My German equivalent of this story had been finished over 2 years ago. Now I have the time to translate all 47 chapters. I hope you will enjoy!
It's perfectly in line with the last movie but ignores Harry Potter and the deathly Hallows, since this story has been written before the release of the last book.
Thanks again to my lovely friend Lyricoloratura who decided to help me with my English. Love you, honey!
Chapter 1 to 5 will be edited in the next few days (only grammar and vocabulary, not the content)
Tell me what you think about this story!
It had been a very exhausting night. Hermione leaned her head against the mighty stonework, sighing and staring out the window at the crack of dawn.
Fog lay in the meadows of Hogwarts, and some lonely treetops of the Forbidden Forest seemed to hover like ghosts over a foggy lake. Involuntarily Hermione was reminded of the Dementors who had once stricken terror into people's hearts on the school grounds. It seemed to be a long time ago. A shiver ran down her back and she curled her arms around herself.
After Hermione's outburst of fury last night, Hagrid had admitted meekly that it hadn't been his intention at all to deter Amanda from following her friends into the battle. His excuse had been that he had strongly believed that the rearguard with the young witches and wizards would never have to go into action. He had hoped that it would raise her self-esteem to be able to say that she had been with them at least once.
Thereupon Hermione had told them Amanda's story, holding Malfoy's wand under their noses as proof. While she had been reporting in full, Hagrid had paled immensely and had tried to avoid Ron's furious gaze and Harry's admonishing eyes.
Hermione knew that Hagrid had meant no harm, but he had once again proven his occasional lack of precaution and wariness. But that was him. She smiled as she remembered Buckbeak, the Hippogriff that Hagrid once had brought to his Care of Magical Creatures lesson in their third year.
For all that he was a Hippogriff, Buckbeak had indeed been a very gentle animal and he had been living a long time at Hagrid's place after Sirius' death. But still, it would have been Hagrid's duty not to bring such a wild and potentially dangerous animal to a bunch of green pupils. Malfoy's injury had proven it, even though he had provoked it himself.
The arguments and the enmity with Draco Malfoy seemed to be a constant thread in her turbulent life. She didn't remember the amount of days she had suffered from his evil jokes and insults as a young girl. Countless times she had been sitting in the library and been crying because he had called her a mud-blood, impure, not worthy of the wizarding world.
After her sixth year in Hogwarts, Malfoy had joined the Death-eaters. Lucius Malfoy, his father, had been freed from the prison of Azkaban and the Death-eaters had regained new power.
Draco Malfoy, once sitting in the same lessons as the Trio, had become their professed enemy.
And now he lay on a bed behind her and seemed to have cheated death by a hairbreadth with her help. Even though she Malfoy disgusted her, she knew she had done right.
But soon she had realized that her promise to Amanda, that Draco would survive, had been more difficult to keep than Hermione had expected.
She returned late at night to the girls' dormitory and had found Malfoy in a dreadful state. Everywhere on his skin had been beads of sweat and although he had been still unconscious, his body had seemed to writhe with pain. Hermione had laid her hand on his forehead and had recognized that Draco had an abnormally high temperature.
Neville had come round like he had promised, but hadn't been able to help. 'It's his body temporarily rejecting the new blood forming in his veins,' he had told her. They couldn't reduce the fever by any magic because of the danger that it could lead to nasty interactions with the blood-forming potion. And that would have meant the end for the already-weakened patient.
There hadn't been anything left to do for Hermione except to cool Malfoy's overheated body with Muggle homespun remedies. So she had been sitting the whole night beside the man who had made her life Hell every time he had the chance; trying to cool down his fever with cool compresses she changed every half hour.
She had ordered Dobby to bring a big pitcher of willow bark-tea trying to dose Malfoy with the liquid regularly to encourage him to sweat more profusely and bring down his own body temperature.
When Dobby had recognized his former master's son in the Gryffindor-tower he had dropped with shock the first pitcher filled with tea to the ground, and the boiling hot liquid had scalded his feet.
Hermione had healed the house-elf's pain in no time with a wave of her wand, but only her insistent begging had convinced him to bring another pitcher with tea.
But a short time afterwards, Hermione had caught Dobby red-handed trying to empty the pitcher again early – this time on purpose. She had been able to get a hold of the handle before it slipped out of the hand of the house-elf, who had an innocent and lamb-like expression on his face. Nearly all of the boiling tea would have splashed onto Draco's chest.
Malfoy had been writhing in this life-threatening fever for hours. Once he had even opened his eyes widely and had stared at her for seconds but then had fallen back to unconsciousness with a rearing up of his body.
After hours his temperature had lowered and Hermione had fallen with a relieved sigh to the next best bed.
When she had heard the first bird chirping she had known it: Draco Malfoy had survived the night.
It had been time to make precautions that her patient wouldn't try to escape or even worse would try to kill her directly after waking up. With a spell she had tied him up to the bed with magical ropes.
This had been just a few minutes ago.
And now she was leaning against the window and watched the sunrise waiting for her patient to wake up. The beauty of the sunrise made up to her for the sleepless night. The golden light slowly blazed a trail through the fog. A Muggle-song came to her mind that she once had heard at her parents' home and she started humming quietly.
Hermione thought she heard a rustling behind her and turned around. Two silvery eyes with a bluish tint stared at her. It seemed to take a moment for Draco Malfoy to realize who she was, but then she saw how his eyes widened recognizing who stood in front of him.
Hermione smiled. To see this expression on Malfoy's face was worth saving his life. It paid back everything, every time she had cried because of him in her childhood. Apparently he wanted to say something. He opened his mouth but it closed it again without saying a word. His gaze wandered between Hermione and the ties around his hands and feet and he tried to free himself. His chest rose and fell quickly because of his useless efforts, straining his weakened body. Hermione stepped closer. Her smile grew wider as she believed she saw his eyes filling with fear.
"Welcome back to the living, Malfoy."
Hermione stepped close to the bed. With a little wave of her wand the ropes around Malfoy's ankles tightened so he wasn't able to move an inch. She knew it was time to get Harry and Ron but she wanted to enjoy the feeling of triumph just a little bit longer.
For once in his dreadful life, Draco Malfoy had to know how it felt like to be the weaker one. A sarcastic smile crossed her lips as she looked over him from head to toe. His breath was quick and shallow, his widened black pupils nearly pushed away the bluish silver of his irises. Looking at his upper body, still shirtless, she realized that his muscles were stressed near to rupture. He was a wild animal through and through, captured in a trap - and Hermione could almost hear the adrenaline rushing through his veins. But it wouldn't help him.
"I have to disappoint you, Malfoy." Hermione waved with her wand between her fingers.
"You won't be able to flee. These bonds…" she pointed at the bluish shimmering ropes "… can only be undone by a certain counter-spell. And because I have developed that spell I'm quite sure that you can't help yourself."
Draco simply stared constantly into Hermione's eyes, but didn't say a word. As she reached for him with her hand and touched the skin on his throat, he winced. Hermione smirked:
"Don't worry, Malfoy. I just want to check for your pulse."
Then she went to the portrait hole, opened it and shouted as loud as possible: "Harry! Ron! Our guest is awake now!"
Immediately she heard a sudden movement from two different corners of the Gryffindor-tower. There was a loud swearing and Hermione knew that Ron had risen from bed falling over his own feet once again. Harry instead seemed to have stayed in the common room the whole night reading and finally falling asleep. The heavy book besides him fell with a loud bang from the armrest to the ground as he stood up.
Hermione smiled thankfully. She knew Harry had tried to stay awake for her benefit- to be there for her if she had needed any help.
She imagined Harry yawning, putting his glasses on, tousling through his black messy hair and waiting for Ron, who probably stomped out of his room with a grim expression on his face.
When Ron stepped through the portrait hole, Hermione put a hand on his chest in order to bar him from attacking Malfoy. It would destroy her whole work of the last night. Ron's eyes narrowed to slits as he stared angrily at Malfoy but didn't say anything; crossing his arms he leaned against the wall.
Then Harry stepped in. Hermione had to admit that Harry made a commanding and formidable impression even though he seemed to be overtired. Harry wasn't as tall as Ron was but he had an athletic build, a quick step and the calmness of a battle-scarred man. Furthermore, he currently had a short unshorn three-day beard, the black stubble contrasting strongly with his skin. All in all Harry Potter had become a man of 27 years who really looked like the adventurer and fighter he was.
His voice was accordingly unhurried as he stepped forward to Malfoy, who had now leveled his gaze firmly on Harry.
"Good morning, Draco. How do you feel today?"
But Harry never got an answer from Draco Malfoy. Malfoy simply stared back.