This goes for every word written in . My Only Hope ., every chapter, and every character. I OWN NOTHING! I'm simply having a little fun with their fluffy dolls for a while. No copyright intended in the least!
It was just a night. Such a cliché way to begin such a truly life altering moment but it was so fitting. Hermione sat quite content in the floral print, over stuffed arm chair resting quietly in front of the dying embers of her parents fireplace in muggle London. While they heeded her cryptic advice to relocate (with much persuasion from Professor McGonagall I might add) to America until this dreaded war was over, she remained engulfed in the worn pages of her book, lightly running her fingertip along the soft edges of the pages in the solitude she desperately wanted but knew wouldn't last. Just as her mind began to wander towards the dark storm she could feel looming in the near distance, a much more electric one slammed full force into her front door.
The sound echoed through the cottage style home, reverting up her spine as she slammed her own hands down against the arms of the chair. Her small frame sat rigid, brown eyes wide and frozen in momentary fear. Death Eaters. It was the only thought racing through her rather logical brain while her priceless book tumbled helplessly to the floor in front of her feet as she tried to find any other explanation for such a loud intrusion but suddenly, there it was again…BANG! Her pulse sped like rapid lightening. She could feel it in her veins, she could feel her heart slamming so loudly against her chest that she was sure her ribcage wouldn't be able to withstand breaking in two. Nails dug into the cushions on either arm of the chair, her vision sputtering like a movie rail, lined in black squares and jittering back and forth before she heard the thudding begin once again. Not just once this time, it was a pounding, strong but something seemed off about the power behind it. If she wasn't mistaken, it almost sounded…desperate. Summoning as much courage as her Gryffindor body through and through could hold, Hermione jolted to her feet, drawing her wand from the back of her jeans pocket with pure precision and stalked the door the stake her claim on her home.
"State your purpose!" It took every nerve in her body conjoined to keep her voice from shuddering and trembling like she was sure that she was but no sound answered back. She dared to inch a step forward, listening more intently for any sign of presence but the eerie silence held true. "I said state your…" her words died off as dull thud fell against the barrier between her and whatever was outside. Hermione could hear something dragging down the wood panels and slump to a heap just outside. Her mind tore in two, was it a trap? What if it was Harry? Ron? No, she wouldn't let her fear cripple her and it's not like it was the first time she'd risked her own neck to save one of those two wankers. She tugged the dead bolt with a loud snap, yanking the door open and jerking her wand out with narrowed eyes, lips parted ready for anything but that anything wasn't standing before her. That anything fell backwards against her legs in a pile of tattered black robes, crimson trails of matted blood, and platinum gold strands splayed out over her welcome mat.
"Malfoy?" the look of anger slid from chocolate eyes, flashing a quick look of disgust, maybe even hatred but that soon vanished and all she was left with, besides the after effect of shock, was a focused concern. If only she could shake the movie vision and her own heartbeat to decipher what exactly was happening! "Merlin…Malfoy…" lowering her wand she muttered a quick levitation spell, hauling his body over to the couch before dropping him all too unceremoniously in her disoriented state. For a moment she winced, briefly regaining composure, but the slight fall didn't seem to jar more than a weak groan out of Draco as he lay sprawled and seemingly unconscious and much to her dislike, her nervous state returned full force. With a wave of her hand the door slammed crudely, lock snapping into place while she sunk into the adjoining chair, dropping her chin in the palms of her hands, elbows resting on her knees to silently stare at his battered form and fight her current feeling of being just inches away from blacking out herself.
He almost looked peaceful. Hermione couldn't help but observe how almost pleasant he looked when he wasn't sneering at someone or scowling like Snape but that didn't change the fact that Draco Malfoy was currently lying in his own blood on her sofa in muggle London. It didn't change the fact that Draco Malfoy was a known Death Eater and hadn't been seen since his pardon from the ministry for the attempted assassination of Professor Dumbeldore. Of course, Harry was beyond control when he learned Malfoy was freed from all chains. The questions still remained…why come to her? Why dare stepping foot in a muggle town, why was he suddenly asking for help knowing their unique hatred especially after the black hole he tore from her heart for even being near such a brutal, cold hearted slaying? No, he needed help and that was the bottom line.
Hermione gave herself a quick nod and settled her hands against the round of her knees, pushing upright to begin the duty of saving the Prince of Slytherin.
To say it was an easy task to tend to the mess that was in the form of her arch nemesis on Hogwarts grounds was like saying this war was like picking out a new kitten. He was a lifeless form of skin while she managed to undress him to the necessities. The sight of him engulfed by the sofa cushions, limbs tossed wherever they fell was normally half the female student population's choice to spend a Saturday night drooling over. She'd admit, this tall frame obviously well toned, most likely from Quidditch she imagined, wasn't repulsive in the least but that was just an outer shell of him. Hermione shook her head firmly as she kneeled next to his position on the sofa and finally the movie vision had cleared!
Those roaming eyes of hers truly took in the damage done to his usually unmarked flesh but now…now it was a sick mutation of connect the dot. Stab wounds, dark scrapes, angry burns from obviously powerful curses, welts, scrapes, it was truly brutality. And for the first time in the entire six years she had been aware of his existence, Hermione felt sorry for him.
It took four hours. Four long and tedious hours Hermione spent healing, washing, bandaging, curing, and covering every mark that plagued his body but it was her own body felt battered and bruised from the sheer amount of concentration it took. Her slender fingers loosened her grip against her wand, letting her hand fall limp against the edge of the couch beside his body. Her eye lids began to flutter, the nights events hitting her like Draco's fist against her door mere hours ago. Hermione felt her head wavering, inching closer and closer to where her arm draped before she felt herself jerk upright. If she wasn't half delirious she would have sworn someone touched her cheek and as her head slid back down to finally make connection to the soft skin of her forearm she heard the low, groaned words softly in the distance, "Thank you…"
