Hermione rustled in the grass, making an attempt to sit up. Fire shot through her right arm as she shifted and she hissed in pain. She noted that Harry was coming toward her, but closed her eyes and laid her head back in the grass anyway.

"Hermione. Hermione," Harry said as he lightly tapped on her good arm.

She moaned and waved him off. Instead of leaving, he latched an arm around her waist and pulled her up, holding on to her until he was sure she wasn't going to collapse. She put a hand on her head, as if searching for injuries and mumbled, "What, Harry….Ron?...Where's Draco? How did…"

"Shh. Don't worry about it. We'll all be fine," Harry said as he guided her over to the rock, next to where Draco was still shivering in the grass. She sat down and put her head in her hands. Draco turned to look at her, then leaned his head onto the rock beside her thigh. Feeling his shift, she dropped her hands to her lap, eyeing him back. He was bleeding from a small cut above his eyebrow, and a strand of blond hair was sticking to it. Hermione reached over and brushed the hair out of his face. He said nothing.

Harry moved over to Ron, who was still out cold. He leaned in close and heard short, raspy breaths. Satisfied that his best friend was still alive, he carefully rolled Ron onto his back. There were bruises covering his neck, blackening his usually pale skin. Apparently it was a wonder he was still breathing.

He sat in the grass next to Ron before saying, "I don't want to move him before he wakes up. You guys want to wait with me? You don't have to."

"We'll stay," Draco said in a hoarse voice.

Harry slid his gaze to Hermione, who nodded in agreement.

Now that Hermione was conscious, she was probably in the best shape of the four of them, save for a deep slice across her palm and the inability to mover her other arm. She was in the best shape mentally, anyway. Draco caught a glimpse of it and pulled her hand toward him. The blood was still flowing freely, despite her clenched fist. As he held her hand above his lap, a few thick drops spilled onto his arm, mixing with the blood from his own lacerations and slid toward his wrist, tracing though the Dark Mark.

"Potter," Draco whispered, "Get over here."

Harry stared at him quizzically for a second, but got up to inspect Draco's outstretched arm. The line of blood that cut through the center had been darkened by the magical ink it had smudged. Without prompting, Hermione wiped her injured hand across the Mark. The blood smeared, and the ink went with it. She rubbed at it until there was nothing but a coat of deep maroon covering Draco's arm. Harry watched silently, and Ron was altogether forgotten.

"Blood magic. Like Harry's mom. You saved my life, so my blood could destroy your Dark Mark. No true Death Eater would have done what you did. This just proves it," Hermione said, her eyes still fixed on Draco's arm.

Draco turned to Harry, "He'll be back, won't he?"

Harry nodded, "I'm sure. And soon, too, but—" he was cut off by a groan from across the clearing. Ron was finally awake. He sat up slowly, a look of confusion crossing his face when he saw the others. He stood up shakily, glanced at the four bodies strewn about, then locked his gaze on Draco's arm.

"What in bloody hell…." He started, but couldn't finish.

"My thoughts exactly," Draco mumbled as he stuffed his wand in his pocket and struggled to stand. He started toward the edge of the clearing, heading for Hogwarts. Hermione began to scramble after him, but Harry shook his head.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend," Ron called after him.

"If only, Weasel, if only," he yelled back.

"We're going to go right back to hating each other, aren't we?" Hermione asked as she ran her fingers over her bleeding palm.

"Doesn't matter. It's better that way," Harry said.

Hermione held her arm close to her body as she got up. Ron offered her his shoulder, but Harry, who had neither a broken bone nor a visible limp, shoved himself in between them to support them.

"This is gonna be hard to explain to Dumbledore," Ron said conversationally, "And despite everything, I'm apparently still a weasel."

"I'm still a Mudblood," Hermione chimed in.

"I'm still the Golden Boy that Malfoy will continue to harass," Harry added.

Ron stopped short and smiled at Harry and Hermione, shaking his head. "All is well with the world then, because Malfoy's still a malicious little bitch."