The Noctis Codex | DRARRY

TWENTY-TWO

[slight mentions of blood]
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Harry waited in the Great Hall, gaze darting toward the doorway every few moments, hoping any second Draco would return. But as minutes went on, an unease crept into his mind, whispering that something was wrong. He pushed aside his untouched plate and left the Hall, glancing down every corridor, half-expecting Draco's familiar, slightly aloof figure to appear. But the hallways remained quiet, and not a single blond strand caught his eye.

He immediately returned to their shared room, but the emptiness of it struck him first. The bed was made, but something essential was missing—the scattered notes, Draco's books, his small collection of belongings. The wardrobe stood open, its contents stripped bare. Harry felt his stomach drop as his eyes landed on the spot where Draco's suitcase had been. It was gone. Everything was gone.

Panic rose in his chest. Lucius must have forced him to leave. But how could Draco have gone without so much as a word? What could Lucius have said to make him leave so suddenly, without even telling him goodbye? This bond wasn't something that could be severed on a whim—too much depended on their distance, on facing their struggle together. They'd known the risks. Being apart for too long was unthinkable, dangerous. For both of them.

He felt his feet moving before he'd decided what to do. His pulse hammered in his ears as he hurried through the corridors toward McGonagall's office. Without hesitating, he burst in, breathing hard, interrupting whatever conversation had been happening. Snape stood by the woman's desk, his expression tense, but Harry barely registered it.

"Professor," he called out, his voice high with desperation. "Draco's gone. His father—he took him."

Both teachers stiffened abruptly. The headmistress's eyes narrowed with concern. "Gone?" she repeated, as though struggling to understand the full weight of his words.

"Yes, gone!" His frustration grew. "He's not supposed to leave! You promised you'd protect him—that you'd make sure nothing would happen to us. But he's just... just gone. How could you let this happen?"

Snape's face remained still, but his dark eyes flickered with something Harry couldn't place. McGonagall took a step forward, hands raised in a calming gesture. "Harry, I know this is alarming, but please—take a breath. Tell us exactly what happened."

"Nothing happened—I waited, but he never came back. I went to our room, and everything was gone. His father must have forced him." The words fell out in a frantic rush, barely pausing between sentences as he tried to catch his breath, but his lungs felt tight, as if he were breathing through a straw. A prickling sensation crawled over his skin, and he could feel his vision blurring around the edges.

The room swayed, spinning in slow, lazy circles around him. He struggled to draw in air, feeling dizzy, on the verge of choking. "Something's wrong," he mumbled, his own voice sounding distant.

McGonagall's expression shifted to one of alarm. She moved to him, steadying his shoulders. "Harry, stay with us. We're going to get you help, stay focused."

Snape had already crossed the room, helping her support the boy's weight. But as they started moving, an intense, searing pain bloomed in Harry's chest, forcing him to his knees. He coughed, hard, doubling over as he felt something warm and wet fill his mouth. He tasted the metallic tang of blood before it spattered onto the stone floor. His fingers pressed to his chest, trying to hold himself together against the tearing sensation that gripped him. It was worse than fainting, worse than the fits they'd managed to control so far.

McGonagall's voice cut through the fog of pain. "Severus, we need to move faster." Her tone had a sharp edge of urgency. She glanced at Harry, her worry barely hidden. "He's far too weak."