Her now rather large brown eyes followed the glimmering blade as Bellatrix slowly walked toward her. The next thing Hermione knew, the blade connected with her skin and she felt the jagged edge of draw a vertical line on her arm. Hermione screamed over and over again, wanting to pull her arm away, but forcing herself not to for fear of the blade hitting an artery. It seemed like an eternity before the blade lifted from her arm and Bellatrix was thrown across the room. The crumpled witch blinked her eyes violently, but couldn't see anything except for a mess of white, blonde hair.
"Hermione!" Ron screamed then a crack, and her and the familiar blonde boy apparated away.
As soon as Draco's knees connected with the damp, muddy ground, he sank forward. His breath heaved harshly out of his mouth and his hands started to turn red with cold. It was raining, it was dark, and he had just apparated away from everything he knew because he couldn't stomach another second of it. He stared at the scrapes on the back of his hand as they sunk into the dirt. Days before, his own father had thrown him into the wall, tired of his reluctance to follow their cause. If he wasn't afraid for his very life, he would laugh at the irony of seeing mud and blood mixed on his own skin.
Hermione lay remotely unconscious now. The pain was too much for her to bare. Her tears blinded her eyes, even when she tried to blink them away. She was cold, tired, and losing blood. Sobbing onto the ground, she attempted to roll herself on to her stomach, failing miserably.
As soon as he heard her move, he turned around wildly, scrambling away from her. He'd just done the most foolish thing he could've dreamt of, and hearing her cry only amplified his fear. He knew they were somewhere in Scotland but the location was vague, and they needed to move quickly. He approached her as slowly as he could bear to, wiping his hands on his sleeves. "It's not safe here." It was all the warning he was willing to give her, and she really should consider herself lucky that he even bothered to give her a chance to prepare herself. He reached for her good arm and tried to pull her into a position in which they could apparate away again.
She heard a voice. His voice. The voice that mocked her relentlessly for six years. And he saved her. He was the reason she wasn't laying on the floor, Bellatrix still torturing her. She couldn't see him all too well, but she could still make out his platinum hair. Upon hearing what he had said, she knew what was about to happen. Hermione bit her lip, preparing for the new wave of pain about to come her way.
He whispered "sorry" somewhere between the 4th and 5th apparition points, all jumping around Britain and its neighboring countries. He couldn't travel much longer, but he needed to lose any trail that he had left magically. Finally, they arrived in a dark corner of British countryside. He let go of her as soon as he landed again, dizzy and breathless. It was raining here, too, and to the south there was a small building waiting for them.
Hermione continuously sobbed each time the apparated to a new place. Once Draco finally let her go, she knew they were finally done. She sighed in relief and tried brushing the wet hair out of her face, but failed. It was still raining and freezing, and she was losing more and more blood.
After a minute of regaining himself, Draco turned to face her again. At first he thought he'd splinched her, but he calmed a little when he realized it was just the wound his...aunt had given her. He shuddered and approached her again. "I can heal it, if you'll let me. I'm assuming you don't know how yourself. It was a cursed blade."
Hearing his voice yet again, she focused on it. Heal it? Yes. Unfortunately, nothing but a sob escaped from her mouth. Vigorously shaking her head yes, she turned her arm over so that the wounds were facing upright. She bit her lip again, harder this time, trying to drown out the pain in her arm.
He nodded and pulled her gently underneath a nearby tree. He cleaned her arm of the dirt, and then he muttered a long spell that made her arm glow blue. He knew it would feel as though the curse was being suctioned out of the wound, and he looked away when a sharp hiss escaped her mouth. That meant it was over, at least. He twitched his wand again and a bandage wrapped loosely around the cut, which was now an angry scar. He looked at her eyes sharply, following them back to the building. Shelter was their best option for survival right now. He grabbed her arm as gently as he could, at the elbow, and took off for the house.