I'm in a tunnel. A tunnel with Mother at one end, me at the other, and everything else that's going on sounds distant and fake. It sounds like my ears are filled with cotton.
I sense the door slamming open, and the bustle of healers around me, and two trying to pull me out of the room. But all I can do is fight against them and call out to Mother. I lost my wand at some point, but I honestly couldn't care less.
"Mr. Malfoy, you need to leave now. You weren't supposed to be in here in the first place," I hear a healer say as I struggle against his arms.
"I can't leave her! Get off of me, you uncultured swine!" I shout back. I break loose from their grasp and run to Mother's bed. I grab her hand, "Please, Mother, wake up. Tell them it wasn't me. Don't leave me, please, don't let them take me away."
"Fine, you don't have to leave, but you need to go over there, sit in that chair, and stay out of the way," the head healer snaps.
I look up at him, "Thank you, please, just help her. I can't lose her, she's all I have."
"I understand, but the more stress you put on her, the harder it will be to revive her," the healer says.
I nod, wipe my eyes, and walk to my chair. I hate that I can't hold her hand, but at least I can be in the room with her.
Ryette comes and put a hand on my shoulder, "How're you holding up, scout?"
I look up at her, "Scout? Who's 'Scout'?"
Ryette chuckles, "I'm not saying it's your name, it's like calling someone mate or whatever."
"...Oh, sorry," I whisper.
"Right, not a good time for joking."
I'm not paying attention to anything she's saying. All I can focus on is Mother's face. She looks so relaxed, almost as if she just fell asleep while reading. I have this constant knot in my stomach. I don't if I should cry, scream, throw up, or leave to start planning her funeral. The last thought kills me. I can't plan her funeral, I don't know the first thing about planning a funeral.
I finally focus on the room and realize the beeping is back. She's alive.
*+*+*
"Hey, how's Narcissa doing?" Potter asks as he enters the room.
I turn to look at Potter. His hair looks like he's spent the last two days raking his hands through it. He has dark, purple circles under his eyes, that make him look older than he actually is.
"No, change. The healer says that she should survive, but she might have some memory loss and other random problems that weren't there before," I state.
"Okay, now, how are you?" the emerald eyed boy asks.
"Like you care," I sneer.
"Don't do that. You wanted to call a truce. Which in my terms means that we're friends. I dont know what type of friends you've had, but normal friends check up on you and are concerned about how're doing," Potter explains.
"We're not friends, we just don't fight anymore. I know you don't actually care about how I am doing. So, don't fake it," I drawl.
"Whatever, Draco. I was just checking up on you. Sorry for caring," Potter snaps.
"Don't waste your time."
"Send me a letter when she wakes up," Potter says over his shoulder as he walks out.
"No promises."