Last Words Should Always Be I Love You ~ A Draco Malfoy Love Story

Chapter 15

Genevieve slammed the dormitory door shut and hurled herself amongst the sheets of her bed before the tears had even began to roll down her flushed, burning cheeks. As soon as her face hit that pillow, the painful sobs began to rack her body, and she pressed her face further into the soft down, trying to muffle her hideous sounds so that he couldn't hear her downstairs. Her feet burned from running bare on the wooden stairs so quickly, and she'd stumbled too, so that her ankles and calves were on fire.

Her new-found hatred for Pansy ran through her body like venom, poisoning her every thought with the devious things she wanted to do to her. The way Pansy looked at her, as though she was inferior to her, made Genevieve seethe with fury. Although, that was nothing compared to what she felt when Pansy looked at Draco.

Genevieve knew her and Draco barely knew each other, but her feelings towards him were so strong, so possessive, that the very thought of anyone else talking to him felt like a blow to the stomach from a giant. 

Genevieve's breathing was ragged and painful, and she tried to push herself into an upright position to catch her breath, but it was impossible. Her arms just collapsed beneath her, like ants trying to hold up an elephant. Her head was spinning, the room pressing in around her, and she twisted and writhed and curled into a ball and sprawled out on the blankets, but she felt like she was going to pass out.

Ears pounding, she heaved herself from the bed and staggered towards the window, wrenching it open with trembling arms as more hot tears trickled over her skin, eyes blurry and red. The cool night air hit her like a tonne of bricks, and she gulped it in as if it were gold. The freshness caressed every inch of her skin, and her feet began to tingle. She ignored it, breath stolen away by the beauty of the world outside of the dormitory.

The forest looked as thick and menacing as ever, though the lower branches of the trees were recumbent and inviting, as if welcoming her to curl up in their pine needles and sleep for however long she liked. A navy blue sky enveloped every inch of the land, bar the small light burning in Hagrid's hut, and the very top twigs of the trees, bathed in the fluorescent moonlight. All was still, and for a moment she alone in the world, with no troubles and just the endless sky to keep her company.

Then she stumbled back from the window, and her legs buckled. She hit the wooden floor with a thud, back scraping against the wall as she fell to the ground. Her skin burned, every inch, and it was if someone has rearranged every part of her brain; the knowledge was there, but the pieces were so far away she couldn't piece them together. The room was spinning, the floor was the ceiling, and the walls seemed imaginary. She pictured them drifting off into the sky, and herself rolling off the side of the building and being swooped up by the landscape and carried away forever.

The strange tingling sensation had progressed to every nerve in her body, and as it reached her head she thought she heard footsteps up the stairs. 

"Draco..." She muttered, but the words were so sluggish and jumbled they couldn't be deciphered; if there was anyone around to hear them, that was. To keep the thoughts away from her body, she decided to think of Draco instead.

Her heart swelled and warmth spilled all over her, butterflies fluttering around in every crevice in the fleshy box which held her soul. She closed her eyes and let her head loll sideways, so that she could picture his slanted shoulders beneath her throbbing head, his firm arms around her waist, protecting her from harm. She thought of the electricity which had passed between them at that slight touch.

And all of a sudden, it was as if he was actually there.

~

Water. All Genevieve could feel was water. Every inch of her body, soaked, and the flow of her drenched robes against her skin as she thrashed and kicked for the surface. Her breath was non-existent, lungs about to implode. Hair covering her face like vines smothering an old building, hands clawing helplessly for a way out, for a way to breath. But it was impossible.