Day 11 x Fix You

Hermione rolled over in her bed. She didn't know what time it was, she didn't care either. All she knew it that it had been 16 days, 12 hours and 6 minutes and counting since the last day she had seen Ronald.

The sunlight coming through the murky Hogwarts window did nothing for her as the tears stung through and she found herself a sobbing mess of a person. Why did he have to be the one to go? She could have gone with them to make sure they were okay. She insisted but Harry said he didn't want to be the cause of another loss.

But that had just happened.

Ron had disappeared without a trace during the war and they had looked high and low for days without ceasing, not even to care for themselves. They had to find them because surely he was alive wasn't he?

Well the war was over and he was still nowhere to be found.

Hermione had come back to Hogwarts in that time to stares and whispers but she shrugged them off without thinking of a second reason to it. Nothing she did could even have caused these whispers so there was no need to even pay attention to them, right?

How desperately right and unintentionally right she was.

She sat down at the Gryffindor table and started on her toast and received her Daily Prophet through an old owl, but what she saw made her want to up churn her usual toast and just die.

'Ronald Weasley, 1/3 of the Golden Trio, found mutilated in the Forbidden Forest'

Hermione didn't know what happened first but all she knew is that when she started for her dormitory, she barely reached the door and collapsed before the entire Great Hall in a screaming, sobbing mess of a person.

Then as her world now felt black, cold and unhappy she felt something cover her and hands grab out their support in the form of hugs and just holding her. She had inexplicably lost something she couldn't replace. It couldn't be replaced by the form of hugs or touches of anyone else, but just a familiar smell of cinderwood and a ginger kiss to the top of her forehead.

Which was now gone forever in the madness of a Wizarding War.

As they guided her to her dormitory, which would just be her home until she coped with this, she felt her heart tear, rip and eventually just die in her chest.

Tears streamed from her face as she kicked and thrashed in her bed, hoping. . .praying that this would bring him back.

It wouldn't but she was so sure it would somehow.

She did this until she could no more and just gave up hope on everything she once thought was possible.

It hurt. It hurt so bloody bad. It still hurt when she tried to get out of bed two weeks later. That wasn't happening.

She un dressed herself and crawled under the covers, sheathing herself in the only things she knew now; Despair, agony and sorrow.

She blamed herself. Everyday because if she was there, she could have watched over him. She could have saw this coming. She could have prevented it.

But she just didn't. She had been so selfish to go back to school instead of helping. What kind of monster was she?

"What kind of bloody fucking monster am I?", she murmered to herself as she cried once more, covering her face in the blanket she knew all too well now.

A knock sounded.

Hermione turned her dishelved head towards it with her eyes bursting full of unhappiness and disgust. Who would want to see a monster such as herself? Were they here to kill her? She pained for the release of death and hope it came ready and able for her now.

The door creaked open and revealed a person she never thought would show himself sorry in a thousand years.

Draco Malfoy.

He saw her and looked upon her with such. . .weariness and despair that it almost pained her to look back at him as she did. He saw her eyes held regret and the hope she would get what she would deserve. Though it was not what she really needed.

It pained him to see that she even thought that of herself. It pained him to a point where his tears released themselves and he cried. He cried openly and didn't bother to wipe the tears.

He had suffered his own losses throughout the war and didn't want to see another like himself. For once he wanted to help, he wanted her to release her burdens and at the same time help him realize something himself.

"What can I do for you?", He choked out, coming closer and kneeling before her bed as she scooted backwards.

This selfless broken child, opened her arms and invited him into her world of sorrow; as black as it was she needed something, anything worth relying on.

After the days of being disgusted in herself, hating her own skin and wanting to be so rid of it; she wanted someone to fix that. She needed someone to fix her. It hurt when he wrapped his arms around her awkwardly but held on tight.

It hurt so bloody bad.

"Tell me what I can do for you. Anything.", he spoke in her ,once brazen locks of love but now coiled greasy strips of leather.

He felt for her and pulled her tighter. It was unknown concept for him to walk into a strangers room and hold them but. . .she wasn't a stranger. They knew each other through the pain and despair and found themselves in the nights of being drenched in tears and soaked in sweat from the nightmares.

"Just. . .", she felt another sob pulling its way out. "Hold me."

She cried on his shoulder and convulsed in the space of his chest where her head had fallen was time to stop hating herself. To stop blaming herself. She needed anything to give her hope and a chance. She wanted anything.

Gods, please.

"Because you're the only thing that can. . .fix me."