16th December, 1992, Wednesday
No one could find Violet the following morning.
When Hannah, Aimee, and Caroline got up for breakfast, they'd found Violet's bed already made up. Her bag and all of her things were exactly as she'd left them the night before. Caroline brushed it off, while Aimee and Hannah were more concerned.
They'd hoped Violet had just left early for breakfast, but when they got the the Great Hall, she wasn't there either. They grew more suspicious as the meal went on, wondering where the girl could be. Even Cedric had no idea where she was.
By the end of the meal, Aimee had become so concerned that she rushed to the back of the hall, only stopping when she was in front of Professor McGonagall.
"Professor!" Aimee exclaimed, "Violet's missing!"
"What?" The Professor leaned forward, "What do you mean missing?"
"We haven't seen her all morning!" Aimee was quickly becoming a nervous wreck, thinking about what could've happened to her friend, "What if something happened? What if she got petrified?!"
"If I may," Madam Pomfrey moved to stand beside McGonagall, who had sprung up from her chair in panic, "Ms. Ellis came to me late last night not feeling well. She's resting in the hospital wing- Ah, ah!"
Aimee had begun to back away, wanting to run to check on her friend, but Madam Pomfrey stopped her, "Please leave her to rest, Ms. McCall, I fear she needs it. She'll be fine in a day or two."
"Oh," Professor McGonagall sighed and collapsed back into her chair, her complexion oddly pale.
"Okay..." Aimee nodded, "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."
Aimee rushed back to her friends to inform them of what she'd found out. Madam Pomfrey fussed over McGonagall, asking if she was alright or needed anything. McGonagall only waved her off, stating she was just concerned for her student. Madam Pomfrey knew it was more than that; she'd begun having the same thoughts and concerns about Violet as McGonagall.
Pomfrey had spent five year with the boy they knew, patching him up and helping him through some of his darkest moments. She'd seen the way Violet reflected so many of his physical attributes, from her brunette hair to her ivory skin. Even the way they carried themselves was so similar, with their shoulders hunched and head down, but always with a soft smile.
It wouldn't be long before Pomfrey and McGonagall would speak about the girl and their suspicions and what they would mean if they were true...
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Draco didn't know where Violet was. He looked for her all throughout breakfast, he looked for her in the halls between classes, he looked for her at lunch. He didn't know where she was, or why she'd suddenly disappeared. He knew it was likely because of what had happened the previous night, which made him feel worse about himself.
He'd been beating himself up over his behaviour, for how poorly he'd treated her. He felt nothing but regret, guilt, and anger at himself. He wanted to apologize, to make it up to her, but he couldn't do that if he couldn't find her. Not that he knew what to say or do if he did. This was entirely new to him; meaningful apologies and wanting to make someone else feel better? He'd never done that before.
By the time he arrived to Defense Against the Darks Arts that afternoon, he was ready to crawl out of his own skin. His friends had started questioning him, wondering what he was constantly looking for and why he was so on edge. He only dismissed their questions, not wanting them to know about Violet. He was becoming more and more protective of her, and he knew if he'd told his friends about her, she would no longer be just his. Besides, if the Slytherins found out Draco was rapidly becoming obsessed with a Hufflepuff? He'd lose all respect and become the biggest joke of the house.
For the entire three hours of D.A.D.A, Draco contemplated how he could get one of Violet's friends alone to ask what they knew about her disappearance. He hadn't heard a single person talk about another petrification, so while he was terrified something had happened to her, he didn't think it was that. He just wanted to know if she was okay.
When the bell rang to dismiss class, Draco was across the room and gripping Aimee's arm, pulling her away from her other friends before she even stood from her chair.
"Hey- Hey! Let go of me!" She shouted, though it was lost in the noise of the departing students.
Once at the back of the room, Draco dropped her arm and looked around. Her friends were watching them from the front of the room, but hadn't made any move to defend her.
"Malfoy!" Aimee snapped, pulling his attention back to her, "What was that?!"
He stuttered, suddenly realizing what he'd just done was incredibly stupid, "Uh..."
Aimee squinted her eyes at him, scrutinizing every move he made and word he said.
"I just-" He sighed, exasperated at his own anxiety, "Do you know where she is?"
"Where who is?" Aimee's frustration suddenly morphed into confusion, "Do you mean Violet?"
Draco only nodded, avoiding eye contact.
"She's in the hospital wing-" Draco's entire body tensed up, fear shocking his system. Aimee could see the change, so she reached out and grabbed his arm before he could run, "She's fine! Just wasn't feeling well."
Draco tore his arm out of her grip, staring at the spot on his arm as if it had burned. Slowly he looked at Aimee, his voice a near growl, "Don't ever touch me again."
"Oh, for Godric's sake!" She shouted in his face, causing him to flinch back, "You're the one that dragged me back here! What do you even care anyway? She's nothing to you!"
"You're wrong." He snapped, but refused to elaborate further.
He stormed off before Aimee could say another word. She stood there, staring after the boy as if he'd lost his sanity. Perhaps he had, because after he left the classroom, he sprinted across the castle to find the one professor he knew could help him. Whether or not she would, he wasn't convinced, but he had to try anyway.
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The entire castle was quiet. It was well after nine, so most students were in their common rooms or dorms, settled in for the night. Draco couldn't rest, though, too full of nervous energy. After dinner, he'd been able to collect the things he needed, but was told to wait until later in the evening to do what he'd planned to do.
So, when the nine o'clock bell chimed, Draco made his way out of the Slytherin basement and across the castle, not slowing down until he reached the hospital wing.
Madam Pomfrey knew to expect him, so she didn't bother scolding him when he arrived so late in the evening. There wasn't a single other person in the room, aside from Violet. She was laying on a cot at the end of the wing, facing one of the many windows. He feared she may be asleep, as Madam Pomfrey had warned him that she'd been asleep most of the day.
He stopped at the end of her cot, staring down at her. She was staring out the window, watching the stars and moon move slowly across the sky. Even in the dim light, he could tell she wasn't feeling well. Her chest moved so slowly, he feared she was hardly breathing. And her skin was several shades paler than normal, with a slight sheen to it.
He briefly considered leaving, sneaking away before she could notice him, but when her head slowly turned towards him, he was frozen in his spot. Her eyes were so dark and sunken, but even given her poor state, one side of her lips quirked up.
"Hey," Her voice was rough, barely a whisper.
Draco moved to sit on the chair beside her bed, moving to sit as close as he could. He kept his voice low to match hers, "Violet? What's wrong?"
She settled back into the cot, her eyes closed, "Migraine. I get 'em sometimes. Worse when 'm stressed."
"I'm sorry..." His guilt tripled. He'd been part of her stress.
"Don't be." She could barely keep her eyes open, wanting to go back to sleep. The throbbing in her temple had spread down to her jaw, and the draught Madam Pomfrey had given her was wearing off.
"I just wanted to see you. I... Didn't see you today."
She hummed, her eyes taking in his appearance. He was as put together as always, aside from his hair being messy and tie loosened.
She was losing the fight to stay conscious, but she couldn't help her curiosity, "Worried?"
Draco's instinct was to lie, or make a joke, but he was tired of hiding from her. He promised himself he'd try, so he told her honestly, "Yes. Scared you were petrified, or something."
"Didn't think you cared." Draco knew it was time for him to leave by the way her words were being to sound jumbled together.
"I care. A lot, evidently." He stood up from his seat, suddenly remembering the glass vase in his hands that he'd been clutching, "Oh, I brought you these."
Violet's eyes opened then, focusing on the vase, "Violets? Where'd you find those?"
Draco's cheeks tinted pink; he was glad it was too dark for her to notice, "Professor Sprout. She's got all sorts of flowers. I wasn't sure what you liked, so I hazard a guess..."
Her eyes had closed again, but she smiled softly, "I love 'em."
He sat the vase on the side table, his finger brushing the soft violet petals as he turned away. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Violet's temple, murmuring, "Feel better soon." Before he rushed away.
She'd already fall back asleep, but when she woke the next morning, her migraine thankfully gone, the sight of the light purple flowers left her with a permanent smile for the day.