Through the night, Claude spent her time in the hospital wing with Draco.
He didn't speak to her at all that night, any person would leave if they were being avoided, but she didn't.
Claude had taken a shower in the prefix bathrooms, which Draco gladly let her in, and grabbed extra clothes from the infirmary.
Not the ones that looked like gowns. The one Madam Pomfrey had in the cupboards for students who got their clothes messy, a plain shirt and pajama pants.
And she did the same, from the fogged glass and towel covering his lower body, as she left clothes on the small chair.
The night didn't go fast for them, it seemed to have stopped every time they looked into each other's eyes.
On accident, or even on purpose, her eyes would latch onto him when she was currently sealing his wound.
Even when she was freshening up outside the bathroom where he was, she could hear him wince.
She sealed his wounds for him before, but not one – He did that himself, but they must have opened.
They weren't sure how it happened, but maybe they were too deep, magic couldn't hold them together.
"Please–hold still," She sighed, placing drops of Dittany on his abdomen, her eyes were spewing with tears just hearing his quiet groans under the tie.
They couldn't risk having the other injured students wake up, so she shoved a tie in his mouth, having it muffle his groans.
He hissed at the drops falling into his skin, green smoke billowing upwards around them.
The surrounding curtains were shut, she wanted to avoid being seen, since she wasn't supposed to be there.
"I know– it hurts, I know, just a little more." She sniffed from the rush of cries, "A few more seconds."
She was about to move his arm and uncover the towel over it, but his hand latched onto her wrist.
Immediately, they both stopped when he took the flask from her hand, taking the tie from his mouth, "It's disgusting, worse than the others, just, turn around."
He groaned, trying to move his arm across his chest. "Fuck—" His arm slapped back down to the mattress.
Her eyes stared blankly at the curtain, trying to take a peek at his efforts. She bit her lip while disputing to help him.
But it was clear that it was up for debate, "Let me help you, please–"
"No." He said sternly behind her, continuing to beat harshly from the efforts of swinging his arms over his chest.
Claude heard his groans and her veins turned ice-cold, "Please, Malfoy, let me help you." Her voice grew louder, almost begging for him to agree with her.
Not once did she remember about the students in the large room. They were down at the end; far from the others.
His eyes turned to her back, her wet wavy hair braided up behind her, and he noticed how her hands balled up on her hips.
When they were both quiet, she felt a vile hit her thigh and slowly took it from his hands, and turned around.
A bloodied towel rested over his arm, "Close your eyes and listen to my voice." He instructed her, holding on to her wrist and hovering it over the cloth piece on his arm.
"Okay." She shuttered, letting her eyelids fall until she saw nothing but black.
His hand was the only thing guiding her, bringing light from the darkness compressing her.
He slowly let go of her wrist, "A few drops should do it, just don't– don't open your eyes." Sounding shaky. The gray hues would look at her tightly shut eyes every time.
Draco felt terrible from his condition, powerless. His beliefs of failure towering over him when it came to her.
There's one thing about Draco Malfoy that makes him feel worthless — he didn't have time to make things right.
"I'm– are you ready?" Her hands shook when she held the dropper filled with Dittany.
She pressed her fingers softly on the rubber, letting a drop fall in the air, and plunge deep into the wound.
More painful yells muffled into the fabric, the seas of his suffering cut deep into her ears.
Her eyes squeezed shut with the harsh sounds he would make. Underneath her, she could hear him shuffling from the discomfort, not saying a word for her to stop.
"Talk to me, Malfoy, tell me that you're okay," Claude's breath shook, continuing to hear him whimper at each drop.
"Stop—"
When she heard the word, she released the pressure she held on the dropper. Her breath was heavy, just as he had been, after feeling all the pain rush through the veins in his arms.
Another form of shuffling filled her ears; he was trying to wrap the wound himself, but even before that she knew.
Before all the lies, the hatred, and pain – there was a reason he didn't want her seeing his arm. She knows.
He doesn't know that she knows, but it is obvious from the hiding he's done, the things he's been keeping from, and the late at night strolls.
"You can open your eyes." His low voice uttered quietly; only a small whimper from his lips at the end of it.
The girl on his side had peeked through one eye first before having them both staring at his arm. It was wrapped.
Her damp hair pushed past her shoulder as she tightly shut the flask, placing it down on the tall table beside the bed.
They both hadn't said a word, his eyes turned to the side, staring blankly at the curtain, not even paying attention to the girl – he thought she would've left.
"Don't move too much, alright?" Claude whispered, her hands messing with the covers that fell from the sides of the mattress.
She moved closer to him, "I don't know if they could open, but it was cut deep." A tear at the end of her words.
An hour or two has passed, and students should already be asleep in the hall.
Pansy was the only person she could think of, but Claude never promised to be back – she intended to be until she saw her worst nightmare.
He hurt.
"You need to go to with Pansy, she's alone and—"
"Why do you keep doing that? Pushing me away, why?"
"I'm not pushing you away, when Madam Pomfrey sees you here she'll ask questions." From the bed, he muttered, speaking about her 'pathetic' question.
The red eyes she kept darting at him would slowly close. She was tired but had too many questions.
At times, her eyes would look as if it was squinting, but she was trying to shake herself awake on the inside.
"The doors to the hall are locked, I'll be here for the night." Her arms crossed over her chest, as she leaned beside him.
A yawn left her lips, her breaths were shallow when the time passed – again, not one of them spoke.
Her eye turned back to the open spot he had on the bed, and without thinking, she sat on it, resting her body on the soft material.
The blond took notice but didn't say a word. He saw her bloodshot eyes from before, more visibly now with the moonlight.
"I didn't want you to see how horrible the wound on my arm looked." He explained unspokenly,
Claude slouched with her arms by her side, she took in deep breaths and closed her eyes, "You don't need to explain, you looked a mess –I know."
They both let out a small laugh until it would be unheard of around them.
She turned over her shoulder and took a look at the boy laying down, his damp hairs sticking to his forehead.
That's when she slowly reached towards the inside of her pocket. The cool metal hit her fingertips and her hand instantly elapsed over the item.
Once again it was not only Draco who hit her mind but Mattheo. She had forgotten that he went to Dumbledore's office.
But she was here, and she was already three-floors down from it.
Yet, it had been a couple of hours already and she knew that he would have been down in the Great Hall by now.
"Are you still playing Quidditch?" She asked quietly, wanting to have a small talk rather than making it awkward.
He was quiet for a moment, "Not anymore, I lost interest in the game."
"That's a shame, you were quite good at it." She taunted, swaying back and forth, "Don't you remember the time you won the match against Ravenclaw?"
Recalling a memory, she turned her body to the side, facing him with a warm smile on her face. She could remember that day like it was yesterday.
"Pansy and I took both you and Blaise to grab a few drinks because of it." She laughed at the fun moments they used to have as a group.
But like a flower, every single one tends to die.
Draco set a small smile on his face when he remembered what happened at the three broomsticks with her.
They would go on small strolls from the people's eye, and down across the black lake to have small chats and moments alone.
"You would always have a line of foam from the butterbeer on your lip." He chuckled when Claude did with embarrassment.
"At least I enjoyed it, you practically chugged the whole drink, you didn't even savor the taste." Her hands flew up to her sides, back down to her lap.
"I'm not the one who took almost an hour drinking it, and I did enjoy it—" He hissed in pain when he laughed, almost as if the wounds were beginning to open again.
Her expression fell, from being happy of the memories to, staying worried about the boy whose pain rushed all through his body.
The girl pushed herself off the bed and tugged on his shirt, flipping it up to get a clear view.
Faded wounds began to tear, the Dittany was supposed to work and it did, but the more movement he made – the small cuts would reappear.
Her eyes quickly moved to the flask on the table, and in a second she quickly held it in her hand.
Untwisting it, she held the dropper in one hand and looked at him. His eyes squeezed shut and his gritted teeth shaking from what he's about to feel.
But with her open hand, she gripped onto his. His eyes shooting to the side of her head, as she began to apply pressure on the rubber.
The same pain rushed all over his stomach, groans escaped from the back of his throat, gripping tighter on her hand.
"What did they do to you..." In a whisper, she shook her head, placing back the flask from where I was, and used her other hand to rub his arm.
Never once did he let go of her hand, neither did she. It was latched on tightly, and for one more time, it seemed normal again.
Normal like the time they first met, the first time they kissed, the first time for every late-night date they had.
But every moment led up to this one, from being lost in a world where people judge you, to find each other in the darkest times of both their lives.
Claude and Draco, a relationship that had fallen into pieces but has been building up over and over again.
Shattered hearts, continuous tears, and many kisses were the things they did in times of love.
Even when love is described as being together and having no probability of tearing you apart, that's what makes it worth the other person to keep fighting for it to happen.
So when she was holding his hand, connecting her eyes to his, they would both remember the best times they had together.
But when she would look away, she would remember someone else. Someone who fixed her, who held her, someone who kept her going and made her feel safe and excited for what's out in the world.
"I'm going to check if the doors are locked, I didn't know if it was before," She muttered softly, gazing around the small space surrounding them.
Claude moved her hand to his cheek, from caressing his arm to his cheek, both their hearts warmed from the cold around them.
His thumb runs shapes on her knuckles, focusing on nothing more than the hand that grazed his cold skin, and whose hand it is.
"Sleep, you won't feel the pain." Her weak words saddened him.
If only he had more time with her, to hold her. He did before when he saw her for the first time after the break, but he felt worthless.
He didn't think he deserved to be in her life if all he caused was pain, pain which made her seek comfort in another man's arms.
But as much as he didn't want her to leave, she couldn't stay any longer without feelings starting to recoil.
"Goodnight, Draco." She bent her head forward and placed a small kiss on his forehead. She remembered it would calm him down.
And from the looks of it, he was uncomfortable in the situation he was in but warmed up with having her close.
Her eyes squinted with her smile, brightening the touch of dark in him.
When she pushed herself away, her hand rubbed against his cold cheek. Her eyes fell to his.
And with one quick movement, she was gone – the swift movement of the curtain made him feel cold again.
Alone in the dark space, his body trying to move, but he would stop when he recalled the words she spoke.
Claude held her head high, her eyes shut when she reached the empty hall, pushing herself against the brick wall.
With her eyes closing, she couldn't see the shadow of someone quickly turning the nearest corner.
But while walking down the halls, she came to a stop when she heard shuffling.
The curious girl put intentions other than protection first, she didn't know who was around the corner, but just the feeling it brought her from inches away – she knew she was in the wrong.
She grew terrified, she held no wand in her possession, making it difficult to protect herself from whoever stood a few inches away.
Her breath hitched when she saw a hand swing back, rings on their fingers made her eyes soften on the figure.
But when reaching forward, she flinched at the sound of a male's voice yelling at the individual.
"What would your father think about this–"
"Why are you worrying about me when you are the one afraid of him, isn't that right professor?"
Their voices rang in her ears, Snape and Mattheo, but she moved closer when she heard another had slammed against the wall.
She could see his shirt bundled in the professor's wrists, Mattheo holding onto the edges of the wall, trying to distract himself from hearing any more of what he did not want.
"He could kill you, son, and I know that in the pathetic heart of yours, you wouldn't want her to see your lifeless body on the ground."
"How would you know? I don't even have a care in my heart for someone as pathetic as her."
"In all those years of being a delusional teenager, you've only answered people with one word, she got you talking."
Claude was appalled by the words she heard Snape say son to him. But before any more thought was put into it, he spoke again.
"Now you've not only put yourself in danger, but she's the second on the dark lord's list," Snape said with such hatred in his voice.
Mattheo never listened to shape, he did, but not in the way you would think. He wasn't going to push away something because things got hard.
He stiffened in his position, "He won't touch her, he told me to kill her and I will–"
A scoff came from Snape as he continued to hold the boy against the wall. "You foolish boy, even when you first saw her, you didn't have the guts."
The space around all three of them grew quiet, and Claude watched how Mattheo traced the brick wall outline.
And like before, she slowly moved her hand close to his, feeling his warm skin once again, before he flinched at the touch.
His eyes quickly turned to around the edge of the wall, catching the girl with damp hair and tired looking standing meters from a grasp.
It was like she saw him for the first time, he stared at her like a ghost as she did to him.
But then he turned away, letting his arm reach further out for her to hold. Smiling at the sight, she placed her hand in his.
Then again, she had forgotten about Snape, so she stayed glued to the wall and played with his rings.
"I thought I heard someone..." Riddle told the man in front of him with a little pause in his words.
They both remained quiet for some time, and Claude just repeated what they said over and over in her head.
"Get some rest, and think about what harm you could do to those close to you," Snape muttered the last part under his breath, but Mattheo was able to hear it, he just wasn't sure if Claude was.
Once the footsteps had faded, Mattheo took one long look at the professor, waiting until he turned the corner before the brunette quickly turned and pulled the girl closer.
Her chest connected with his, with her damp wavy hair, resting over his chest.
It brought a sudden calmness to him, the way she brought down his temper by messing with his rings made him feel like she was the key to his life.
"You're not in the great hall." He muttered into her hair, watching her move her hands trapped between their bodies.
She held a smile on her face, hiding it from him before she wrapped her arms around his torso, "I just took care of someone– a friend who was injured tonight."
Claude held the boy in her arms, afraid that if she let go he would disappear, that he would leave her just like everyone else did.
So they both stood there, in random nightclothes, holding each other in the dark with only a few flames brightening their bodies.
He rested his hand around her shoulder and another pressed her head softly against his chest.
But he kept track of her breathing. Unusual, but it was important to him because of the ring she's been holding onto for months.
Her breath would get worse every day, she would grow even more tired, just as if the magic had been pouring out of her from that tiny object.
And just as if the stone in her hand knew it all, her knee buckled, making her groan – she had fallen asleep quickly on his chest.
The boy slid his hands down carefully down the sides of her body, wanting to make sure she didn't fall before he dropped the back of her thighs.
His hands pulled her small body up, resting his hands under her thighs for support.
Riddle froze when he heard her release a small breath before resting the side of her head on his shoulder.
The tired girl took in the comforting smell of him, her arms wrapped around his waist, but feeling loose with her being exhausted.
Slipping from his grip, he pressed his hand on her back, before returning it from where it was.
Mattheo looked down at her when he continued to walk down the halls she'd been heading towards.
She cuddled up into his warmth, tugging onto the cotton shirt from behind, and smiling at the scent she would recognize when she felt relaxed.
He held someone in his arms, he carried this girl like she was something special; worrying only about her being comfortable against him.
Because to him, it all felt weird having someone be so close to him. His father was never in the picture, he barely knew who his mother was, and he's still uncertain on how to care for someone — someone like her.
A fragile and kind girl who's good at heart but has just experienced terrible things.
He never once took into the thought how others thought of him, how she thought of him. Claude had her moments, there were times where she expected the worst in him for the reason being that he was Voldemort's son.
Until she had the time to know him, she found the beauty in his soul, traveling to hers, intertwining in the most beautiful times they had.
He found her when she was heartbroken and she found him when death was inches away from his life.
Never did he once think that a single person could save his life. But again, when he looked down at her, he felt something.
Like he needed to take care of her.
So continuing to walk down the hall, he tried to find a space for them to stay safe. From what Snape told him hours ago to now, it's best to keep her with someone powerful enough to protect her.
With a free hand, he grabbed his wand and cast a spell on the door in front of him. The library.
He kicked the door open with his foot, shutting it once more with his wand and making sure that it was locked before he could move any further.
The room was dark and as predicted a red light flew from the tip of his wand and traveled through the dark and setting on the fireplace.
Once it brightened the room, he looked down again and rested his cheek on top of her head.
His steps took him towards the couches, folded blankets, and some pillows were in the cupboards around the fireplace for students.
Gently, he placed Claude on the couch, her head resting on a pillow while her body stretched out along the cushions.
She groaned when it became cold again, even when there was fire his touch was the only thing that kept her warm.
The brunette grabbed a long blanket and there it over the girl, making sure that every inch of her cold body was covered.
"You heard it all didn't you?" He spoke, looking down at her in a rest, beginning to remember what happened.
He sat right beside her legs, bringing up her ankles and placing them both on his lap; resting his hands on her cold skin.
"Well none of it was true, so in that pathetic head of yours forget—" When she shuffled uncomfortably in her sleep he stopped talking.
Thinking about the "conversation" with a girl who is sleeping might have been a bit weird, but at the same time, he got part of something out.
But then he remembered what Snape said, he became clear with his words because of her – Mattheo Riddle would never believe such foolishness.
He couldn't believe anything because he didn't want to, he didn't want someone telling him how soft he became, or how aggressive he was just because of some girl.
"Forget it, you shouldn't have heard it anyway. None of it concerns you, therefore I'll have to wipe your mind—"
Again, the girl moved, her hand digging underneath the pillow. Mattheo didn't have a clue of what he was saying, he was distracted by this one and that.
He scoffed, still watching the way her small breath left the small gap between her lips.
That's when he leaned to the side, close enough to see her dried tears and close enough that he grazed his fingertips on his skin.
"I'm crazy aren't I?" He chuckled, "But it's you, Bardot, you're making me crazy."
The brunette laid against her body, his arm propping himself up by the side, taking a deep breath of her scent.
"You're in good hands, if someone walks through that door, I'll have to go crazy." Whispering as he stroked a piece of hair behind her ear.
That's when he held his wand in his hand, letting it rest very close to him for precautions because what happened tonight wasn't supposed to happen.
No one was supposed to get hurt when he knew his father was trying to hurt her.
It made sense because in his room another student who was marked had spoken to him about the plans, and they needed Claude to be alone for it to work.
But the creators never made it inside the common room, some prefects and students were out late in the halls, they got hurt.
With his back facing the fireplace, he watched her body shift once again. It was a wide couch, enough space to fit one person comfortably, but with two... not so much.
Her front was facing him when he got comfortable under the blanket, having her legs tangled with his, and her nose touching his chest in the slightest.
"Lovely, lovely girl." The brunette whispered so gradually, his hand grazing her cheek as he looked down at the sleepy girl.
The girl dozed off beside him, moved her hands comfortably, letting one reach up to his hair and the other resting between their bodies.
Cuddled up, Mattheo pushed himself closer, having her hand rest on his shirt.
"I'm not going anywhere." He whispered, taking one look at his wand before wrapping his hand around her waist, holding her as tightly as he could, afraid that she would disappear.
"You aren't going anywhere."
______
Hello, loves, Thoughts?
Sorry for the late update, I've been doing things in my personal life I didn't have time to write.
Hope you enjoyed the late delay, and tell me what you think!!