“Everybody loves a hero. People line up for them, cheer them, scream their names. And years later, they'll tell how they stood in the rain for hours just to get a glimpse of the one who taught them how to hold on a second longer. I believe there's a hero in all of us, that keeps us honest, gives us strength, makes us noble, and finally allows us to die with pride, even though sometimes we have to be steady, and give up the thing we want the most. Even our dreams.”

- May Parker, Spiderman (but you all knew that, didn't you?)

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“Are you ready?”

Hermione and Ron glanced at one another, nodded once, then looked back at Harry. Standing from their crouching position, they pulled out their wands.

The three were hiding behind the statue that obscured the front door, the Aurors still at the front gate keeping well hidden and surveying the area. The only threats they’d found so far were the two Death Eaters guarding the door. Greengrass must have thought no one would figure out where he was, or go through the trouble of finding an old manor in the middle of nowhere, hence the reason his enchantments were so few and why there were only two very bored men out front.

As she moved to get past the statue, Ron pulled her back. She turned her head slightly, annoyed. “What now?”

He stood in front of her. “Hermione, we’re going to be running. After everything you’ve been through do you really want to get yourself killed by tripping over a dress?”

Somehow, she had forgotten she was still wearing her ball gown. But now that she was aware, she was also aware how hot it was, the fabric clinging to her with sweat and her hair, no longer in soft curls, frizzy, even more so from the humidity.

She hesitated for only a second, the need to keep moving motivating her to aim her wand down at the hem of her dress. “Diffindo,” she muttered, rotating her wand all the way around herself, the light red fabric falling to the ground as she went. When she was finished, the dress was knee length, and Ron looked bothered as she tossed the leftover material to Harry, still crouched on the ground.

“How much was that?” Ron asked, strained.

“Don’t worry. It’s nothing Reparo can’t fix,” she lied. The truth was she did not like ruining such a beautiful dress either, but after tonight, and what she was likely to see, Hermione had the feeling she would not want to wear it again. She met his eyes. Her grip on her wand tensed. Relaxed. Tensed. “Lets go.”  

She took the left side of the statue while Ron took the right, walking up to the double doors with a confident stride. If the Death Eaters had been looking for trespassers they might have had the time to defend themselves or yell out. But they were not looking, and when they finally did spot them it was too late.

Without stopping, Ron and Hermione pointed their wands at one each and yelled, “Stupefy!” The two men fell backwards, slumping unconscious against the door.

They stopped only to check that the men were really out, and then Hermione called out that it was safe. Harry came out from the statue, waving behind him for the Aurors to follow.

“Now we go in?” he questioned, gaze flickering over to the two bodies beside them.

“Now we go in,” Hermione confirmed.

“What if they’re waiting for us?” Ron asked.

“They won’t be. It’s obvious they’re not expecting company tonight.” She locked eyes with Harry and Ron, turned, hand wrapped around the door handle, and pulled.

She waited for screams. For yelling and jeering. For the sound of a body convulsing on the floor.

Nothing.

Nothing but eerie silence that frightened her more than she cared to admit.

Hermione walked further in, taking care to be extra quiet. Her eyes took in the unkempt state of the house; unable to believe this had once belonged to a family. She looked at the rotten stairs and wondered if Astoria and Daphne had slid down the rails. Looked at the kitchen table and wondered what they had talked about during meals. Looked in the lounge room and wondered where they placed the Christmas tree, where wreaths were hung.

She only spared a second to think about this before she was back to thinking of finding Draco. But the longer and further they went the more the silence rattled her. They couldn’t have left already. There were men out the front. So what could silence mean? Had they…? Was Draco already…?

No.

No, she wouldn’t go there. He was fine. He was Draco. Draco was always fine.

She started down a hallway, following a dark stain, until she reached a drawing room. So similar to the one she’d been tortured in that she shivered. Harry must have noticed, because he patted her arm as he passed her, bending down near a dusty chair where the source of the stain began. A couple of Aurors went over to help him.

Hermione headed over to the wall on her right. The wallpaper was once either white and had turned yellow over time, or was a yellow but had faded. There were many cracks running down the wall, but there were two that stood out. A passer-by would not have noticed, she only found the lines because she had been looking. They made a rectangle shape, almost like a door.

Her fingers reached out to touch the lines when there was the sound of loud footsteps followed by the sound of something smashing.  

And then Ron, apparently having wondered out, was bursting back into the room.

“They’re here –!” was all he could get out before an Auror who was closest to him pulled him out of the way before a green jet of light collided into the doorframe, sending bits of wood flying.

No second later were a group of Death Eaters rushing into the room, and before Hermione could even blink spells were being hurled across the room, flashing everything into multicoloured lights. She heard incantations being shouted, curse words, grunts. When she looked at her right she saw a mirror smash and shatter into a million pieces. When she looked left she saw one of the young Aurors who’d talked to her in the woods fall to the ground motionless. When she looked straight ahead she saw Harry battling a very large Death Eater, and saw another Death Eater sneaking up behind him.

“Expelliarmus!” she shouted.

The Death Eater whirled around, furious. “Well, look who it is!” he spat. “Double crossing little bitch! You’re ‘ere for him, aren’t ya?”

She stumbled as someone crashed into her arm, but did not back down and stared at his silver mask.

He snorted, an awful, pig-like sound. “You’re gonna love what we’ve done to him.” Hermione ducked as a spell was fired her way, and then raised her wand higher. She did not say anything. “Not that’s there’s must left to him anymore.”

“Impedimenta,” she snarled. The man fell backwards into a pile of wood that was once a coffee table, and then Hermione was moving again.

Someone ran into her back. She gained her balance and turned, wand at the ready, only to come face to face with Ron.

“Hermione,” he said urgently before she could speak. “You’ve got to find Malfoy.”

“No –”

“It’s our job to do this. You don’t need to be here –”

“No, Ron, you don’t understand. Greengrass isn’t here.”

“So?” he asked impatiently, shooting a spell at a Death Eater nearby.

“Duck!” She grabbed Ron’s head and pulled them both down as something orange flashed over their hands and burned a hole through the wall. “Stupefy!” she shouted, and the man fell. “If Greengrass isn’t here it means he’s somewhere else. Maybe thinking of a plan to escape or –”

“Hermione, we’ll find him. Don’t worry about that.”

“But it’s just that he’s got to have heard the commotion going on up –”

“Go, will you?” Ron urged. “It’ll be okay.” And before another protest could leave her lips he had aimed a spell at someone to their right and had pushed her away.

Standing in the same spot was suicide. So Hermione darted across the room to the strange cracks she’d found earlier, as she went narrowly dodging and clumsily aiming spells over her shoulder. Glancing behind her, she saw that everyone was too distracted to be paying her any mind, and she found an indent on the wall where she inserted her fingertips and pushed aside like a sliding door, quickly shutting it behind her.

She was in a small passage way now, the sounds of the battle going on outside quieter. Everything was solid stone, including the steep staircase going downwards. 

She went down the stairs quietly, and when she reached the bottom she did not cast a Lumos. The room was already bathed in a soft bluish light hanging from the low ceiling. Some corners were in complete darkness, and she blamed that for being unaware that someone else was in here.

She knew it was not Draco because he could always move silently and swiftly without being detected, like those times when she was reading and he would sneak up and scare her. Being stealthy was second nature to him. And even if everything down here did not already sound magnified, she knew she’d be able to hear the other person. Maybe it was because she thought she had the upper hand, and so that was the reason for her slip up. Or maybe it was because Nott had always had a quick hand. Whatever reason, it did not change that when she spun around to try and disarm him, her own wand flew out of her hand, rolling into a dark corner where there was no hope of retrieving it. 

Nott had stepped out of the shadows, not looking very surprised to see her. Rolling up the sleeves of his black shirt to his elbows and loosening his tie, he began strolling leisurely towards her. “Well.” His voice was soft. “Can’t say I expected to see you again so soon. You figured it out, then?”

“It was Greengrass all along,” she stated, trying to keep her voice level. But the thing was she was alone with Theodore Nott in a cellar half underground and with no wand to defend herself, and he was getting closer and closer. And she could not deny that sometimes, he really did scare her.

“You can’t say he hasn’t got a good reason for wanting the world to burn.”

“No. He doesn’t have a good reason. People lose people all the time and they don’t start murdering innocents.”

His expression turned into amusement as he twirled his wand between his long fingers, flaunting that he had one and she did not. “I’d like to see you try and tell him that.”

“Where’s Draco?” she asked, the question coming out before she could stop it.

“Ah. Draco. I’m assuming you’re here for him?”

“No, actually,” she drawled, somehow finding it within herself to be sarcastic, “I just really enjoy the company of cold-blooded killers.”

“You’ve always been a feisty one, haven’t you?” he said softly, eyes roving over her dress. “I like that in a girl.”  

She had not noticed she had been slowly backing away from him until her back hit the stone wall. She thought he would stop when he was close enough for her to touch, but instead he kept going, moving towards her until there were only inches separating them and she could feel his breath on her face.

His finger traced the length of her jaw, his head cocking to the side in childlike fascination. She pushed her body further into the wall as if she could make herself disappear into it. Nott’s left palm rested on the bit of wall beside her head, caging her in on that side, while his other hand let the tip of his wand travel from her neck down to the valley between her breasts.

He leaned in, his lips pressed against her cheek as he whispered, “I wonder, what do you think he’d do if I touched you?”

“Kill you,” came a second voice.

There was a sickening crunch as something hard connected with the back of Nott’s head, and he collapsed to the ground.

The stone that Draco was holding rolled out of his hand. His body fell forwards as Hermione rushed over to him, catching him as they both sank to the floor. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close to her, like a child. She knew she should not feel so relieved, not yet because they were not out, but she could not stop the smile that tugged at her lips.

The smile faded when he remained still in her embrace and felt him tremble against her. She pulled back to look at him. 

The first thing Hermione saw was the blood; endless amounts of it, covering Draco’s shirt in large blotches. Every bit of exposed skin had hundreds of cuts, some deeper than others. His clothes were torn and ripped in places; dirt was smudged in with some of his wounds. His eyes were not focused and every now and then his body would lurch slightly, the remnants of being tortured too long. And his skin was so cold and sweaty, and what relief she’d felt was swallowed up by intense fear.

She cupped his face with her own shaky hands, bushing his dirty fringe from his eyes. “Draco,” she whispered.

“It’s okay, Granger,” he said weakly. “I’m fine.”

“Yes. You’re fine,” she agreed, because the possibility that he would not be fine was something she could not think about or admit. “But we need to get you out of here.”

Hermione lifted Draco’s arm to snake her own arm around his waist, and that was when she saw the bright, bloody mess on his left forearm. Where the Dark Mark was, a large X was cut into his flesh. She could feel Draco’s gaze on her, watching, because this meant they both knew what it felt like to have a Death Eater cut into your arm. But she knew that he would not want her to mention it right now. Pretending she had not seen and using a great deal of effort she did not think she would be capable of if it weren’t urgent, she heaved them both up to standing. 

There was brief moment where she thought she might actually get Draco out of here safely, that he would not have to suffer anymore tonight so long as she found her wand to cast a disillusionment charm. But no sooner had the moment came than was Nott standing up once more with his wand pointing right at Draco, and she made a very quick decision.

She turned the both of them on the spot, using her body to cover Draco’s, and Nott’s curse hacked into her shoulder. The force of it made her shove into Draco, causing him to fall into the wall, and then she was crying out from the sudden intensity of the pain, feeling blood dribble down the length of her arm, and gritted her teeth to stop herself from making any more noise.

Draco had only just stepped out from around Hermione and started his way ferociously towards Nott, to do what without his wand she didn’t know, when there was a shout from above, making the three of them freeze, their eyes up on the ceiling.

“Nott?” another Death Eater was saying. “You in there?”

Hermione stumbled backwards until her back found the wall. Her hand clutched at her arm, not daring to touch her shoulder. Warm, crimson liquid oozed over her fingers as she tipped her head upwards. Closed her eyes. Breathed deeply.

And like that, it was suddenly over. All was left was for Theodore to call up to his friend. She could not curse him because if there were no reply the Death Eater would come looking for him, and find them in the cellar.

This was it. The end. Despite her best efforts, she would not be getting them out alive. Draco was in no state to make any grand escapes, and her wand arm was damaged enough to make her spell casting dodgy at best. In minutes Death Eaters would in here, taking them by force to wherever Greengrass was. She did not want to think about what would happen to her, but she hoped they would not put Draco through any more pain. She did not think he could take much more.

Perhaps if she weren’t so aware of the stinging in her shoulder she would have screamed. In anger, in frustration, because the battle of Hogwarts was supposed to be the last time she ever went through something like this. But as it was, she was sore and exhausted. And so she merely kept her eyes closed and waited.

Only, three seconds turned into ten without a response. The Death Eater called out again, his voice right outside the door this time. “Nott?”

She felt the air stir as he passed her, heard his footsteps go up the stairs, heard the door slide open.

Seconds turned into minutes.

Then, she heard the door close again, listened to his footsteps, was confused to hear only one pair.

She opened her eyes and looked at Theodore. He was staring at the ground as he went, expression almost pained, and she could tell he was going through some kind of internal struggle.

“Theodore?” Draco asked cautiously, seemingly understanding something. 

Nott dragged his gazed to meet Draco’s, looking as though he’d rather do anything else than meet his eye. His whole body was tense now.

“Leave,” he said quietly, his eye blazing and face very serious.

It took a second longer for her brain to register what was happening, and when it did she eased away from the wall, her eyes wide and mouth parted. 

“What –?”

“Leave! Go!” he hissed, and she thought he would have yelled it had it not meant giving away their position. “I told him you weren’t conscious but I don’t think he believed me as much as he should have. They still don’t trust me after –”

“After you helped me in the alley,” Draco finished.

“I didn’t help you!” he snapped. “I let them torture you first, remember?”

“You weren’t even awake, remember?” Draco retorted. “You knocked them out so I could get away, if that’s not helping then –”

“It doesn’t matter now!” he said impatiently. “What matters is that they’re going to come back eventually, and you need to be gone when that happens.”

“Why?” Draco moved closer to his former friend. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because when Daphne died, it left a hole I thought I could fill by being here. But no amount of times I’ve tortured, helped murder, kidnapped, made death threats haven’t filled that gap. So now I’m going to do the only thing that feels right, and that’s to get you out of here. And to do that, you’re going to have to run.” He picked Hermione’s wand from the ground and tossed it to her.

Hermione could do nothing more than stare. In disbelief, confusion, awe, because of all the tings she’d thought would happen tonight, having Theodore suddenly switch sides was not one of them.

Her mouth had opened to speak of its own accord. “Why were you in here with Draco?”

“Because I… couldn’t be in the same room while they tortured him. When they were finished I had no idea what had happened, so I sought him out. And then you came.” 

“How noble,” she said bitterly. “Wait until the damage’s already been done then you go and see if he’s dead.”

Nott dropped his gaze, his jaw tensed.

A few more seconds passed. A loud boom was heard from above.

“You do know they’ll kill you once they find out you let us go,” Draco said slowly.

Theodore gave a distant shrug, and later she would find it sad that someone could think so little of their life. “What’s there left for me outside these walls? Daphne’s dead, Pansy’s with Blaise, Blaise hates me. There’s nothing but Azkaban and a lifetime of being hunted by Death Eaters. They don’t take traitors lightly, you should know.”

“That’s doesn’t –”

“Draco,” he said, and his annoyance was gone, replenished by exasperation. ‘You’re wasting time. Go now before I change my mind.”

Draco did not move, at first. Then reluctantly, he took a step back. Turned around. Started to leave, had almost reached Hermione when he turned back.

“Come with us.”

She was not sure she had heard the words right, and perhaps this crossed Theodore’s mind too, because he did not answer right away. “What?”

“Come with us,” he repeated. “You can leave, right now. Granger, you okay with this?”

Far too bewildered with everything, it took a little longer than it should have for her to realise he was addressing her. And longer after that for her to lift her gaze enough to meet his.

He was asking whether or not it was okay for them to bring along someone who, up until a few minutes ago, she had viewed as a threat to their lives, while they themselves were not entirely out of harms way either. She looked him over, wondering if maybe all those hours of torture had done more than physical damage. Except, as she did this, she took note of just how badly he was hurt. The angry purple gash on one of his cheeks, the swollen eye, the busted lip, the dry blood from his nose. The way he was not standing quite as upright as he should’ve been. The uneven rise and fall of his chest. And it really, properly dawned on her then that that could have been her, had he not intervened. She felt her face soften. He had just gone through hours of agony all for her, just so that she could have Ron back. After all he had done for her tonight, how could she doubt his judgement? She trusted Draco, and he trusted Theodore, and she decided that if that was the case, then she would have to trust him too. 

When she nodded her consent, Draco’s expression, which had been uncertain and imploring as if afraid she might refuse him, lightened. Only briefly, but it was enough for her to see.

“Well?” Draco asked, turning back to Theodore.

Theodore nodded slowly, eyes on Hermione, then Draco. “Okay.”  

***

She ignored Draco’s irritated mumbling that he was cable of standing himself, that he could walk just fine. Because while she knew that he could stand and walk just fine, she did not think he could run, lest the situation was called for. Perhaps Draco realised this too, because when she wounded her arm around him, he stopped fussing, and allowed for her to settle his body comfortably beside hers.

They headed for the stairs, Theodore in front. He slid it open and gradually moved outside. His attention was fixed ahead, calculating and intense, keeping out a close eye.

They had spent a few minutes figuring out how they were going to do this, how they were going to get from one side of the battle to the other alive.

Hermione’s first idea was a disillusionment charm, as it had been from the start. But Nott had looked at her with a scepticism she didn’t like, his gaze flickering to her wounded shoulder.

“If you can clench your fist into a ball, then we can do that,” he had told her.

She tried. Tired several times. In the end she’d made a ball with her hand, but this small victory did not conceal the way her face was screwed up in pain, or the way she suddenly had to unclench her hand because it just hurt too badly. Nott’s face had changed into something she could not place until he stepped in closer proximity, and she identified it as regret.

“Sorry. About your arm.” He paused. Started again. “I’m sorry about everything, actually.”

“I’ll tell you what,” she said after a moment. “If you get Draco out of here alive, I’ll accept your apology.”

The corner of his mouth twitched in what might or might not have been a smile. “Deal.”

After that, they had scraped the idea of a disillusionment charm, and instead decided to follow Theodore’s plan, which was to run along the outskirts. To just keeping moving and not stop until they’d reached the end. It was something she would have argued with at any other time, but right now, with her wand arm damaged and Draco in no condition to hold up in a fight, she was desperate, and it seemed like the only way.

And so now here they were, slowly moving out of the cellar.

From around Theodore’s shoulder, Hermione got the first glimpse of the battle since she’d left it. The explosion they’d heard earlier had been one of the walls in the drawing room, positioned opposite to where they were standing now. The fight had spread out, half indoors – what was left of it, anyway – half outdoors in the rain, which was falling heavy now, frequent flashes of lightning and spells illuminating the scene. And the scene was not a pretty one. Debris covered the ground, the once-great chandelier had fallen, glass scattered over the floor, wood from the explosion, broken furniture, parts of the ceiling that had crumbled down. Bodies, saturated in blood. Some groaning in agony. Others not moving at all.

She scanned the area for a sight of Harry or Ron, but everything was chaos, and everyone was moving so fast, and with the darkness it was hard to tell Death Eater from Auror, and Theodore was tugging at her good arm, saying that it was time to go.

He stayed in front, shielding, as they darted to the side. But even though they were not in the midst, spells still soared their way. Some missing only by inches, others managing to snag the back of her dress. She could feel Draco trying to keep as much of his weight as possible off her, but he staggered a couple of times as they went, causing Hermione to almost lose her balance more than once. She did not stop, stopping meant attracting attention, and just as they neared the exit, the entire wall exploded as a purple jet of light smashed into it.

The explosion had her stumbling, dropping her to her hands. But she kept going, pushing forward to get back up, pulling Draco hastily with her as Theodore came back for them, helping Draco righted himself, and then they were running. Faster this time, because the explosion had caused the exit to be blocked by rubble, and the other wall that had already been demolished was a clear way, only that meant they would have to get closer to the battle.    

They were not so fortunate this time. While some spells barely touched them, others not only singed clothing, but also caught some of them on the arms, legs, back. A particular nasty one got the side of Hermione’s face, had her clutching it with her free hand in pain as dark liquid oozed out. She knew a couple had gotten Draco as well, she felt it when he faltered beside her, and she knew Theodore had gotten the worst, him still shielding them and leading he way. At some point a Death Eater, apparently recognising him, stepped forward tauntingly, tried saying something, but Theodore had him on the ground within seconds, and they were going again.

They went around the side of the building, putting a good distance between them and the fight. And finally, finally, they were far and safe enough as they could be given the current circumstances. She let go of Draco and rested him against an outer wall, his face grimaced in pain.

“What’s wrong?” Theodore demanded as Draco’s hand flew to his chest.

“It just… feel’s weird,” he said, and his voice was distant and quiet.

Theodore kneeled beside him, pressing his own palm to Draco’s chest, searching for damage. Hermione stood further away, not bringing herself to sit. She was panting, sweaty, bleeding and dirty and soaked from the downpour, but she wasn’t done yet. She had not seen Harry or Ron once, and she had to find them.

She was going to tell Theodore exactly that, but that was the moment a piercing, agonising sharp pain sliced through her, had her spine curving against the affliction and the hot burning wave that followed. The sound that left her was a strangled one, not really a gasp and not really a moan.

The pain was coming from above her hip, and she had not even realised her hand was grasping the wound until she lifted her palm away and it came back bloody. And then she saw the knife that was lodged into her, buried so deep that all she could see was the silver handle and an unfamiliar hand holding it firmly in place.

Dark blood, so dark that it looked near black, blossomed from where the blade was wedged, like a flower blooming in fast motion, contrasting strongly with the soft colouring of her gown. She did not know she was falling forwards until a strong forearm wrapped itself around her neck, pulling her back into a chest that was foreign to her. The ground was fuzzy – everything was. She lifted her eyes to Draco and Theodore; saw the latter move forwards only to be thrown onto his back, head smashing into the brick wall. Draco was standing, was yelling something, his face contorted, but she could only hear bursts, and she could not make sense of what was happening.

“– see this?” said a voice very close to her ear. “This is what it feels like to see the one you love in pain.” A sturdy hand cupped her chin when her head lolled against his shoulder, keeping her head straight, and she was staring right into Draco, but not really seeing him. “This is what it feels like to hear the one you love scream.” And then the knife was being twisted inside of her, and she felt it scape against bone, and a scream tore through her throat, and then another as he twisted it again, and the one after that as he plunged it in deeper left her throat raw. She thrashed and convulsed against him, was sure she was going to be sick, her body jerking and limps seizing into place. She just wanted it to stop, just wanted it out of her, because she could feel every inch of blade that was inside of her.

He was saying something more, and she saw vaguely Draco try and run forward, but something stopped him, and he couldn’t, but he was yelling and more furious than she had ever seen him. Except everything was blurry again, distorted, and suddenly she felt very far away, like this wasn’t happening to her at all. The pain slipped away, and she could not feel anything anymore other than the cloud seeping over her vision and the gentle pull of her consciousness giving way.

“– is what it feels like to see the one you love die,” were the next words she made out.

Everything went dark, perhaps longer than it seemed, and when Hermione opened her eyes again it was only because there was another tidal wave of scorching pain, a sickening moment as she felt the dagger leave her body. She thought that was what she wanted, but it hurt so fucking much, and she was falling forwards again, her palms catching herself before she could fall face first. She vomited then, body heaving and trembling and heard the sound of bone breaking somewhere, of shouts, saw flashes of light, but then she rolled herself to lay on her back and the blinding pain came back and for a moment she was immune to everything but the torment in her side.

“Draco, Draco, Draco,” she could hear someone saying soothingly over the ringing in her ears. Theodore? “It’s over. Stop. Draco, stop! It’s okay. He’s out. It’s finished.”    

She stared up at the night sky, a tinge of pink in the horizon signalling dawn. Droplets of rain hit her face. Movement to her right. Shuffling, and then someone fell beside her.

She rolled her head over to see Draco, also staring up at the sky, his chest rising and falling rapidly, body shaking from using what little energy he’d had. There was more blood on him than she remembered, and she watched it pool between them, his mixing with hers, and she saw that there really was no difference at all. Pure-blood. Mudblood. It was all the same, and would always be the same.

He turned his head to look at her. Their eyes connected. “Did I do good?” was all he asked. His voice was quiet, close to a whisper, but she somehow heard it. She did not need to wonder what he was really asking. Tonight, Draco had been as brave as he could be, proving that he was no longer the boy who left a defenceless girl, or the boy who complained for months over a Hippogriff scratch, or even the scared teenager who let Death Eaters into Hogwarts. Tonight was the night he showed that he could be better, and Hermione knew he had it in him all along.

“You did great,” she answered, the words coming out as a tangled mess, but she thought he understood anyway.

Her teeth chattered, and a coldness filled her veins. Her body was still convulsing from time to time, or maybe she was just shivering. She didn’t know anymore. But it was becoming increasingly different to keep her eyes open, and her breaths felt shallow and strange in her chest. And all too quickly she felt herself slipping away again, to a place where it did not hurt so much.

Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she knew no more.   

________________________________________

I haven't quite finished the next chapter. I know, all this time and you'd think I'd be several chapters ahead by now. It's not that I have writer's block or anything, I just haven't been able to write at all this week for some reason. It's been a bit hectic lately, so maybe that's why. But I thought I should post something, plus it's extra long so hopefully that'll help you forgive me ^.^

This chapter is dedicated to ElegantSwan because she remembered that it was my birthday a few days ago. She checked my Tumblr and stuff but I still think it was pretty extraordinary remembering it was in October at all. Some of my friends can't even do that hahah. So yes, that should also give you all another reason to forgive me :D I cannot believe it's been a year since I posted the chapter where Draco and Hermione finally kissed. Time is too fast.   

Aside from all that, HERMIONE JUST GOT FREAKING STABBED. ARE YOU OR ARE YOU NOT FLIPPING YO SHIT. Again, remember before you yell at me that it WAS my birthday. Haha that should offer me some protection, right?