A Second Chance: [Draco/Hermione]
Title: A Second Chance
Author: heron_advocate / trevorskeeper
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Draco/Hermioneish
Character(s): Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger
Summary: Hermione has learned a thing or two from Dumbledore.
Prompt(s): 17 - 'safe' for lions_serpents and 17 'absolution' of the 100 themes. :)
Word Count: 782
A/N: For simply_strange and all D/Hrs on my FList. I'm not sure how good my grip of Draco is, but...I tried. XD
When Draco awoke, he didn't open his eyes right away.
He only noticed one thing - it didn't hurt anymore.
Maybe I've died, he thought, still not opening his eyes. Surprisingly, the thought didn't bother him too much. It was almost comforting.
After all, death was the inevitable result after betraying the Dark Lord. He was bound to face it sooner or later. And the more he was tortured, the better and better "sooner" seemed to look.
He was just beginning to accept that he'd died when he heard the unmistakable echo of footsteps nearby. He tried to jerk himself up from his lying position, but his body protested adamantly, and his head slammed back down against the pillow it had been resting on.
So, the pain wasn't really gone. But now it was more of a soreness than anything else.
Now that he was fully awake, he looked around. He was lying on a bed - a real bed - it seemed like it had been ages since he'd last seen a bed. Other than that, the room was mostly bare, except for a small table next to the bed, on which rested a glass of water.
He was definitely not in the dungeons he'd been barely surviving in for the last few months. But, then - where was he?
He jerked up the hem of his untucked shirt hastily, ignoring the painful protests of his still-recovering body. He let out a sigh of relief when he noticed that the large wound on his stomach was gone. There wasn't even a scar remaining. Draco marveled for a moment; few Healers had that much skill.
As the footsteps drew nearer, he searched his clothes frantically, hoping to find his wand. Or any wand, really. He wasn't feeling choosy. By the time he realized that he had none, the door had begun to creep open. He thought of pretending to be unconscious, but at the rate his heart was beating, he couldn't possibly pull it off. So he awaited his fate with bated breath.
His mouth fell open in shock when the figure slipped in the door, easing it closed as if not to disturb its occupant.
It was Granger.
She turned around, balancing a tray in one arm. She hesitated briefly when she realized he was awake, but she gave no indication of her intentions. She approached his bedside, placing the tray gingerly on the table. On it was a bowl, a spoon, and a few small, corked bottles. He cocked an eyebrow as she drew her wand, pausing for a moment, as if to think.
With a flick of her wrist, she conjured a chair, settling into it before turning her gaze to him, her expression unreadable.
"You should eat something," she said after a few long moments of silence, gesturing towards the tray. He stared at it warily. Truthfully, he was starving. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. Still, he hesitated. He wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of seeing him shovel down food. He had more pride than that.
She looked at him expectantly. When he still didn't move, she spoke. "You've been sleeping for three days," she said evenly. Her voice was calm, emotionless, as if she were trying to control it.
"What am I doing here, Granger?" he asked bluntly. His tone didn't seem to bother her at all; she seemed distant. He didn't think that she'd heard him, at first, but then she turned towards him.
"You helped Harry," she said simply.
Draco scoffed. "Not everything is about Potter, you know. I didn't do it for him."
She locked her gaze on him. Her eyes seemed so eerily empty; he looked away quickly, feeling his insides begin to turn.
"It doesn't matter. You still--"
"Am I being held here?" he interrupted.
"You can leave whenever you want. But you can stay as long as you want, as well."
"Why would I want to stay here?" he asked with disdain, glancing around at his meager surroundings.
Hermione shrugged. "It might not look like much, but it is safe."
Safe. That was a feeling he hadn't felt in a while. Not since mother... Draco cut his thoughts off there, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat and trying to ignore the way his eyes were blurring.
"Why are you helping me, Granger?" he asked suddenly. "I've done more against you than I've done for you."
Hermione didn't answer right away. She stood up, making the chair disappear with a flick of her wrist.
"It's a little something I picked up from Dumbledore," she said wistfully, looking thoughtful. "Everyone deserves a second chance."
Author: heron_advocate / trevorskeeper
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Draco/Hermioneish
Character(s): Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger
Summary: Hermione has learned a thing or two from Dumbledore.
Prompt(s): 17 - 'safe' for lions_serpents and 17 'absolution' of the 100 themes. :)
Word Count: 782
A/N: For simply_strange and all D/Hrs on my FList. I'm not sure how good my grip of Draco is, but...I tried. XD
When Draco awoke, he didn't open his eyes right away.
He only noticed one thing - it didn't hurt anymore.
Maybe I've died, he thought, still not opening his eyes. Surprisingly, the thought didn't bother him too much. It was almost comforting.
After all, death was the inevitable result after betraying the Dark Lord. He was bound to face it sooner or later. And the more he was tortured, the better and better "sooner" seemed to look.
He was just beginning to accept that he'd died when he heard the unmistakable echo of footsteps nearby. He tried to jerk himself up from his lying position, but his body protested adamantly, and his head slammed back down against the pillow it had been resting on.
So, the pain wasn't really gone. But now it was more of a soreness than anything else.
Now that he was fully awake, he looked around. He was lying on a bed - a real bed - it seemed like it had been ages since he'd last seen a bed. Other than that, the room was mostly bare, except for a small table next to the bed, on which rested a glass of water.
He was definitely not in the dungeons he'd been barely surviving in for the last few months. But, then - where was he?
He jerked up the hem of his untucked shirt hastily, ignoring the painful protests of his still-recovering body. He let out a sigh of relief when he noticed that the large wound on his stomach was gone. There wasn't even a scar remaining. Draco marveled for a moment; few Healers had that much skill.
As the footsteps drew nearer, he searched his clothes frantically, hoping to find his wand. Or any wand, really. He wasn't feeling choosy. By the time he realized that he had none, the door had begun to creep open. He thought of pretending to be unconscious, but at the rate his heart was beating, he couldn't possibly pull it off. So he awaited his fate with bated breath.
His mouth fell open in shock when the figure slipped in the door, easing it closed as if not to disturb its occupant.
It was Granger.
She turned around, balancing a tray in one arm. She hesitated briefly when she realized he was awake, but she gave no indication of her intentions. She approached his bedside, placing the tray gingerly on the table. On it was a bowl, a spoon, and a few small, corked bottles. He cocked an eyebrow as she drew her wand, pausing for a moment, as if to think.
With a flick of her wrist, she conjured a chair, settling into it before turning her gaze to him, her expression unreadable.
"You should eat something," she said after a few long moments of silence, gesturing towards the tray. He stared at it warily. Truthfully, he was starving. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. Still, he hesitated. He wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of seeing him shovel down food. He had more pride than that.
She looked at him expectantly. When he still didn't move, she spoke. "You've been sleeping for three days," she said evenly. Her voice was calm, emotionless, as if she were trying to control it.
"What am I doing here, Granger?" he asked bluntly. His tone didn't seem to bother her at all; she seemed distant. He didn't think that she'd heard him, at first, but then she turned towards him.
"You helped Harry," she said simply.
Draco scoffed. "Not everything is about Potter, you know. I didn't do it for him."
She locked her gaze on him. Her eyes seemed so eerily empty; he looked away quickly, feeling his insides begin to turn.
"It doesn't matter. You still--"
"Am I being held here?" he interrupted.
"You can leave whenever you want. But you can stay as long as you want, as well."
"Why would I want to stay here?" he asked with disdain, glancing around at his meager surroundings.
Hermione shrugged. "It might not look like much, but it is safe."
Safe. That was a feeling he hadn't felt in a while. Not since mother... Draco cut his thoughts off there, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat and trying to ignore the way his eyes were blurring.
"Why are you helping me, Granger?" he asked suddenly. "I've done more against you than I've done for you."
Hermione didn't answer right away. She stood up, making the chair disappear with a flick of her wrist.
"It's a little something I picked up from Dumbledore," she said wistfully, looking thoughtful. "Everyone deserves a second chance."