One-Shot

His hand brushed her hip and she recoiled slowly, her brown eyes vacant and almost scared. "You have to trust me," he whispered softly as his fingers tangled in that flaming red hair. "please."

She looked at him--really looked, for the first time in forever--and said, "You can't ask me to do that, not after what you did."

He dropped my gaze and sat up, allowing her space, raked my hands through my hair and shook my head, words failing fast. What could you say to the one that means everything to you who had been assaulted not too long ago when you were supposed to watch her because it had not been the first time? The bruise around her right eye was beginning to fade, he noticed, as he glanced at her. What could he say?

"I still can't believe you think that I had something to do with this. You knew that I'd never let anything happen to you."

"But it did. Because you weren't there." Ginny replied slowly, glancing up at him. "You told me that you'd always be there. You lied to me, Draco."

He winced. "I never meant for it to go this far." That was true.

"But the point is that you did and this is what happened." She looked at him with a steady gaze and pushed her hair behind her ears.

Something made him flinch when he looked at her next, and he tried to will it away, it was no use. Finally he spoke in a low voice, "So what do we do now?"

"You pray," he looked confused at her. "You pray that I make it through this."

--

His eyes fluttered open and he stared around St. Mungo's. His heart stared to race as he recalled what happened. He held his head as the images came back.

He had been sitting in his room when he heard it; a thump against his door. He stood and pushed his chair back and walked a few feet to the source of the disturbance. "Whose there?" he called in a raspy tone. There was no answer. Another bang and something that sounded like clawing. He winced as the noise invaded his ears, grasped the handle and swung open the door. "Holy fuck..." he whispered, his eyes wide as he bent down. "Who did this?" His finger drifted to the form laying curled up in front of him. He touched a reddish spot and the frame jolted. He caught a glimpse of hair and he covered his mouth with his hand, willing the nausea to stay away. "No..." he shut his eyes tightly. "please." He pulled her against him and into the room, on to the bed and sat with her. She looked like hell; bruises of all shapes and sizes ran down the length of her body, her uniform torn in several spots. "Who did this?" he shook her. Her head lolled and he turned away.

"You..." she breathed through the quiet, fearful silence. Her eyes fluttered and she moaned. "You...weren't there..."

­--

He ran his hands through his hair and bit his lip.

He hadn't been there.

He hadn't saved her from the moster.

He hadn't even saved her from death.

It had come quietly.

Just like their connection.

Unexpected.

Peaceful.

Eternal.