Last Hope | By : ShiSaiyan Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 8936 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Dragon leaned back against Hermione's door and sighed. Ginny was with Gryff, so Hermione was alone in the room. He could hear her moving around, getting ready for bed. In the silence of the hallway, he reviewed the events of the evening in his mind. The panic when he learned Hermione had gone down to the dungeons alone. The rage when he'd found Flint assaulting her. The anger that had filled him, the raw, white-hot fury, had blinded him. He had used the cruxatious curse on Marcus Flint. It was a punishment he had sworn he would never inflict on any other living creature, having been tortured with it numerous times before. Yet, he had done it without a second thought, knowing only that he wanted Flint to hurt, to pay, for what he had done and was planning on doing to Hermione. In his mind, he examined his feelings and realized that he wasn't sorry, even now. In fact, he could still feel the rage flowing through him and his hands clenched, unconsciously into fists at his sides. He wasn't paying attention and fell backward as the door opened behind him.
Hermione looked down as Dragon opened his eyes. Lying flat on his back in her doorway, he looked adorably confused. "Is something wrong?" he asked, finally. She shook her head. "I just didn't think you would be very comfortable out here. I wanted to tell you that it would be okay if you came in. Ginny's bed is empty, you know." Dragon studied her face, her eyes. She was outwardly calm, but he saw the raw fear in her eyes. "All right," he said, getting to his feet. He stepped into the room and locked the door behind him. With a shy glance back at him, Hermione crossed the room and got into bed. Dragon's eyes flicked around the room, quickly, and then he sat on the bed and began removing his boots. As he unlaced the high, dragon-hide boots, he surreptitiously watched her pretend to sleep, deliberately not watching him. With his mercury eyes still locked on her, he stripped off his shirt and walked, in stocking feet, across the room, to stand beside her bed. "Hermione."
Her eyes popped open and she rose onto one elbow, as he knelt at her side. "Are you really okay?" She lowered her gaze a little, staring at the flames in the hearth behind him. "Just a few scrapes and bruises," she mumbled. He rose up off his knees and sat on the edge of her bed. "Show me."
Eyes still averted, fingers shaking, Hermione unbuttoned her pajama top and slid the silk down, baring her shoulders. Dragon carefully pushed her heavy hair off her neck and his breath hissed through his teeth when he saw the scrapes and the still darkening purple bruises. His fingers brushed over them, feather-light and trembling. Following the line of bruising, he tangled his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck and felt the raised bumps on the back of her head. His fingertips brushed over them lightly and he slowly drew his hands away, watching her face. "Does it hurt?" She shrugged, pulling her top back up. "A little. It's going away though. Niki healed it right away."
Dragon slowly sat back, studying her. She had been through Hell and she seemed to be doing okay. It was more than he would have expected from a fifth year. Then again, it was Hermione, Nikki's younger self. He should have known she would be just as strong, just as brave as the woman she would become. She didn't look a great deal different, either. Nikki's hair was a little longer, her face a little more angular, her eyes a little more tired and she was, of course, a few inches taller.
Hermione watched him study her face and let herself study him in return. His hair was loose, hanging halfway down his back in a silver-blond sheet, with a few stray locks around his face, a big change from the carefully gelled, slicked style that Draco always sported. Dragon's eyes were soft and hard, warm and cold, all at once, ever shifting pools of mercury and his pale, pale skin had been darkened by years in tun. un. His jaw-line was strong and defined and the scar on his face made him look tough, dangerous. He was dangerous, she supposed, to any who crossed him, but right at the moment, she had the strangest feeling that she was safer with him than she had ever been in her life.
He started to draw away from her and stand up and she grabbed his wrist without even thinking about it. He stopped and met her gaze. "Stay. Please," she said, softly. He paused, then nodded and sat back down on the bed. With a shy glance at him, Hermione pulled back the blankets and slid between her sheets and Dragon laid beside her. He reached out and switched off the lamp beside her bed, leaving them in darkness, but for the soft glow of the small fire in the fireplace. They lay in silence for a while and then Hermione's voice, sounding incredibly small, said, "Dragon?" "Yeah?" "Hold me." He reached out and gathered her slender frame in his arms and pulled her close.
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