A New Chapter at Hogwarts [Drarry]

Chapter 40: In the Hands of Fate

Draco and Hermione arrived at St. Mungo's in a whirlwind of panic, the air thick with the tension that hung between them. The afternoon sun streamed weakly through the tall, arched windows, casting long shadows across the gleaming floors as they burst into the hospital's entrance. Draco's breath was ragged, coming in sharp, uneven gasps as his arms clutched Harry close to his chest. His whole body trembled from the effort of carrying him, but it wasn't the physical strain that made his legs feel like they could buckle at any moment—it was fear. A terror so deep and consuming that it seized every inch of him, making his heart race until the frantic pounding felt like it might shatter his ribcage. His mind spun with one thought, and one thought alone: Harry.

The stillness of Harry's body was wrong. So, so wrong. The way his limbs hung limply, the unnatural heaviness that came with holding him, as if the very life had been drained from his bones. Draco could barely hear the world around him through the roar of blood in his ears. It felt like the warmth of Harry's skin was fading, and the cold seeping through Draco's fingers, making his hold on him tighter, more desperate. He had to hold on. He had to keep Harry here—whatever it took.

"Help!" Draco's voice cracked, the word tearing from his throat like a primal plea, raw and broken, shattering the quiet hum of the hospital's usual rhythm. The sound echoed through the wide corridors, and for a split second, the bustling space came to a standstill. He stumbled forward, his legs trembling, threatening to give way as the weight of the moment pressed down on him. Every muscle burned from the strain, but none of it mattered. Nothing mattered except Harry.

"Someone, please! I need help!" His voice was hoarse, strained with desperation. He could feel his composure slipping through his fingers like sand. Hermione was at his side, her face pale, her eyes wide with equal parts fear and determination, but Draco barely registered her presence. All that filled his mind was Harry—Harry's still form against his chest, the faint flutter of a pulse that felt too weak, too fragile.

Several nurses rushed toward them, their faces shifting from the routine calm of their duties to sharp, immediate alertness. The air seemed to thicken with urgency as they took in the sight of Harry, limp and unconscious, cradled in Draco's trembling arms. A tall witch with sharp, assessing eyes and an air of unwavering control stepped forward, her hand already reaching for her wand. "Over here!" she called out, her voice crisp and authoritative as she directed them toward a nearby stretcher that floated effortlessly into place.

Draco stumbled toward it, each step heavy and unsteady, his legs threatening to buckle beneath the weight of his fear more than Harry's body. He lowered Harry onto the stretcher, though his hands shook so violently it felt like a battle just to keep hold of him. His fingers clung to Harry's robes for a heartbeat longer, as though letting go would sever the last fragile tether between them.

The nurse moved swiftly, her wand hovering just above Harry's chest, already casting diagnostic spells. The soft, glowing pulses of light that radiated from her wand offered no comfort to Draco; instead, they seemed to mock the chaos churning inside him, the brightness contrasting with the shadow of dread that had wrapped itself around his heart.

"What happened?" she asked briskly, her voice detached but efficient as she ran her wand over Harry's body, her movements precise and practiced. Draco swallowed hard, trying to force his voice past the tight, strangling grip of terror in his throat. His mind raced, every image of Harry's fall flashing in front of his eyes in horrible, vivid detail.

"He—he fell," Draco choked out, his voice raw and broken. "During a Quidditch match. I cast Arresto Momentum, but it wasn't fast enough." His words faltered, the guilt coiling tighter around his chest as he continued, "He hit the ground—hard. His body, his head—"