A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favourited and followed. I'm incredibly busy right now, so I only managed to write a part of the second chapter.

Thank you to the Goddess of Cliffhangers for the first read through. All mistakes are mine.

So, here we go.


I would for you - Part II.1

Draco woke with a start, gasping and with a racing heart. His muscles pulled him to an upright position even before his mind had made the conscious decision to move at all. With unseeing eyes, he stared into blinding brightness and fought with the scream that lay dormant in his throat. The panic told him to move, but his limbs didn't obey. His eyes didn't seem to focus – the light was too intense – and his whole body weighed a ton.

Was he dead?

Where did that thought come from? Draco wondered. Why was there this lingering certainty that he shouldn't be here?

But he hurt way too much to be in the afterlife where everything was supposed to be soft, and warm, and perfect… right? His chest shouldn't hurt with every intake of breath, as if he was breathing fire. The light shouldn't send daggers of pain into his head.

Painfully slow, Draco's eyes focused, and he could discern his surroundings: unremarkable white walls, bluish grey vinyl floor, flaring neon light. The air smelled too clean, sanitised, and left a bad taste in his mouth. This looked very much like a hospital room. But… how was that possible?

It was so hard to focus; mental cobwebs were catching his thoughts, slowing them down. While he still tried to piece together where he was and how he'd got there, his gaze travelled down his body. The bed sheets were off-white as if the linen had been washed one too many times. The pyjama he was wearing was also not his own; it clung uncomfortably to his sweat soaked body.

Suddenly, unwelcome images came crashing down on him, invading his mind and filling it with terrible memories. The cave… Crabbe… Nott… pain… a poison being forced down his throat. And… Hermione. His heartbeat accelerated sharply as fear choked him.

"No," he rasped, his mind reeling at the implications of this realisation.

Hermione had saved him. But… if he was here, it meant that she was with Nott and Crabbe! Draco didn't dare to follow that thought because… there was only one ending to that story and he couldn't accept that. Hermione couldn't be dead! That was simply not possible.

Terror grabbed him – a fear so raw and all-encompassing that it paralysed him momentarily. His heart beat like an iron fist against his ribs, urging him to move, but he couldn't. It was as if his body wasn't even his own; he was merely the puppet it the puppet master's hands.

Draco's mind tortured him with images of what could be. Hermione, lying in a puddle of scarlet blood soaking her clothes, every bone in her body broken, tear tracks on chalky white cheeks, her eyes wide open and empty.

It ruined Draco. It broke him as he'd not ever imagined he could have been broken. To have caused her this pain, to have caused her death, appeared to him in his defeat as hideous and deserved punishments for all the mistakes he'd made in his life.

He had to get to her now! Maybe… maybe there was a slim chance she was still alive. Draco hoped against all hope that it wasn't too late. The panic almost overwhelmed him; he felt cornered and trapped, his weak body tying him down, but Draco knew he had to move if he wanted to save her. This was a matter of his own survival, too, since he could impossibly survive to have caused Hermione's death.

Still disorientated, Draco tried to climb out of bed, but, before he could even make a step, the floor came rushing at him. A dull ache spread through his ribs. Pain didn't matter. Draco would take all the pain in the world if it meant saving her. Damn, he had to stand up, but he couldn't. His body failed him.

Suddenly, there was a sharp intake of breath, "Mr. Malfoy." Approaching footsteps. Then, strong hands came out of nowhere, lifting him effortlessly back to the bed, as if he weighed nothing. "Calm down."

Draco didn't want to calm down. He wanted to leave, save Hermione, but the Medi-wizard restrained him easily. "No, you don't understand! I need to… I –" Draco exclaimed, fighting and clawing at the dark-skinned man in front of him, but it was in vain. The Medi-wizard was too strong.

"What's going on?" a familiar voice asked, but not the voice Draco wanted to hear. Potter. Draco didn't stop struggling.

A second later, a boy with ruffled black hair and round glasses placed himself in Draco's field of vision. Potter looked slightly alarmed, but, all in all, too calm for the situation at hand. He'd been Hermione's friend, her best friend, and he'd betrayed her. He'd let her march off into her death.

"How could you let her do that?" Draco threw at him accusingly, his voice ragged and husky like sandpaper. "How could you let her save me?"

"Sh, it's all right," the Medi-wizard reassured him as if he'd had a nightmare and needed comfort.

Draco stopped struggling for half a second, and when he felt the man's grip relax, he elbowed him. With a gasp, the Medi-wizard recoiled, and Draco leapt off the bed. He didn't get far, though. After a few steps, his legs gave under his weight, but, before the floor could jump at him again, Potter caught him, holding him upright.

"Let go! You… how could you…" Draco's voice was muffled by his attempt to break free, but even sodding Potter was stronger than him at the moment. It was pathetic.

"Draco, listen. It's all right. Hermione's safe," Potter explained calmly. "Do you hear me? She is not hurt."

Draco stiffened, trying to process the information. "No… how…?" He swallowed. "It's not possible. She handed herself over… she –" Draco stuttered. His memories were too fuzzy to validate Potter's claim.

"Hermione got both of you out," Potter said, pushing him back to the bed. "She'll be here any minute."

"But… the poison…?" Draco still wasn't able to make heads or tails of it.

Harry grimaced. "A close thing, that was. Emergency-Bezoar."

"Emergency-Bezoar," Draco repeated numbly. "But… Crabbe had her… and she was without wand… and…" He shook his head. Bad decision. Shaking his head increased his already excruciating headaches.

"She'll explain, I promise. But you need to rest. She didn't save you from getting poisoned, so you could break your neck in a stupid, pointless attempt to look for her," Potter said firmly. Before Draco could react, a potion was forced down his throat, and, almost instantly, the edges of his vision started to blur.

"No, I –" was all he managed to utter before his body grew heavy and he was unconscious again


I hope you liked it altough it was short. This was the only reasonable place I could break it. The next part's gonna be much longer. Promise!

Please review