Rain dance Chapter two: Decisions are made
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'I am never going to live this done' he muttered to himself
In a rush of robes he had discarded his broom and unclasped his Quidditch robe, he knelt beside her wrapping, her in the dirty material, she made a small noise when he lifted her, she was so light and small he was scared he would break her.
Draco thought he must have hurt her; he looked down to see a line of smeared bold making its way down her lips. He knew she was in trouble now as he ran towards the castle holding her as tightly and as gently as possible.
She whimpered and struggled against his grip but his years of Quidditch had served him well, allowing him to hold her tightly against his chest. Her gasps for breath came and went as her struggle for air continued; her chest was rising and falling as hard as it should be she looked close to…
No, he must not think of such things, instead he built up his speed and ran as fast as he could through the deserted corridors. Some students passed him looking quite surprised at the Slytherin God carrying a Weasley, he sneered when he saw Potter, Draco would like to see the Weasels face. But he didn't have to hope because Potter never goes anywhere without his Weasel and Mudblood.
'Malfoy, What…i..s that my sis…' Ron tried, struggling with the words
'She's dieing,' he whispered 'move'
With the Weasel being held by the Mudblood and the boy-who- lived Draco could make his way to were his destiny lay.
He kicked the door open and walked his arrogant walk, into the infirmity were he gently lay her down on one of the beds. He looked at her, her pale skin was a deathly white, her hair not that vibrate carrot colour it used to be.
'Mr. Malfoy? Oh Miss. Weasley' cooed Pomfrey
'Will she be ok' Draco whispered never taking his eyes of her
'We'll see' the nurse said shaking her head
With that the Slytherin prince got up and walked out never looking back to the angel who lied dieing on the bed.
As he left he saw the 'golden trio' coming towards him. Potter with a look of determination upon his face, the Mudblood looked wary and the Weasel was red faced and coming straight towards him with his wand up.
'I swear Malfoy!' he spat 'What have you done to my sister?'
'Nothing' he replied with an air of superiority 'she's got my Quidditch robe, no matter I'm sure she hasn't seen anything as good in her life, so let her keep it, I don't want Weasel germs anyways' he added with disgust, but somewhere, not in his heart, in his gut he felt uneasy about the whole ordeal, as he thought of her as the angel he saw in the rain and not as a Weasley.