Disclaimer: Yeah, the usual. :D A/N: So, here's another one. Haha. :D
Cautiously, he approaches the bed on the other side of the room and smiles slightly at the figure lying twisted amongst the sheets. She is his solace, his source of strength. With her he could face his demons. He felt could face anything.
***
"I have no choice," he tells her, looking away.
He does not want to see her face, fully aware of the pain and disappointed that would be swirling in her eyes. Already he knows that he cannot give her what she wants him to. His life is with the Dark, that's where it always would be. No amount of convincing – even by her – could make him change his course, not when so much is at risk.
"No. Don't," she replies, the latter word taking on a soft, more pleading tone.
"Do not be stupid," he counters. "All along we've known that this is how it would end. This is how it was always meant to be."
"No. No. No! I refuse to believe that!" She grabs his hand, pulling him towards her. "Look at me! Dammit just look at me!"
He keeps his head down, still not daring to meet her eyes. She is his weakness – as a Death Eater he could not afford to have one. It would not do. He could not succumb to her.
"Please. I-I'm practically begging you."
His heart warms slightly, hearing the slight crack in her voice. After a moment, he hears himself ask, "Why, love? Tell me why."
"Because I care," she says quietly. "Because I promise I will do anything for you."
For the first time in his life, he sees the promise of hope.
***
He pulls a chair up to the side of the bed and places a hand lightly in her hair. The curls feel soft, albeit a little clumped together. Lately he has developed a habit of watching her sleep, the motion of her breathing soothing him more than anything else. She has made true of her promise – though many times he has sensed her determination weaken. More than anything, she is a woman of her word and despite his occasional guilt in having dragged her into the precarious situation of being with him in the first place, he is happy to have her by his side.
Her head twitches and he brings his hand back quickly. For a moment he wonders if he has woken or disturbed her but is relieved when he sees that she just seems to be having a bad dream. She holds the blanket tightly in her fist and he can see the sweat glistening on her, forehead. Gingerly, he wipes them away and contemplates if her mistakes are haunting her as his do him.
***
His head is spinning as the force of the curse throws him backwards against a tree. He struggles to keep his thoughts in order, a counter-attack forming in his mind. Before his mouth can utter the words, a mass of brown hair appears at his side, the girl throwing a curse at the enemy wizard before him. In a flash of green light, the threat is gone and she places her face an inch away from his.
"Are you alright?" she asks tenderly.
"Yes," he manages to croak out.
"I will take care of yout. Don't worry."
Grabbing his arm, she apparates them to the old house that they have been calling home for the past few months. She places him on the bed in a sitting position with pillows providing support for his back. He flinches as she cuts his robe in the middle, exposing his pale and wounded chest. Cursing solemnly, she gets up to make a healing balm and he finds himself alone with his thoughts.
"You saved me again," he begins.
Shrugging slightly, she replies, "I promised."
"You promised to do anything for me, not to be my personal savior."
"No, I guess not," she says quietly. After gently administering the balm, she bends over until they are eye-to-eye. He places a slim hand on her cheek and is surprised when she leans into him to plant a light kiss on his lips.
Standing up, she gathers the healing items on the bed and then turns to walk away. He calls out to her before she even reaches the door and she stops abruptly in her tracks.
"I'm sorry. I – I know you've never – never – wanted to kill anybody," he stuttered. "But you have – f-for me. I'm sorry."
"I promised."
***
Life is made up of choices – ones to be made every second of every day. They can be as important as abandoning the cause one has fought for the last few years or as irrelevant as blowing away the flame of a candle so one may fall asleep. As he slips into the bed beside her, he ponders on the choices they both have made since leaving – a little early and without diplomas – their alma mater. Were they wrong? Were they right? Some days – or nights – he could not really be sure.
He puts an arm around her waist and she unconsciously snuggles into him. Breathing in the scent of her hair, he decides that for purposes of tonight – they have both made the right choice. She is here, with him, sharing his bed. It is where they both belong.
***
The night air is crisp as they run towards the direction of the Forbidden Forest. Neither dare to look back for fear that either would change their mind and return to the castle. In a few hours, they would be with their new comrades and life would change drastically. The War is coming and it is their duty to fight.
"I am not making a mistake." It is really more of a question than a statement.
"No." The reply is firm.
"We will be alright?"
"We will win this War."
Silence overcomes them and neither speaks until they reach the heart of the forest. The tree they are looking for stands in the middle of the small clearing – alone, majestic and foreboding. At the foot of the tree is a pendant, a cross made of silver and gold.
The girl retrieves the portkey from the ground and offers it up to her companion, her hands shaking slightly.
"This is it," she says at last.
"Yes, it is."
"Are you ready?"
"Are you?"
She gazes at him skeptically before replying, "I am always ready."
The answer satisfies him and he nods, placing his hand over hers.
***
The War is coming to an end and they are winning, of that he is almost sure. In this light, he sees that perhaps they have made the right choice after all. There have been casualties, there has been grief. She has never gotten used to the killing. In truth, neither has he. But they are here and they are alive, wounded yet still very much together.
He moves her body slightly until she is facing him fully. Taking her left forearm, he brings it up to level with his lips. Frowning at the scar that marred her once immaculate skin, he is about to kiss it when her eyes flutter open.
"Draco," she says gently.
"Hermione," he replies.
"You are staring at it again."
"I – " he tries to say. "It has ruined your skin."
"Yes, yes it has," she affirms. "Now go to sleep."
He nods and places his arms around her again, their Dark Marks resting beside each other.
-EndA/N: Plot's kind of similar to "The Lover" in the end. I'm planning to remove that one though. Anyway, how was this one? :)