Disclaimer: Not mine.

Chapter 4

She walked in, and asked quietly, "How many, Malfoy."

He started and stood up when he heard her speak. "Her…Granger! You're all right! I was wondering where you'd gotten to."

She ignored his concerned questioning, and continued tersely, as if she had not heard him at all, "Just tell me, Malfoy. How many!"

He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. Looking into her eyes, he said, "Nine. Ten, if you count Ginny Weasley. All from the Parkinson's Mansion three days ago. No one was hurt in the attack on Hogwarts"

"Who." Her voice quivered.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his soft longish hair, nowadays no longer held back by gobs of gel, "Of those that you…hadn't seen already…McGonagall and Snape. Both done in by Ginny." He snorted, "It would've been more if Longbottom hadn't had the presence of mind to knock her lights out. Didn't know he had it in him," His voice held a tinge of respect for the clumsy Gryffindor that replaced the usual snide derision.

She tightened her hold on the headrest of the emerald couch. "McGonagall?"

"Yes."

She let out a soft "Oh", and sank into the chair. "Ginny," she said suddenly, as if she just remembered something, "you said...ten, if you count Ginny."

"The Weaselette's alive." He responded curtly. "It's just…" he hesitated, "it's just that she's not…altogether there."

"What do you mean?"

"She mad. Raving. Saying she has to rid the world of mudbloods, and that the heir's coming to help, or some such rot. We had to restrain her."

After a moment, he bit his lip and asked, "Do you wish to see her?"

"No." Hermione balked. "No. Not today…I can't…"

"I understand."

His empathy for her as evidenced by his swift, accepting reply was so sincere; that she felt a rush of gratitude to the boy she used to call 'an inbred ferret'.

A silence descended between them and she felt her face flush as she thought of what to say next.

"I um forgot to thank you. For saving my life. And for saving the school…Neville told me what happened. You seem to be everywhere! Helping everyone."

"Well, it was no problem." He scratched his back and looked away, seeming to Hermione as if he felt awkward somehow about the entire situation.

There was a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth though as he said in a voice that was slightly more similar to his usual arrogant drawl, "Someone had to take charge, what with everyone running around like headless chickens!"

She responded haltingly, "We…were surprised. None of us saw any of it coming. Where were you the entire time?"

"In the second sweep, with Dumbledore, Ginny and Longbottom. Which was how I managed to see everything. It was a mess, Granger."

Hermione fingered the edge of her robes, as if coming to a decision about something. Then, she looked up imploringly, "Tell me."

"Are you sure?" He gazed into her eyes.

"Yes. Yes, Malfoy. I need to know." She begged.

He took a deep breath, "You…saw some of it. I was as shocked as you were. We were just coming out of the main entrance when the Weasel…when Ginny suddenly went berserk, killing Dumbledore. And she was so strong! McGonagall tried to shoot her down but she had some sort of…shield around her. And then she got Snape too before Longbottom stepped up and smashed this pricey looking Ming vase over her head. Pity about the vase, really. She went down instantly. But everything had gone to the dogs by then. Every member of our team was injured or dying in some way or another. So I called the retreat."

Malfoy turned to look hauntingly at her, "And…and then I went looking for you." He laughed nervously, "I was so worried. Do you know what it did to me when I saw Potter and Weasley and everyone down…and you, there, standing in front of the Dark Lord! I got the shock of my life when I saw you preparing to take a lunge at him!" He grew slightly more agitated as he remembered the terrifying scene he had witnessed, and paced around, gesturing wildly, "That was the stupidest thing you ever did Granger! Even for you, or any of your two thick friends!"

She tensed at this and said, coldly, "Don't talk about them like that."

He sneered, "I can talk about them however I want! It was all Potter's fault!" He let out a derisive grunt, "Imagine that! Fucking around with a girl for years and still not knowing You-Know-Who was inside her brain the whole while."

Her hand twitched and she took a sudden intake of breath, "Shut up."

And just like that, she saw him again. Harry, turning around, shocked and worried emerald eyes looking to see what had happened in the confusion amidst the mansion. A flash of sickly green later, and as she stared at him she could see his once warm and loving turn suddenly and rapidly blank; wide open but terrifyingly unseeing. It was as if…he was never there. There was nothing. Nothing and no one. Just like that, Harry was gone forever from her.

She saw him in her mind, saw that horrifying scene repeat itself over and over again, as if it were happening just before her eyes. What was the use? What was the use of this fight? They were going to lose. No one could kill the evil one now, the One-Who-Must-Not-Be -Named. He will come after her. He will come after all of them. One by one, they would all become like Harry, lifeless, never there, like ants to be crushed under his foot. He will come for them. She could not defeat him. She had tried so hard. They were all lost. All the blood, sweat, tears, crucio, hands….yellow wicked knarled hands, foul twisted smile…boiling blood…Harry and Ron…she was crying on the inside. Oh Harry and Ron, I need you. Why aren't you here? How can I go on without you two? How can we survive now? We cannot win. He will come for us all.

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Realization dawned upon Draco that his words were causing an immense amount of pain for Hermione. Her face was twisted and she kept clenching and unclenching her fists, a wide-eyed terrified look on her face. It reminded him of that same look he had seen on her at the showers all those weeks ago. That look…it had scared him. He had never been so frightened in his life, not even when the silly girl was standing up against Voldemort all by herself. It was as if she were disappearing within herself, trapped in some kind of never ending nightmare. Hermione. His Hermione, gone just like that, like she was not even there, like she had never even been there. Draco, you fucking idiot! He cursed himself for having been too blinded by his distaste for her two recently demised friends, for not stopping till the damage had already been done.

Panicky, he reached over to grab her shoulders, shouting, "Hermione! Hermione, look, I'm sorry. I'll…I'll stop talking about them like that, I swear! I won't mention them ever again! I'm wrong, I'm wrong and I'm a stupid man too blinded by hatred. I'm sorry, Hermione! Do you hear? I'm sorry! Please come back…oh please…don't be like this…come back to me…"

Her eyes finally focused on him in front of her. She snapped to attention and snarled, "Get your hands off me Malfoy! You don't know anything about them! They were the two bravest souls in the world and you have no right to speak of them that way!"

He watched, dismayed, as her eyes seemed to harden and as every warm feeling she might have had for him disappeared entirely. She now looked as she had all those years ago when they were third years, just as she was getting ready to slap him. He comforted himself on the fact however that a Hermione who hated him was infinitely better than one who was not there.

She glared daggers at him, before asking abruptly, "Why am I sleeping in your quarters?"

He had expected that she questioned him on this, sooner or later, and so he answered simply, "There was no room in the infirmary, and someone had to look after you. I volunteered."

"Well, I am perfectly fine now, thank you. I think it would be best if I moved to other rooms."

"No." said Draco forcefully. "No. You are not well yet," he argued.

Hermione seemed to become more furious at his controlling tone, "What do you mean I'm not well yet? I'm perfectly fine now! And you have no right to tell me what to do!"

Draco clenched his teeth. That stubborn witch! He set his face grimly and replied, "It was the Fervefacio, wasn't it?"

She looked at him, shocked. "How did you know?"

"I recognize the symptoms quite well, having suffered it myself in the past. At the hands of none other than the Dark Lord."

She was silent, and so he continued wearily, "You may think yourself well now, but that's because Madam Pomfrey has doused you with enough Pain-free potion to last a month. You are to take the potion for another week, but once that week is over, you will be weaned off it to prevent addiction. Once that happens, you will feel the pain." He grimaced at her stunned and upset expression. "Yes, there will still be pain. Not as bad as when the spell was first cast, nor will it be with you constantly. But the Fervefacio was designed to stay with you…to stay in your bones. There will be…terrible aches, aches that will wreak havoc upon you, especially at night. Madam Pomfrey will give you another potion that will help alleviate this pain, and it should almost disappear in six months or so."

"Almost?" she whispered fearfully.

His heart went out to her. If he could…if only he could, he told himself fiercely, he would take it for her. All of it.

"It…never goes away, not really." He gave a weak laugh; "I still get it, sometimes. But very rarely. Bad pains along with bad dreams. But it will get better. I promise you."

A look of such bleak hopelessness took over Hermione that Draco wished he had spared her the worry and not told her anything at all. He reached out to her, "Granger…"

But again, she snapped to attention and bit out angrily, "Ok, so take me to the infirmary. I don't want to stay here with you, of all people."

Draco knew that she was only lashing out because she was afraid, upset, and still grieving; but he could not help the sharp tug of hurt he felt at her rejection. Hurt became frustration and irritation, and so he retorted in turn, "There is no room in the infirmary. Granger, maybe you've been sleeping too much to know of recent events, but there are people in there with far worse injuries than yourself."

He cocked his head and said mockingly, "Let me enlighten you then. In bed number one lies mine dear disowned cousin Nymphadora Tonks. She is right now laid out on her bed, unable to move. She is conscious and well, but she has also not looked into a mirror since the battle. Otherwise she would not be quite so cheerful as she tries to be, seeing as the entire right side of her body and face is covered in blistering burns. Now that, is something even a metamorphagus cannot camouflage."

"In bed two then lies Padma Patil. Now, we do not really know what has happened to Padma since she had not been at the Parkinson Mansion. However, she has been inconsolable since she discovered her twin had died. Mind, she did not know because we told her. She knew because she felt it. She felt her twin dying. Really fascinating, isn't Granger? We never knew that magical twins could be twined together as entirely as this."

He was growing more and more agitated. "Oh, you might be wondering about Fred then, what with George dead and all. Well, we might have to wait a while to find out if he's felt the same effects as Padma, given that he's been comatose since getting hit by a really nasty, unknown curse from Goyle Senior. Imagine, the ignominy of getting knocked out by that oaf. I would want to be unconscious too if that ever happened to me! I would be so embarrassed."

He could see that Hermione was revolted by what he was saying, and how he was saying it. But he could not stop himself. Something made him go on. All the stress and fear he was feeling in the last few days made him want to scream out loud.

"On to bed four eh? Well, in that bed lies none other than Dean Thomas, your everyman Gryffindor. Somehow he's managed to get one of his legs sawed off. I don't really know how he managed that, I don't really care either. On beds five to nine lie a couple of anonymous Ravenclaws. I never managed to know their names you know, since, ha, who cares about Ravenclaws really?"

He was frenzied and out of control, now almost shouting in Hermione's face, "Okay now on beds ten and eleven are the Creevy brothers! Colin's blind now, you know, so I'd wager that there's to be no more photo taking for the lad. Not that I mind since that bloody camera was always in my face. Dennis? Well Dennis' recovering from a bout of continuous Crucios from my favorite aunt Bellatrix. Nasty things, aren't they?"

He continued desperately, eyes straining at the sockets, and while Hermione was disgusted, sickened, and horrified at his words, she saw that he too seemed to be trying to reach out to someone, that he too seemed to be screaming out for help, screaming to be saved from this never ending horror and torture.

"And finally…for the grand reveal of bed twelve…tada! Ginny Weasley! Otherwise known as the She-Weasel, or the Weaselette. But you know about the Weaslette already, don't you? I've told you earlier? Oh but have I told you that she wants to join him, that she's screaming for us to let her go so she can go join her beloved Dark Master? That she spits on Harry's name? That her mother sits next to her bed everyday and cries like a banshee? Which is one more reason why you really shouldn't be staying at the infirmary. The racket is there terrible."

"How could you?" gasped Hermione. "She has just lost two sons, and maybe even a daughter. And Fred is in a coma. How could you be so insensitive?"

"Ha!" shouted Draco, hysterical. "Ha! So what? So what if she's lost two sons and maybe a daughter! I almost lost…" He paused; breathing heavily, grey orbs staring holes into her brown ones till she had to look away. "I almost lost…my leg."

"What!" exploded Hermione. "You're comparing your leg with two sons and a daughter!" She seethed, "You foul, uncaring, useless excuse for a person. You're not even worth a single hair on Ron's head."

Immediately after saying this Hermione regretted her words tremendously. The look on Draco's face was enough to make her want to apologize frantically, to take back all of her words. Draco took a step back, his face contorting in hurt and pain. Then he smiled a bitter smile, and said smoothly, "You'll change your mind soon enough."

His arrogant drawl was enough to make her burst out, "I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you!"

With that, she stormed off into their shared room and slammed the door.

She could not save him. She could not even save herself.

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