Draco
I sit on the straight-backed wooden chair with my head in my hands. Hermione is laying between the crisp white sheets of the hospital wing bed. She hasn't moved since I stepped out of the vanishing cabinet and ran over to her. Since then she has been as still as a statue. But she is breathing. I keep running that fact through my mind. She is breathing.
It is late, though I'm not sure of the exact time. Madam Pomfrey retired to bed a few hours ago and only allowed me to stay when Professor McGonagall came in and told her in no uncertain words that I was allowed to stay with her. I scoot my chair closer and reach under the blanket to hold her hand. Leaning forward, I rest my head on her chest and listen to the faint thumping of her heart and the whoosh of her breath. My thoughts turn to the events of a few hours ago.
I step out of the cabinet just in time to see Nicola tip the vial of poison green liquid into Hermione's willing mouth. It makes me stagger, the willingness of Hermione to drink the poison. She wouldn't give up for much. Then I see the blood. It is pouring from her in waves and she is the color of bleached parchment. I forget all about Nicola. I barely notice her disappearance as I run over to Hermione and drop to the ground next to her. Her blood pooled on the floor instantly soaks through my robes and saturates the knees of my slacks beneath.
"Hermione," I choke out as her eyes flutter open. She locks on my face for just a moment and mumbles something I can't make out. Then her eyes close and her chest stills. I scoop her up and shove up to my feet. By now McGonagall and Flitwick have entered the room through the cabinet and are looking around for Nicola. But she is long gone and I don't even care. I cradle Hermione to my chest and turn to face them. McGonagall's breath catches but she doesn't waste any time. She tries to take Hermione from me, but I refuse to let her go.
"I'm stronger Professor, just let me carry her," I say, my voice surprisingly strong.
"Follow me, we may be able to save her but we must hurry," says McGonagall and she turns and heads straight back through the vanishing cabinet. I follow right behind her. My hands are shaking and I feel like I am being ripped apart. I can barely feel Hermione's weight as we run through the halls. I do my best not to jostle her as I lay her on the small bed of the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey immediately shoos me from the room and slams the heavy doors behind me.
I stare at the thick wood for a moment, completely lost. I won't be able to survive this if they can't save her. I will not live without her. The sight of her pale body, limp and mangled and unmoving intrudes on my thoughts and for the first time in my life, I lose it. I slide down the wall to a heap on on the floor and drop my head to my knees. Tears stream unimpeeded down my cheeks as fear and sadness and guilt and worry wrack through me. I feel like I am going to split in two and I beg to whatever god may be listening to either save her or take me.
I sit there for what seems an eternity. Eventually the tears stop, not because I feel better, but because I have no more to give. I am completely empty. But finally I hear scuffling behind the door and just manage to scramble to my feet before the doors swing open and McGonagall emerges. It is impossible to read anything on her face and I have no idea if Hermione is alive or dead until Mcgonagall's mouth opens and she tells me.
"She is alive, but she is still unconscious and may be for some time. Madam Pomfrey had to give her three full bottles of blood replenishing potion to replace the amount of blood she lost. She did what she could for the wounds Nicola carved all over her body but only time will tell us if they will scar or heal. But all of that pales in comparison to the effects of the poison. We have given her a beazor and every other antidote we know of, but because we don't know what the poison was, we cannot treat it specifically. We have guessed and done all we can. Now we just have to wait and see what happens. The rest is up to Hermione," says McGonagall.
My knees are weak and my head is light, making my sight go unfocused for a moment and McGonagall places a firm, steadying hand on my shoulder. She is alive, that is what I have to focus on. She is alive and she will wake up and she will be fine. We will have our life together. Focusing on that helps me pull it together and I can stand a little firmer.
"Can I go in and see her?" I ask.
"Of course. I have informed Madam Pomfrey that you are to be her only visitor and that you may stay as long as you like. But no one else is allowed in. Now, I think I will go find Miss Weasley and let her know what happened," says McGonagall.
"She will want to come visit," I point out.
"She will just have to wait until Miss Granger is awake. Now why don't you go in and sit with her for a while and I will go take care of Miss Weasley," says McGonagall and she turns and walks away.
And I have been sitting here, watching her unconscious form ever since. Her hand is so cold in mine and as I watch her she begins to shiver. I stand and look around for an extra blanket and end up pulling one off of an unused bed. I drape it over her but it doesn't help. She continues to shake. I take a quick look at Madam Pomfrey's closed door and then kick off my shoes, pull off my blood covered robes and slide under the covers next to Hermione. I am perched on the edge of the small bed, but I pull Hermione gently into my arms and hold her tight against me, willing her to warm up. Eventually her shaking subsides and my heart lightens a staggering amount when she actually cuddles into me.
Finally with Hermione again and holding her in my arms, my sleepless night last night and the events of today catch up with me and I can barely keep my eyes open long enough to tuck my head into the crook of Hermione's neck and tell her I love her before unconsciousness swallows me completely.
"Mister Malfoy," comes a strange whisper as something shakes my shoulder. I stretch and open my eyes. Professor McGonagall is looking down at me, a suspicious look on her face.
"This isn't what it looks like," I tell her as the past day comes flooding back.
"I certainly hope not," she says.
"She was cold and started shivering," I explain.
"And you couldn't just give her another blanket?" asks McGonagall.
"I did but she just kept shivering. I promise, nothing happened. We just slept, that's all," I say.
"I believe you. Now why don't you go shower and get something to eat," suggests McGonagall.
"No, what if she wakes up?" I ask.
"I will sit here with her until you get back. You are covered in blood and look like you are half dead yourself. If she wakes up and sees you like this she will pass right back out," says McGonagall and looking down at my blood soaked pants and hands, I know she is right.
"I'll be back in half an hour," I tell her.
"I'll be here, take whatever time you need," she says.
I nod stiffly and lean in to brush a kiss over Hermione's forehead. Her skin is warm and pink once again and she looks worlds better than she did last night. "I'll be right back" I whisper and then slip out of the bed, grab my bloody robes and head for the door. The halls are empty since all the students are in their classes and I reach my room quickly. I strip down and toss my clothes in the garbage. I don't care if they can wash the blood out of them, I'll never wear them again.
I step in the shower, meaning to hurry, but the hot water feels so good that I stand under the pouring spouts until the water goes cold, letting the jets wash away the terror and worry of yesterday. Once I am out and dressed, I head to the Great Hall and grab some toast before the tables are wiped clean. I eat my toast on the way back to the Great Hall, feeling much better than I did last night. But the fear of Hermione not waking up is still there, eating at me and keeping me from enjoying the quiet walk.
When I get back tot he hospital wing, Professor McGonagall is still sitting in the wooden chair and Madam Pomfrey is bent over the bed, attending to Hermione. When Professor McGonagall sees me, a smile tugs at her usually stiff lips.
"What is going on?" I ask coming over. Hermione is still unconscious on the bed.
"She is going to be fine Mr Malfoy," says Madam Pomfrey straightening up.
"How do you know, she is still out," I point out.
"She is merely sleeping. She went through a great deal and while the poison is still working through her body, it is best if she doesn't have to feel it burning through her. I have given her a sleeping potion that will last until the last vestiges of the potions disappear. When she wakes, the pain should be manageable, if not gone," says Madam Pomfrey.
"She will wake up?" I ask hardly daring to believe it.
"That is what I said," says Madam Pomfrey, but she is smiling.
"So why don't you sit here with her and let us know if anything changes," suggests Professor McGonagall.
I have a seat in the chair McGonagall leaves and they walk out of the room, leaving me alone with Hermione. I scoot the chair closer and reach out to take her hand. With my free hand, I reach in my pocket and pull out a small book. It is one of my favorites, Frankenstein, and I begin to read. I read until my throat is sore and I can barely talk. Eventually, I put the book down and rest my head on her stomach. I may have slept better last night, but I am still far from rested. So I relax and let myself drift off, focused on the sound of her deep, rhythmic breathing.
Waking up is like swimming to the surface of a warm pool. When I finally return to consciousness, I don't open my eyes immediately. Instead, I just lay there and enjoy the feeling of fingers running through my hair and tracing the lines of my face. It takes a minute for the touch to register and when it does, my head snaps up and my eyes fly open. Hermione is awake. She is still pale and there are dark circles under her eyes, but she is awake.
"Good morning," she says smiling. Her voice is weak and rough, but it is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard.
:Why didn't you wake me up?" I ask, staring at her face, trying to take it all in.
"You looked tired," she shrugs and I can't help laughing. After everything she went through, she thought I looked tired?
"I'm so sorry Hermione, I should have believed you. I should have listened. This is all my fault," I apologize, but she places a hand over my mouth, silencing me.
"Only one person is a fault here. Nicola. What happened to her? Is she expelled? Sent to Azkaban?" asks Hermione, her eyes full of hatred. I wish with all my heart that I had good news for her, but I tell her the truth.
"She escaped. We don't know where she is."