(1) 𝐍𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐄 | d. m

Chapter thirty-nine

As summer rolled in and the weather started to gradually become more cheerful, I couldn't feel less so. I had been waiting for Draco to return for 94 days and six hours, although it felt more like a lifetime. I was slowly starting to give up hope. Maybe he wasn't coming back, after all. Maybe my holding onto hope was just pure idiocy, and maybe our love story had reached its end.

I didn't want to believe any if it, of course, but a part of me was trying to think rationally. I had to keep sane, as sane as sane could be.

At the same time as I was growing more and more inpatient and feeling hopeless, my health was also starting to decline. I was feeling feverish, sick to my stomach and tired all the time. There was barely a night where I didn't wake up, sweat sticking to my forehead and a gut wrenching feeling of wanting to die. I had never before, experienced such pains in my back and stomach, and I would occasionally have to run to the bathroom in the middle of the night to throw up. It felt like my whole body was ablaze, and I prayed for death to come quickly.

Something was definitely not right.

I didn't have time for this. I was trying to prepare for the moment when Bellatrix, Voldemort and the other Death Eaters would return to kill me. The might have gotten away with it last time, but they were sure as hell not giving up that easily. That I knew.

It had been a little over three months.

Three months of absolute torture.

Three months of waiting. Of hoping.

Three months of agony.

In the time of me being there, Harry, Ron and Hermione were still looking for Horcruxes. I had no way of finding out where exactly they were. I guess they were laying low somewhere, and with everything that was going on, hiding out from Snatchers was easier said than done.

Luna and Neville would send me letters on occasion, filling me in on the situation at Hogwarts. Snape had become headmaster and the school was now under complete control by him and the Carrows.

Nothing seemed hopeful.

There was no sign of light at the end of the tunnel.

And things were only going to get worse. . .

***

I woke up in the middle of the night feeling like someone used a sharp knife to cut through my abdomen.  The excruciating pain shot through my back and all through my stomach, and I had no idea where all of it came from.

I rushed to the bathroom, feeling my body tense up with convulsions and a dire need to throw up. I was barely capable of standing up right, and even the tiniest movement became painful. My vision was somewhat blurry and the pain kept me from thinking straight. All I wanted was for the pain to end.

Where the fuck was this coming from?

After hours and hours of desperate attempts at falling back asleep after almost crashing to the ground by the sink in the bathroom  — I finally did. Draco occupied my dreams and nightmares alike, making me miss him even more.

If that was even possible.

I remembered every curve of his angelic face, and the way he barely ever dated to smile fully. I remembered his voice, soothing and lulling, and his sad eyes that lit up every room. He was pure magic, at least to me.

And I loved him. So much.

But he was gone.

And I was left with no way of knowing if he was ever coming back to me.

***

When I woke up the following morning, exhausted from the night before, I couldn't seem to grasp the reality of it all.

Especially the sudden and sharp pain in my back and stomach, that seemed to come and go as it pleased.

Perhaps I ate something bad.

It wasn't like I was in the biggest mood to cook for myself.

Or maybe these were just severe menstrual cramps.

But then again, it wasn't my time of the month.

Perhaps I was overstressed by everything that was going on.

Or. . . worst case scenario:

I was sick.

Really sick.

No matter the reason, I tried not to think about it too much, whenever the pain was minimal. The pain was at its worst the first few hours of the day and the very last ones at night, and I decided to enjoy those little moments, when the pain seemed bearable. After all, I had other things to worry about.

The days that followed, I tried to devise a plan. Any plan. Some way to at least protect myself from whatever harm I knew the Death Eaters would cause me.

Because they were a whole army.

And I was just one person.

It didn't look too good to me at that point, and sometimes — very often — I felt like giving up. Like there was no chance for me to survive. Because I had no way of knowing if Draco was ever coming back, or if he was even alive — so I had nothing left to live for.

Other times I felt like I owed it to him and to myself to survive. To at least try and fight. Because we had gotten this far, who was to say we couldn't get even further?

And I couldn't help but think about Narcissa. How she had sacrificed herself for me. For Draco. For our future and our life together.

She died, so we could live.

So who was I to just forget about that?

Who was I, to ignore her wishes?

Who would I be if I just looked past that?

She gave us another chance at life, and here I was, contemplating not living it.

No. I couldn't just give up. Not when there was still a chance of all my dreams coming true.

Not when there's was still a possibility of him coming back.

Not when there was still hope.

Because you know what they say;

"Hope is the last thing ever lost".