Letters I Can't Send

Y/n's POV

He's looking at me and not saying anything, and right now, I can't be more grateful that someone is here. I don't care that it's him. The bane of my existence. That's a lie. I know he's not the bane of my existence.

"Do you know what happened?" he asks me in a voice that can't possibly belong to Draco Malfoy.

I only a few things. I know the crazy dream I had, and I know the contents of the dream that have confused me beyond measure.

So, I shake my head. Because I don't know anything for certain anymore. "Where is Quinn?" is what I say.

"Sleeping, I think," he answers and I check my wristwatch. It's late.

There's a moment of silence. I'm sure I look tired, defeated. Madame Pomfrey gave me so much sleeping drought, so many drugs and the aftermath for me was throwing up for an hour straight, for so many more reasons than one.

"I saw my father," I say in raspy whisper. "I was chasing him, in the rain, and I was angry at him..." I trail off, staring into space, feeling more and more like a crazed, traumatized girl. Then I look at him, my face blank because I can't bare to have emotion anymore, to show that I care. "There's someone here at Hogwarts. That's not supposed to be here," I can't form full sentences anymore.

Draco looks surprised. "No, Ellis, you had a bad day."

"He told me," I say, pausing. "My father sent me a letter," a ghost of a smile grazes my lips as I remember his handwriting on that piece of parchment. "He told me that he's running from someone. The person in this school," I must not be making any sense because Draco is looking at me like I have three heads.

"No, love. You—"

"I'm not crazy!" I say in a frantic whisper. "I'm not crazy."

Draco snaps his mouth shut as he watches me tilt my head back and close my eyes.

"If he knew who the imposter was, then would he tell me he didn't know?" I whisper, thinking of how he called the imposter by his name. My father must have known.

My father, Archer Ellis (nicknamed Archie) is psychic or something, he is being chased by deatheaters and one of them is in this school. This is what I know. I don't know why I passed out, I don't know why everyone is looking at me like a I killed someone, but I'm not crazy. Or at least I don't think I am.

"What happened to me?" I ask Draco.

He hesitates. Opens his mouth, closes it. "You were shaking, your eyes were rolling around your head. You were bewitched," he says in a low voice. Right now, he is nothing like the Draco I know.

"Oh," I look at my hands. "You shouldn't be here," I say softly.

He doesn't respond at first. "I can go, if you'd like," he makes to stand up.

"No," I say quickly and sit up, grabbing his hand gently. "I meant that you're not allowed to be here, but that doesn't mean you need to leave. Don't leave. Please," the last word is a whisper, I can't help it.

He slowly sits back down in the chair, his hand still in mine. He obviously doesn't understand anything I've been saying to him. All the little snippets of a mystery I have yet to solve.

I have lost all grip on humanity and his hand in mine is keeping my on the ground.

I always wanted to fly when I was younger, but as soon as the opportunity becomes possible, the only thing I want is to have my two feet on the ground. 

To be grounded to humanity.

"I—I don't even need to be here—I'm fine—" I say and I'm pulling back the sheets. I let go of his hand and I begin to stand, failing.

He catches me in his arms, grabbing my elbows and steadying me, before pulling me to his chest, two arms wrapping around me, holding me there with no escape. So that I don't go anywhere.

I cover my face with my hands as I bury it in his chest. But I don't cry.

He holds me against him tightly, both of us still as statues.

"I don't know anything anymore," I whisper through my fingers. I listen to his heartbeat through his sweatshirt. It drums like a beat to a song; it's a grounding experience to be able to listen to it. Like a privilege.

He strokes my hair softly. Nothing like the Draco I thought I knew.

I swore to never get this close to him again, and I swore to not let myself want this again. But I think just this once. I think maybe, if I'm this desperate, maybe, just maybe, it's okay.

..........

I must have fallen asleep, because I wake up and he's gone. Light is streaming through the windows of the hospital wing and now I live with the memories of last night.

I wrap my arms around my middle, and take the chance to truly study the hospital wing. A few of the cots are filled by the Triwizard Champions, injured from the task they participated in the previous day. I see Fleur Delacour a few beds away from me, and on the other side of the room is Cedric Diggory.

Neither of them are awake, even though its 9:30 in the morning. I take the time to haul myself up out of the cot and try to walk. My legs are sore and I don't even know why. My mouth tastes foul from all the vomiting I did about 12 hours ago—from the drugs, the confusion, and the unknown.

If my father said that he could see the past, present and future through dreams, then what was that?

Another question I can't seem to understand: how did I just drop down and have some crazy dream? Why was I totally bewitched when I woke up?

And what I don't want to think is if I'm psychic, like my father, would that happen every time I have a vision? But I don't truly think that, because I don't want to.

I grab my things—I haven't been here long, even if it feels like I've been here for months—and pad my way to the exit of the hospital wing. No one stops me, no one even knows I'm leaving so, I leave.

I find myself walking all the way back to the common room. It's a Friday, so, theoretically, everyone should be in classes, but today we only had a half-day of classes, since the first task was yesterday. So everyone is in classes until 12 p.m. An odd quark to this school.

I might as well use my time wisely.

I get a shower first, then sink into the cool sheets of my bed and fall asleep.

..........

"Y/n!" I hear as I stir awake in my bed. I'm curled into a ball of sheets and blankets, a pillow under my head, and hair strewn onto the mattress. It's Quinn who is squealing at the sight of me back in my bed. When I sit up halfway, she rushes to my side and sits beside me on the mattress. "Merlin—how are you doing?" she asks, concerned.

I rub my eyes with my fingers. "Fine," I say because that's my answer to everything. As I slowly awaken, I remember everything that happened yesterday. Merlin, I have a lot to tell her, and I don't know where to start.

a/n: if you love draco just comment on your favorite paragraph of his lololol <3