spearmint and pine surround me. But above all, maybe just maybe, it's the way he looks at me like it's the first time he's ever laid his eyes on me. 

I shake my head and quickly pull away. He does the same, and suddenly we are a hallway width apart. He stands several feet away from me, his chest rising and falling, as he avoids my gaze at all costs. 

"I - um - thank you," I mutter weakly. 

"Yeah," he takes a thoughtful pause, "just let me help you, Ashwood," he says. 

"I - I -" I'm at a loss for words. A strange feeling fills me to the core. Did Malfoy and I just share a moment? Like the ones you would read about in a cheesy romance novel? 

No. Absolutely not. I refuse to be the damsel in distress in this story. And I certainly will not allow Malfoy to be my 'love interest.' The thought disgusts me. At least I tell myself that. Secretly I know it's a lie. 

"I don't know why you insist on refusing my help," he frowns. "We will get there much faster. Just be reasonable," he says. 

I groan. "Fine," I mutter. Maybe I could be the damsel in distress for just tonight. 

He smirks as finally gets his way. And before I know it, he's wrapping his arms around my legs and shoulders, carrying me bridal style. "What are you doing?" I demand. 

"Helping you," he says, as if it's obvious. 

"No! I never said you could carry me!" I exclaim. 

"Well that's too bad princess," he says smugly. 

"Princess?!" I cry out loudly.

He lets out a short laugh. I watch as he flashes a bright smile, and a look of short lived joy replaces the typical empty and cold stare. "Did you just - laugh?" I ask in disbelief. 

His expression is wiped clean. "What?" 

"You laughed." I say. 

"Yeah...?" 

"I don't think I've ever actually heard you laugh," I tell him. 

"Consider this your lucky day then,"

I glance around. At Malfoy carrying me, his arms wrapped around me with my head positioned on his strong chest. "It doesnt look too lucky to me," I lie straight through my teeth. 

He rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything because a few seconds later we are at the Headmistress's office. He manages to somehow carry me all the way up the stairs, and once we reach the top, he gently places me down in a cushioned arm chair. We find Minerva, dressed in long black robes that look like they're meant for outings. 

"You two are right on time," she muses. "Are you both ready?" she asks. We nod simultaneously. "Perfect. Come this way then," she says and gestures towards the large fireplace in her office. Malfoy and I share a skeptical look before I limp the short distance to the fireplace. 

She hands us the pot of ash. I recall my first time going to Diagon Alley by the Floo network as I hesitantly grab a handful of the black ash. "Where are we going?" I ask. 

"Rippingborough Avenue," she says. 

I quirk a brow. It sounds like the kind of street a serial killer might live on. "Ready?" Aunt Minerva asks the two of us. I nervously shake my head before I follow her lead. I throw the pile of floo powder to the ground and shout out the street name. 

In less than 3 seconds I'm in a dimly lit room, engulfed entirely by bright green flames. The flames startle me at first but I remember they're harmless, and as I step out of the large fireplace, they disappear completely. 

I look around. Black walls, black ceilings. Black this, black that. Black everything almost. Large candles are scattered across the room casting a minimal golden glow, and it smells strongly of lavender and rosemary. Books are stacked in most empty areas. On tables. On a small couch. On the mantle above the fireplace. Large books, tiny ones. New and old. Anything you could imagine. In the center of the room sits a large emerald velvet couch. Across from it are two plush brown leather chairs. In the center of the arrangement is a small black table, with a crystal ball placed right in the center. 

A few restless seconds pass before a woman walks into the room. She's stunningly beautiful. She looks old, but rather youthful at the same time. She has a wild mane of long black curls which hang down by her waist. She wears black from head to toe, and robes that look like something Minerva might wear, yet a little more edgy. Her icy blue eyes are striking as a small smile appears on her lips. 

"Minerva, so good to see you," she smiles as she pulls my aunt into a hug. 

"You as well, Astrid," Minerva says. The witch, who's name I've come to learn is Astrid pulls away and looks exactly at me. "You must be Emma," she says, kindness in her eyes. She reaches out and offers me a hand as I nod my head and offer a warm smile. 

"Nice to meet you," I say as I take her hand and shake it. The second our hands meet however, a strange feeling washes over me. One I've never felt before. I feel a kind of comfort, yet utter dread all at once, and it shocks me. 

Astrid pulls away quickly as a look of confusion crosses her face, and I wonder if she felt it too. She immediately turns to my aunt. 

"You didn't tell me you brought a seer with you."