The Hollow Beneath Hogwarts

117. Night Changes

Sloane bolted upright in bed with a strangled gasp.

For a moment she had no idea where she was.

Her chest heaved violently. Her heart hammered so hard against her ribs that it actually hurt.

Sweat clung to her skin.

The blankets were twisted around her legs. And bile burned at the back of her throat.

The nightmare had felt so real. Far too real.

She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed a trembling hand against her chest, trying to force herself to breathe properly.

In. Out. In. Out.

Slowly the darkness of the dormitory began to replace the horrors she'd just escaped. But the images refused to leave her.

They lingered. Like ghosts.

Euan standing in the foyer. Smiling. Watching her.

Every single person she loved trapped around him.

Draco.
Harry.
Hermione.
Ron.
Luna.
Ginny.
Blaise.
Theo.
Daphne.
Joanna.
Kingsley.
Tina. 
Newt.
Narcissa.

Her entire family. Her entire world. All held captive. All depending on her.

The offer had been simple.

Her life. For theirs.

The easiest decision she'd ever made. She would have chosen them every single time.

Without hesitation. Without regret.

Yet that hadn't been enough.

That was the worst part.

In the dream Euan hadn't killed her immediately.

He'd taken his time. Making them watch. Making her suffer.

She could still remember every second.

The sound of bones snapping. The agony of struggling to breathe as he crushed the air from her lungs.

The helplessness on Draco's face.

The screams. The tears. 

The laughter. His laughter.

Then the enormous boulder rising above her head. Floating higher and higher.

Ready to crush her. Ready to end it.

She had seen it falling. Seen it rushing towards her.

Then she'd woken.

Sloane let out a shaky breath. "Just a dream," she whispered to herself.

The words sounded hollow. Because lately her dreams felt less like dreams and more like warnings.

Her head throbbed painfully. A familiar migraine already beginning to form behind her eyes.

She glanced towards the clock on the bedside table.

2:18am.

Wonderful.

She knew immediately she wasn't getting back to sleep.

Not after that. Not with her heart still racing. Not with her mind replaying every horrifying detail.

Beside her, Goose stirred. The little Niffler blinked sleepily before lifting his head. His dark eyes immediately locked onto her.

Concern.

Even half asleep he could tell something was wrong.

Sloane managed a tired smile. "Sorry, sweetie."

Goose yawned. Then immediately climbed out of his basket. Clearly deciding that wherever she was going, he was going too.