The first thing she felt waking up was the pain in her mid-torso. It hurt
like hell. She felt lightheaded and disoriented. Someone was picking her
up, and she wondered if it was her assailant. So much fear went through her
that she nearly threw up, but she stopped because of the gentleness that
the person was carrying her with. She felt the arms and they were long and
muscled, it was Harry. She smiled, forever the hero Harry Potter was.
She touched his face to feel his lips so she could place a friendly thank you kiss upon him but she stopped in her tracks because of the hair. It was straight, soft, and partially wet. Harry's was tousled, silken, and heavy. Maybe it was straight because it was somewhat wet, and so she continued this movement until she came to his nose, then she wrenched herself out of his arms and screamed.
The person was not wearing glasses. Harry would never not wear his glasses. They had talked about it in fifth year. He said he might wear contacts now because Ginny had suggested it. Then they agreed that he would still wear them because they were a part of the famous Harry Potter Image. A scrawny boy in a striped long-sleeved shirt, blue jeans, a black robe, gold-rimmed round glasses with tape on the nose, bright green eyes, and tousled black hair. Harry would never rid himself of it and to try to do so would be to deny the wizarding world of the Boy Who Lived, Voldemort's downfall, and all around hero: Harry Potter.
As she fell to the ground Hermione caught a glimpse of silver. Only one person in school had hair like that, Draco Malfoy. She started to scream and try to move back but she met the water. She couldn't find her wand, what would he do to-
"Jesus Granger, stop bloody screaming," Malfoy said.
It surprised her, there was no malice, but that didn't mean anything. And then she thought that maybe she had imagined that there was no malice. She was infatuated with Malfoy and maybe she was imagining that he was infatuated with her, that she had held him gently. But she hadn't known that it was him at the time she was holding him. The silver eyes stopped her train of thought as she looked up at him.
"This is Draco Malfoy, cold and cruel Slytherin no matter that his mother died and his father's in Azkaban. It probably made him even more bitter, enough to attack me for no reason," she thought. "Did you attack me," she asked.
"Well," Draco started, but it was enough for Hermione to know the truth. She started to curse him out mindlessly, forgetting his mother was dead.
"Son of a-," she started but she didn't finish because she remembered. It was too much, she had gone too far. The look in the silver-haired boy was the most frightening look she had ever seen. It was beyond the word homicidal. She had never seen anything like it before in her life and she wished to the Gods that she didn't ever see it again. Hermione swiftly said a silent prayer because she thought that she would die very soon. It all happened so quickly. The lift, the exhaustion, the drop, the hit, the closure. The lift of his want as he opened his mouth to say what Hermione was sure was Avada Kedavra, the killing curse. The exhaustion as one silent tear fell down Draco's cheek and let out a small breath, he was tired, so tired and so drained, and so powerful, and so alert. The drop as Draco's body hit the almost ebony ground with no sound. Or maybe it was in Hermione's head that there was no sound. The closure of those beautiful, haunting, mysterious, silver eyes as he passed out.
Draco Malfoy was passed out at her feet and she wasn't that much better than him. That tear that had dropped from his face before he fainted shone in the ebony grass like a silver star. Hermione didn't know what possessed her to do it but she collected that Silver Star in one of her potion vials before using the Wingardium Leviosa charm to levitate Malfoy as she took him to the infirmary. It used to be his tear, now it was her star.
She touched his face to feel his lips so she could place a friendly thank you kiss upon him but she stopped in her tracks because of the hair. It was straight, soft, and partially wet. Harry's was tousled, silken, and heavy. Maybe it was straight because it was somewhat wet, and so she continued this movement until she came to his nose, then she wrenched herself out of his arms and screamed.
The person was not wearing glasses. Harry would never not wear his glasses. They had talked about it in fifth year. He said he might wear contacts now because Ginny had suggested it. Then they agreed that he would still wear them because they were a part of the famous Harry Potter Image. A scrawny boy in a striped long-sleeved shirt, blue jeans, a black robe, gold-rimmed round glasses with tape on the nose, bright green eyes, and tousled black hair. Harry would never rid himself of it and to try to do so would be to deny the wizarding world of the Boy Who Lived, Voldemort's downfall, and all around hero: Harry Potter.
As she fell to the ground Hermione caught a glimpse of silver. Only one person in school had hair like that, Draco Malfoy. She started to scream and try to move back but she met the water. She couldn't find her wand, what would he do to-
"Jesus Granger, stop bloody screaming," Malfoy said.
It surprised her, there was no malice, but that didn't mean anything. And then she thought that maybe she had imagined that there was no malice. She was infatuated with Malfoy and maybe she was imagining that he was infatuated with her, that she had held him gently. But she hadn't known that it was him at the time she was holding him. The silver eyes stopped her train of thought as she looked up at him.
"This is Draco Malfoy, cold and cruel Slytherin no matter that his mother died and his father's in Azkaban. It probably made him even more bitter, enough to attack me for no reason," she thought. "Did you attack me," she asked.
"Well," Draco started, but it was enough for Hermione to know the truth. She started to curse him out mindlessly, forgetting his mother was dead.
"Son of a-," she started but she didn't finish because she remembered. It was too much, she had gone too far. The look in the silver-haired boy was the most frightening look she had ever seen. It was beyond the word homicidal. She had never seen anything like it before in her life and she wished to the Gods that she didn't ever see it again. Hermione swiftly said a silent prayer because she thought that she would die very soon. It all happened so quickly. The lift, the exhaustion, the drop, the hit, the closure. The lift of his want as he opened his mouth to say what Hermione was sure was Avada Kedavra, the killing curse. The exhaustion as one silent tear fell down Draco's cheek and let out a small breath, he was tired, so tired and so drained, and so powerful, and so alert. The drop as Draco's body hit the almost ebony ground with no sound. Or maybe it was in Hermione's head that there was no sound. The closure of those beautiful, haunting, mysterious, silver eyes as he passed out.
Draco Malfoy was passed out at her feet and she wasn't that much better than him. That tear that had dropped from his face before he fainted shone in the ebony grass like a silver star. Hermione didn't know what possessed her to do it but she collected that Silver Star in one of her potion vials before using the Wingardium Leviosa charm to levitate Malfoy as she took him to the infirmary. It used to be his tear, now it was her star.