6:47pm
Inhale. Exhale.
All Draco could smell was gasoline and the deep musky scent that was a mixture of blood, sweat, and exhaust. He could taste the red metallic substance on his tongue, but his throat was parched and dry.
Hermione was just a brown haired blob cradled in his arms. Her hair was sticky with sweat and blood, twisted and tangled about his wrists.
"Hermione?" he whispered softly, shaking her. He winced in pain as he moved his arms; the left one was broken.
"Hermione? I'm sorry. Let's just go home now, please?" his voice began to rise in pitch, he was pleading desperately with her. "Just come back."
Hermione didn't reply to him; she had already left.