DISCLAIMER:

I do not own these characters. They are all owned by J. K. Rowling, the only creative control I have is the plot.

Time

One-Shot

Time, it is endless, forever stretching on. There is no end to it in the world, or the galaxy. It is endless for things that never have an end. But for those who do: humans, plants, animals, buildings and books… Where there is life, there is death. But where there is no life, there is no end: no end to stop what isn't there to begin with. And so for Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, who were mere mortals with gifted talents of magic, were not immortal, and therefore the time they had left was so little, it was all they had.

"Hermione," Draco breathed as he reached her, skidding on his knees to her sprawled out form on the wooden floor of his family mansion. She was covered in blood and bruises, her clothes torn and her hair matted; lips violet and skin white as snow. "Hermione," he wept, cupping her face between his palms and lifting her head gently into his lap.

"Draco," she breathed weakly, looking up but not really seeing him. Not really seeming much of anything, as her eyesight retreated into the sides of her head, making everything run dark and dull. "You shouldn't… be… here…"

Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he looked down on his love: his tears splattering onto her cheeks. She felt nothing. "Hermione, my love, my love, what have I done… I am so sorry… Hermione I am so sorry," he sobbed, pulling her closer and straightening his legs to sit flatly on the floor.

"You have to leave," she told him weakly, running her dry tongue over her cracked lips. She moved to place a cold hand over his. "Draco, she will kill you if she sees you… with me…" her breathing was dry and wheezy. You can't let her find you…"

"I don't care," he told her. "I won't leave you. I love you, Hermione, oh, Hermione, how I love you."

They had hated each other when they had first met at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but as great loves always begin in hate, the love that blossomed not long after was greater than anyone could have possibly hopped for. Draco was a pureblood wizard, and she a muggle born with strong magical abilities. His family was powerful, and would have never allowed such a romance to taint their bloodline. They had kept it a secret for the past five years; for his family, for her friends.

Hermione had been captured by the snatchers while in hiding, while running with her friends Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. They had been rescued and freed; she had been left behind and forgotten; tortured again and again for months until it was just too much. And now, as she lay dying in the arms of her one and only love, she would soon be nothing more than a memory. Her name no longer belonging to a person, but to someone else's memory.

She was going quickly now, and as her lover looked down at her, the world stopped.

"I should have never cared what my family thought," Draco cried, bringing her hand up to rest against his cheek, and kiss her palm. "To hell what they'd have thought; I love you, and I should have told the world. If I did this…" this wouldn't be happening. "You can't go," he told her. "Hermione, darling, you can't leave me."

She smiled, closing her eyes. If only she knew she would never open them again, she would never be able to look up and see those loving, tender, sad grey eyes again. Maybe then, just maybe, she would have held them open a moment longer.

"I love you," she told him dryly, her breath hoarse. "Draco… I love…"

Her hand slipped through his fingers, dropping onto her chest, and head falling limply to the side.

His breath caught in his throat as he looked down on her; her cheeks blemished with welts and blood; grime and dirt. "Hermione," he breathed. "Don't, you can't… Hermione, Hermione, open your eyes…" tears were forming as he shook her gently, her head lolling limply from side to side. "Hermione, Hermione."

He was hysterical. Screaming her name, pulling her up roughly to sit, hugging her corpse to his chest and rocking from side to side. His tears wetted her ratty hair: her ivory skin rapidly turning a pale, sickly green and blue color. She was cold and limp, dead in his arms. He was screaming, sobbing, calling out to the heavens as his father and mother entered into the room, led by his aunt, Bellatrix, the one who had made his love what she was today: dead.

"Draco," but he couldn't hear his mother's gasp, or his father's demands over the sound of his own screams or breaking heart. Nor could he hear the accusations of his mother as she screamed at the other witch, demanding to know why the Granger girl was dead: she was to get information from her, not to kill her. It was impossible to hear the crashes and bangs and pops of hexes that went crashing throughout the room as he clung to her lifeless body, to hear the argument: the dark lord would be livid, he would kill them all now. With the girl dead, how were they to get information for the dark lord?

He felt nothing as the green light shot through him.

When he opened his eyes, he was surrounded by nothing but light, and Hermione was smiling, her hand extended towards his. "Come on," was all she said as he placed his hand into hers.

The end.

Author's Note: The idea for this story hit me like a train as I was listening to the song 'Like You' by Evanescence, and looking at a picture of Hermione crying and Draco looking at her. Please tell me what you think.