The Walk Back to Trouble

Olivia Middleton's POV

My eyes flutter open, then squeeze shut again from the sharp light. Everything's blurry at first, shapes stretching and blending until my vision slowly clears.

Hospital Wing.

I blink a few more times, letting the sterile ceiling come into focus before scanning the room. It's quiet. Empty. The sheets feel stiff under my fingers. I push myself up a bit, muscles sore. "Hello?" I call out softly.

Madam Pomfrey bustles in a moment later, apron rustling. "Oh, hello, dear. How are you feeling now? Is your hand still paining?" Her voice is sweet, full of practiced concern. I flex my forearm gently. "Um... no, not that much."

"Alright then. Drink this, the pain will fade away slowly," she says, handing me a goblet with something steaming and faintly green.

I down it without question. Bitter. Gross. Effective.

She gives me a nod, and just like that, I'm free to go.

I slide off the bed and glance around, making sure I haven't left anything behind. That's when I hear it—a voice from behind. "Are you alright now, Middleton?" I turn, surprised. Malfoy.

"Oh, Malfoy. Yes, I'm alright now" I tilt my head, arching an eyebrow. "But what are you doing here? Isn't it... y'know, past curfew?" I can't help the smirk tugging at my lips. "Who's breaking rules now?"

He clears his throat, trying to look casual. "Well, I'm not breaking any rules. I came to see Madam Pomfrey for..." He hesitates. I can see him scrambling for a lie. "...a stomachache. I guess I ate something funny."

"Right." I nod, biting back a smile. "Well, I'll leave you to it. I think Madam Pomfrey's asleep, so you might want to wake her." He shifts uncomfortably. "Are you free to go?" His voice sounds... genuine. Worried, even. "Yeah, I was just about to leave."

He pauses, then blurts out, "Alright. I'll come with you? I mean, walk you back to your common room?" The question catches me off guard, and I blink. His cheeks flush a little pink, and somehow that makes my own face feel warm too.

I raise an eyebrow. "Didn't you come here for the nurse?" He rubs the back of his neck. "Oh... yeah, well. If she's asleep, I don't want to disturb her. It's just a headache. It'll fade. If not, I'll come in the morning."

"Headache?" I ask, narrowing my eyes slightly. "Didn't you just say it was a stomachache?"

"Uh—yeah. Yeah. The stomachache," he stammers.

I stare at him for a second longer, then let it go. "Okay." He opens his mouth like he's going to ask again, but I beat him to it. "And about your offer to walk me? Such a gentleman. Yes, of course. You can walk with me."

Relief washes over his face, and we step out into the corridor, walking side by side under the flickering torches. "So..." he starts. "Do you know why your hand was hurting in the forest?" I shake my head. "No idea. They didn't tell me anything. I heard voices when I was half asleep—muffled—but I couldn't place them."

We fall into a quiet rhythm. Our footsteps echo gently. We don't look at each other. Just the floor.

I break the silence. "Um... can I ask you something?" He nods. "Yeah."

"What happened? After I blacked out. I don't remember anything." He hesitates. "Well... I don't know what Potter did. But you might remember that I screamed and ran—" He lowers his voice at the last part, embarrassed.

I laugh, can't help it. "Which, honestly, should've been our first instinct too." He lets out a sigh. I think he's relieved I'm not mocking him. "Well," he continues, "I got Hagrid and the others. Took them to where you were. Hagrid carried you back to the Hospital Wing. Your friends wanted to stay, but they weren't allowed. So... we all left."

I nod slowly. "How long was I out?"

"A day."

"Oh." I process that in silence until we reach the Gryffindor common room entrance.

Draco stops, nodding like he's about to turn away.

"Wait—Draco."

He pauses. Turns back to me. "Thanks. For walking me. And... for getting Hagrid. I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't." He shrugs, but there's a hint of a smile. "I didn't do much. You screamed bloody murder. Hagrid probably heard it halfway across the grounds."

I giggle. "Still. Thank you."

And before I can talk myself out of it, I lean forward and press a soft kiss to his cheek.

Then I'm gone—running up the stairs, heart racing, face burning.

Behind me, Draco just stands there, frozen, hand pressed to the cheek I kissed, his face bright red.

I step into the Gryffindor common room, the warmth of the fire instantly wrapping around me like a blanket. Harry, Ron, and Hermione are huddled together by the fireplace, deep in conversation.

"Hey, guys."

They all turn. Hermione gasps. "Livia!" She rushes toward me, pulling me into a tight hug.

Before I can even breathe, Harry swoops in with one of his own—tighter than Hermione's. "How are you feeling?" I laugh, gently pushing them off. "If you two hug me any harder, I'll be back in the Hospital Wing."

They step back, sheepish grins on their faces. "I'm feeling good." We all sink onto the couch. Harry settles next to me. "Sorry we couldn't stay with you. They wouldn't let us."

"It's alright," I assure him with a small smile. "I wasn't alone for long."

"What were you guys talking about?" I ask, glancing between them. Hermione leans forward. "We were filling in the blanks from last night. The centaur, what he told Harry..."

I listen as they explain it all—every odd little detail from the forest, the warning from the centaur, and what happened after I passed out. The pieces don't quite make a full picture yet, but something about it nags at me.

The next morning, exams begin. Hermione and I are practically skipping through the corridors. Harry and Ron, not so much. Still, Harry seems more distracted than usual. He keeps rubbing his scar like it's burning. After one exam, he pulls us aside and insists on talking to Hagrid.

Whatever Hagrid says connects a few more dots. Suddenly, we're sprinting to Professor McGonagall's office, breathless and frantic. "The stone," Harry tells her. "Someone's going to steal it. It's not safe."

She shakes her head. Says it's protected. That it's not our concern. Sends us back to the dorms like children who've imagined a monster under the bed.

We walk out of her office deflated. But Harry's eyes are still sharp. "That wasn't some stranger Hagrid met. It was Snape," he says firmly. "Harry..." I glance at him, cautious. "How can you be so sure it's Professor Snape? Hagrid told us Snape's protecting the stone. Why would he try to steal it?"

Before Harry can answer, a cold voice slices through the hallway.

"Good afternoon..."

We spin around to see Snape himself standing behind us, arms folded, eyes unreadable. "What would four young Gryffindors such as yourselves be doing inside on a day like this?" His gaze lingers on Hermione, waiting. "We—we were just—" Hermione stammers.

Snape arches an amused eyebrow. "Now, be careful. People might assume..." He glances between Harry and me—once, twice, slowly—"you're up to something."

Then his eyes settle on me.

"I assume, Miss Middleton, you'll be of sound mind not to involve yourself in anything foolish... and not let Potter here influence you poorly." He walks away, robes billowing like storm clouds behind him.

The hallway falls silent.

"Well," Hermione says, eyes wide, "what are we going to do?"

Harry's face hardens with determination.

"We go to the trapdoor. Tonight."