The soft breeze swept Hermione's chestnut curls to the side, her bountiful hair intertwined in a dance with the chilly wind. Darkness began to settle over the campus field as the last of the orange rays disappeared into the horizon. Hermione sat on one of the stone benches, a book clutched in her hand, a bookmark sticking out of the book to mark the page she was currently at.

To think that it's been ten months. A single thought wafted through her mind.

Hermione chastised herself for allowing that thought to materialise in her mind. No matter how hard she fought to banish the memories from that fateful night, they tended to somehow pave a way back into her head. Over the course of her one and a half year toxic relationship with Ron, that night had topped every night he had beaten and demeaned her as the most horrific.

Oddly enough, it was the best day of her life, because it was the day she had broken free from the shackles her abuser had bound her in. She felt like a bird, broken free from its cage, soaring up high in the sky.

If she closed her eyes, she could almost see, in vivid detail, the red and blue of the police lights as the EMT flooded the apartment. The look of horror on Harry's face as he fought back tears was superimposed onto her brain. She could see the blood staining the carpet crimson, and as her stretcher rolled out of the house, she caught a glimpse of the reflection of her bruised and marred face on the flat screen TV, that had a long crack running across the screen, before darkness engulfed her once again.

When she had eventually come to, she was in a hospital gown, her wounds dressed and stitched. She felt absolutely terrible, every inch of her body ached like hell, and her head pounded painfully. Harry had been sitting in an uncomfy plastic chair, nodding off. "Harry?" She said groggily. Upon hearing the sound of her voice, he awoke abruptly. "H-Hermione! Gods! You're okay! Y-You are okay are you?" He said hugging her,but retracting his embrace upon seeing her wince.

"I'm fine. But h-how's Draco. Is he okay?"

"He's doing just fine, Love. Well, he did lose a lot of blood, but he's okay." Hermione gave a huff of relief, before slumping back into the bed. She had been concerned that she would make herself ill with worry, what with how much she held him in her thoughts. It was so reassuring to hear that he was just fine, especially after he had rescued her.

The moment she felt a tad better, she got the nurse to wheel her to Draco's room. As she wheeled into Draco's room, the unwelcome smell of cleaning products wafted into her nose, making her stomach turn with nausea. She resisted the urge to rise from her wheelchair and walk out of Draco's room and out of the hospital. The nurse was gone the instant the wheels moved past the threshold.

Hermione took a sharp intake of breath, as she set her eyes on Draco's resting form. His eyes were closed, his icy lashes resting against his pale cheeks as he slept. He didn't look as beat up and injured as Hermione had pictured him to be in her mind. His stab wound was concealed by the hospital gown he wore. Hermione pushed herself forward until she was next to his incapacitated form. She stared in awe at how ethereal his features looked as he slept; in his sleep he didn't look like the man that had saved her from an abusive relationship. He looked more like the boy who, just like her, had been hurt by the one they trusted the most, and that boy, who had never caught a single moment's peace in his young life, was finally getting the rest he deserved. Hermione involuntarily stroked his face and held his hand in hers. This movement caused his sleeping form to stir, and as his eyes fluttered open Hermione quickly withdrew her hand from his.

With an exhausted look in his eyes Draco took in his surroundings, before his gaze fell on Hermione and he smiled lazily at her.

"Don't think I didn't feel that." Draco said groggily. Hermione looked down at her hand clasped in her lap, looking, the blood rushing to her face. "Oh. I'm sorry." She said sheepishly. "No, don't be. Your hands are soft and warm, like giant marshmallows."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Giant marshmallows?" Draco waved his hand in a dismissive manner. "It's the anaesthesia talking." The pair chuckled, before their laughter quickly faded into the bleach scented air. Silence quickly ensued between them.

"Hey, Draco?" Hermione called, breaking the silence.

"Yeah."

"I wanted to thank you, for every single thing that you've done for me. You didn't have to shelter me from Ron, you didn't have to comfort me and you didn't have to get stabbed for me, but you did, and I'll be forever grateful."

"You don't have to thank me, Hermione. I'm doing what nobody would do for my mother when she was in this situation. I'm just content that you don't have to endure that hell any longer." He said softly. He reached out, and cupped her face. Their eyes locked, the brown and grey of their irises deeply intertwined. Hermione swallowed. She felt something, like an invisible force reeling her forward, closer and closer to his lips until they touched, and as she felt the softness of his mouth against hers, she eased into the kiss, allowing it to consume her. As they kissed in that cold, foul smelling hospital room, the world around them melted into nothing and for those few seconds, nothing mattered to them.

The next day, Draco was discharged. So was Hermione. Not long after that Ron had been sentenced. She felt the weight that she carried topple off her shoulders as the judge read the verdict. Ten years in prison with no possibility of parole. Hermione closed her eyes, every instance of his violence and cruelty playing in her head. Finally, she was getting some justice.

After that, the road to recovery ensued. After her nightmares about Ron refused to cease, Draco decided to book her into a counselling session, albeit Hermione's protests. She felt uncomfortable telling anyone who wasn't Draco about the abuse, because she felt that she would be judged, but after her sessions with Dr Pomfrey, she began to bear witness to the improvement in her life. She was happier and healthier, and to this day, she hadn't had a single nightmare related to Ron. Ron was a distant memory stashed away in the furthest alcove of her mind.

Sometimes it felt so surreal and unrealistic that she had to close her eyes, and count to ten.

One… two... three...four...five...six... seven... eight...nine...ten…

And when she opened her eyes she was glad to see Draco beaming down at her.


Author's Note

Ladies, Gents and Everyone in between, we have finally finished One To Ten. Once again I thank my patient readers and everyone else who took the time to read this.Tell me what you think about the ending :-)!