Saving the Enemy

Chapter 17

Hermione

    Hermione looks into Draco’s eyes right before the spell is muttered. Tears are blocking her vision but she can see the acceptance in his eyes, the acceptance of death.

    “Sectumsempra,” the hooded figure whispers but Hermione is focused on the blood forming along Draco’s chest. She sees him wince slightly but he keeps gazing steadily into her eyes. Her heart is being pulled, as if it wants to escape out of her chest, but it can’t. She wants someone to rip it out, to end her misery right now as she sees the shackles fall to the ground, the eye-contact broken. He falls to the ground and Hermione screams in horror.

    She feels rage filling her, her mind set on Draco. His body on the ground, but the figure must pay. Her love is suffering and on his deathbed because of them. The anger consumes her, the fire burning through her body releases as she removes her shackles wordlessly. She somehow uses nonverbal spells to release the wand from the figure and stuns them before they can react. She knows it is weak, but she can’t do much right now as her mind shifts to Draco, the figure temporarily dealt with.

    She rushes over to his side, kneeling down in the pool of blood surrounding him so she can see his face. His breaths are short and she can see the life leaving him slowly.

    “Hermione,” she hears him whisper, and she brushes some of his hair from his face. She tries to shush him, but he continues. “I-I want to ask, before I die, I want to know-”

    “No, you’re not going to die!” she calls but he continues as if she hasn’t spoken.

    “-if you will be mine forever. I want to know, if you will marry me, Hermione. I know I don’t have a-a ring o-or the ability t-to k-kneel down but-t I can ask. W-w-will you...marry me,” he gasps out.

    “Yes, Draco, of course. I love you,” she cries, tears falling down her face as he smiles up at her, his hand reaching her hair to caress her face. She remembers the spell to heal this wound, that she had read up on in the restricted section, in that moment. She hastily grabs the wand that performed the spell that harmed him and murmurs a countercurse.

    “Vulnera Sanentur.”

    Hermione can see the blood begin to seep back into his body but she is so weak. The spell only half works, even after several incantations. Blood is still seeping out of the wound, but it is significantly better. She sees Draco’s eyes shut as he must have fallen unconscious. She knows he is alive, barely alive due to the shallow rise and fall of his chest, but he needs to be taken to a hospital.

    Hermione summons the remaining strength she has in her to apparate them, knowing that is the fastest way, now that she has a wand with her she can do so.

    She appears in the middle of St. Mungo’s holding a bloodied Draco and as this realization hits the bystanders, the bustling and chatter halts, their eyes wide and mouths gaping. She knows she is a mess with blood covering her, both from Draco and the wound on her forehead. She doesn’t care though, doesn’t care that she is probably a mess with tears and scrapes from digging against the cement trying to escape.

    “Help,” she whispers before blackness consumes her vision from the lack of strength once she knows Draco will be cared for. She has done all she can for now.

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Hermione awakes with a start, panic hitting her but she has no idea as to why. She looks down in confusion to see she is dressed in a plain white gown in a white bed, a white hospital bed.

            Hermione gasps as the memories come flooding in. He heart races, becoming pained in longing to see him, to know that he is okay. She needs to see Draco.