Would You Like A Hand?

13 | dreaming

Draco had tried his best to fix up his companion's injury.

The slice by her stomach had reopened and started bleeding again during their run, and the two of them had barely made it into a small bookstore before Hermione had collapsed against a wall, sliding painfully to the ground.

Draco had to do a quick perimeter check before he could tend to Hermione, but she held out fine as he ran around the bookstore, looking for traces of the undead.

Fortunately, there had only been two dead bodies (of which he'd cast Incendio on). After making sure the fire wouldn't catch on the many books and papers, he headed back to the front of the store.

When he'd reappeared before Hermione, she had already fixed the makeshift dress-bandage and somehow stopped the flowing blood.

"You've got to drink your blood-replenishing potion," the Slytherin boy told her, but she refused, shaking her head.

"I'm still okay," she had responded simply.

"You're not," he wanted to argue. He wanted her to get better because he couldn't let the brightest witch of their age die.

I can't let anyone else die.

But she didn't listen to him. Frustrated with her silence, he stood up and said, "I'll go looking for food in the shop next door."

She nodded in acknowledgement and he turned away, leaving her on the ground.

As soon as he stepped outside, Draco's frustration melted away and he realized leaving her alone was not the greatest idea.

He debated making a quick trip to grab whatever he could find, but when he observed the storefronts on either side of the quaint bookstore, he found out that neither would have any food.

A toy store stood on the left side, and the right side looked like a mess; the entire front had been smashed inward, as if a giant had kicked it apart. Random, tiny, flat boxes were strewn everywhere, various still pictures on each box.

A movie store, maybe, Draco thought to himself. He wouldn't know.

"You've never seen a movie before?" A hushed voice haunted his thoughts.

Draco went back inside the bookstore empty handed. At least they had food in their knapsacks.

He saw Hermione shakily trying to open a water bottle, and stooped down to help her brusquely.

Her mouth twitched upward. He guessed she was trying to give him a grateful smile, but it only looked like she was trying not to grimace.

He couldn't be sure either way because her eyes held no emotion.

Draco didn't have to explain to her that there wasn't any food nearby. She understood when he grabbed both their bags from beside her (he had thrown them down next to her when he did his perimeter check).

The Gryffindor witch pulled out a small package of crackers, and Draco pulled out some remaining cereal to eat dry.

It was not quite evening yet, but with Hermione's injury, Draco didn't want to keep moving.

"We're camping here tonight," he stated sternly.

She hesitated, but then asked him in a resigned voice, "Why do you care anyway - I'm the one who'll die if we get caught in a sticky situation. Not you."

Something about the way she said that sent him into a state of frozen disbelief.

In an alternate universe, he could clearly imagine himself saying that, but not Hermione.