Disclaimer: There is only one owner to the Harry Potter universe and that certainly isn't me. There should be no question to who that is, right?
Draco Malfoy never found Hermione Granger attractive. Oh, he may have been unable to come up with any insults as he scrutinized every feature of hers when she was all dolled up; he still found her plain. Not one feature of her compelled him to spare her a second glance after each of his intensive studies. How could he see her as an angel at her death's door? Was he that twisted?
Raising his quill, he added another dark line to that sketch of Granger. With every single scratch of his quill, he was replicating the exact image of one of Granger's final moments.
He had tried desperately to forget what had happened. He threw a trauma every time his parents brought up the final battle and stayed in the library reading. However, it seemed like the harder he tried not to think about Granger, the more he thought of her. Finally, he thought that he could try to sketch out Granger's final moments to stop her from haunting him.
With his quill raised above his inkpot, he paused as his mother knocked and shoved open the door. He could see her relief switch quickly into disbelief.
"Why are you drawing?" Draco's mother, in confusion, lost her ethereal pose as she stared at her son.
Draco realized that his mother was worried about him. Hell, he was worried about himself. Of all the things he could have been doing, he was sketching. He hated any mention of his former talent because it had been the only thing he was proud of. It was a reminder of what he had lost. He used to sketch when he was younger, but lost the gift when he was about eight. The sketches no longer moved as they did in pictures. He could still make very realistic sketches; they just were not magical. Nothing that a muggle could not do.
"I dreamed of that night." He had tried to hold back those words, but they had slipped out in a murmur . He had been unable to get enough rest since the final battle, two weeks ago.
His mother nodded and left him alone. She knew that the battle was awful. She was there. There was nothing to do but let time undo the memories.
Draco was left there to study his memories of that battle. Trying to figure out why Granger was haunting him.
He, like most of the other death eaters, had started to head towards the place where Potter and the Dark Lord was dueling, when the Order's members started to retreat due to appearance of a rising phoenix in the sky. Professor Snape led him towards that area while he weighted if he should stand guard with those commanded to stand guard if such a thing was to happen. Draco could not help notice that the only sound came from their footsteps. The sudden quiet, especially after the nosy battle, was eerie. Much more than during the battle, with the screams and cries of horror and pain.
Granger was sprawled on top of Potter. It was apparent that she was still trying to shield Potter. Draco could not help but wonder why nobody was doing anything to finish them off, but decided that the Dark Lord wanted to play with them first. That was not what he found when he were closer. Granger had raised a strong protective shield that was slowing dissipating. He was certain that they were like wolves waiting for the moment for it to die out before attacking. They would not want to waste their energy sending spells that bounce back to themselves. Well, they did not want to continue to waste their energy. He was sure most of them had no patience.
The Dark Lord was standing right at the end with his wand pointed towards Potter and Granger, with his left hand raised up to signal to them to not do anything. Draco guessed he wanted his final victory.
Draco could help himself from locating his parents, despite his fear that he would not see them. He could not keep himself not knowing. With that known, he returned his attention to Granger. Granger who looked like an angel. Granger who was speaking to Potter so calmly. He was still too far to know what exactly she was saying.
They had finally reach the second crowd of deatheaters. Draco noticed that Hermione had raised her head for a second with a hint of despair in her eyes. That quickly replace by relief and then resolution. It was clear that she was not expecting to be rescued; she feared too much for those who attempted to do so. That was the only time that he was mesmerized by her eyes. Brown eyes that he had found so plain, so average, so unworthy of second glance.
"Her…Her…mione. I'm so tired…." Harry rasped. It struck Draco that it was odd that Granger was not doing anything to heal Potter. Then he finally took a good look at Potter. Potter was hurt too badly that even a miracle would not help. He would die any moment from his wounds and that Granger was stupid for staying.
"Harry, it is okay. If you are tired, take a rest. Everything will be alright" Hermione murmured as she smoothed his hair back.
"But I still need to fight….I don't want…still nee….."
"Shush. Harry you do not need to stay awake. Close your eyes Just take a rest." Hermione interrupted and blinked hard. "Listen to my voice. Let me help you sleep and forget. I don't think that you heard many fairy tales. Let me tell you one. Once upon a time…."
The way she treated Potter made everything seem surreal. Only Granger could tell a child's bedtime story in that motherly tone. She was barely old enough to be a mother and she was mothering a son that was around her age. Well, it was not as if she did not have any mothering experience, he mused, she certainly had looked after Potter and Weasel. As if Potter was not dying. As if everything was okay. It was the only time that she looked comforting, while she usually looked like a obsessively overbearing parent. Maybe there was a reason why Potter and Weasel kept her close by.
Draco noticed that Potter's eyelids had stopped fluttering. Within a few seconds, Granger had clutched Potter tightly. Her head tucked into his neck to cover her crying. He had never thought he felt pity for her, but he did now.
"Rest in peace, Harry." Hermione said in that calm voice. She straighten Harry's position and smoothed his hair back. She stood up facing Voldemort with her wand pointed towards him. The few seconds she stood there serenely, as if she had not known that she will be killed soon. Not only killed, but torture. She was the only one left in mist of a murderous crowd. Draco was sure that he would have killed himself instead of trying to fight with that known outcome.
The protective shield finally died. Hermione wordlessly sending a spell with a flash of blue light to the Dark Lord, which was sent to the side with his shield. Another swish of his wand sent Hermione sprawl again on the ground with her wand where she originally stood. He signal us to surround them, which we quickly followed his directions.
"Severus! Here is the thing second thing you have requested from me. I give you the chance to kill the most annoying mudblood that you have every had meet. One that you had to teach for six years."
Professor Snape rushed forward to Granger as he thank the Dark Lord, abandoning Draco. He sent a spell that cut an open wound in Granger's chest. He smirked and sent another spell that vanished her completely. Lord Voldemort look at him with disbelief.
"Well, Severus. Are you sure you are not trying to save her?"
"Of course, I have sent her to slowly die from blood loss from her wound without the company of anyone. If anyone, certainly only muggles, they will tear her apart because of dress robe she is wearing signifies that she is a witch."
Draco believed that it was the sickest way a person could laugh. If the Dark Lord could be considered a person. It gave him creeps and he could help shiver as he thought of Granger dying alone. He could not wonder what Granger had accomplished by staying with Potter until he died. It seemed crazy, yet touching. He would give anything for that kind of loyalty.
He was shocked when he found himself in his room alone, sunlight on his desk announcing the change in time. Time had passed unnoticed again. He mentally berated himself for finding Granger beautiful in those last moments in her red robes, her white healer robes covered by blood; he should have found her nauseating. He cursed himself for being mesmerized by her eyes; her eyes were too plain, too average. He wondered if he was crazy for finding Granger courageous and motherly; she was reckless and bossy. He was distressed that war had done nothing but weaken him so that he could only relive what he saw as Granger's last moments. No death had left such an impact on him, even the ones that he caused. Not only that, he had been unable to hate her in Hogwarts. He found her worthless of that. He had only disliked her for her blood, her plainness, and her annoying presence.
He studied that sketch slowly. He noted that Granger's features were perfect and wondered if it were from his faulty memory or if her perfection was what made her seem so plain. There was no imperfection to draw attention to her. There was something bothering him and made him wonder what he was missing. Ah, that was what he was missing, the mark that shown that she was a healer.
With the last stroke of his quill, he placed it in the inkpot to further study the finished sketch. As he stared at the sketch, he slowly backed away from his desk in horror, knocking his chair aside. The sketch was moving. Granger was once again smoothing Potter's hair.
