Disclaimer: The story is mine. The characters and places in it belong to JKR.
A/N: No flames, please.
He found her lying on the ground when the battle was over.
He was walking around aimlessly, eyes fixed on nothing and everything, when he caught the glimpse of an arm behind a bush close to the Dark Forrest. He'd seen enough bodies and wasn't exactly keen to discover yet another one, so he would have walked on had he not in the very last moment seen the bracelet adorning her delicate, pale wrist. It was made of small wooden pearls, red and green ones.
He'd joined the Order mere weeks before the Final Battle. He'd been so tired of everything, he even accepted the humiliation of begging them for shelter and protection. The first thing he'd seen there was a small girl, maybe seven years old, with bouncing chocolate curls wearing that bracelet. She'd ran to her sister, who had regarded him with a frown, but greeted him nonetheless.
Eight days later little Helena was dead. They found her body after she'd wandered off. Hermione had always blamed herself for the death of her sister.
He hurried over to the unconscious girl on the dirty ground. Her heavy hair was lying in a small puddle of blood. He stepped closer and crouched down, after a moment of hesitation checking her vital signs, then calling for help.
He sat by her as she lay on her bed in St Mungo's. He was the only one present when she woke up.
Her parents had been killed a long time before she's lost her sister. Her friends were gone, too, taking the Dark Lord with them as they died in a gigantic explotion. Not many were left and those who were still alive had other people to care about and to mourn than her.
She was the only one who had noone. Just like him.
So he waited. And she woke up after two days of his gentle care.
Her smile told him everything, the way she'd look right through him as if he didn't exist. The way she wouldn't react, wouldn't talk, seemingly lost in her own little world. She'd hum songs he didn't recognize, laugh a childish, innocent laugh. She'd get out of bed when he helped her and they'd take a walk and he'd hold her close as she smiled.
Hermione Granger. The brightest witch of all times. Irreversible brain damage.
They asked him whether he knew anyone who'd take care of her. He said he would.
Years later, they could still be seen walking the renewed grounds of Hogwarts where he was working as a Potions Master. Sometimes they'd just sit there and her head would rest on his shoulder. He'd stroke her hair and talk to her while she'd hum songs he didn't recognize.
And some day, she took his hand, without looking at him. He carressed her delicate, pale wrist adorned with a bracelet made of small wooden pearls, red and green ones. She offly said:
"I love you, Draco..."
And while he just sat there with tears in her eyes, she smiled and breathed for the last time.
Years later he could still be seen wandering the grounds of Hogwarts. Sometimes he'd just sit there, his eyes fixed on nothing and everything.
He had noone.
He was found lying on the ground when his sad existence was over.