Would You Like A Hand?

8 | not

Hermione didn't have any sense of time. How long had it been since Draco had stopped talking to her and gone to sleep?

At least, tried to sleep; she wasn't sure if he was still awake or not.

She figured it must have been a couple hours now and that she should let him take his watch like he wanted, but she sat in her chair, debating whether she should or not. After a fairly long while (or what she thought was long; it could've been short), Hermione decided on a compromise.

She stood up and walked over to him silent as a ghost (being silent was practically second nature to her, as it should be for any survivors out there).

"Draco," she called quietly, and his eyes opened immediately. If he had been sleeping, he was a light sleeper. Hermione wasn't surprised. Who could sleep in this world? She said in explanation, "Second watch."

"I'm surprised you actually woke me up for it," he swung his legs off the couch and stood up, stretching as he did.

"In return," she started, "I want you to wake me up every hour."

He threw a questioning look her way, but she proceeded to settle on his couch without further explanation. Shrugging, Draco walked over to the kitchen and sat in one of the chairs.

He looked around for a clock, but didn't see any near him. He wouldn't have trusted it anyway. Counting the seconds in his head, he turned his gaze outside, through the glass back door. The sheer curtain that hung over it had been torn in various places, allowing Draco to look through the holes for a small but clear view.

It wasn't hard to stay awake; he might've been tired, but no one wanted to sleep in this world. Especially when no one around you was trustworthy - he remembered wondering how it was that humans, whether they were a Muggle or not, had fallen so low. Draco had seen some disturbing things in the last few weeks or so that he had been traveling.

He tried not to think about it.

If this world were ever to be saved, everyone would have to start over. He wondered if it was even possible anymore - sure, they could go and take out Voldemort (if the Boy Who Lived was still alive), but then what? He didn't know how far this undead fiasco had spread, but everywhere that it had gotten to would be left with devastation and despair.

Because the undead had been risen by a spell, it was widely assumed that killing Voldemort would put them back to rest - his magic was keeping them alive, so if his magic disappeared, the undead should stop walking as well.

Fuck.

Draco had lost count of the seconds and minutes.

It wasn't surprising; counting down an hour was hard. He guessed that it had been almost half an hour. Then, he went back to counting.

It was a slow process. The night crawled on, and it really didn't help that he had to count down the hours.

When the time finally came to check on Hermione (or at least, what he thought was time to check), Draco looked over at her still form on the couch from his seat and said, "Granger."

From how exhausted she was beforehand, Draco had assumed that she would have passed right out and wouldn't hear him, but after a short pause, he heard her say quietly, "Thank you."

From her clear voice, he knew she hadn't slept. He said sternly, "Sleep."

She didn't reply after that, and he hoped that she really would sleep this time, even if just a little bit. He couldn't have the brightest witch of their age dying on him - if anyone could survive, she could, along with Potter.

And yet... He didn't even know if Potter was alive.

Draco watched his new ally a little longer, wondering again how she came to be alone.

She hadn't even known she was in Muggle London.

The rest of the night went by without incident; Draco continued to wake Hermione up about every hour, as she had requested. The second time he woke her up, it seemed she did fall asleep, and he was glad.

And even though he'd rather let her just sleep the whole night through, she had woken him for second watch like he'd asked. The least he could do was grant her request - especially because he couldn't save her and her friends at the Malfoy Manor so long ago.

Because of the scar on her arm.

Because Harry had saved him before, too.

Twice.

And he hated it, but he knew he owed the Golden Trio his life.

He tried not to think about it.