A/N: This is slight AU. This takes place many years after the war. You can assume most things are the same except Hermione's and Draco's lives, hence the slight AU. Also if you haven't already please check out my one shot 'Pet Funeral' and my other story 'Moments of Simplicity'. With that said though, hope you guys enjoy!

Disclaimer: Yeah...no

Salvation

Prologue: Red

"Ahhh!"

The scream echoed off the walls. There was too much pain, too much sorrow in that single syllable. He wanted it to stop, he needed it to stop, but he was motionless. Glued to his spot, only able to watch the torture before his eyes. His heart told him too move, do something, but his mind told him to stay where he was – where he would be safe. No harm would come to him. But he couldn't say the same for the young woman before his eyes as her sobs reached his ears again.

"Please, stop," she choked out, whimpering once more, but it fell on deaf ears. Or at least her attacker chose to ignore her, carving another letter into her pale arm.

Another scream.

Another letter carved.

This wasn't right. It was wrong and cruel. It was inhumane.

'Mudblood'

The carved word stared back at him. It was an ugly sight to look at. The wound looked nasty and deep. It would scar.

Blood oozed down her arm.

It was red.

It wasn't the color of mud as he had been taught growing up. It wasn't any less 'dirty' than his. It was red, so very much red. They bled the same, which meant that she was no different than him.

No.

She was better. In more ways than one. It was no secret that she was indeed smarter than him, but she held more strength and courage than he ever could. He was a coward. Because while she would have stepped in and helped when she knew something wasn't right, he just stood there and watched. Watched as pain flashed before her eyes, watched as she pleaded for it to stop and watched as sobs shook her body. And though he wasn't the one to assault her, he did nothing but stared on. He was no better than her attacker. He was worse.

Her gaze was glued to her arm. Not blinking, just staring. And even from his position he could see that her eyes were emotionless – blank. Besides the lone tear that slowly fell down her nose he wasn't even sure she was actually breathing, but then her eyes landed on him across the room, for just the briefest of moments. And he could clearly make out the pain in them. He wanted to look away but couldn't.

She mouthed a single word, but he couldn't make it out. He was afraid to know what she said, so instead he glanced away - just for a second - but when he looked back she wasn't there anymore. Instead, she was right below him, staring up at him with watering eyes.

"Why?" she croaked out. "Why did you do this to me?"

"I didn't...I don't know..." he stumbled, struggling for words to give her the answers she desired – she deserved.

"Why, Draco? Why?"She pleaded. The use of his first name wasn't lost on him, but then there was blood, her blood, everywhere.

Her hand reached up to his and he almost clasped his hand with hers, but he held back. His shocked eyes stared at his crimson hands, caked in her blood, and as he glanced back at her she wasn't moving; she wasn't breathing.

Hermione Granger was dead and it was all his fault.

Draco shot out of bed, panting. He could feel the sweat cling to his pajamas. The silk pajama bottoms feeling more like a wet wash cloth. He scrubbed a hand over his face and took deep breaths, trying to calm his heart rate, and the panic attack he felt coming on.

"Daddy?" The small timid voice of his son asked.

Draco blinked slowly, trying to adjust his sight in the darkness.

"Yeah, Scorp?" he whispered. He squinted at the clock to see it was 2 in the morning.

"Can I sleep with you? I had a nightmare." Scorpius said, clutching his stuffed bear that his mother had gotten him.

"Of course, buddy. Hop in." Scorpius grinned at his father, before diving on the bed, with the help of his father. He snuggled down into the covers, resting his little head on Draco's chest.

"Night, Dad," Scorpius yawned, already heading back into the world of sleep.

Draco kissed his son on the head, tucking the covers around him. He laid there for a few minutes before slowly exiting his bed, making sure Scorpius was still asleep. He headed into the adjoining bathroom and peeled off his sweat covered clothes.

He blasted the hot water before getting in and standing under the scourging heat. It was unbelievably hot and painful but Draco didn't care. He deserved it. This pain. It let him know that he was alive. That she was alive. Because it was just a dream, and though he hadn't seen her in years, she was alive and safe.

But it also wasn't just a dream, for some of it had happened. He may not have been the one to hold her down and cause her pain. But he was as guilty as his Aunt Bella, for he did nothing. So the hell that he was in was his own making, and he deserved every bit of it and more. And this was his suffering. The hot water continued to penetrate his skin, and by now he knew his pale skin was no longer pale, but red, like always. But not red enough, for her blood was redder and he deserved to bleed like she had.

So he continued to stand there, under the spray, welcoming his demons. Eventually the water ran cold but he didn't budge because as much as he deserved the heat and pain, he deserved the cold and emptiness as well. The memories now stuck in his head – not the memories would ever leave him - he finally shut off the shower before changing into clean clothes. He quietly slipped back into bed, once more pulling the covers over his son before his head finally hit the pillow.

He hoped the nightmares would stay at bay for the rest of the night. As his eyes finally shut, once last thought entered his mind.

Her blood was red.

A/N: I'm not sure if I should continue this or not.