I have seen fear
I have seen faith
Seen the look of anger on your face
And if you want to talk about what will be,
Come and sit with me, and cry on my shoulder,
I'm a friend
James Blunt - Cry
--
She never talked to him.
Sometimes, Draco wondered if she even understood him. If she was still conscious on the inside. Then, sometimes, he caught her looking at him in a way he couldn't quite fathom. Or afterwards, as he lay ontop of her, catching his breath, she let her gaze or hands linger on him for a little longer than they needed to.
And he wanted to believe she was still in there, somewhere.
--
She never talked to him.
Sometimes, she wondered if Draco knew she understood him. She hoped the way she looked at him, the way she let her hands or her gaze linger a little longer than they had to let him understand she was still in there, somewhere.
Even though he hurt her, even though he caused her pain and suffering and humiliated her, she still longed for his visits. She just wanted to feel something or than the loss of Ron.
Something other than emptiness.
---
"Protegro!"
Hermione pointed her wand directly at the Death Eater in front of her. The green curse expelled from his wand ricocheted off her Shield Charm as she ducked behind a tree. Taking advantage of the moment, Hermione glanced around to see how the others were doing. Voldemort wasn't surrounded by Death Eaters anymore; Lupin, Moody, Snape and Tonks had kept their word.
Harry was dueling fiercly with a tall, slim death eater.
He didn't see Voldemort advancing behind him. He didn't see Voldemort raise his wand. Hermione opened her mouth to warn Harry, but Ron was first.
"Harry!"
Ron didn't hesitate for a second.
Hermione saw Ron leap into the air. She saw the curse hit him squarely in the chest. She saw him crumple in midair and hit the ground. Harry spun around and before Voldemort could recover from the distraction, Harry had uttered the curse that ended the second war.
All around them, Death Eaters howled in agony. Clutching their left forearms, they fell to the ground, screaming in pain.
Forgetting she was in the middle of a duel, forgetting this was a war, forgetting everything except Ron, she ran. Dropping down next to his side, she stared at his blank features.
"Ron," she said meekly, clamping her quivering hands on his lifeless ones.
"Ron.." she repeated, certain that if she just sat there long enough, if she just believed with enough conviction, that he would stir. He couldn't possibly be... dead. The idea was almost laughable.
"Hermione." She felt Harry rest his hands on her shoulders and she looked up. "He's ok, Harry."
He has to be.
Smiling at Ron, she bent down and whispered, "You were so brave." The tears came gushing out of nowhere as she buried her face in his chest and tightened her grip on his hands. "I'm so proud of you, Ron," she whimpered into his robes.
---
Hermione waited in for him to come. He was more than an hour late, and even though Hermione knew he wouldn't, she still kept hoping he'd open her door and stride in wordlessly, like he usually did, so they could both have a few hours of release. A few hours of not constantly feeling hopeless and alone, a few hours of knowing that just right then and there, someone else understood.
--
Draco was sitting in his armchair, his face buried in his hands. There was no doubt about it, he could never go to see her again. Somehow, he had gone from raping her to fucking her to making love to her. And even though he was an adult, and his parents were gone, and there was no one left to disown him, he felt ashamed. Ashamed of the fact that he would miss her. He would miss the way she looked at him, the way her skin felt against his, the way she tasted sweet and warm in his mouth, and the way he knew she was the only one who could possibly understand how it felt to be completely broken inside.
The way that at times, he didn't even care she was a mudblood.
--
So when Hermione came to his room that night, he didn't push her away. Because he knew how much she needed him, and she knew how much he needed her.
And sometimes, it felt good to be needed.
That night, Hermione needed him to listen.
---