By: Ravenseye131
She lay in the middle of a field. Her once bright amber eyes faded and dull as she stares, blankly, into the pale winter's sky. Tendrils of smoke dust the patchwork atmosphere and the calm crone of a wizened owl drifts across the air. Slowly, the clouds darken and relinquish their burden of heavy snow. She doesn't react other than to slowly close her eyes. This is how he finds her. She's half buried by this time, her limp form staining the ground around her crimson. He too carries the signs of weariness and pain. He had been looking for her for hours, blindly searching through the dead until suddenly stumbling upon the once bushy haired know-it-all. Her hair is now tamed, gentle and curled in chocolate colored ringlets.
Even now, with the images of battle tattooed lazily into her she is beautiful to him. Yes, there is blood dyeing her clothing and skin, mud and dirt clinging selfishly to the fabric of her face, yet she is always beautiful to him. Well…not always…there was a time when she was ugly, when he hated her, when he wanted to kill her, just because she was herself. Things change, oh yes, it wasn't long before his eyes opened and he realized that each and every single one of the people he had long been taught to hunt were merely an extension of himself. They were pieces of him, they bled as he did, cried, screamed, dreamed, hated, loved, desired, felt, lived and breathed everything he did. He had been nothing but a self-centered bastard when he loathed her so. He was naught but nineteen when everything changed. He was as she was now, bloodied, half-dead, empty…yet she tenderly cared for him, slowly poured strength, love and hope into his tainted soul. She understood him, held him as he wept, kissed him when he needed it most and became a barrier protecting him from those who distrusted, despised and maybe even pitied. He gave everything in return, his heart, his soul, everything…He fought against a side he once fought for, praying in the back of his mind that it was enough to pay the self-invented debt he felt he owed her.
He now knelt gently beside her, clasping her freezing hand and pressing desperate kisses to her blue-hued lips. Droplets of tears sprinkled across her face as he whispered brokenly and desperate,
"Why you…? Why you my Hermione?"
A new hand gently placed itself in his middle back as he shuddered with the weight of his sobs. Slowly, his steely eyes penetrated those of an equally saddened blue-eyed woman. She too, showed signs of struggle; her hair was perturbed by the battle, hanging limp and turned from its usual spun fire to a dull mahogany. She watched as the broken man before her turned away and began weeping into Hermione's neck. His own platinum locks were spray painted dirty blonde with the war. Suddenly, he let out a shuddering gasp and sat back up, his hand desperately groping for Hermione's pulse-point. He turned from Hermione with widened eyes and stared once again into the other woman's. Her own eyes became large in understanding.
"Draco…?"
Draco didn't waste time as he gathered his love and stood quickly. Determination was beginning to blur his features and he looked solemnly at the woman. A small simmer of hope flushed her cheeks and brought the shimmer back to her eyes.
"Is she…?"
"Where's that MediWitch Ginny?"
FinA/N: Okay, I openly admit it…I am an obsessive Draco/Hermione fan. Don't ask me why, I just am. This little oneshot was just the result of a three-day splurge involving the many Draco/Hermione fics out there. Please review and tell me your thoughts. ;)