remember me [dramione] ✔️

Chapter 41 || Year 6

Hermione's POV-

I sat across from Harry in our common room, Ron sitting next to me, Ginny on my other side. I was glaring at Harry, no sympathy running through me as I watched his regretful face.

I was so angry at him for what he did, I almost wanted to throw a whole bunch of hexes at him, but I refrained myself from doing so, because I knew I was better than that, but it didn't stop the hatred I could feel running through me as the minutes passed.

He just sat there; his eyes gazed off in the distance. That was when I threw down the book I was holding and stood up, glaring at him as I did so, his attention being brought to me.

"Hermione, wha-"

"Don't Hermione me, Harry James Potter. You know exactly what you did wrong, but instead of doing the right thing, all you want to do is keep ahold of that bloody book that almost killed someone!" I yelled at him, cutting him off.

"You know how bad I feel for sending that curse at Malfoy, I regret it so much, you don't understand the guilt I have right-"

"This isn't about your guilt and regret-"

"Will you shut up for a minute, Hermione?" Harry shouted, causing me to immediately shut my mouth, "As I was saying, if I knew what that spell did, I wouldn't have used it. But he attacked me first Hermione, and it was a simple reflex to shout out the spell that came to my head first!"

"He was scared Harry, that's what you didn't take into account. You walked in on him when he was breaking down; when he was vulnerable. He was in a state that no one has ever seen him in before, and it was you, of all the people in the school and of all the enemies he has, it was you, Harry Potter, the boy who lived and the boy who in a way destroyed his life!" I retorted.

"Oh, so now your saying that I've destroyed his life because his dumb father couldn't do the job his dear old master set for him? He's just as much to blame as I am Hermione, and you know that in yourself," Harry said, his voice hard.

"How did you feel when Ron almost died in the apparent hands of Draco Malfoy? Well Malfoy has friends too, and how do you think they would feel knowing that their best friend died in the hands of Harry Potter, all because his head is too big from some stupid, fatal potions book he found and won't give up!" I spat.

"Oh give it a rest would you, Hermione!" Ginny yelled suddenly, giving me one of her Weasley glares.

But instead of shutting up and sitting down, I turned around and stormed to the door of the common room, turning around when I had my hand on the door itself.

"I don't even know who you are anymore," I muttered angrily, looking at Harry and Ginny, not bothering to spare Ron a glance, storming out of the room and into the cold hallway.

I could feel my face burning with anger as I tried to keep myself calm and not smash the statues and paintings lining the corridors. I snuck into the hospital wing, making sure I wasn't caught by Madam Pomfrey or Filch, especially because it was past curfew.

I walked over to his bed, kneeling down beside it. His currently silver eyes locked with mine for a few seconds before he returned his gaze to the ceiling. He had a single a single scar on his cheek, the red line contrasting with his pale skin.

He looked so peaceful in that moment, despite everything going on. I looked at his bandaged body; his chest, red from the scars, exposed. Each of them were long and jagged and all I wanted to do was kiss each one to make it better, but the world we live in was definitely no fantasy. 

"How are you feeling?" I asked in a whisper.

"Like shit." He sighed, turning his head to look at me.

"And these?" I questioned, tracing one of his scars on his stomach with my finger lightly.

"Hurts like a bitch." He winced.

I had to restrain myself from pulling out my wand and performing all the healing spells I knew just to make him better.

"I'm sorry about what he did." I mumbled.

"It's not your fault, it's just that stupid Potter wanted to be almighty once again." Draco growled.

"I've tried talking to him, telling him that you have feelings too, but he just doesn't understand," I sighed.

"It's fine, I'm fine," Was all he responded with.

"Are you fine?" I asked rhetorically, "You almost died! I don't know how I would be able to live with myself if you did."

He looked at me and gave me a small smile that never quite reached his eyes.

"I didn't though, did I? I'm still here and I'm breathing, and that's all that matters, isn't it?" Draco said quietly, looking like he was bound to break down at any moment.

"Why were you crying Draco?" I asked, grabbing his hand, ignoring the sparks I felt when he closed his fingers around mine.

"You'll soon find out." He whispered.

I nodded and rested my head on his bed, my hand still in his. I closed my eyes to stop the tears I knew were coming from slipping down my cheeks. I knew then how he must have felt when I wasn't myself and almost died how he must have felt, because now I felt it too. It's the feeling of being utterly helpless in a situation where you wish you can fix, but you know you can't.

He reached over and pushed a few stubborn strands of hair away from my face and behind my ear, the blanket dropping from his left arm, showing what I already assumed was there.

I sat up, but instead of feeling scared like I should be, I felt pain. His pain.

"Draco." I breathed, my eyes still on the jet black mark tattooed onto his skin.

He followed my gaze, and as soon as he saw what I was looking at, he quickly covered his arm under the blanket again.

"Fuck." He muttered, slamming his head back down onto the hospital wing's pillow.

"Draco, it's-"

"Go. Please." He whispered, his voice pleading.

I watched his face as I reluctantly stood up, allowing the tears I tried so hard to stop slide down my face. I watched as his face crumpled, but his intense, now dark grey eyes remained on my own.

I leant down and kissed his forehead before leaving the hospital wing, looking back one last time, seeing tears of his own cascading down his pale cheeks.