Our Constellation--Dramione

Chapter Nine

Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, plotlines, characters, places, events (etc.) all belong to J.K. Rowling, she is the rightful owner. When a character is created by me, you'll know right away ;)

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Somehow, upon release, the trio was separated. There must've been a disturbance in Dobby's Apparation. Hermione fell to the ground and the landing proved to be rock hard, which was funny because when she opened her eyes, she was laid out on the sand.

It was wet sand, which meant it was compacted and hardened. It also meant... shit!

She rolled over onto her side, but not in time before water drenched her entire backside. She hissed in pain when she tried to support herself up with her arms.

"Hermione!" Ron said quickly. He too had gotten wet, but he quickly gathered her in his arms to preserve her body temperature.

"Hermione! Are you all right?" Harry asked, limping over to them. "We're all safe now."

Harry's heart jolted when he wrapped his arms around her only to find that she was shaking like a leaf, probably frozen and traumatized by the witch that interrogated her. She wanted to cry.

"Harry Potter..."

The three turned their eyes to the little house-elf, staggering toward them with waning strength. Dobby contracted forward and nearly gave in when Harry raced across the sand to collect him in his arms.

"Dobby..."

The house-elf caved inward and collapsed in Harry's readied arms. "No, no!"

Hermione watched with a broken heart as her friend removed the dagger from Dobby's chest. It was the blade Bellatrix had used to carve profanity into her arm, the knife that had been held to her throat, the dagger that was responsible for causing their friend much physical pain.

"Dobby, no! Hold on..." Harry cried. He tried to take Dobby's limp hand and warm it up, but not only was it unresponsive to his touch, but it was also cold. Far too cold for his liking. He cleared his throat to appear more confident, but he was not. Harry was truly terrified to lose him. "Hold on, okay?"

Dobby wheezed and gasped for air that wouldn't come.

"We're--we're going to fix you," Harry promised. "Hermione... she might have--"

He turned to Hermione for an answer but found nothing but her saddened expression gazing back at him. She wanted to help. She didn't want her lack of strength and will to be the reason Dobby died in Harry's arms, but she couldn't encourage her muscles to move. And Ron knew that it was futile to try and save the dying house-elf. The damage was done.

"... In your bag! Hermione?"

Futile.

"Please?" he croaked sadly. "Help me!"

Hermione buried her face in Ron's jacket to keep from shedding any more tears. She already felt insignificant.

"Such a beautiful place," Dobby rasped, "to be with friends."

Harry held onto Dobby's fingers and rocked back and forth on his knees, unwilling to accept the brutal reality of it all.

"No."

"Dobby is happy," Harry knelt over his tiny body and sobbed, "to be with friends."

The boy with the glasses who had fought off dementors, stolen into the Ministry, and battled Voldemort himself, felt useless.

He never wanted to be saved by Dobby. He was grateful for it, but if he'd known this would happen, he would've found some other way to free himself and his friends from the manor.