Disclaimer: JK Rowling is the master

Why is it that you only realize what you've had once it is being taken away?

Blood. Deep crimson on pale skin, platinum blonde hair matted with red, body still. Hermione stood in the middle of the tent, frozen in place with one hand secured over her mouth, too shocked to move or even breath. He couldn't die, he wasn't allowed to. He was the father of her unborn child, her husband. She watched in stunned silence as Mr. Weasley carried Draco's unconscious form to one of the three beds, laying him down gently and pulling out his wand. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion; people running around, asking if they can help, trying to talk to her, assure her that everything was going to be okay. It always frustrated Hermione when people said it was going to be okay. They didn't know that; there was no way to know. It may not be okay. Hermione couldn't focus on them, or their false words of security. All she could do was stand and watch the scene in front of her unfold, like one of her nightmares where she was physically stuck to the floor.

In that moment of fearful waiting, Hermione realized something extremely important, and extremely terrifying. Ginny had right about something. Draco Malfoy was laying mere feet from her, severely injured and close to death. The arrogant, narcissistic, mean, degrading, prejudiced, bully, Draco Malfoy had stayed behind to fight for them, to save them. The rival, the enemy, the boy who called her mudblood, was laying on the bed covered in blood because he risked his life for her. The potions know-it-all, Professor Snape's favorite student, that boy who everybody hated, the man who was not allowed to die. Hermione mentally willed him to live. She was in love with Draco Malfoy.

It didn't seem logical, or rational, or even possible, but somehow over the course of the past several months, something had changed. She had thought that being forced to marry him was one of the worst things to ever happen to her, but it let her see something that she would never have otherwise seen. Yes, he was arrogant and stubborn, but he was also sweet and thoughtful, and slightly over protective. Hermione realized that being a Death Eater wasn't something he had wanted, or even had a choice in. She didn't know about in school, but she could see now that Draco didn't enjoy hurting people, he didn't condone the actions of the man he followed. Draco Malfoy had a heart, a soul, and a light hidden behind the darkness he portrayed. Beyond the veil of his cold exterior lay a good man, a man who was not allowed to die today. He was going to be a father, a husband, a friend, a lover; because he wasn't going to die.

"Hermione, why don't you come sit down," Ron suggested softly, gently taking the hand that dangled limply at her side and standing directly in her line of vision. This seemed to snap her out of the haze that she was in.

"No, I have to help," she insisted in a shaky voice, finally forcing herself to move.

She knelt down beside Draco and took his hand in hers. His knuckles were bloody, the skin was torn, and was that a splinter? Hermione shook her head. She couldn't think of that now, she had to focus on the much larger issues at hand.

"How is he? What can I do?" she asked Mr. Weasley who was working on healing his shoulder on the opposite side of the bed.

"Minky's gone to search for any potions that may help," he said, not really answering her question. Was he really that bad? She guessed that nobody in the room was a specialized healer so without potions the amount of magic they were able to perform to heal him was limited.

"Come on, Draco," she whispered, leaning closer to him.

She gasped as she saw the wound. His robes had been pulled back to expose the injury-torn flesh. When had this happened? How long did he have to run and fight with his shoulder like this? It looked extremely painful. He had taken hours to get to them, had he been in pain that whole time? For a moment, she was slightly glad that he was unconscious. At least he had some rest now right?

"Minky found some!" the little elf squeaked appearing beside Mr. Weasley holding three bottles.

"Good. Very good," he muttered, taking the vials from the shaking creature. "Blood replenishing potion." He looked conflicted for a moment, then nodded to himself. "He has to wake up, just for a few seconds so he can drink it."

"You're going to wake him up?! But he'll be in so much pain!" Hermione argued.

"He'll die without it," he told her seriously. He checked the other bottles Minky had brought out. "Sleeping draught. He can wake up for a few seconds and then we can put him back to sleep."

"Master must not die!" Minky cried.

Hermione nodded, her desperate agreement with the elf silently voiced.

"Rennervate," he spoke, and Draco began to stir.

He groaned and his breathing began to labour. Hermione squeezed his hand to try to comfort him.

"Have him drink it," Mr. Weasley told Hermione, handing her the containers.

With trembling hands, she opened the blood replenishing potion and held it to Draco's lips, edging it between them and pouring the liquid into his mouth.

"Blood replenishing," she whispered, explaining what he was taking, knowing that he would refuse if she didn't. He swallowed and immediately, colour began to fill his face, at least closer to his regular pale shade. "You're not allowed to die. You hear me? Do. Not. Die." she said, taking this moment to order him to live. Hermione opened the other bottle and held it out to him. "This will put you back to sleep." He accepted it eagerly, and soon his breathing slowed and his body relaxed. She still kept a tight grip on Draco's hand as Mr. Weasley went back to work on closing the wound.

After what seemed like hours Draco was healed, cleaned, and peacefully sleeping.

"He's going to be asleep for a few more hours. Why don't you try to get some shut eye too," Mr. Weasley advised.

"Is he going to be alright?" she asked.

"Should be. He'll have a nasty scar and some pain for a while, but he'll live," he told her, giving her shoulder a pat. Hermione gave a great sigh of relief.

"Thank-you," she said. He just nodded tiredly.

Looking around the tent, Hermione found that nearly everyone else had fallen asleep, but she just continued to sit beside the unconscious Draco hand in hand. She was exhausted herself, but she didn't want to sleep. She knew Mr. Weasley said that Draco was going to be alright, but she couldn't help feeling that if she fell asleep, something terrible would happen.

Hermione was tired of waiting; she was tired of being afraid. It seemed that was all her life was anymore. She couldn't even remember a time when the universe wasn't out to get her, or somebody she loved. It was definitely before the three of them had gone off to hunt Horcruxes, probably even before the first time she got on the train headed to Hogwarts. Ever since she had found out she was a witch it was like she just didn't belong. Granted, had she ever really belonged anywhere. Now that she thought about it, had the universe ever not been out to get her? She was the daughter of the evilest man alive, was it really such a stretch to think that the universe had been trying to get rid of her ever since it found out about her existence?

She had always been different, always been a freak, always been a magnet for life's problems. Part of that could be because of who she was friends with, but had she really had a choice in that? It was like it was destined to happen, her becoming friends with the enemy of her biological father, even if she hadn't known who he was. Things had never worked out the way she would have liked them too. Chaos was just a part of her life, whether it was the emotional chaos brought by Ron, who she had been in love with at the time, constantly snogging some other girl in front of her, Draco and his group of bullies' incessant, degrading harassment, or actual chaos like hiding from Voldemort and his Death Eaters while searching for ways to destroy him.

For the past couple of months, she had finally had some sort of peace. She had access to food and shelter, found out Harry was alive, was together with a group of her friends, had a sense of safety. She had girl talks about boys, love, crushes, and babies, she had access to a library filled with books, she had comfort in the arms of her husband.

Now, it seemed the universe had enough of giving her peace and decided to replace it with a little more chaos. She had known it wouldn't last, that the longer the comfortable lifestyle continued the harder it would all crash down around her. She should have been preparing herself for when the inevitable happened. She could see what was going on, what had been going on all her life. Somehow, she had known that something wasn't right and now she knew. It was some sort of bad karma. What had she ever done to deserve this, this bad karma? She had been brought into this world by evil. She was blood-related to the Dark Lord himself. Hermione had tried really hard to convince herself that it didn't matter, that her real parents were muggle dentists, that they were safe, in another country, that one day she would go and give them back their memories and they would be a happy family again. She had tried to convince herself that she didn't have a problem with the fact that he was her biological father, that personality traits aren't related to genetics, that the only father that had any influence on who she was as a person was the loving man that tucked her into bed every night as a child, but she couldn't change the fact that she wasn't okay with this. She wasn't okay with the fact that she was created by, a part of, Lord Voldemort. She was overwhelmed and afraid. Hermione was a nineteen-year-old witch, twenty-five weeks pregnant, and in a forced marriage. It seemed too much to ask that she be allowed to fall in love with her husband and have him live. It would follow along nicely with the idea of bad karma that just when she realizes she loves the man she is married to, he be taken away.

She knew that whole idea about karma was complete nonsense, but she just couldn't get it out of her head. It did feel as though that were the case even though she knew it was totally illogical. What was happening to her that she would even consider something like this? She just wanted a little more peace and it seemed that something wasn't allowing her to have it. At the moment, her life was a mess and it was getting difficult to believe that it was going to get any better.

Silently, Hermione begged that Karma to let him live. He shouldn't die because everything about her life was messed up. He didn't choose this, he didn't choose to be in her life, so he shouldn't have to die so that her life could stay a mess.

Hermione was absolutely exhausted. She tried so hard to stay awake, but could slowly feel herself fading. Her last thought before she fell asleep was a prayer that Draco still be alive when she wakes up.

When Hermione woke, she breathed a sigh of relief as she felt Draco's chest rising and falling beneath her head. She yawned and rubbed her eyes tiredly. Someone was in the kitchen rustling around, others were sitting around talking. Draco hadn't woken up yet; he still slept peacefully, hand intertwined with hers. Hermione didn't know exactly where they were or what they were going to do from here on, but as long as he opened his eyes soon, it didn't matter because they would do it together.

The rain that had stopped for Christmas had started again and was making soothing pitter pattering noises on the walls of the tent. Hermione liked the sound the rain made as it hit the material. It was calming.

She sat up and looked at Draco's face. Usually, it was full of tension, worry, and stress, but for once, he seemed calm and serene. It was probably because of the sleeping draught he had taken, but she wished she could see him like that more often. Just by the normal strain in the muscles in his face as he slept told her of the heavy burdens he carried. She liked to think that this once he was able to rest without that heavy weight. His lips typically in a hard line, were relaxed and slightly ajar, his eyelids lay softly closed instead of tightly shut.

Hermione brushed some hair from his face with the tips of her fingers, lightly brushing the side of his face. She wanted to memorize the way he looked like this because she knew when he woke up, all the worry and the problems that life has a tendency to bring, would flood back in full force.

She saw the change as soon as he started to wake up. His lips became tight and brows drew together, the look of tension returned. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open. Hermione couldn't help the small smile that came with the relief that he was, in fact, finally awake. That smile faded very quickly when his hand slid away from hers.

"Wha…" he was clearly disoriented.

"Draco," she whispered. "You stayed behind and fought for us. You lead them away from here but were injured pretty badly. You're okay now, though," she assured him. "Mr. Weasley healed you as best he could." He tried to sit up and groaned in pain. "Just wait a minute. You need to stay resting!" she told him.

For a second their eyes met, but what she saw behind his were not what she had expected. They were sad, defeated, and something else she couldn't quite place.

"Hermione," he said, voice cracking. "You need to go… away… with the others."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, confused.

"You need to stay…away from me."

"No. I'm not leaving, I'm staying right here. You already did that whole sending me away to save me thing and I'm not letting you do it again," she insisted.

"Do as I say. Go away from me."

"Draco, what are you talking about? I'm not going anywhere. What happened out there?"

"Nothing. Why won't you listen to me?" he asked, sounding exasperated.

"Because…" she trailed off. She couldn't tell him she loved him like this, when he was sending her away. Why was he doing this? "I don't want to. Are we in danger here? Do we all have to leave this area? I don't understand."

Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He seemed conflicted about something.

"No, no danger. I just don't want you near me. I'll never want you," he told her coldly, eyes hard and unyielding.

He didn't want her to be there? Had he realized something when he was injured? Had he realized that he didn't want to be stuck with her for the rest of his life? All thoughts of him possibly loving her back went out the window. The pain of those words struck her in the face like a punch and Hermione felt tears well in her eyes, but she forced them down. She couldn't let him know how much he had hurt her with that statement. He was just being honest.

Slowly, she slid away from him. Damn that karma. He had lived, but she still wasn't allowed to have his love. She wanted to run somewhere. Somewhere isolated where nobody could hear or see her cry. The tent seemed to get smaller in those moments as she turned away from the man on the bed. She didn't know what to do. It felt as if the walls were getting tighter and tighter, not allowing her to breathe. Her lungs ached. She couldn't breathe. She needed to get out of there.

Without thinking, she broke free, running out of the tent before anyone could stop her and out into the forest around them. The rain was pounding down around her, almost immediately drenching her from head to toe, but she didn't care. The rain felt good on her face. She knew she couldn't get too far away from the tent or go beyond the wards that had been put up, but she hid behind a tree and sunk to the ground, letting hot tears run down her cheeks. She should have known this could happen. It was Draco Malfoy and no matter how much he had changed; he would always be Draco Malfoy.

Hermione tried to take deep breaths, to calm herself and make sure she didn't hyperventilate but she couldn't control the horrible feeling deep inside. She loved him. She loved him, and he dismissed her. Were they even friends anymore? How could so much have changed in a matter of hours? She hugged her legs to her chest and wept into her knees. She had to get over this. So he didn't love her back. That didn't matter, right? She still had her friends, she was alive. But he had done something to her. He had somehow implanted himself in her heart and now he was reaching in and trying to rip himself out.

Somebody slumped down beside her. Hermione lifted her head and saw Ginny.

"What happened?" Ginny asked softly.

"Oh, Ginny," Hermione cried, leaning into her friend's open arms.

No more words were shared. None were needed. Ginny just held Hermione as she cried over a love that would never be.

Author's Note:

So, kind of a sad ending to that chapter. I move back to school this weekend so updates are going to get a bit slower, sorry. Thank you to all you wonderful people who reviewed for the last chapter, you are awesome! I'll try to update once more before I go back to school. Keep reviewing to remind me to keep writing! Thanks for reading!