Hateful Love

Chapter Twenty-Nine

NOTE: I do not own any of the ideas or characters expressed in this story (except Cassie Jackson). All of these belong to J.K. Rowling.

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Draco P.O.V.

          My arms are starting to get tired from carrying Cassie up all those stairs. It’s not like she’s heavy; in fact, it’s almost scary how light she is. But I’ve been feeling exhausted for almost a month now, and this isn’t helping.

          When we turn into the hallway with the Room of Requirement, my knees feel weak with relief. I slow down in front of where the door should be and start pacing.

          “Are we there yet?” Cassie asks sleepily, making me smile slightly. I gaze down at her as the door melts into existence before us, and feel sick with worry as I notice how pale she’s become since I last looked.

          Opening the door with difficulty, I say softly, “How do you feel?”

          “Like crap,” she answers honestly as I shut the door quietly behind us. I walk over to our usual couch and lay her gently on the cushions, muttering a hasty apology when she hisses in pain.

          “Maybe if you’d kept your eyes open like I told you to, you’d feel better,” I say with frustration. “You never listen to me.”

          Cassie isn’t looking at me anymore, but instead gazes at the ceiling with half-closed eyes. She whispers shakily, “My arm hurts.”

          I bite my lip and crouch down next to her, my anger disappearing quickly once I see how much pain she’s really in. I rub her shoulder gently and reply softly, “I know. Just try to stay awake for a little longer, okay?”

          Her only answer is a slow blink. I stand back up and walk quickly to the side of the room, looking for blankets to stop the bleeding. I know a spell that could heal the cut easily, but I can’t use it while she’s conscious.

          The blankets seem to appear out of nowhere; I turn to see them lying behind the couch, as though they’d been there all along. Not stopping to wonder if the room had created them simply because they were needed, I bend down and scoop them up.

          When I step around to the front of the couch, I see that Cassie’s closed her eyes. My stomach twists in fear and I drop down next to her, terrified that she’s stopped breathing.

          But there’s a slight rise and fall of her chest, and I breathe a quiet sigh of relief. She still looks sickly pale, and I see that her arm has started bleeding worse than before. I bunch the thickest blanket I see into a tight bundle and press it against the cut.

          Cassie shifts in her sleep, her face screwing up in pain. I feel so guilty, but I push harder against her arm, the blanket already becoming stained red.

          I mop up most of the blood, until I can clearly see how bad the cut is. It’s about five inches long, and at least an inch wide at the thickest part. My head spins as I realize that the bone is indeed visible through all the blood.

          Taking out my wand, I carefully slice off the sleeve of her robe from the shoulder down. It crumples to the floor, crackling slightly from all the dried blood.

          I feel a bead of sweat trickling down my forehead, and I hastily wipe it off with my sleeve. I know I have to use the healing charm now before Cassie wakes up, but I’m terrified of hurting her further.