When We Were Beasts

End of Beginning

"How are you feeling?" His throat bobbed as he swallowed. His silver eyes didn't stop darting over every inch of her. Her fingers twitched with the urge to console him. She pushed them into the sheets.

"I'm alright," She answered, her voice hoarse. "Is there any water?"

"One second."

While Malfoy stood to fetch the pitcher of water on a table across the space, Hermione took in her surroundings.

They were in an igloo.

A massive one. An igloo with a large fur covered bed, two tables with three chairs each, and... a Wishing Well, in the center.

Over the lid of the Well was a pair of glowing eyes that brightened when Hermione's own gaze met them.

Weakly, Hermione waved and gave her a small smile. Wishing Wells were very rare, and she'd only ever read about them in the most ancient of books. None existed in Europe or Oceania, and the ones in Asia, Africa, or the America's were so well hidden that no one knew where they were.

At Hermione's wave, the nymph giggled before splashing back under the surface.

Malfoy snorted. "Ignore her. That's what I've been doing for the past three days."

Hermione started. "Did you say three days?"

Malfoy sat on the edge of the bed before handing the ice cold glass of water to Hermione. And damnit, if it wasn't the best thing she'd ever consumed.

Malfoy's mouth twitched up at watching her unabashedly guzzle water before he remembered her question.

"Yes. That's how long you've been...healing."

Hermione wiped the water off of her chin with two fingers.

"Healing from what, exactly?"

All of her memories felt just out of reach, like they were seconds away from jumping off of the tip of her tongue.

Malfoy looked at the ground, his hands in tight fists.

His hair was a mess, like he'd been tugging on it endlessly. There were purple shadows under his eyes, and his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, exposing his Dark Mark and Perseverance Rune.

"The Death Eaters, il mio leone. They came for you and gave you the Kiss. It...broke your soul." Hermione's blood turned cold as he cleared his throat. "I managed to banish them, and I brought you to the next room, which was here. Thank Merlin I got us out of the snow and into this place, which happened to house a Wishing Well. I tried to wish us home, but she said that was the one request the Dark Lord banned her from granting. So I asked her for what I needed the most: for her to heal you. It took both of our wishes - sorry about that - but...it seemed to work." He finally looked up at her then. "Did it work, Granger?"

It did.

Hermione remembered it all: the cold Kiss from the dementor, the way it felt like her heart was being pulled out of her chest and up through her throat, only for it to crumble like glass when Malfoy blasted the dreadful creature away. The feel of his arms around her as he held her, the tears streaming down her face when she freed him, the cold determination as he let his patronus rage free...

She remembered the way he said her name. Hermione. Like it was an invisible string that tethered him to her.

Hermione did not remember what it felt like to heal her soul, but something inside her told her she was better off not remembering.

"You saved me." Hermione whispered. "Why did you save me?"

His voice was hoarse. "Because I cannot lose you."