Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her world.

A/N: Happy 50th Chapter!! Sorry it's taken me so long to get this up. I'm just not pleased with it, but because I'd already told you about it, and I like the plot, I didn't want to get rid of it. I've been re-writing, editing, re-writing, editing time and time again. This is, by far, the best re-write, though I'm still not completely pleased with it. On top of that, I wanted to post the big 50 along with A Thousand Stories Untold big 50, and ATSU was a pain to write for. More explanation over there. On top of THAT, I've been juggling school, homework and babysitting with writing, photo editing, BEDA (Blog Every Day in April), Dribble Drabble (challenge thingy) and keeping in contact with my online friends, along with helping my family look after my grandad, who just came out of hospital after an operation.

Title: Little Arrows
Genre: Angst
Rating: T
Warning: Character Death.
Pairing/Character: Draco/Hermione
Word Count: 2,472

Hermione walked in and out of the trees of the Forbidden Forest, searching for bodies. A group of volunteers had been sent in to bring back any injured or dead people, regardless of what side they fought on, and Hermione just so happened to be a part of it. Although she'd gone in quite deep, she had yet to find anyone, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She had yet to cry, despite all the loved ones she had lost. Even seeing the bodies of those who she didn't know very well, like Susan Bones and Colin Creevey, saddened her, but she couldn't let the tears take control. She needed to stay strong for the Weasleys, for Andromeda, for Harry.

She heard groaning and sharp breaths from ahead and her mind went on red alert. She ran forward, looking around wildly for the noises, coming to an abrupt halt when she saw the familiar blond figure sat against a tree, three arrows piercing his torso. His shirt was stained with blood and his face was contorted with pain as he squirmed and shuffled, as if trying to make it comfortable. Hermione recognised the arrows, by the feathered end, as centaur arrows, and she could tell just by looking at Malfoy that he wouldn't survive if she took him back to the castle for treatment. She ran towards him and fell to her knees, brushing his hair out of his face. He opened his eyes, groaning when he saw her.

"Sh, I'm here to help you."

"Yeah," he grunted sarcastically. "'Cause helping me is so what you've always wanted to do. Why don't you just leave me here?"

"Because I'm not that heartless," she snapped. Her eyes trailed down to his torso, her fingers following. She examined the wounds with her eyes while her fingers drew feather-light patterns to distract him. The arrows seemed to have gone straight through, the tip breaking through the skin on his back. She knew that the only way to get them out was to push it all the way, and so she helped Draco sit upright. He used his hands for support, his eyes scrunched closed. Hermione snapped the feathered ends off silently, before pressing her palm into the end of one arrow, which had gone through his shoulder. "I need to get the arrows out. This is going to hurt a bit."

As she started to push the arrow through, his agonized screams bounced off the trees. Hermione bit her lip at the sound, wanting nothing more than to make his pain stop. She knew it would only get worse if she didn't see it through and so she continued pushing, using her other hand to pull it. Once it finally came out, she put it on the ground beside her and, ignoring the blood on her hands, ran her fingers through Draco's hair, making shushing noises until the screaming stopped. He was feverish and his breathing was a hysterical pant. She touched the back of her hand to his forehead; he felt like he was on fire.

"Oh God, oh God. Bloody hell, Granger, are you trying to kill me?" he said, tears pricking at his eyes as he glared at Hermione.

"I'm trying to save you," she snapped, putting her palm on the next arrow, which was just below his ribcage, and ignoring his groan of protest. She forced herself to remain immune to his screams as she pushed the second arrow through, focusing on her breathing and the task at hand. Tears were streaming down his face by the time she finally got the arrow out, and he swore to hell and back as she gave him chance to recover. Sweat and tears mingled together, much like the sobs and curses, blending into one another until you couldn't distinguish the two. He couldn't support his weight any more, weakened by his injuries, and so Hermione carefully rested him against a tree, making sure the third arrow didn't line up with it. He was losing colour by the second, which was quite a feat since he was already so pale. "Okay, Malfoy, one more. Hold on for me, okay? Don't give up. Stay awake and stay strong."

"I don't- I don't think I can. Granger, I can't," he sobbed, groaning at the pain it caused him to speak.

"Just try, Malfoy. Do it for me. Come on, you can do it."

She felt a hot, sweaty hand grab onto hers, squeezing tight, and Hermione understood. As long as he had grip of her hand, he had something to concentrate on, a reason to stay awake. "Okay, one more," she repeated, shifting so her thigh pressed against his, giving her a better angle with the arrow. The third arrow had fallen just above his right hipbone, and Hermione knew this was probably going to be the most painful to push out. As she started pushing on it, she swore loudly as Draco's grip on her hand practically crushed it. His screams made her head pound and she was losing feeling in her fingers but she kept going, determined. She continued to mutter to him, though she was sure he couldn't hear her because he was so loud and she was so quiet. Finally, the third arrow was out and, pulling it the last way with her free hand, she hugged him, holding the arrow in her palm. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she spoke to him while his screams lessened. He continued to sob and groan, though his grip on her hand relaxed. As Hermione drew away from him, she noticed her entire front was soaked in blood.

Pulling her hand out of his so she could work properly, she tugged his shirt over his head. Hermione took her own jacket off, easily ripping the worn out material, tearing it along the broken seam. She used the segments of her jacket to mop of up the blood, but without the right things, she couldn't heal him properly. "Hold this," she said as she pressed the jacket against the shoulder wound. She guided Draco's hand up to his shoulder, and he nodded to say that he could hold it. His eyes were closed, a slight frown creased his forehead, he was shaking from head to toe, and he was getting worse by the second. She searched his pockets for his wand, but he must have landed on it because it had broken and splintered. Her own wand had been repelled from her hand with a cleverly cast Expelliarmus during the battle and she hadn't found it since. Without a wand, Hermione felt helpless.

"Okay, I'm going to lay you down, Malfoy. Can you still hear me? I'm going to lay you down; we're going to take it slowly." Spreading her fingers, she managed to keep material pressed against both of the lower wounds in his back as she used her other hand to lower him from his slumped position. Once most of his body was on the floor, she withdrew her hands from the hipbone and ribcage, using a new piece of material to press against his shoulder as he went down the rest of the way. She rested his head on a rock and crawled to his side, where she reapplied material to the injuries on his torso. She muttered to herself as she worked on keeping pressure on those. Draco raised his hand and caught hers again, threading his fingers through hers. She lifted her head and looked at Draco, who was looking back at her through hooded eyelids. He was trembling harder and his skin was a deathly grey, but he still fought to hold on.

"I-I-I-I'm dying, a-a-aren't I?" he asked, fighting to raise his voice above a whisper.

Hermione knew the answer was yes, but she had to keep him thinking positively. "No, you're not dying. Do you have any idea how many times I've nearly died the past seven years?" She was shocked at how watery her voice sounded, as if she were fighting back tears.

Draco shook his head weakly. "Tell me."

Using her free hand, she put pressure on each wound for fifteen seconds. "Well, in First Year, do you … do you remember the troll that got into the castle? I was … I was in the girl's bathroom, and it went in, and uh … if it wasn't for Harry and Ron, I would have died." Hermione started shaking as she lifted a hand to brush Draco's hair from his eyes. She had to keep talking, to keep him listening. Tightening her grip on his hand, she continued. "And, uh, then in Second Year – well, you know what happened to me. Petrified. If I didn't have the mirror, the basilisk would have killed me. In Third Year, we all – that is, me, Harry and Ron – nearly got attacked by a, uhm, a werewolf. Then, uh, in Fifth Year … I'm sure you know about the Department of Ministries fiasco, right? It was all over the Daily Prophet … well, that was us. And uh, I was nearly, uhm, nearly killed by a Death Eater. Oh, God, it won't stop!"

Her antics stopped when she saw how heavily Draco was still bleeding, and all thoughts of distracting him left her as she focused on putting more pressure onto the wounds.

"Go on," Draco croaked, his eyes closed. "Tell me … more."

"Oh! Uh, well, we nearly died several times when we were searching … I mean, uhm, hiding from Voldemort." Draco flinched at the name, but Hermione ignored that. His body was going into spasms and Hermione knew it was his muscles starting to fail. While trying to keep his body pinned down and apply pressure to his wounds with only one hand, she struggled to talk. "Okay, uh, let's see. Then, then uh, Bellatrix was all, uh, too willing to, ow, torture me to death at – mph ow! – at your house. Remember? And then, of course, the War. And … now we're here. Ow." She let out a humourless chuckle, dry and empty. "Come on, Malfoy, fight it. Stay strong."

The corners of Draco's colourless lips twitched into a weak smile. "You have a- a beautiful voice." Hermione barely took in his words, so focused on tending to his injuries. She looked at his face to notice him struggling to open his eyes, and he squinted at her weakly. "You're- you're really pretty, you- y'know that?" He's going delusional, Hermione reasoned, just focus on keeping him awake.

"You're, uh, really pretty, too," she said, unsure of how to keep him talking.

Draco went on as if he hadn't heard her. "A-and your name … your name is pretty. Hermione. I l-l-like it." He closed his eyes and his breath rattled, but Hermione kept him talking. "You're- you're nice. W-w-why are w-we so me-mean to each o-other?"

"I don't know, Ma- … Draco. I don't know." She ran her hand through his hair, pushing it back. As she rested her hand against his forehead, she swore when it practically scorched her skin. He was burning up so fast; he wouldn't last long. Suddenly, he started coughing. Nasty, hacking coughs, like what you'd expect a seventy-year-old chain smoker to sound like. Hermione helped Draco sit up, practically cradling him in her arms as he rested against her legs. She rubbed and patted his back, letting the coughs pass. She noticed that the blood wasn't escaping the wounds as fast, but she didn't know whether that was a good thing or not.

As the coughs lessened, his eyes fluttered open, and they stared at each other. Hermione could feel the tears wanting to escape. She had never liked Malfoy, but watching him die such a painful death … it was scary and horrifying. Bodies had been falling all around her not long ago, but this felt so much more real. With the Killing curse, the death was quick and painless. Malfoy was suffering.

He looked at her bemusedly, a soft smile spreading across his face. Hermione had never seen him smile; it saddened her to know that this was the only smile she'd ever see – the pain-ridden force of it made it look almost fake. "I think … I think I-I-I love you, 'Mi-nee."

"Love you, too," she murmured, wondering how delusional Malfoy would become before it ended. She shifted him in her arms and he winced, letting out a strangled sob.

"It hurts, Mi-nee," he whined.

"I know. Shush, now. I know," said Hermione, stroking his hair. "It'll be alright. You'll be okay. Everything will be … fine." She sighed the last word, knowing how pathetic she sounded, promising a dying man that he'd get up in a few minutes perfectly healthy.

"It's not," he rasped. "I- I'm going to … I can feel it. I'm dying." His eyes fluttered closed again and fear clenched Hermione's insides. She tapped his cheek, shaking him and calling his name. He coughed weakly before finding his voice again. "Tell Mum that I … that I … love her."

Hermione shook her head, the tears finally rolling down her cheeks slowly. "No, Draco. You can. You tell her yourself. When you're all better. You can tell her."

"You don't … you don't have to pretend, 'Mi-nee. I'm not … I'm not going to m-make it. Tell Mum. Please." Another coughing fit took over and Hermione could see the blood coming from his mouth. The tears fell faster.

She closed her eyes as he recovered and held onto him, nodding. "Okay," she said quietly, her voice thick with tears.

"Thanks," he whispered. A moment of silence passed before his body went limp. Shaking, Hermione reached for his wrist and searched for a pulse. Nothing. He was really gone. She hugged his dead body, knowing this moment would haunt her for the rest of her life. No one deserved to die the way he did, delusional, in unbearable pain, and in the arms of an enemy. She should have done something, found some way to make him fight it longer. She should have called out so someone could come and help her. She should have taken him back.

But she didn't, and now he was dead. As she held onto him, crying openly, one thought kept running through Hermione's mind. It's my fault.

"I'm dying, aren't I?" ~ "No, you're not dying. Do you have any idea how many times I've nearly died these past seven years?" - Charmed.

A/N: It might not be romance, might not be the cheeriest thing in the world, and it probably isn't worth the wait, but it's not, well, terrible is it? Now, I need to write some more so I can post on Sunday or Monday (busy tomorrow) xD.

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