Sectumsempra
The warm bath and feel of Pansy’s fingers massaging her scalp were the only things that had managed to calm her down enough to breathe. Slowly, she picked apart the memory piece by piece, filing the things she didn’t want to feel away after allowing herself a moment to work through everything she was feeling. The biggest was disgust–she wanted to scrub every inch of herself that his fingers had touched hard enough to remove the skin if only it would take away the feeling. She knew that it wouldn’t. She could still feel his hot breath on her neck as he tried to kiss her and the feel of his clammy hands as they dragged across her thigh. He didn’t get very far–Hermione made sure of that. But her jaw still hurt from where he had hit her, but the memory stung more.
She wanted to slap herself for falling into Draco’s arms, but she couldn’t help herself. The need to feel safe and protected was the only thing that she had cared about in that moment even if Draco himself didn’t feel the same way. After overhearing the conversation between Snape and him it was hard to still be angry at him. He was trying to protect her, clearly, but that wasn’t his decision to make. Although, it wasn’t very fair of her to say that either because she had done far worse things and put herself in worse positions trying to make sure that they were protected. It was a never-ending cycle that none of them seemed to be able to break.
All of them clutching to one another so tightly as they all tried to protect the other without caring the blows that one was taking for the other. She was tired of feeling that it had to be one of them standing in front of the others. Why couldn’t they all turn and face the evil together and make it go away that way? If they were anything, it was stronger together. When Pansy had helped her dress as she slowly came out of her daze, she carefully rubbed bruise paste into each and every one that formed from his firm grip. The inner part of her thigh. Her wrist when he tried to keep her from grabbing her wand. The one on her jaw where yet again another man had hit her and the memory of when Draco had done this same thing from a similar moment shimmied its way to the front of her mind.
When they opened the door and were going to make their way back to the dorms, her eyes met Draco’s. Theo and he were leaning against the wall, heads down until the door opened and both of them snapped up towards them. Without a word, they trailed after the two girls, following silently behind as they made their way through the castle. Pansy tucked her into bed, moving the hair from her face as she climbed in behind her, slinging her arm across her waist. Draco and Theo had taken up residency in the two armchairs that they had charmed and transfigured. When sleep pulled her under, she only dreamed of Draco’s gray eyes illuminated by the moonlight.
She was being shaken gently and blinked her eyes open to find herself standing in the library, Draco staring at her with furrowed brows. She glanced around, wondering how she had made it this far without any of them noticing she had slipped from the room. As if reading her thoughts Draco spoke, still keeping his distance from her. “You slipped out of the bed, and I thought that you were awake. You weren’t answering me when I was calling for you, but I followed after you. It wasn’t until you almost fell down a flight of stairs trying to get here did, I notice that you were asleep.”
“Mm. I’m sorry for waking you. Usually, I ward my doors to keep myself from leaving them in the middle of the night.”
“This has happened before?” He looked startled and concerned.
“Almost every night I manage to sleepwalk. I don’t get out of my room much though anymore since I started warding it. I think that Theo catching me before I tumbled off the Astronomy Tower was warning enough.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Draco blinked at her and she realized that it didn’t seem like he had slept at all. His eyes were alert and not a hair was out of place.
“Did you sleep at all?”
“You just told me that Theo caught you from almost falling off the Astronomy Tower and the only response that you manage back is whether or not I have slept?” He ran a hand down his face as if the conversation itself was exhausting. She turned, making her way back towards the tower and heard his footsteps behind her. After a moment she stopped, blinking the tears from her eyes. “Granger?”
“You realize that I know, don’t you? That I know everything that you’re trying to keep me safe from. I haven’t barged in and told you to pull your head out of your arse yet because I know why you’re doing what you’re doing but…god's Draco…I miss you. It’s like my very soul is broken without you. I don’t feel complete…I...” She swallowed, unable to turn around and face him. “You promised me a while back that you wouldn’t let me go, and you’re trying so hard to do just that.” She turned around then, to face him and his eyes were cast down to the floor, hands shoved into his pockets as she said the words he had years ago back to him.
“You told me once that you would burn the world down for me, without a single care in the world as to who got caught up in the flames if it meant keeping me safe. If it meant making sure that nobody hurt me. That you would give up a part of your soul to keep the darkness from touching me.” She took a step towards him, and she watched his shoulder twitch. “But you keep me from starting the fire with you means that I am burning in the flames instead. You’re hurting me, and yourself by not allowing me to help you with what you need to do. With keeping me at arm's length. We have each given away parts of our soul already, and the darkness is already attached to us. Draco, I love you. I love you more than anything and I can’t do this…please…please don’t keep me away anymore. I can’t–” She didn’t finish her sentence before Draco was pulling her against his chest, arms wrapping around her tightly as he buried his face into her hair. She relaxed instantly from his touch, the smell of him she had missed so much enveloping her completely as he clutched onto her.
“I never meant to hurt you, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was just trying to protect you…I can’t lose you.” His voice was a whisper as the words got lost in her curls.
“I can’t lose you either, Draco. But we’re not going to get anywhere by pushing each other away. We won’t survive that. None of us will. The only way that we’ll make it through this is if we’re together. It’s the only way.” She was clutching onto him, hands grasping his jacket as they breathed each other in.
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Draco had been inseparable from her for the next two nights, repeatedly sneaking into her room at night to hold her as they slept. She traced the veins of his hands as she told him about what had happened, he listened quietly, tugging her closer when she finished talking. Soft kisses along her jawline where the bruise was when Cormac had slapped her. A whispered apology of being unable to protect her. Neither one went anywhere during Christmas break, and Hermione found Theo hadn’t either. The three of them spent much needed time catching up with one another as they all huddled together in her room at night. It was the first time that Hermione had gotten sleep where she didn’t wake up in some other part of the castle. It was as though Draco’s arms chased away her nightmares and the sleepwalking stopped when he was with her.
When Harry and Ron returned, they had informed her of a very terrifying story about Ginny and Harry almost dying and almost burning Ron’s house to the ground. Bellatrix and Greyback had attempted to lead Harry into the reeds, but Ginny had followed, probably saving Harry’s life. For a moment she wondered where that left Harry and Pansy and if things between the redhead and Harry were going to be different now. She knew that he had always fancied her a little. When Harry divulged the task that Dumbledore had been working him up for, Hermione furrowed her eyebrows at him. Curiosity sneaking its way in. A particular comment made her even more curious. There is light and dark in magic as well, I must say that I think it’s best when one stays to the light.
Hermione had researched Vanishing Cabinets, keeping that information to herself when Harry told her that Arthur Weasley had found out that Draco had been interested in one before the school year. Draco, had refused to let her help with anything and never relayed just what it was he was working on, how he planned on getting the Death Eaters into the school like he had been assigned to do. Harry might have given her the answer that Draco refused to. She glanced up at Harry, rolling her eyes.
“You know, you were meant to get the information from Slughorn and yet here you are making it even more difficult. You basically repeated the exact memory. There was nothing even remotely different except when he went off on you and your surprised that he won’t talk to you now? Honestly Harry, you’re not that daft.”
“I know! I don’t know what I was thinking. I should’ve come to you first; you always help me figure out a better plan.” Hermoine snorted as Harry laid his head against the table. She was discreetly reading about Vanishing Cabinets, having charmed the book to look like something different as she read. She didn’t need Harry being even more suspicious about Draco than he already was. For all he knew they still weren’t speaking to one another, and he was voicing his suspicions loudly.
“You only come to me because I am the only one who makes the plans that work.” Harry pouted, slouching further in his chair. His eyes focused on something across the library, and she lifted her head to see what had captured his attention. It wound up being who instead. Pansy was leaning against a shelf, tossing her raven hair over her shoulder as Ginny talked animatedly about something to her. Hermione was briefly startled at the two talking about anything before remembering the interesting information that she had divulged with her. Ginny had been curious, so had Pansy, and there happened to be a rather…interesting night between the two of them and Luna Lovegood. As startling as that realization was, she also had gained knowledge that it had been…rather enlightening for the witches involved after a rather intoxicating night of spin the bottle.
She smirked, turning back towards Harry. “You know, if you ask nicely, maybe they’ll let you join.”
Harry went a lovely shade of red and she laughed. “Bloody hell, so the rumors are true then?”
Hermione didn’t answer as she smiled into her book and let her best friend’s mind run rampant. He was staring at the table before sitting up suddenly, staring at the map that he had been obsessed with recently. “He’s gone, again.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Malfoy. He’s gone. He just disappears off of the map sometimes.”
Well, that was peculiar information. “That’s impossible, Harry.”
“Well, apparently not. He was just right here, and now he’s not.”
She glanced at him, folding her arms across her chest. Too many thoughts were spinning in her mind, and she raised an eyebrow at the green-eyed wizard in front of her. “So, tell me, is it Pansy, Ginny or Draco that you’re obsessed with? I can’t seem to tell the difference.”
“Ha ha very funny, Hermione.”
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Hermione watched as Draco backed out of the Great Hall, looking a little disheveled. Harry was already scrambling after him, and Hermione launched herself from her seat beside Pansy following after them. She was running through the hall, catching sight of the back of Harry’s robes as he slipped into the bathroom. Something in her told her to run, that she had to get there fast. She had to get there right then. Bursts of light came from the cracked door and Hermione shoved it open just as Harry screamed a spell. She watched in horror as slices appeared across Draco. On his cheek, on his chest, blood stained the white shirt he had been wearing and his eyes widened on her as he fell into the water. He was sputtering, and Hermione screamed, wading through the water as blood swirled around her legs. He reached towards her, grasping onto her hand and his gray eyes focused onto her. Desperation clung to her soul as she tugged on the bond with Snape.
Prefects bathroom. Now. Draco…he’s dying.
Her hands pressed onto the wounds before she scrambled for her wand, casting healing charms over and over on the wounds as they refused to close. Tears flowed from her eyes just as freely as his blood was flowing into the water. “Her..Hermione..” His fingers brushed against her cheek, streaking it with blood and she refused to look at him. She refused to let him try to say goodbye to her. She refused to let him die in the bathroom. She refused. Not like this. They needed to have more time together. “I love you..” His words came out strangled. And she turned just in time to watch his gray eyes roll back into his head.
“No, Draco. I love you. Please, you can’t leave me like this. Please.” Nothing else mattered, except keeping him alive. She wasn’t aware that Snape had entered the bathroom, his hands covering hers as he hissed at Harry behind her to leave. She wasn’t registering words, instead all that she could do was keep whispering the healing spell over and over again. Snape didn’t stop her, instead he started to wave his wand, an almost singing cantation leaving his lips. She watched transfixed, as the water slowly started to swirl in the water, making its way back into his body. A gasp broke from her lips when his chest rose and fell, his eyes still closed–lashes fluttering across too pale cheeks.
She felt the rough callous of Snape’s fingertips as they brushed against the skin of her cheek. Hesitantly she lifted her eyes to meet his over Draco’s body. She was shaking, tears streaking down her face as her fingertips were stained with Draco’s blood. “Hermione, I have to take him to the Infirmary.” She nodded, but didn’t move. “Hermione. Look at me.”
She flicked her eyes to his and nodded, suddenly registering his words and pulling herself to a standing position. She was soaking wet, her robes dragging in the water behind her as she backed away carefully. Her eyes were fixed on Draco’s chest, watching it rise and fall in stuttered breaths. “D-D-Draco..”
Snape didn’t say anything, instead floated his body beside him as he stood to head towards the door. She followed afterwards, sloshing through the water with her eyes fixed on Draco; she was convinced that if she took her eyes off of him that he would disappear. That he would die. They moved carefully and quickly through the halls, Snape taking shortcuts through the castle to avoid prying eyes that she didn’t even know existed. Although, she was almost positive that she wouldn’t be able to tell anybody just what routes she had taken because she wasn’t even aware of anything except Draco’s breathing.
When they arrived in the Infirmary, Hermione stood against the wall, staring at his unmoving form. Snape shook his head when Pomfrey went to say something to her and the older witch pressed her lips together. When she made a move to remove his shirt, Snape cast a glamor and they worked carefully, cleaning him and the cuts across his torso. They were deep, and not fully closed, one ranging all the way from his left shoulder to his right hip, the one on his face cut across his jaw and as she stared at them, she knew that they would scar.
Her fingers clasped around the locket at her neck with a silent prayer that she had done enough. That she was able to be his Portkey and bring him home.
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She hadn’t moved for an entire day, sitting in the chair beside his bed staring at the rise and fall of his chest. Theo had tried and failed to get her to change. So had Blaise. It wasn’t until Pansy physically dragged her out of the chair without apologies that Hermione finally snapped back to herself. They stood in the Prefects bathroom, and she shrugged out of the stiff robes dried with Draco’s blood and the water from the bathroom faucets. She rinsed quickly, shrugging on Draco’s green sweater and Muggle leggings.
They would have to drag her from his bedside to get her to leave again. The whole ordeal took fifteen minutes, and then she was beside him again, chewing anxiously on her cheek and nails as she watched him breath.
The rest of them brought her food off and on, but Hermione couldn’t bring herself to eat. She couldn’t bring herself to do anything other than make sure he was breathing. After the first week, her anger started to set in. She was angry. At Harry. At Voldemort. At any threat that had tried to rip him from this world and take him from her. She stormed out of the hospital wing and tore through the halls until she found Harry sitting outside with Pansy. A whispered “Shit” was the only warning that Harry got before she was slinging hexes at him. He didn’t stop her, his hands tucked into his pockets and head bowed as she threw hex after hex with tears streaming down her cheeks. Finally, when she dropped to her knees on the cobblestones Pansy rested her hand on her shoulder. Harry didn’t say anything, standing there with small spots of blood already showing from underneath his shirt where some of the hexes had gotten him. “I didn’t know, I didn’t know that it would almost kill him.”
She glared at him through blurry eyes and scrambled to her feet, stopping inches from his face. “If he doesn’t come back to me, I will kill you myself Harry Potter. It won’t be Voldemort that you will have to worry about.” Then she spun on her heel and made her way back to the Infirmary.
Later, the guilt would set in.
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After the second week, and her fingernails were almost filed down completely, she would take moments in the morning when everybody would be asleep and try to fix the Vanishing Cabinet. She tried spell after spell that she had learned, and then something came to her mind. She tried to sing one, and noticed a faint glow emit from the cabinet before the wood settled back to its normal look. She didn’t test it, afraid that the Death Eaters were going to find their way in while Draco was sitting in a hospital bed.
When she stumbled back to the hospital room, and settled into her chair next to his bed, she fell asleep for the first time in two days, missing the twitch of Draco’s fingertips as she drifted off.
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He woke up freezing cold and in too much pain. Every inch of his skin felt like it was burning, but his right arm felt like it was specifically on fire. He swallowed, his throat dry and scratchy. It felt like his eyes were a million pounds and he wasn’t able to open them. No sound came out while he cleared his throat, and then suddenly the warmth on his arm was gone, the cold air brushing across his skin. Then everything was black again.