The Hollow Beneath Hogwarts

121. Fight Song

"I...love...you."

Draco froze.

The words echoed through him with a force so powerful that it felt as though something inside his chest had physically shattered.

His wand slipped from numb fingers and clattered against the stone floor. The sound seemed impossibly distant. Everything seemed distant.

The security room around him instantly dissolved into chaos, but it was chaos he could no longer hear.

People were moving. Mouths were opening. Someone shouted. Someone swore.

A chair scraped violently across the floor.

Yet every sound seemed submerged beneath deep water.

Muted. Distant. Unreachable.

Draco stood perfectly still.

His entire body had locked up. His lungs refused to draw breath. His heart pounded so violently that he could feel it in his throat.

Harry was suddenly in front of him. He knew it was Harry because he could see him.

See the panic. See the terror. See his lips moving frantically. See his hands grabbing Draco's shoulders.

Shaking him.

Hard.

But Draco couldn't hear a single word.

It was as though he had been ripped away from reality and trapped behind a sheet of glass.

Watching. Only watching.

Unable to react. Unable to speak. Unable to move. Unable to breathe.

Then he heard it. Not from the room. Not from Harry. Not from anyone standing around him.

He heard breathing.

No.

Not breathing.

Gasping.

Desperate.

Painful.

Someone struggling for air. Someone fighting to breathe.

Each ragged inhale sounded wet and broken. Each exhale sounded weaker than the one before it.

The sound tore straight through his soul. Because he knew that sound. He knew exactly who it belonged to. His entire body began trembling.

"No..."

The word barely escaped his lips.

"No..."

The gasping continued. Weaker. More desperate. More frightened.

Draco's eyes widened. His heart lurched.

Every instinct inside him screamed the same thing.

'Sloane'.

"Sloane?" he whispered. His voice cracked instantly. Fear flooded through every inch of him. Raw. Pure. Primal. "Sloane?"

The gasping became more frantic. More strained. As though she were fighting against invisible hands crushing her throat. As though every breath was becoming harder to find.

Draco's knees nearly buckled.

This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

Not her. Anyone but her.

Not Sloane. Not the girl who laughed too loudly. Not the girl who brought Goose apples when nobody was looking. Not the girl who made Hogwarts feel like home. Not the girl who had taught him what love actually felt like. Not the girl who had looked at every broken piece of him and chosen to stay.