A/N: Alright, alright, alright, enough freaking out already! I'm sorry I was going to end this fic! I'm sorry Alley, or Potato, or whichever one of you messaged me the other day. You didn't specify, I don't think. But either way, here's the next chapter.

Disclaimer: Give me Tom Felton or ELSE!

Chapter Fifteen: Battlefield

Hermione Granger felt like she was floating. Maybe she was. She looked around, but saw nothing but white. She tried to look down at herself, assess the damage, and shrieked. There was nothing there. She reached her hands up and touched her face, then ran her hands down her body all the way to her feet. She could feel herself, she just couldn't see herself.

It was freaking her out.

She tried to walk around, maybe find some color, or anything, but found that she couldn't even tell if she was standing or not. She picked up her foot and set it down, but wasn't sure if her foot had found solid ground or not. She could feel nothing but her soul.


Malfoy lowered his head to Hermione's chest, and sobbed, letting his tears leak onto her shirt, ignoring the battle going on around him. He seized both of her hands and held them tight. He begged her to come back to him, he begged anyone to bring her back. He just wanted her back.

He could feel his heart breaking, and thought for a moment that he would rather die than live without her. He let go of one of her hands and ran his fingertips down her smooth cheek, wishing her face wasn't so cold. Suddenly, he straightened, and scooped her into his arms.

He started walking off the battlefield, hoping against hope that no one would shoot a curse at him right now. Harry ran up to his side and looked at Hermione for a second, then back at Draco, who shook his head. Harry's face crumbled, and Draco wondered how his own face looked. If he looked like he was in that much pain.

Because no look of pain could really portray how horrible he really felt. He passed Lupin, Tonks, and Mrs. Weasley, and just shook his head as he cried.

He carried the dead body of Hermione Granger all the way to his chambers and laid her on the bed, where she had spent her last summer tending to him. He laid her head on his lap and stroked her tangled hair, refusing to just leave her for dead, even though he knew there was no hope for her.


Hermione felt herself being lifted, and heard someone crying. She wished she could see where she was, or where the crying person was, so she could help. She listened intently and realized with a pang that the person crying was Draco.

Why would Draco be crying?

And she knew. She was…dead. Her hands flew to her throat, where she clenched them and felt no pain. She lowered one hand to her chest and felt no heartbeat. She realized that the rise and fall of her chest was bringing in no air. She wasn't breathing.

Hermione suddenly wished for breath so she could scream. She opened her mouth in a silent scream and started hyperventilating, or her imitation of it, since she wasn't breathing any air. She started hitting herself on the chest, struggling to restart her heart, so she could stop Draco's pain, and see everyone one last time.

And Hermione Granger did the impossible.

She started breathing.


Draco was still crying when he heard it. Just a small sound, but enough to make him hold his breath and hope for a miracle. He stared down at Hermione, hoping with all of his being that she was about to start breathing.

He stared at her for what felt like an eternity, before he finally gave up. He hated himself for having hope. He hated himself for falling in love with her. He knew what would happen. He knew somehow she would be taken from him. But he couldn't help it. She was Hermione Granger, infuriating, annoying, and obnoxious. But he loved her. And all he wanted for the rest of his days was for her to be by his side. He would give up the Manor and all of his inheritance for her, if that would bring her back.

He suddenly vaulted himself over the bed and ran into the bathroom and threw up. He laid on the floor for a long time, hating everyone, but hating himself more.

And he heard someone cough. He ignored it, thinking it was just his imagination. But the coughing got louder, and he plugged his ears, tears falling across the bridge of his nose and onto the marble floor.

And then he heard a small, broken voice call his name. He stood tentatively, and walked slowly into his bedroom, praying. Hermione had her eyes open and she was staring at nothing, crying and coughing, calling his name in nothing more than a whisper. He ran to the bedside and stroked her face.

"Is that really you?" he asked in disbelief. "Are you really alive right now?"

Hermione nodded mutely, and sobbed, and Draco pulled her close to his chest. They stayed like that for a long time, boy and girl clinging to each other like if one loosened their grip, the other would slip away forever.

Finally, Draco pulled away. "Did you see who cursed you?" he asked her. She nodded her head, but didn't specify.

"Hermione Granger, tell me who cursed you!" Malfoy said, grabbing her shoulders.

She whispered a name so quietly that even in the echoing silence of his bedchambers, he couldn't hear.




Harry Potter was flinging curses off his wand like he had never done before. Tears had made streaks down his dirty cheeks and he gasped for breath as he Stunned a masked Death Eater. One of these wretched people had killed one of his best friends. He didn't know which, so he was just going to have to kill all of them.

Malfoy bounded down the steps to his right, and gave Harry a wry smile. "Have you seen my father anywhere?" he asked.

Harry shook his head. "Where did you take Hermione's body?" he asked.

Malfoy gave him a look full of elation and adrenaline. "She's alive, Potter." Harry gaped for a second, and Malfoy let out a maniacal laugh. "She came back to freaking life. I don't know how, but she's in my bedroom. Breathing."

He took a step away from Harry and looked around. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go kill my father."


"He's the one that cursed her Potter! I have to kill him!"

Harry just shook his head at Draco as he flew by him. Malfoys were so weird.


Lucius Malfoy was winning. He had already taken down one of the Golden Trio and was well on his way to getting a hold of another one. He was shooting curses at Ron from afar, waiting until the right moment to strike.

Suddenly, a dark figure stepped into his line of vision.

"Hello, Father," Draco said, pointing his wand straight at his heart.

Lucius just stared at his son for a second, unsure of whether to attack him or flee. Taking advantage of his hesitation, Draco Disarmed him.

"You really are an insolent little child, you know that?" Lucius said. "Give me my wand!"

Draco twirled it between his fingers and stored it in his robes. "I don't think so."

"Was Hermione Granger really that important to you, son?" Lucius asked. "That you would turn your wand on your own father? That you would give up everything you've always been taught and believed in? That you would sentence yourself to death?"

"Yes. Yes she is," Draco said, raising his wand a little. "Was Hermione Granger really that important that you would try to rape her? That you would impersonate a Weasley? That you would sentence yourself to death, Father?"

"I did no such –"

"Avada Kedavra!"

A/N: Alright, it wasn't that long or that good. Whatever. :P