TW: major character death, blood
She ran through the doors.
Her heels wobbling with each hurried step she took. Her feet hurt; she was certain to have pulled or twisted something. Her footfalls echoing throughout the corridors. The sensible heels she had chosen this morning, clacking and clicking on tiled floors.
Her curls flying around her face, she probably looked like a mess.
Her face contorted in distress. Eyebrows furrowed, eyes wide, mouth open giving her ample access to air.
Sweat dripping down her back. Perhaps it was only a piece of her imagination but she felt soaked. The emotions rolling off her in instants, felt like they were drenching her body. Consuming her.
Her Ministry approved skirt making it difficult to run. The tight fabric, not giving her much range to move.
Hermione came to a quick halt, kicked off her heels, and left them in the crowded hall. They stayed planted on the side of the wall and she kept her pace. Freed from the confinement of her shoes, she could run— as quickly as she wished.
Her heart was pounding, beating so quickly she could not phantom how she was still on her feet and not laying on the ground, passed out.
It beat faster than it ever had.
Her whole body was shaking.
She was examining each sign, running into Healers and patients. Her eyes, desperately searching for him.
Since the Patronus had galloped into the boardroom. Harry's frantic voice calling for her. She had only heard a few words before she had been out the door in seconds.
Moments blurred into each other, all she remembered was running out the Ministry doors and apparating straight away.
Now she was here.
He was hurt and that was all she cared for. Nothing else mattered to her; but finding her husband in the crowded spaces of St-Mungo.
Find him and make sure he was okay. Then, give herself the time to calm down and recuperate her emotions. Let her nerves crash back down.
Hermione bumped into someone, the breath left her lungs as she collided with the tall figure.
"Sorry," she panted and righted herself once more.
Her feet carried themselves on their own accord, moving in practiced steps towards somewhere. She followed her gut, letting it lead the way because she had no clue where she was going.
She let her senses take over and bring them to him.
She passed the Emergency Ward directions in a few quick seconds; Hermione had realized she was close.
A staircase to the left, up two floors, make one turn right.
She repeated the directions in her head like a mantra— constantly. Not giving her mind a second to relent, she could not afford to miss the right location. She could not afford to spare one second.
Her body was aching; she could feel the tiredness of her bones, her throbbing muscles as she made her way up the stairs.
Healer Russell would be scolding her. If only the woman could see her now, Hermione ignored the obnoxious voice telling her to take care of her body. To be careful.
She had to find him. She needed to find him.
Hermione tried to think of positive thoughts, that everything was fine and there was nothing to worry.
She could not understand how it was so easy to think about the most negative aspects of a situation when you were so close to the answer. Why her brain always chose to think the worst possible outcomes. It made her stress levels rise, which was not something she should have been doing.
She saw the bright red sign through the glass of the door. With all her force, she pulled on the handle and was blown by a sea of people.
Running around, Healers, patients, she could smell blood and dark magic flooding the Emergency ward.
Shouts and screams coming from all corners.
Thrashing bodies in small hospital beds.
She shut them out, as he had taught her. She focused on the one thing that mattered.
Finding Draco.
Hermione, barefoot and dishevelled, her eyes searched for a blond head of hair. A head of a man she could find in a crowd of a million people. Someone she could spot from anywhere.
The one she had chosen. On a planet occupied by billions of people, she had chosen him.
Standing in the middle of the room, her eyes moved around. Watching, searching for something, a sign but all she could see were unfamiliar faces.
She felt herself grow warmer, emotions threatening to spill at the surface.
Then, a miracle happened. She spotted a dark head of hair, the faint glimpse of rounded glasses. Harry.
He looked nervous, biting on the nail of his thumb. His green eyes roaming the room, as she had. His eyes met hers; relief was all she could make out. His hand dropped, as his shoulders seemed to release a month's worth of stress and tension.
Hermione advanced as did he. They clashed together, meeting each other halfway.
"What happened? Where is he?" her voice frantic.
"I'm sorry I didn't call you sooner—" she cut him off, her hand lifted to his chest halting him. His eyes lifted from the gaze he kept on his boots.
"Harry. I need you to tell me where he is," she clenched her jaw as Harry exhaled a deep sigh.
"I don't really know exactly… when we got here as I saw there were two Healers taking him into one of those rooms—" his finger pointed to a wall, set with four doors in which all blinds were closed.
Hermione was there in seconds.
"Hermione!" she heard him yell but she did not falter.
The first door opened without restraint, it was empty. Not even a messed up sheet. She closed it and made her way to the second door. This one opened again, the only person in the room a young Trainee Healer; she noticed the distinct colour of olive robes. The woman was placing potions in a cabinet; there was no sign or disturbance. No sign of Draco. She closed the door again.
The third door was locked. Hermione frantically, jiggled the handle and slammed her palm in the middle of the wood. She could hear grunts of pain and two distinct voices. Unfortunately, she could not make out what they were saying. The thick wood muffling out the conversation.
"Let me in!" Hermione shouted, her knuckles still rapping the wood.
A strong hold pulled her body to the side. Pulling her away from the door. Away from him.
"Let me go!" Hermione tried to grab his hands and pull them off but he was too strong. "I will hex you six ways to Sunday if you don't take your hands off me this instant."
His grip did not loosen.
She thrashed, kicked, and squirmed. Dug her short nails in the skin of his arms— nothing. She tried punching and hitting his hands in hope to cause some kind of pain. Nothing.
"Hey! Hey, calm down, Hermione," Harry's face appeared in front of her again. He held her shoulders in a soothing way, but also trying to keep her from squirming.
She heard a scream from the room.
A scream that made her blood curl and set her nerve endings on fire. She had heard that scream before. She knew that scream.
Somehow, she could make out his voice from the sound. Her defences kicked in, she knew it was him.
"Let me in!" her voice hoarse, emotion spilling from the one word. She fought back against the man's grip, harder than before. Trying to kick, hit, and do anything that would loosen his hold on her enough that she could make her escape.
More muffled grunts and moans of pain slipped through the cracks of the door. Now she knew it was him and her heart constricted.
Agony coursed through her, she could almost feel his pain. The mere sounds he made caused her to weaken her fight. She felt her eyelids prickle, tears forming, begging to escape. She wanted to run in there, to be there for him. She could not and it made her feel weak.
She knew he was hurt— in pain. All she wished was to be there. For him to know she was right there along with him.
He must know how she would do anything, anything to be right next to him. To soothe his pain with her words. To hold him and drop kisses to his temple. To grip his hair through her fingers and try to ease the pain.
She sobbed and cried out. Going limp in the Healer's arms. The next thing she felt was the warm embrace of Harry Potter, lifting her up again and guiding her to a wall, not twenty feet from the door he was lying behind.
Harry sat her down on a bench as she breathed deeply, trying to slow her heart rate. The last thing she wanted was to hyperventilate.
He gave her a glass of water and she downed it. Gulping down the liquid, forcing it to swallow down the lump in her throat. He ran his hand up and down her back and in small circles. One thing he had never been good at, comforting others. She appreciated his effort because gods knows she needed it.
A few minutes later, the adrenaline in her veins had run its course. Hermione now felt the pain in her ankle, the ache of her muscles, she chose to ignore it. It was not important.
"What happened?" she rasped. Forced her head to turn towards Harry and watch his jaw clench and unclench.
Harry took a deep breath, like the ones he used to take when he got angry. When Voldemort still owned part of his soul. She observed as his rib cage expanded. In and out.
"We were at the raid," he turned towards her and looked her in the eye. "You know the one we'd been planning for months. The sneak attack that…"
She nodded as Draco had already explained everything. He always did, well she demanded it. Draco was a very private person, even towards her. After many years, he still kept all his emotions and feelings bottled up, he made efforts but she often had to push him to discuss it with her. They still had the odd arguments about it. Hermione had discovered he was calmer and his stress had decreased when he laid out his problems on the table. For example, work. Letting out his emotions and explaining going over every detail of a certain mission helped him. He was more open towards her and this had helped their relationship immensely. Over the years, it had gotten easier. Whenever Draco was feeling stressed about work he would sit down with Hermione or they would lay in bed as she stroked his hair. He would talk about the raids, his emotions, his worries and he would feel much better afterwards. She would sit and listen, stopping herself from asking questions because she knew he needed those few moments to speak his mind without interruption.
"Well we had it all planned out perfectly. The teams were all in order and everyone was clear on what their jobs were. We got there and they were ready… like someone had tipped them off. It just didn't make sense. Everyone was cornered and we were just trying to get out," he ran a hand through his black locks. "Malfoy and I were on the same team, we ran into a group of Rebels, and they started throwing curses at us. We were just trying to protect ourselves but they were trying to kill us."
Hermione gasped. This mission was supposed to be easy, he had promised. He was not supposed to be crying out in pain in a hospital bed, he was supposed to be home with her.
"The duel turned into something catastrophic after a while. The curses they were— I'd never heard of them before so I don't really know what they mean. All I know is it was some kind of Dark Magic," Harry spared her a pitying glance, she knew what was coming. "Malfoy he… He got hit. Again, I don't know what curse it was but all I remember was he was hit and backup was arriving. I Portkey'd him out as soon as I could. Then the two Healers grabbed him and stuffed him in that room, I haven't seen him since."
Hermione breathed deeply, her eyes closed and she tried— hopelessly to keep her emotions down. To keep her tears from spilling onto her cheeks.
"He was asking for you when we got here."
Her head snapped towards his, his gaze was forgiving. She could see the slight sadness hiding behind.
"The first thing he was able to say when we got to St-Mungo was your name. He asked me to get you. I'd already sent the Patronus but I guess he hadn't seen me."
Hermione could only form a nod. She feared if she opened her mouth, everything would come crashing down. And she could not afford to fall apart.
Not when she was the only thing he had left.
Time had passed. The lights were dimmer now. Her neck cracked as she lifted it from Harry's shoulder. The window down the hall was now pitch black. It had been hours since she had last been awake.
Sometime in between Harry's explanation and her dreadful tries at Occlumency, she had fallen asleep. The stinging pain in her tailbone was a clear indicator it had been hours. The aches she had felt were dull now. Her ankle was throbbing, like a heartbeat. She could barely feel her legs.
Harry's eyes were shut. He was breathing deeply, fast asleep. She was careful not to disturb him.
Hermione observed the corridor. The tiled floors reminded her of Muggle hospitals. The flickering lights, the quiet chatter indicated it was later in the evening that she had anticipated.
The Emergency Ward was calmer now, passive. Not at all, what it had been when she had arrived. From her seat on the wall, she could only make out the hurried strides of a few women in lime green robes.
She could feel her eyes drooping. Her few recuperated hours of sleep had not done much. She tried to force her joints to cooperate, stretching them to relieve the ever-growing tension.
Hermione let her mind wander. Let her bring her to Draco. Let herself believe it was okay, that he was better now. She just wanted to get up and try the handle again but Hermione feared if she rose, her body would only plummet to the ground. She stayed on the floor, next to her sleeping friend. Harry's glasses were on the edge of slipping off his nose, she slowly pushed them up. She checked once more to make sure he was asleep. His breathing still heavy, it almost sounded like soft snores—
"Mrs. Granger-Malfoy?" Hermione's head whipped towards the voice. A woman in lime green robes stood in the hallway, only a few feet from where she was seated. The Healer's hands were folded in front of her and placed as if practiced. Professional. As was her expression, not cold but not warm either. Neutral.
"Yes?" her voice cracked, strained as she spoke.
"Your husband is stable for now and I—" Hermione was up from the ground. All earlier pain diminished, packed up, and let out to float into the abyss. The woman seemed to take in her rushed attempt at getting up from the ground. Her eyes washed over taking in her bare feet, messed up hair, and shifted skirt. "I— I need you to come with me, please."
Hermione's heart pounded as she apprehensively followed the Healer. She quickly took out her wand and conjured a pair of shoes, slipping them on and following the woman down the hall. They passed the room that he had been in. From where she had heard the screaming, the sounds he made when in pain. She stopped at the door.
"He's not there anymore," her hand was lifted towards the handle. Her eyes met the blue stare of the older woman. "He was moved there about an hour ago. You were asleep."
Her tone was the same as the expression plastered on her face. Neutral and passive.
She formed a nod and the woman continued her way down the corridor. Hermione followed a few paces behind. Her mind running circles, question after question appearing. Begging to be answered. She shut them out, as he had shown her.
They turned a few corners and walked through deserted spaces. Hermione kept her eyes close on the woman in lime green robes. The Healer kept the same pose. Arms linked in front of her, head straight. Not a single movement out of place, everything prim and perfect.
They entered a darker room, the light low and she could make out a body lying on a small hospital bed. Walking further into the room, Hermione spotted that blonde head of hair. Her eyes pricked once more. He was sleeping, a deep sleep like the ones she only had a faint glimpses of every so often.
His name tumbled out of her mouth; it came out as a breath and a whisper. In some ways, she had only said it to reassure herself. Hermione was next to the bed, she quickly grabbed his hand in a rushed but soft way. He did not move.
She observed his figure. Still clad in his work robes. His hair was ruffled and slightly damp, as if he had been sweating. His hand was warm, his touch was like fire. It could warm her from miles away. The slightest brush of his fingers could make her cheeks flush and comfort her in a way nothing else did.
"Mrs. Granger-Malfoy?" a voice pulled her back. This time it was different, a deeper voice. She turned her head and noticed a second person standing in the room. Hermione had been so preoccupied by Draco; she had not noticed the tall figure standing near the earlier witch.
The Healer seemed to take her observation as a sign of affirmation. "I'm going to need you to sit down."
He gestured to a chair next to the end of the bed. Two chairs facing the one she was meant to sit in. This was— formal. Hermione ignored the minor worry that appeared. She shook it off. Seating herself on the plastic chair, the two Healers wore pitted masks. Something was wrong. By the way they were watching her, being careful around her, they were walking on eggshells around her. They believed she was going to crack.
She felt her pulse skyrocket, the little voice in her head advised her to calm down. To wait for an explanation before acting up.
"Unfortunately…" the man's eyes met hers. "We have some bad news."
Hermione heart beat faster now. There was nothing to do to stop it; it was past that stage now.
"When your husband came to us, he was very hurt," the woman's hands were now wringing themselves in her lap. "He had been hit by a curse… very dark magic. The Healers in charge of his care at the time had no prior knowledge of his specific curse."
Anger swelled inside her.
"When I arrived a few minutes later, I made the connections. This curse is a rare type of magic. It traces and specifics can only be found in a few books across the world. I've studied this curse and when I saw Mr. Malfoy's state and symptoms, I figured it out. The curse your husband was hit with is otherwise known as The Leaden Curse. Its magic was created in the early 1800s, not very many studies have taken place, but enough for advanced Healer's like me to have knowledge of its works."
It felt like an out of body experience. Perhaps a nightmare?
"The Leaden Curse is two spells combined."
Hermione's bones felt heavy. Her whole body bearing an extensive amount of weight.
"It is the mix between a Slowing Charm—"
She felt—
"—and the Killing Curse."
Her heart stopped. Four words.
"—in other words, it is the equivalent of a decelerated Killing Curse."
She heard herself gasp. Look straight into the man's gaze. Pity and forgiveness. That is what she saw.
"What— what do you mean?" her voice was trembling. She felt her lids stinging again.
The Healer let out a long breath and raised his head again. "I'm sorry… the curse is fatal."
Time ceased. It felt as if all the air had been pulled out of her lungs. The room seemed to get smaller— trapping her.
"He won't have much time—"
Voices kept fading.
"—Two weeks. A month at most—"
No. No.
This was not—
This couldn't be real.
They were about to have a—
Hermione choked on a sob. "You— you mean… He's dying?" as she spoke her voice cracked as did her heart.
He looked at her for a moment and answered with a nod.
She could not do this— she needed to leave, get out.
Hermione rushed out the room, slamming the door on her way out. Her breathing erratic, her eyes blurred as she looked around the corridor.
She shattered.
She fell to the floor, sobs and cries escaping from her. Tears running down her face like waterfalls. She was on her knees, embracing herself— trying to find comfort in her own hold.
The sounds she emitted, she had never heard. Pain was all she could feel. Running through her body. Ceasing her heart.
Her loud weeps echoed around the hallway. As her tears spilled on the ground. This was not happening, it couldn't. The words repeated in her mind.
'Two weeks.'
"Fatal.'
'Killing Curse.'
She heard some panicked voice calling her name. Asking her what was wrong but she could not answer. As much as she wanted to, her voice would not allow it.
The aching in her heart hurt. Too much.
It hurt, worse than a thousand jinxes did. Worse than the Cruciatus curse. Worse than any form of torture possible.
The pain was too much to attempt at voicing her emotions.
She let herself sob. She let go, watched the world around her turn blurry, let herself feel the warm trickle of tears decorating her face, let her nails dig into the soft flesh of her palms, she let Harry's hand grab a hold of her shoulder, she let her pain spill.
Hermione let it flood the space around her. She let herself be weak for a few minutes.
How was she supposed to go on from there? They were meant to be fine; she remembered his promise a few years back. He had held her in his arms and he had whispered to her words of reassurance over and over. He had promised they would be okay and safe forever.
He could not leave now. Not when they were on the road to a new beginning. Not when a third party was involved.
As she cried out her unspoken words, a frail hand covered her stomach.
It was the beginning of one's story and the end to another.
They had gone through hell and back for years. They had survived it and finally found an inch of happiness in the world and now he had to leave her alone in it.
Harry comforted her, she could not see him even thank him but she felt it. Somewhere behind the broken pieces of her heart, she felt his solace.
At least a little.
She could not tell how long it had been.
Hermione felt the drooping of her eyelids, the stretch of her muscles and her tear stained cheeks.
Harry was still sitting next to her. An arm around her shoulder, his thumb rubbing soft circles as her head leaned into the crevice of his neck.
She felt her heart pound against her ribcage as she chose her next moves. Her head lifted from the comfortable spot on his shoulder, his fingers squeezed at hers. She looked at him and nodded. A signal. Harry dropped his hand as she slowly stood up. Her joints cracking, she ignored the bite of pain. She took a few steps towards the door she had escaped earlier.
Someone caught her hand and gave it a tight squeeze. She looked towards Harry and he smiled. Reassurance, she felt it.
Hermione plucked up her courage and walked towards the door. It seemed like such a burden now.
She felt her heartbeat accelerate and her breathing grow erratic. Hermione was shaking now, trying desperately to keep her tears at bay. She had been weak and allowed herself to let go but now she needed to be strong and to bear it… for him.
Her hand guided itself to the handle and she gripped the cold metal in her palm. She twisted it and the door opened, darkness pooling inside the room. She opened it enough for her to pass through and quickly shut it as quietly as possible.
Hermione felt her guard drop in the dark, where no one could see her; she tried to hold back the sobs that begged to escape. The anger lodged in her throat.
"Hermione?" a croaked voice whispered through the room.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Too familiar to be anyone but him. She bit her lip to stop the quivering and to hold in any sound. Just one word spoken and she was on the verge of breaking down once more.
The rustle of sheets and with a faint click, a small bedside lamp turned on, illuminating the room.
She did not want to look at him. She couldn't.
She could feel his eyes on her, watching her.
He knew.
Because if he had not, he would have been asking questions and he would have been up from that bed the second he was awake. And it is because she knows him so well that she can read him like an open book.
She knows he is calculating her, figuring her out in that moment.
A shaky breath escapes her as her teeth let go of her bottom lip. Thankfully, her curls curtain her face and cover the look of pain that she wears.
"Look at me," he asks, longing.
She shook her head, not capable of forming words as a stray tear rolls down her face. She let it.
She can't. She can't look at him. As much as she wants to.
"Hermione…" his voice— a comforting sound. Something she loved— to soothe all her worries, now used as a torture device. Something so beautiful used to physically pain her. "Hermione, look at me."
His voice cracks and she feels her heart break just a little more.
"P—Please…"
Her face lifts to meet his eyes as she breathes in. She had not noticed she had been holding her breath.
His eyes meet hers and they are just as sad as hers. There is just as much pain flowing through them as there is in hers.
She feels the tears slip down her cheeks and drop on the floor. One by one. She feels her nose getting stuffy. She feels a lump in that back of her throat and it burns as she swallows. Most of all she feels the heat of the situation as she looks deeply into his eyes.
He's sprawled out onto the tiny hospital bed and leaning against the wall, his hair scuffed up as if he'd just woken up next to her. His jaw is clenched and it pains her to see him this way.
No amount of Occlumency can eliminate the despair she feels.
When she half exhales a sob, he shifts in the bed and she gets the message instantly.
She makes her way next to the bed and without a care for anything else curls up next to him.
Then, she cried.
He cried along with her and she can sense his tears falling onto the crown of her head. Passed by blurry minutes, he peppers kisses along her forehead and the top of her head. He holds her close and she presses herself closer to him. Hermione has no idea how they both fit on this stupid little bed but she pushed the though away as she focuses on the scent of him and his beating heart under the palm of her hand.
She feels sick. She is being weak. She was supposed to be strong for him. She was supposed to bear it and deal with it later. To hold it in. Now, she is crying in his arms and she feels sick for not being there to comfort him.
Somehow, she does not find it within herself to stop the tears, to stop holding him.
They fall asleep, during those saddened hours— she let herself fall asleep in his arms and he followed right along with her.
A few moments before the dreams took over her mind, she imagined a place. A place where they were going to be fine and safe. A place where they could be happy.
Just like he had promised.
Hours, minutes, seconds had passed. They faded into one another.
From the moment she had woken, wrapped up in Draco's embrace to the silent journey from the hospital back home, Hermione had kept her promise to herself.
She had felt the sorrow, cursing in the air around them. It clouded every part of her brain.
Hermione had not wanted to admit it to herself. She hoped that the last day's events were part of a nightmare. She hoped they were just her imagination. But deep down, she knew. She knew it wasn't a nightmare.
As she passed through the Floo, Hermione took a second to take in the scene around her.
A home. Their home.
It was quaint, always had been but it was theirs.
She and Draco had spent a few months in her old flat at the beginning of their relationship. As months and years passed, they had decided they both wanted a bigger place, somewhere with more space. Somewhere to raise a family.
She had always loved the country and Draco shared this sentiment. They had found a rustic house only a few hours from London. It was perfect and they had made it a home. Living most of her life in fear or dread, a quiet place in the middle of many fields had been a breath of fresh air. Not only to her but for Draco too.
They had adapted living without as much magic. She had taught Draco many things and he had learned them willingly.
It was raining when she looked at the window. Hermione could see the quiet drizzle, painting the glass.
Somehow, the weather fit with the emotions she felt. As if, nature was upon them.
The loud whoosh of the Floo announced Draco arrival. Hermione did not turn around.
She had avoided him all morning. Truthfully, it was the wrong thing to do. She knew she was being selfish but she did not want to fall apart again. She knew if she spared a glance to his grey stare, everything would come crashing once more, and she feared it would never stop.
She grabbed the bag from his hand, still avoiding his presence and made her way up the stairs. She shut her eyes tight to keep the tears at bay.
The bedroom door was closed and as she opened it, her throat locked.
Things she dared never to think, prodded her mind.
Waking up alone.
Living alone.
Waking up to his side of the bed― cold.
The closet half empty, all his shirts, shoes missing.
A warm presence missing from her touch.
Someone to turn to when the nightmares came back. Gone.
In those few moments, imagining her life for the next few years. She felt someone behind her. Her eyes burned.
"Hermione…" his hand moved tentatively to her shoulder, she shrugged it off, shaking her head. She couldn't do this. She moved away to the adjoining bathroom and leaned against the doorframe.
Hermione breathed in and out. A tear slipped out and she made no advance to conceal it.
He followed her and it just hurt more.
"Don't do this," he begged.
"How am I supposed to do this then?" she turned to face him and looked him straight in the eye.
"Not by leaving me behind and ignoring the situation," Draco proposed and she looked away. He was right. He was always right.
The warm trickle traveled down her cheeks.
"Fine. You want to talk about it," she noticed tears forming in his eyes as her vision went blurry. "Let's talk about it."
He stood his hands in his pockets. She felt disconnected. Hermione just wanted to run into his arms. To hug him.
"You can't ignore it, Hermione―"
She had already made up her mind. She was not going to ignore the situation; she would find a way to solve it. "I'm not going to ignore it. I'm going to solve it."
She sniffed and his brows furrowed.
"What?" he asked, bewildered at her answer.
"I'm going to find a solution. To get you better― right now to be exact," she started to march away from him but he caught her shoulders and dragged her back in front of him.
"No," he stated. Final.
"What?" she tried to squirm out of his grip but he held on tighter. "What do you mean, 'No'?"
"I'm not going to let you waste your time on something that has no point," she stopped moving in favour of looking at him.
"Something that has no point?" she repeated. "Draco this is your life, if you think for one second I am letting this go you are sorely mistaken."
"You are not using the last few weeks of time I have left trying to find a solution to something that has no cure."
More tears fell as he stated the fact so nonchalantly.
As if, it meant nothing.
"How do you know? There might be a way to save you," she reached her hands to his wrists, needing some sort of contact.
"You know there isn't…" his hands cupped her face and she looked away, blinking back tears.
"There might… there must be a way to fix this," she shook.
"Not everything can be fixed, Granger."
"Not everything deserves to be fixed…" she looked up to his eyes now, swimming in them. "But you do."
He held her face in his hands, both their gazes trained on each other. Her lip quivered as she held back the string of affection and cries of pain. His eyes were begging. Begging her to let it go. To release him.
"I don't want to lose you," her voice cracked. "I'm not― I can't…"
She choked on a sob. His thumb drew circles on the soft skin of her cheek.
"We were supposed to be fine. We were supposed to be happy," Hermione cried out as she watched his own tears spill out. "You promised."
"We will be happy," he stated, breathlessly. "You can be happy for the both of us."
Draco pressed his forehead to hers and they shut their eyes, savouring the connection. She broke as the next few words escaped her lips.
"How am I supposed to be happy when you're gone?" her eyes opened to his. "How do you want me to be happy without you?"
Then, he kisses her. It's messy and their tears mix into one another.
Unspoken mentions of love and whispers of their hurt were declared through the syncing movements of their lips.
Everything she wished to say, to express she did as her lips danced upon his. She let the tears fall as she kissed him.
She kissed him as if starving, starving of him.
Gods knows she would be soon.
Hermione watched the clear liquid swirl around the glass. The ice cubes made small sounds with each hit against the crystal. Hermione observed the tumbler as it shimmered through the dim lights of the Leaky.
She downed the water. She wished for something stronger. For something to burn the flesh of her throat. To feel that familiar ache the next morning.
Alcohol, Hermione craved it. However, she knew better. She knew the consequences of indulging in such things in her state.
She rested her chin on her arm and leaned down onto the counter top. She watched as the glasses filled magically and as they were lifted into thin air and moved to different tables around the room.
She was tired; the last few days had caused a toll on her mind. The constant sorrow surrounding everywhere she went, as if a Dementor was following her.
Her boss had asked her at least ten times if she was well on Monday. Everyday seemed to get worse.
Now Wednesday, she had told Draco she was going to Ginny's for dinner. She had lied. She planned to spend her night drinking ice-cold water at the Leaky Cauldron.
She needed some time to grieve her thoughts, alone.
Hermione had forced herself to be strong for Draco. In reality, it had been for herself.
She had been strong when he came back from the Ministry and told her he had quit his job, when she left for work in the morning and he was sitting in the library― reading a book, instead of getting dressed in Auror robes. She knew what it meant and each time she saw him doing something out of his schedule, it caused a small dent on her heart.
He was giving up.
Now she sat at a bar stool at nine on a Wednesday night. To others, it must have looked as if she was just having a rough week and having a glass of strong alcohol to burn the thoughts down.
She dragged her finger across the cold rim when a presence sat next to the empty stool next to hers.
"Granger," the suggestive drawl of Theodore Nott kicked her out of her daze.
She twisted her neck to look at him. The same crisp suit as he always wore, hair in messy brown curls, the ghost of a smirk on his lips.
"I hope that's not alcohol," he pointed to the crystal tumbler.
"No," she mumbled, returning her gaze towards the glass once more.
A very long silent pause washed over them. Hermione kept observing the melting ice with a small frown. She felt Theo's eyes burning into the side of her face.
Draco had seen Theo one afternoon a few days after they had left St-Mungo. He had come back with red-rimmed eyes and a sad smile.
He had told him.
Theo sat in silence watching Hermione for the longest time.
"What are you doing here, Granger?" he asked. She chuckled internally at the use of her maiden name. Not many people still used it, only Theo and sometimes Draco. She shrugged in response.
The silence felt like a tidal wave, pushing and pulling.
Hermione let herself think about everything she had come to escape when entering the Leaky tonight. She let her heartache.
A tear ran down her cheek onto the wood beneath her arms.
She felt the warm touch of his hand on her shoulder and she broke.
Her vision burned and blurred.
Through her haze of tears, she felt herself move closer next to him. Her head tilted down and she cried as she held her and stroked her hair.
Theo was the first person to offer her any kind of comfort in the past few dreadful days.
She accepted it with open arms and he accepted her tears with the best kind of sympathy he could give.
Over a week had passed since Hermione had seen Theo.
She had spent the last few days at home; she had decided to take the next few weeks off work in favour of attending scheduled appointments and spending some time with Draco.
He was getting weaker by the hour, she could see the frail look he wore. She could hear him tossing and turning at night, begging for sleep. She could see his appetite reduce. She watched as he broke apart before her eyes.
A few days back, the weather had been perfect for a September afternoon. Hermione had decided he was to go outside and spend some time in nature before he got too weak.
They had walked a few kilometers to the nearest beach. The wind blew through her dress as they sat down together on a blanket in the sand. They watched the waves crash on the shore and they laughed on old tales.
Hermione stroked Draco's hair when he fell asleep on her lap and shed a few tears when he touched her stomach.
They had spent a few hours in pure bliss. She had never felt so connected with him but it might have just been a flick of her imagination.
The next few days had passed and Draco got weaker.
Her mother had come for a day; she'd helped around with cooking and cleaning. That night while Draco was sound asleep in their bed, Hermione had stayed up to brew potions. Any kind they were running low on or on which she thought he might find useful.
He was spending his days in bed now. Time had caught up to him.
During a Floo call with the hospital, the Healer had mentioned it was about time. From past studies, patients always seemed to give into the curse after two weeks. Hermione dreaded each time the clock ticked one second.
Time was running out but she was not ready.
A few days later, Hermione found herself curled up in the crook of his arm. His eyes were shut as she traced her name on his hands. He was leaning against the headboard, only a few pillows to add comfort. She watched in the dark room as his chest rose and fell. She listened to the sound of his breathing.
Hermione observed the lines of his face, each angle. She wanted to memorise him so that when he was gone she could remember every detail perfectly.
When he opened his eyes, she met his stare.
His hand came to rest on the side of her face, she leaned into the touch. He let his finger trace her cheekbone and she relished in the fact his hands were still warm.
"I need you to promise me something," he broke the impending silence.
Hermione breathed harshly against the skin of his wrist.
"Alright…"
She heard him inhale a long breath and exhale even harder.
"I need you to promise me you'll be there for them. I won't be here to scold you, Granger. I need to know you won't push them out because of me," he stated, she shook.
"No," she whispered as she pushed herself up. She was not having this conversation. "I― I…"
"Listen to me," he pleaded as his hand gripped hers. She looked up at him and she noticed his cheeks were wet.
"I need to know that you'll be happy. I need you to be happy and I need you to keep living even though I'm gone," he breathed. "You have a chance here, Hermione… A real chance at something wonderful. Don't ruin it because of me. I'll always be here, whether you see me or not. But I need you to promise me you won't spend your life longing and missing on opportunities just because of me."
She was crying again. Any sense of restraint had slipped.
"You'll regret later when you think back and realize you bruised your pride when Draco Malfoy finally managed to break you."
She laughed, lowly. The bastard. He always did enjoy making jokes at inappropriate times.
"I need this from you for me― for them," he placed a tentative hand on her stomach and she covered it with her own.
She nodded.
"Promise me."
She looked up at him, he was begging, pleading her.
"I― I promise."
Hermione moved over to join their lips. He kept a hand on her stomach and raised the other to bunch her curls. She kissed him with all of her being.
She kissed him until her lungs burned for air.
"I love you," Draco spoke as he leaned his forehead against hers.
"I love you," she looked into his eyes.
Hermione settled herself on his chest; she listened to the rhythmic sounds of his breathing and thumps of his heart.
His hand played with the curls at the crown of her head as his fingertips grazed her temple. He laid on him for the longest time, her eyes, open― she did not think she would be able to fall asleep. She had not been sleeping well these past few weeks, waiting for something or for Draco to wake up crying out her name.
The movements at the top of her head halted and when she twisted her head to check on his, he was sound asleep. She gave a weak smile to the darkness and counted his heartbeats one by one.
Thump.
One.
Thump. Thump.
Two. Three.
It must have been hours as she counted each beat of his heart. But when it stopped, all she did was gasp.
No more sound. No more beats. Just silence.
She felt her heart break just a little more when she realized his breathing had stopped as well.
She broke into a thousand pieces, just like her heart.
Three Years Later
"Thank you," she mumbled, offering him a smile.
"Of course. Any time, Granger," Theo waved her off as he guided Nova to the sidewalk. Hermione watched them walk away. The little girl with brown curls like her mother and grey eyes to match her father. They had turned a corner and were gone in an instant.
Hermione took a deep breath and walked down the narrow path.
Theo had been a constant presence in her life ever since Draco had died. He had been there every step of the way. He had helped more than Hermione could ever repay him.
Harry had always been off on Auror duty, thus Theo had an immense amount of time. He had kept close with Hermione the first few weeks after her loss and soon became one of the closest friends she'd ever had.
When Nova was born, Theo was the first one to see her. When Hermione had named him godfather, she swore she saw the hint of glassy eyes as he picked up the small child wrapped in a blanket.
Hermione had found it easy, these past few years, raising a child alone. She had so much help from all her friends, there was just always a certain presence she desired. His presence.
Nothing would ever fill that gap.
Hermione walked down the gravel path. The sound of crunching with each step. She listened to the birds' songs, as the wind blew and as the leaves shook. She watched the morning sun dawn over the quiet path.
She walked and let the cool chill consume her.
When passed the old wood fence, she talked through and made her way to the stone. She forced herself not to visit every day. The first few weeks it had been hard to keep such a promise. Over time she'd come to live with it. She had grieved and focused on other things like raising a child.
Hermione dropped to her knees and leaned down on her heels.
A small frown appeared on her face as she noticed the lack of colour. She reached for her wand and cast a charm. A small cluster of periwinkle downed the ground next to the gravestone. She gave a small smile.
He'd always loved periwinkle. She remembered the exact moment he had told her.
Her eyes flitted up to the engravings on the grey stone.
In loving memory,
Draco Lucius Malfoy
5 June 1980 - 18 September 2009
Husband, friend, and father.
A few tears made their escape as her fingers drifted over the words. She remembered insisting on adding the 'Father' part.
"I miss you," she breathed, another tear treading down her face.
"I wish you were here with me today," she cast a glance at the forest surrounding her. "You'd love it, morning sun but not warm enough to go without your cloak."
She laughed a sad laugh.
"You would make fun of me. For being all gloomy on my birthday."
She picked up a small flower and she kept it in her grasp. Observing it.
"I love you," she traced his name one last time.
"Wait for me up there, will you."
She gave one last small smile and picked herself up off the ground, walking back the way she had come.
Hermione had kept walking and through her haze of heartache, she had not heard his distant whisper.
'I'll be waiting for you, Granger. Always.'