NOVEL NEXT Chapter 38: Chapter 38
The boys would never talk like that, and the lack of personality behind the words was what she missed the most. Just to read one of Ron's dull jokes or to have a comforting line from Harry would have been bliss. Hell, she'd have probably screamed with joy if they'd have written something about Quidditch. She just wanted her boys back...
"Can you stay tonight?" Ginny blurted over a sob. "P-Parvati's not here, and I don't want to be alone."
Hermione gave her friend a sad nod and pulled her in for a strong hug. "Of course I'll stay."
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Where the fuck is she?
As Draco had noted so many times before, Granger was a girl of habit; sticking to her strict routines with nary a glitch. He'd heard her leave not long after their encounter in the kitchenette, just like every other day; leaving him to his own devices for the evening. He'd read some more of the Muggle novel and had a quick shower before preparing himself for bed, waiting for Granger's return.
And there was the glitch.
He knew from his isolation that the habitual twitters of birds usually started at five in the morning, and she was normally home by three. With a confused glare at the window, he left his bed and headed into the living room, checking the clock to find it was exactly ten-past-five, and Granger had definitely not come home.
Home...?
He could think about that later. For now, all he felt was a heavy and dense weight pulsate in his chest, and it chased away any other notions he could have had. It felt like panic...Yes, that was panic. Questions quickly clogged his brain, painfully hammering against his temple.
Where was she?
If something had happened to her, would he be stuck here?
Forgotten?
Alone?
What would that do to his mind?
What would he do without her scent or showers...?
He needed to get out.
No way in hell was he staying in here; left to rot away like a peasant with no worth. He marched quickly to the main door, ignoring the familiar and irritating static against his palm, warning him not to grab the handle. But he did anyway.
His fist clamped down on the brass, and the pain was instantaneous. It burned his hand and sparked up his arm; scorching his flesh from the inside and searing across his bones. His instincts screamed at him to let go, but his alarm was too strong. He gnashed his teeth in an effort to ignore the pain and tried to push down, but then the fire shot down his spine like blazing scratches. His back arched and he roared with agony; but still, he refused to let go.
He could feel himself weakening; the violent flames burning away his energy and convulsing his muscles. He knew he was spasming with uncontrollable jerks, and another tortured yell tore out of his throat. With one last feeble attempt to escape, he put everything he had into opening the door.
The heat raced right back up his spine and attacked his head, flaring at the nape of his neck before it all went numb. He didn't even feel himself crash to the floor; trembling wildly and writhing as the fit rocked every inch of him with dangerous twitches. And then he was unconscious.
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