Draco grins. His curly hair matted sweatily to the side of his head as he frantically searches among the dead and wounded bodies—deatheaters, one after another. People who he's seen in his own dining room. At banquets and by Voldemort's hand himself. But they mean nothing to him as his eyes move at the speed of light to search for her.
He's silent. Thinking. His smile doesn't fade. He can't wait to see her pure pride when she realizes he made the right choice in the end.
And then his smile drops. Because not only are the deatheaters on the ground, covered in their own and eachother's blood. She lays sprawled on the cold floor too.
In the next instant, he's running. Sprinting, charging, whatever word you can think of. He falls to his knees and can feel his heart turn to rock as she looks up at him, pained.
Her white blouse is stained in blood that roots from her side as Draco pulls her into his arms. His legs lay flat infront of him as he makes her as comfortable as possible until he can find help.
"No.." he mutters. She's barely conscious as she smiles up at him. "No, no, Potter's coming, he will—Weasley—Nott—you're okay,"
"Draco," Hermione croaks out and he knows what she's going to say.
"Don't! Keep quiet, let me get help," he begins fumbling for his wand. "Shh."
Hermione lifts a hand to touch his face and even as protests begin to pour out of his throat, he melts the moment her skin touches his cheek.
"W-what happened?" He says, it's so quiet he doubts she even heard.
"I.. I don't know. I was duelling a wizard and right as he fell something—hit, my.. my hip. Here," she uses her hand to guide his eyes to where her shirt is mucked in red.
Draco stares at her. He's fumbling for words, something to say to make it okay but they both know. He can't help her and not Potter, nor Nott, nor Blaise or Pansy or even that fucking Weasley is coming. They're alone.
"Granger..."
"Hermione," she says quietly. A small and reassuring smile appears on her face. "I'm Hermione to you."
Draco's eyes are welling more than ever before. The tears are so big, he hopes for a moment that if they fall, her wounds may magically heal and they'll walk out of here victorious.
All for naught. They fall and nothing happens.
"I can't—I don't know—tell me what to do, baby, please—I love you, I need—" he's losing his composure, which he barely ever had but this time it's really slipping away.
"I'm sorry.. that, I don't g-get to be the.. mother. Of your children. That we can't build a family together." She begins, and her hand is back on his face. To the back of his neck and by his ear.
“No. Don’t- don’t do this, Grang—Hermione. Don’t, please,”
“Let me, Draco. I need to.”
He can’t stop the heaving breath from pulling in through his nose. He wants to hear her voice, oh so dearly, but these aren’t the words he’s longing to hear.
“And.. I’m sorry for anything I ever did that hurt your feelings.. anything I said…”
“It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s perfect. I wouldn’t have it another way.” He says in return quickly. He can’t waste even a second.
“I used to… I always thought—” she coughs. “I always did think you were quite the attractive boy.” She laughs softly. “Before and after the insults we threw at one another every day.”
And in that moment, he regretted every single comment, every glare, every fucking thought he ever had about her that wasn’t to revel in her beauty. Purity. Her perfection.
She was perfection to him.
“Don’t—wait up for me, okay? Fall in love again.”
At this he breaks once more.
“I fucking CAN’T! I CAN’T! I need you, there’s no one else—nothing else I want, Hermione,”
“Draco, please.. make this easier for us, alright? When you’re alone.. talk to me. Tell me about your day and your job and the daughter or son that you’ll meet one day. Give yourself the love I wanted to give you. The love I did give you as long as I could.” She says. “I’ll always be yours.”
“We were supposed to be forever.”
Hermione stares at his perplexing eyes for a moment. “I guess that meant my forever, Draco. You’ve got more than a heavy-lidded bookworm in store,” she cracks a smile once more and it outbreaks a small, sad smile to his lips as well.
“You’re perfect, you hear me? Draco says with a force that makes him push the thought to the back of his mind. The thought that he may be running out of time.
He’ll never have enough time to tell her everything she deserves to hear.
“Everything.. you’re mine. Everything. My everything. I love you. I love you.” He hurries. “I—”
“You made the right choice, Draco. I’m so proud of you. Keep doing that, okay?”
“How will I know.. without you?” His voice breaks into what’s now barely a whisper.
“I don’t know. Maybe.. you don’t need me to help you. Maybe you’ll just know.”
“You’re guessing.”
“I thought I was the perfectionist between the two of us, Malfoy. You’re the one who said I can’t have a plan for everything.”
“When have I ever been right? Fuck me.”
“Even now.. you just have to smart-mouth me, don’t you?” She smiles again and this time a tear rolls from her eye down her temple and into her muddy hair. Draco wipes it instantly.
“Don’t cry. Don’t cry. I love you.”
“I.. Draco, I love…”
His screams filled the hall. Agonizing, painful, inexplicable screams.
They were supposed to be forever.