The first thing Draco felt was warmth. For the first time in what felt like years, Draco's toes, fingers, ears, and chest were filled with a glowing, vibrating warmth that made him feel sleepy and content. Opening his eyes slightly, he was immediately assaulted by the white-washed walls and medical portraits of the hospital wing. It was so warm and lovely though, and -

Hospital wing? he thought with a start, his eyes opening fully. Performing his own quick self-assessment, Draco determined that there was nothing really wrong with him other than a lingering headache and some bruises. Then why am I here? he wondered, his eyes drifting to the empty chairs by his bedside, one of them loaded with his personal effects. Draco's eyes immediately locked on a tacky, green, fraying scarf with the words "Harrods'" embroidered on the edge in tattered gold thread. "Hermione!" he said aloud, the events of his last waking hours flooding back to him.

But…I can't be dead! he thought, very confused. And if I'm not, wouldn't Hermione be here? Unless….Merlin….

Shooting out of bed like a man possessed, Draco threw back the curtains between his bed and the main room. He spotted Madame Pomfrey tottering around the potions cupboard and he cleared the distance between them in a few long strides. The mediwitch seemed surprised to see him, and could only get out, "Why Mister Malfoy, you shouldn't be -" before Draco interrupted.

"Where's Hermione?" he said sharply, putting his hand on the shoulder of the much-shorter witch, keeping her in place.

Madame Pomfrey's face grew grey. "Mister Malfoy, I would not recommend -"

"Is she here?" The witch's lack of comment was his answer. "Take me to her," he ground out, clenching his jaw. "Please."

The mediwitch appeared both flustered and irritated as she led Draco past the rows of occupied beds and into her office. Looking at his confused expression, she raised one eyebrow. "We have a solitary area for the…more unique conditions," she supplied, waving her wand over a painting of a very pompous looking hippopotamus. Draco's stomach disappeared. The wall in front of them melted into the surrounding air, and the witch motioned for Draco to enter. Hesitantly, the Slytherin was about to go into the room when the mediwitch placed her hand on his chest.

"Please remain quiet Mister Malfoy," Madame Pomfrey whispered. "We don't know how stable her condition is."

Draco nodded, tendrils of fear wrapping around his heart and squeezing. Giving the mediwitch a final firm face, he turned into the dimly lit room. What he saw made his head reel; Hermione was lying in bed, her skin so white it was nearly transparent, the sheets stained with large patches of blood. Her breathing was labored, and with each wheezing breath she took Draco felt his heart split a little more. It was obvious that someone had attempted to care for her; her hair was washed and combed, and she was in a blood-stained but new-looking hospital gown.

Rage replacing Draco's sorrow, he turned to the mediwitch. "Why haven't you healed her?" he hissed, his voice dangerously low. "If you haven't noticed, she's still bleeding as much as when we rescued her from that cell."

Madame Pomfrey's lips set into a thin, straight line. "If you're going to question my practices, I recommend that you try healing her Mister Malfoy," she said sharply, her whisper tight with emotion.

Nodding and walking forcefully to the bed, Draco made himself take a deep breath as he looked down at Hermione. He gingerly lifted her hand to his lips, running his finger over a large gash on her arm. Grinning, Draco watched as the skin knit itself together, his healing charm appearing to take effect. Just as he was about to turn to Madame Pomfrey, triumphant where she had failed, Draco watched as Hermione's skin ripped back open, fresh blood seeping from the wound. Shocked, Draco tried to heal the cut again, only to watch as it re-opened once more.

A cool hand on his arm stopped him. "They all behave like that," Madame Pomfrey said softly. "Her body is rejecting the magic."

"What happened to her?" Draco croaked, placing Hermione's hand lightly above the sheets. "Can we help her? We have to stop the bleeding, or -"

"I know," Madame Pomfrey interrupted gently. "We're trying dear, we really are. At the moment we've been giving her blood-replenishing potions every six hours. She's been like this for four days, and -"

"Four days!?" Malfoy exclaimed, a bit too loudly. "I've been asleep for four days?"

"Your body has been recovering from massive magical shock, Mister Malfoy," the mediwitch supplied, frowning. Draco's confused look caused her to shake her head. "You don't know what happened, do you?"

"No," Draco said quietly. "All I remember is the green light…and then nothing."

Madame Pomfrey sighed, rubbing her eyes. "Hermione accidentally used something called Earth Magic to save you." She looked up, but Draco hadn't reacted to her use of the ancient term. "As far as we can tell, she stopped the Avada Kedavra and killed Lucius within the space of a few moments. Judging by the blood on the floor, you had been tortured severely; yet, when Mister Potter, Mister Longbottom, and Miss Bones found you, you appeared to be in perfect health."

Draco's world spun as the enormity of the mediwitch's words hit him. "Earth Magic?" he said, breathlessly. "She used Earth Magic?"

Madame Pomfrey nodded. "She's a very powerful girl."

"So, she'll come out of this….phase, right?" Malfoy asked, panic building. "She'll recover naturally?"

The mediwitch refused to meet his eyes. "Hopefully."

"…what are you not telling me?" Draco's heart attempted to jump through his ribcage.

Madame Pomfrey remained silent, fiddling with the edge of her apron. "I think we don't need to talk about this right now, Mister Malfoy," she said, "You should be in bed -"

"He needs to know!" a strong voice called out from behind them, and Draco turned to see Harry standing at the doorway of the room.

The Boy-Who-Lived looked like he'd just been hit by a bus; his was skin pale and splotchy, eyes red-rimmed and blurry, and his hair even more out-of-control than usual. "What do I need to know?" Draco asked, walking towards the disheveled mess in the doorway.

"Hermione's in a magical coma," Harry said flatly, emotionless. "She put all of her life force and magical core into saving you Draco; she has nothing left to sustain her own life." His face remained neutral as he delivered this horrifying news. All that Draco could see in the boy's dark eyes was the reflection of the torchlight, orange flames flickering in his empty pupils. "No one ever comes out of magical comas, and if they do they're never themselves – their mind is twisted, crazy. Most of them end up dying within a few weeks of regaining consciousness."

Draco felt the weight of the world crash down on him. Harry had just announced that the woman he loved was breathing, living, right in front of him, but would most likely never wake up again and would definitely never be herself again. "…Hermione?" he croaked, barely able to speak.

Harry nodded, obviously at a point beyond tears. "There's not much we can do for her right now. Come with me Draco, the rescue team's been waiting in the Room of Requirement for the past few days -"

"No!" Draco snarled, pushing away the hand that Harry placed on his forearm. "You're giving up on her!"

Harry's sad, brown eyes offered no evidence to the contrary, and it incensed Draco even further.

"I will not leave her now! She'll come through this!" he shouted, tears building in his eyes. Draco refused to register the sad, shocked expressions on Madame Pomfrey and Harry's faces, choosing instead to look down at Hermione and brush a his hand tenderly against her cheek. "I can't leave you now," he whispered. "Now you need me. You can't leave me, Hermione. You can't."

Sitting down on the hard metal chair beside her bed, Draco clasped Hermione's hand gently between his. Draco heard Madame Pomfrey whisper something, then shuffle out into the infirmary. Harry's quiet voice echoed throughout the small private room. "Draco, please come with me. Everyone's anxious to see you…"

"So that they can blame me?" Draco spat, closing his eyes. "So that they can all look at me and say 'It is here instead of Hermione, it is the reason why she's not with us'? I think not, Potter."

Spitting the last word with emphatic venom, Malfoy realized his cutting comment had struck home. Out of the corner of his eye Draco saw Harry stiffen, then turn on his heel. Suddenly, the dark-haired boy froze. "I love her too, you know," he said quietly. "I don't want to let her go, but….it's inevitable, Draco. Please. Come join us."

Draco used his silence as an answer, staring meaningfully at Hermione's neutral, pale face. He listened to the soft sound of Harry's footsteps fading away and the hidden wall sliding into place. Draco knew then that he was finally alone with Hermione. "My place is here," the blonde said quietly. "by your side. You promised me that you'd never leave me, now I'm not leaving you." His words built up in his throat, choking him with his inability to articulate this strange, swelling feeling in his chest. "Please, stay with me Hermione."

Tears filling his eyes once again, Draco let them fall. Water droplets sat on the back of Hermione and his hands like clear pearls, unmoving, refracting light in a mesmerizing and melancholy way. Draco tentatively touched the edge of his tear with his fingertip, feeling Hermione's wax-like skin beneath his. Gathering his courage, Draco looked once more to Hermione's battered face, evidence of his father's brutality and madness. Lucius is dead, Madame Pomfrey said so…. but this thought failed to comfort Draco. Is it worth it at this price? he wondered bitterly, surveying the broken girl before him. Draco already knew the answer to that.

Still holding Hermione's cold, still hand, Draco leaned in and pressed a kiss to an undamaged area of her forehead. Lips touching her skin, he murmured "Stay with me."

Wordlessly sending out an incantation, Draco extended the hospital bed so that it would fit more than one person. The blonde cautiously slipped himself onto the bed, sliding beside Hermione. Nestling her head onto his shoulder, ignoring the blood that was undeniably sinking into his clothes, Draco rested his arm underneath Hermione's head and began stroking her hair. Eyes open, staring at the blank ceiling, Draco wondered whether it would ever be possible for him to leave this bed without her.

A/N: On time! (Barely...) Sorry that this chapter's a bit short, but I really wanted to split up this part and the next bit. All shall be explained soon! Expect the next installment of "Fresh Start" by next Sunday (December 23rd), hopefully it'll be on time.

Please R your lovely, thoughtful reviews are the best Christmas presents that I could ever get. :) :) Merry Christmas! ~sneakyslytherin