AN: Thank you to BratGirl1983, IanAlphaAxel, and casedeputy for your reviews, it's always lovely to hear from my readers – even if your reviews are confusing.
Read and Review Please!
Chapter Fifty Nine: A Win in Sight
"Draco?" Hermione whispered in disbelief, certain her mind was playing tricks on her, "Draco?"
"I'm not dead, Granger, Malfoys are not so easy to kill." He muttered with false humour. A hand touched hers where it rested on his cheek, "Stop fawning over me, you're turning in Pansy."
"I thought...you were dead." She gasped, exhaustion and pain clouding her body, as she slumped to lie in the mud beside him.
"Self preservation is a useful Slytherin trait in battle." He scrubbed his hands tiredly across his face and groaned.
Lying there on the damp ground, he took a moment to breathe for the first time in hours. His jacket shoulder reeked of burned fabric where the Avada Kedavra had grazed him, throwing him to the ground. A combination of refined seeker reflexes and poor hand eye coordination of his opponent had barely saved his life. Reaching up to scrape at the singed material, he heaved himself to sitting and tugged off the jacket. With morbid curiosity, he lifted the jacket to gaze thoughtfully at the shoulder in amazement for his own life, wrinkling his nose at the offensive smell of smoke, but overwhelming grateful it was that, not the smell of death on him.
A quiet moan broke his thoughts and he looked over at Hermione. She lay prone beside him, her face a contusion of agony and her legs twitching with pain. Her face was a mess of scratch marks and blood and dirt. She looked looked like a goddess of war who went to battle and lost everything. He wasn't sure if she was aware that she was groaning terribly or even if she was conscious any longer. His heart skipped a beat and his hands rummaged desperately through his pockets, hoping he still had his shrunken stash of potions, and it hadn't been lost or broken in the chaos of battle. Finally locating the small pouch, he sighed in relief.
With a dismissive flick, he cast his jacket aside, and turned to Granger. Enlarging the pouch back into it's original size, he upended it onto the grass and tore through the contents until he found a pain relieving potion. Popping off the cork stopper, he pried Hermione's jaw open and poured the thick liquid inside. She coughed and spluttered and attempted to spit the potion out as she gurgled it in her throat. Eventually, it slipped down into her stomach and spread throughout her body until she relaxed against the damp ground with a painless sigh.
The air was silent. Not a squawk from a bird. There was no deep rumble as another part of the historic castle crumbled under the pressure of battle. The distant sounds of war had faded.
The sun was rising, bringing silence with it.
Hovering above Hermione, Malfoy heaved out several breaths, watching it ruffle her crazy curls. They were dirty and sweaty and matted. She looked war ravaged and resilient in the tough set of her lips and the dismissed blood leaving cracking rust patterns down her face. His hand rose up and stroked a stray curl behind her ear gently, before thumbing off a smudge of dirt on her rosy cheeks.
"Draco?" Hermione whispered, her hand folding over his, "I can't hear anything."
"What?" He felt his heart seizing, fearful of what other terrible ailment had befallen the damaged witch below him. It was one thing to lose her sight, but to lose her hearing also would trap her within a world of darkness echoed in silence. The loneliness oppressing, slowly diminishing the lioness beneath the scarred body and clever words.
"I can't hear anything." She repeated, "I can't hear the battle – is it over?"
They collectively held their breath to listen for the whizz of a flying spells or the enraged, agonised screams of warriors. But there was nothing. No element of magic broke the morning beginning around them. All was silent. After years of fighting and fear, it seemed impossible; merely a break in the storm. They dare not hope their ears were truthfully. Peace was something that had lied to the Wizarding community of nearly twenty years. Disbelief held their heart tight as it beat out a singular wish. A wish for no fear. No fighting. No death or torture or running. A future. One that would be built on the longest war ever wagered. It seemed such a dismal thought, but in that held breath, they both hoped for the truth.
"I think it's over - " Draco murmured, his hand drawing away from her face as the impossible happened. Or what he had deemed to be impossible. Witnessing something he thought he would never see again.
Hermione opened her dark brown eyes slowly, squinting at the light she had not seen for months. It hurt to stare, but she did not blink; afraid her sight would be stolen from her once more. Everything was a blur of sky and stone and Draco. He was leaning over her in astonishment, his lips parting unconsciously. Her hand reached up to touch his pale skin. Pressing her palm against the watercolour features, she marvelled at it.
"I can see." She smiled in wonderment, "I can see, Draco, I can see!" An unexpected laugh passed her lips.
"You can see?" He was amazed at her grinning face, so at odds with its filthy appearance.
"I need to see!" She shoved him away so she could sit up and stare around herself. It was like trying to see in through water in the Black Lake or riding Hagrid's motorbike at top speed. There was no clarity and yet she wanted to cry at the sight before her. She turned her palms back and forth in front of her eyes and giggled to herself. Suddenly, reality kicked in once more, "Bellatrix is dead."
"She must be, it was the only way to cure your sight." Draco nodded in agreement, unsure how to feel about his maniac Aunt's fate.
"Does this mean we won?" Hermione gasped, "Or have we still lost?"
"I don't know." He shook his head uncertainly; one witch's death did not equate an overall result. They looked at one another with fear and hope and anticipation as an almighty cheer erupted from the grounds of Hogwarts.