"I don’t know, you guys,” Hermione whispered, attempting to peer through the fog surrounding her. She was trying to look into a dark and dusty window of an old, rickety house. A chill of fear twirled and spiraled through Spinners End, crawling into the minds of Harry, Ron and Hermione as they stood in front of the Snape house. Or, at least, it used to be. It now appeared to be completely deserted, dark and denied of all existence, denied of any life or happiness.
“Come on Hermione,” Harry said, grasping her shoulder for the briefest of seconds. He squeezed it reassuringly and motioned to Ron to stand with them. In unison, they took a deep breath to calm themselves. Hermione’s came out in a shuddery fear of what was to come. She balled her fists and shook her head, telling herself to be brave. She scolded herself for acting so cowardly, but something about this place made her feel dread.
Harry nodded at Ron, who grimaced in return and lifted his hand to the cobwebbed door handle. He shook away months of build up and neglect, then proceeded to open the door. Hermione could’ve sworn she heard a gasp slither through the air and into her ears; the hiss of a cowardly snake, awakened by the intimidating life.
The door creaked open, clinking with the lack of use. The hinges were rusty and dirty and protested loudly at the movement. Cold air slapped and stung Hermione’s face, but she grit her teeth and followed Harry into the empty, still darkness.
“Maybe we should split up,” Ron murmured after illuminating his wand. The shadows cast by the dark furniture were intimidating and ferocious. The complete eeriness of the silence around them overtook Hermione as her eyes roamed the spacious house. There was a lot of ground to cover and they didn’t have much time. She nodded in agreement, though her goose bumps and withering flame of fear told her otherwise. She squashed the burning flame that was growing within her and pulled out her wand.
“Hermione, take upstairs. Ron, go that way. I’ll go this way,” Harry said, pointing in the opposite direction of Ron’s route. They all nodded and there was a quick stream of ‘be careful,’ running through the air. Hermione took a deep breath, turned on her heel and whispered, “Lumos!”
She took a step forward, then again onto the first stair of many. The first stair hissed at her, angry for her weight. The second step told her to turn back as it squeaked at her in dismay. The third laughed at her, the fourth tried to trip her, and the fifth smirked evilly at her in the pale glow. She ran up the remaining steps, attempting to block out any other sounds from below her.
Finally, she reached the top and held her breath, listening ever so closely for a sign of life. When the only thing that returned to her was her drumbeat of her heart, she shuddered out another breath and examined the room surrounding her. A library. Hermione let out a sigh, feeling slightly less frightened. She walked over to the large bookcase and ran her fingers over the spines. Different fabrics and their dust tickled her fingers, unmoving and dead.
She came across a stray book, one that seemed too out of place. Her breath stuck to her throat as her fingers ran over the strangely plastic jacket. She pulled on the book and gasped when the bookcase gave way and revealed another dark room. She would’ve chuckled at the similarities to Muggle horror movies, had there not been a deep grunting sound wavering out of the darkness.
She shifted her arm and light from her wand tip poured into the room. The room shrank way in dislike. Hermione could tell light hadn’t been introduced to this room in a while. In a non-illuminated corner, grunting sounds continued to choke into the air and scare Hermione. She determinedly walked further and waved her arm at the sound. She almost dropped her wand when she realised what was before her.
Hollow. That was the first word that was shoved into Hermione’s mind when she saw him, sitting there, clinging by a thinning thread to his life. His clothing was worn out and clung to his pale body, threads pulled and sticking out everywhere. His blonde hair was long and scruffy, tickling his ears in an uncombed and unkempt mess. His eyes bore pain, his cheeks were mainly bones and stained with black bags above them. His lips were thin and uncolored; his entire face was uncolored. Lifeless, cold and hollow.
Hermione gasped and reached out her hand to the fallen figure. Never in a million years would she have expected the situation before her to take place. Draco Malfoy, rich boy of her school years, laid fading into the darkness of death due to starvation and pain? Was it even possible? Could such a bratty little ferret actually cringe before her?
Immediately, Hermione felt horrible for what she had thought. Guilt stabbed her body and her face softened to a sad pain. She couldn’t leave him here to die, regardless of his childhood prejudices. She reached out her hand to his in dismay and guilt and was surprised when he grasped it. His hand was cold, deathly cold and mainly bone. She felt the cold seep from his finger tips into her body, leaving her with an empty feeling of cold marble. No, she certainly couldn’t leave him here and skip along with her life, having his life on her conscious.
“Draco,” she whispered, the name unfamiliar to her tongue. It rolled around in her mouth, considering it and reconsidering. She said it again, this time with more voice.
“Granger?” he asked, his voice coming out as an unused croak. Disbelief swam through his eyes when she nodded. He choked out her first name, to see if they were one and the same.
“That’s me,” she said, her voice quavering. His grip loosened for a second, but he didn’t let go of her hand, and she stared into his silver eyes for a few moments longer than necessary. He was both relieved and shocked. He hadn’t seen another human being for what felt like a lifetime, much less a girl human being. After having dark and pain as a companion lonely night after lonely night, Hermione might as well have been the most beautiful girl on the planet. And in his silver, pained eyes, she was.
Hermione similarly, felt connected to him, but didn’t know why. Something in those silver eyes made her feel weak and confused. Merlin knows that they had never been friends, but even when your enemy sits before you, dying and possibly taking his last breaths, the human part of you takes over. And that is what happened to Hermione. Her human compassion for another soul overtook her and sheltered her and Draco. And he felt it, too.
Her brown eyes dipped in the complex turns of his silver ones, when she was suddenly pulled out by Ron’s distant voice.
“Hermione?” he called, his voice carrying into the small room. “Are you there? Did you find anything?”
Hermione shook her head and was at a loss for words. Should she yell out, and break this peaceful moment between herself and Draco? Or stay quiet and force Ron to worry? And what would she do about Draco? Should she leave him here, certainly for death?
‘No, of course not!’ Hermione yelled at herself. She would feel guilt for her entire life if she did that. ‘But I can’t very well just tell Harry and Ron. They won’t take it well. Will they?’
She fought an eternal battle. She knew in her heart that she couldn’t leave him here to die “ what had he done so wrong to deserve something like that? Even the anger and hurt within her was shoved away when her eyes lingered over his pale and dying face. But what could she do? Leave, and come back? Take him with her now? Where would he stay? How would he live? What would happen to them all if he was thrown into their lives?
Her thoughts were cut short, however, by Ron and Harry’s voices entering the room, shortly followed by the bodies that voiced them.
A collective gasp fell through the room. Draco Malfoy. Dying. Hands touching Hermione’s. Hermione Granger. Same room. It was too much to process.
Ron stuttered in the doorway as Harry advanced further, slowly, calculating the scene before him. It seemed that he too was overcome by his human nature of forgiveness and caring. He especially since he had seen Draco up that night on the tower. Draco couldn’t kill Dumbledore, and Harry knew he wouldn’t have. Harry had grown up a surprising amount and thought about it much between the time at the tower and now. He too wondered what they could do for him, how they could help him. Though he wasn’t completely overcome by caring for the boy, seeing as he did spend his hours making Harry’s life hell, he still came to the heroic conclusion.
“We’ll have to take him,” he whispered after a few minutes of complete silence. Ron had stayed in the doorway, disbelieving of the events and people coming unglued before him. He didn’t object, but he didn’t agree. He just stared at Hermione’s hand, gracefully laced with Draco’s pale fingers in jealousy.
Hermione nodded, relieved that she didn’t have to make the final decision. Draco seemed almost as if he was going to object, but he didn’t. Even he wasn’t stupid enough to pass on the help of the Golden Trio, especially when he was probably going to die in the near future. Torture sessions with the Dark Lord had left him drifting between the boarder of life and death for the past months and his lack of food and nutrition was certainly taking a toll. It was either accept help and hide your pride, or be egotistical and embrace death. Neither was a fun choice, but he knew which one he wanted to make. Which one he needed to make.
He attempted to lift himself, thankfully supported by Hermione’s warm hand. He never let it go and continued to stare into her eyes when he could. He wobbled under his weight and trembled in his cold state. He felt Hermione’s grip become stronger and he leaned against her for support. All she could do was half smile, half grimace at him in response.
Harry and Ron were shocked at their closeness; both still had slight (or many, in Ron’s case) feelings of distaste for the boy. Ron scowled at him, glared at him with hatred. He did not like Hermione being so close to Draco Malfoy but Hermione took no notice. No one said a word as they walked down the stairs, across the entrance and out of the house.
A cold fog had picked back up again and Harry and Ron whispered to Hermione that they were meeting at the Burrow. Hermione was planning on using side-along apparition so that she herself could take Draco back. He still hadn’t let go of her hand.
“Draco?” she inquired, curious to his silence. They had all been so horribly out of character due to the new development in their search for Horcruxes that she hadn’t found her voice until now. He also hadn’t said two words to either Harry or Ron, almost as if he was afraid to trigger something in them.
“Yes?” he quavered, still not used to hearing someone say his name, especially someone by the name of Hermione Granger. He still wasn’t used to using his vocal cords either.
“We’re going to Apparate to the Burrow, alright? I don’t believe you have enough strength to get there yourself, so we’ll have to do this together, okay?” She detached her hand from his and took a deep breath, preparing herself for the trip. After she’d breathed deeply numerous times, she looked back at her mysterious companion and looked him over.
“Ready?” she asked, again slowly reaching her hand out for the taking. She half expected him to reject it. And she half wanted him to take it.
He nodded and grabbed it, firm and needy. Hermione smiled and was concentrating deeply when she thought she heard the barest of whispers in her ear. She began counting down in her mind, when she felt the hot breath of Draco invading her space.
“Thank you,” he croaked out, embarrassed and afraid.
“You’re welcome,” she whispered, and let the words wash over her. Tingling sensations spread through her body as his hot breath touched her face. “You’re safe now,” she added as an after thought and squeezed his hand. She took another breath and Dissapparated, starting the new life she would have. The one with Draco Malfoy.
The Choice by Sarakime
Chapter Notes: Many thanks to Abbi for betaing this for me! She rocks!
And a sorry to my Professor for not actually getting this posted until now. *scared* Enjoy!