Twenty-Five

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Day: 1452; Hour: 13

Hermione opens her eyes, briefly, and makes to turn over until she finds her left leg uncooperative. She then thinks about how the short, blurry peek at the white, on white, on white was somehow very wrong. Her memories rush back before she even opens her eyes again. For that brief moment of time she had been truly without complicated thought. It was almost worth the broken leg.

The sensation of freedom jumped off a cliff and is now replaced by that familiar, well-hated bind of post-mission confusion. She breathes out a rasp and coughs, feeling a dull pain in her side at the movement. She is in St. Mungo's then, judging by the starkness, the lights blinking over her head, and the pain meter poster across her bed.

She is slow to catch the presence of someone else, and turns her head expecting a roommate. Instead she sees white-blond hair, an intense look in gray eyes, and a mouth slow to smile. It is a fake smile, and then she sees the sling holding up his arm, and the strange angle of his body.

"Draco." Somehow, he is the last thing she expects to see out of all the people it is possible to find at her bedside.

The roles were reversed. She wonders if this is how he has felt whenever he woke up to find her there. "It's about time, Granger. I thought you might actually die from a broken leg."

"H--" Her voice cracks and strangles itself, so she clears her throat, watching him grab a cup off the side table. "How long have I been out?"

"Two days. You would have woken up sooner, but they kept you under to heal."

"From a broken leg?"

"Burns. Your whole side, from your temple to your calf. A bit on the side of your back. The less movement you made, the faster your skin would heal. Should go without a scar now."

He hands her the cup and a straw. She takes a sip before her body's need takes over and she chugs the water down in seconds. "I thought that heat was going to kill me."

"It almost did, from what they said. If you had passed out from the pain, which must have been a close thing, you would have been dead by the time they found you. All that stupid bravery, Granger. I told you it would kill you."

"I'm not dead," she gives him a glare, but it's empty. "We would have had to kill the Aurors if we didn't take down the Death Eaters first."

"I would have, but there were too many. I would have killed one by the time they killed me. Finnegan refused to kill them. I...I couldn't move enough to go around to get the Death Eaters. Finnegan would have been killed if I left him, and then I would have followed when they came after me."

"It was a bad situation."

He pauses, and then, like it was the hardest thing to say. "I figured we were dead. I knew Finnegan and I were losing it, and if I sent you and Justin around the other side we would definitely be dead, and you two would likely be as well. There wasn't enough time between curses to Portkey out without being dead by the time we left. You... You saved our lives."

Hermione blushes and shrugs. "It's what we're supposed to do, right? We're all full of stupid bravery - you too. I took a chance, it worked."

Draco nods, still looking uncomfortable as he stares at his thin hospital pants. "I didn't hear you behind me so I knew where you went. When an Auror went F.M and turned on the others, I was going to follow y--... I blacked out."

"I would suspect so. Jesus, Draco, your arm looked like it was practically cut off, and...broken rib?"

"Pulled it out of the socket, fractured my shoulder, broke my arm and my rib. I jumped out of the third floor when I saw the fire. Ground is rather unforgiving."

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