Run || Harry Potter FF

xx || footsteps

I was still in Jackson's sister's dress. There was no change of clothes on site and I would have to go to some "muggle" shop to find something else. Why had I been so unlucky with clothes this entire time? 

The crickets were singing. Everyone was inside the tent and asleep and I was struggling to keep my eyes open. George had tried to stay with me but I managed to convince him to get some rest. But being alone made it difficult to stay awake. But I doubted anyone would show up. The guarding was more as a precaution. Maybe I could just close my eyes for a minute...

My eyes flew open at the sound of crunching leaves nearby. Instinctively, my hand went to my gun. I followed the noise with my eyes. Something was walking adjacent to our camp.  It could be an animal. But there was something distinctively human about the pattern of footsteps.

I stood up quietly, wondering whether or not I should go get Harry or someone to check it out with me. But wouldn't that just cement their idea that I couldn't take care of it myself? Maybe George then...

But the crunching was getting louder, like they were running. And now there was a groaning too. Without thinking about it any further, I started to make my way towards the footsteps. I had my gun up by my chest and my finger near the trigger. All of my senses were on high alert. No one would catch me off guard.

Or that's what I thought, breaking into the darkness of the trees, when I collided with the noisy trespasser. I really thought I couldn't be caught off guard but here I was, face to face with Draco in the middle of nowhere, mumbling to himself and holding his arm to his chest, blood all over his shirt. "Holy shit, Draco! What the hell happened?" My voice was louder than I had intended and he looked at me wide eyed and confused.

"Layla? I did something...bad." His words were slurring together. He sounded drunk. But somehow I didn't think that was the problem.

"Draco," I said softly. "Let me see your arm." 

I wrapped my fingers around his wrist and bend his arm away from his chest. Immediately I wished I hadn't. There was an ugly, massive wound right where his dark mark used to be. There was pus oozing out of it and streaks of red reaching around his forearm. I touched it softly and noticed how feverish it was. Based on what I'd seen, I was sure he'd started to come delirious from a combination of blood loss and infection.

"Draco, what did you do? Can you tell me?" I asked, even though I was sure of the answer.

"I cut it out. I cut the bad out, Layla. Will they like me now?" He sounded like a child when he said it, his eyes innocent. He put his lips to my ear and whispered, "My parents are behind you."

My heart hammered in my chest as I whipped around to see. But there was nothing. Just darkness. He was hallucinating. This was bad. "Come on Draco, let's get you inside."

I put one arm around him for support and we started walking back towards the tent. But after only a few steps, all of his weight collapsed onto me and I was left holding him up by myself. He passed out. 

"Help!" I shouted at the tent. "God, I hope someone wakes up. I can't carry you by myself."

After only a few seconds, George and Harry came out, both with their hair sticking up in all directions. They had their wands up and pointed at me. "Who's that?" Harry said defensively, probably having trouble seeing with sleep still in his eyes. 

I started to speak but George cut me off. "Oh god, it's that git Draco." He sighed loudly, clearly hoping for some death eaters.

"Guys, help me get him inside. He's delirious and lost a lot of blood and I think he has a blood infection."

Reluctantly, George and Harry came over and took him out of my arms, just as everyone else was coming out of the tent. Hermione came up, unsure of what was going on, and I grabbed her arm. "Is there some kind of spell you can do to get rid of a blood infection and, I don't know, give a magical blood transfusion or something? He's really bad."

"Is that Draco?" Her eyes followed Harry and George. "Well, there's potions. We may have some in the medical area... I'll go look." 

I was right behind her. They had put Draco in the bed next to Jackson where George had been sleeping. His forehead was sweaty and he was still unconscious. I was starting to get worried. What if they didn't have the potions they needed to heal him?

"So...what did he do?" George asked, gesturing to his infected arm, his brows furrowed.

I sat down on the end of the bed. "Well, he managed to tell me that the cut the dark mark off of his arm. And I imagine he bled a lot and then it got infected." 

He looked so sad laying there with a blood stained shirt and skin so pale it was almost translucent. "Why'd he do that?" George asked incredulously.

I sighed. He probably wouldn't appreciate me telling everyone that he wanted them to like him. "Because he's haunted by it, George. He got sick of being reminded of the person he used to be."

George laughed darkly. "If he really thinks that almost killing himself like that would somehow make him a better person, then he deserved what he got."

Something about the tone of his voice set my insides on fire. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to tell him how awful he was for saying something so wrong. But Hermione pushed through them all with a couple bottles with rancid smelling liquid inside. 

"They're old but they'll work. We should have took the time to update them before we left." She shook her head silently. "Will you lift his head up?"

I nodded and put my hand behind his head, tilting it up while Hermione put the glass bottle to his mouth. I wasn't sure an unconscious person could still swallow a potion but it seemed to be working fine. He stirred a little. "What is that?" I asked.

"This is the potion to stop the infection. And this," she said, picking up the second bottle, "is a blood-replenishing potion." 

His eyelashes fluttered and he nearly opened his eyes. "How long until they work?"

Hermione shrugged as I put his head back down on the pillow. "Could be minutes, could be an hour. Like I said, it's an old potion. I'm not sure how that will effect it."

I sat down on the bed again, my heart beat starting to return to normal. He would be okay. Magic could do anything... At least, that's the way it seemed. 

Everyone had left at that point. Everyone except George who was still staring at Draco with a kind of hate in his eyes that I didn't understand. It scared me. "George...are you okay?"

He reluctantly his concentration and I realized I had interrupted some internal conversation he was having with himself. "He shouldn't have come back. He should have stayed away."

For the second time in a span of a few minutes, I found myself ridiculously angry at George. "He wants all of you to like him. That's why he cut it out. He feels terrible for what he's done in the past. Haven't you ever made a mistake? Why can't you just give him a chance?"

George's nostrils flared. "Because my brother is dead. Because of people like him. Why should I care what he feels bad about? You know what feels really fucking bad? Having someone with you from the moment you were conceived and then watching them die right in front of you. And every time I see him," he jabbed his finger at Draco, "that's all I can think about. So don't tell me to forgive him when you have no idea what you're talking about."

He turned around and stalked out of the room, leaving me next to an unconscious Draco, trying to reconcile this blooming internal conflict that George had placed in my heart.