Breathing In Mortality

04. The Lifeline Grows Thin

"If you won't be alive when I need you the most

Not to say that I won't grieve a little when you pass away

You can find a place and start thinking about it

When every second is the right time

The pain will go away

You won't believe but it's true

Just count the inches on your lifeline"

Anthenaeum, "Lifeline" / album: Radiance

Draco paced the back of the library as he waited. He had not seen any other Hogwarts students in his year, besides Hermione, and he wanted to keep it that way. The rest of the students were better off in blissful ignorance. Or just ignorance, in some cases.

He was worried she wouldn't show. He was worried she would think differently of him when he told her. He was worried he'd feel sympathy towards him.

As far as he was concerned, the only thing he deserved was a fair chance to make things right. He wanted to make up for his life full of bubbling hatred. If Hermione wouldn't see him, or speak to him, he figured that he deserved it, for always being so rude to her. Even if, deep down, he'd only been doing it to cover up for his true feelings.

No matter what he was feeling inside, he swore to himself to keep his distance from her. He refused to tell her how he felt, or even be more nice to her than required. It would be suspicious, after all. The last thing he needed now was pity; from anyone.

The library door swung open, its hinges creaking; Draco heard light steps on the wooden floor approaching him. He stepped out from behind a particularly high bookshelf and found himself sprawled on his back, books scattered all over the place.

It seemed that Hermione had been carrying a rather copious amount of books, which had come loose from her arms when she'd collided with Draco.

"Need glasses?" He muttered, rubbing his hip; the disease seemed to make his already fragile body more tender.

Hermione brushed hair off her shoulder as she bent, scooping the books into a neat pile on a nearby chair. "You're the one who came out from behind a bookshelf and ran into me!"

She gave a quick glance to the front of the library, realizing her voice was louder than allowed. She'd been researching diseases with Draco's symptoms ever since she had, overly dramatically in her opinion, come to the conclusion that he was dying. She had to make sure she was right in assuming he had Snogishtiley; after pouring over several old wizarding medical books, she found out that she was, indeed, correct. On her way to the library, already at least an hour late as dinner had ended a long while ago, she had decided to be cordial to him. However, after this new display of rudeness, her vow flew out the window.

Hermione sighed heavily and plopped into a seat beside her pile of books; Draco took the seat across from her.

"I have something I need to tell you. Now this is a SECRET, Granger, therefore that means you don't go blabbing to anyone about it. Even Potter or Weasley. This is my business and I don't want it all over school. I don't need a pity party."

"I highly doubt you'd get one," Hermione snapped before she could stop herself. Her thin hand went up to cover her mouth, but Draco looked merely amused at her comment.

"Fair as that may be…let's not get into it. I asked you here to help me. That, in itself, is a very hard thing for me to do, as you probably know. It'd be no harder if Potter asked the Dark Lord to teach him Avada Kedavra."

"Harry wouldn't ask, he would learn himself," Hermione replied, almost lazily.

"Whatever, Granger, are you going to help me?"

"If you're civil."

Draco smiled sideways at her, "When I have ever not been civil?"

"Since you were born, I'd imagine."

"You know, there is no one else in this universe who can swap quips and insults with me as well as you."

Hermione chuckled slightly, surprised that such a sound had come from her mouth with him around, "That was almost a backhanded compliment."

"I assure you I meant it as such."

"What's gotten into you?" Hermione questioned rhetorically.

"A rare disease that has enabled me to die very, amazingly young."

Though Hermione knew this to be true, she couldn't help it when the corners of her lips pulled into a smile, "This reminds me of a very bad Muggle teen soap opera."

"I've been to the opera, and I guarantee there was no soap. It might have been more fun had there been. They're dreadfully boring."

"I rather like them," Hermione replied, resting her chin on her hand and gazing at him benignly.

"Can we be serious for a moment?" Draco requested, not waiting for an answer, "I need you to help me find the cure for Snogishtiley."

Hermione brought her head up and stared at him, her eyes boring into his, "If you have acute Snogishtiley, there is no known cure. I told you that."

"Yes, when I pretended it was for an essay for detention. I need the truth, now. This is my life on the line." He took a deep breath, "Please, Hermione, you're the only one I know who can help me."

"I'm sure you hired all the best doctors. What could I do?"

"You know as well as I that the doctors won't really try, they hate my family. Everybody hates my family."

Hermione looked perplexed, "Why am I different?"

Something flickered in Draco's eyes, but Hermione didn't know what it was, "You're like me. You like to know everything. This is a challenge. We can try to beat the system, the disease. We can cheat God, Hermione. It'll be amazing. And I know you'll do anything to help a fellow human being. Even if he doesn't deserve it."

She didn't pretend like any of this was false information, she was mulling over his complete change in attitude. One minute he was throwing biting remarks at her, the next he was gazing lovingly into her eyes and the next he was even being kind.

"You can't cheat God," she said after a minute of silence.

Draco flopped back into his seat and opened his mouth to speak, but she held out a hand to stop him.

"If He meant for something to happen, it'll happen. Therefore, if you're meant to die, you will---" she swallowed hard and blinked, "---if you're not, then you won't."

"I can't do this alone," Draco said, sounding choked. "I can't beat this without you. I need your help."

"What are you going to do?" Hermione asked, shaking her head, "I don't know what you could possibly do."

"I'm going to find the Fountain of Life…and I'm going to drink from it."

"Draco, that's mad---"

"Is it?" He asked, an odd glint in his eyes. She cocked her head to the side and slid a piece of hair behind her ear, pondering what was going on. "It exists, Hermione, I know it does. Come with me, we'll leave the castle tonight, travel by broomstick…we'll go all over the world searching for it. It's bound to turn up somewhere."

"You don't have that much time," she said quietly.

Draco cleared his throat, glanced around them and leaned towards her, looking serious, "Do you know where it is?"

Hermione opened a book entitled "Rare Diseases and Their Cures"; she flipped mutely through the pages until she stopped on one headed with the title, "Vervacity: The Fountain of Life." She turned the book so that it was upside down to her, and she put her finger on a single word:

Ireland.

Draco looked from the book to her and back again, "Hermione---" he swallowed and took a deep breath, "Will you help me?"

Hermione saw something in him just then, a flicker of hope, a glimmer of goodness, a second of purity. Draco was not the person she thought he was; she had a completely distorted idea of who he really was. She knew, then, that she didn't want him to die…and she knew she'd have the help in order to save the life of her adversary.

When she spoke, her voice was a stifled whisper, "Yes. I'll help you."