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Five Days	By : RavieSnake Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 7592 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters/concepts from it. I make no money from the writing/publishing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Day Three: Afternoon
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hermione blinked her eyes open at the sensation of Draco stirring. She raised her head from where she’d rested it again on his shoulder. She groaned slightly at the throbbing in the back of her scalp.
“Malfoy?” she said gently at the sight of him breathing strangely while he looked dismally at his left arm.
“Hey,” he said, turning his face to her, “you’re supposed to be resting. You’ve still got four hundred seconds.”
“I’m still afraid to sleep,” she sighed.
Draco’s mouth twisted in concern. “Your head?”
“I don’t feel like I have a concussion, but the pain’s enough to make me wary,” she expounded.
He made an unhappy hum.
She shrugged and turned her attention to his bad arm. “How’s yours feeling?”
“Terrible,” he sighed. He pursed his lips lightly. “Any chance I can get you to let me piss real quick? I tried myself, but I can’t fit my hand between us.”
Hermione turned a guilty pout up to him. “I can’t,” she told him as she moved her trapped right hand against his lower abdomen where it’d gotten re-wedged after their fall, “I can’t reach anymore.”
Draco’s eyes closed in defeated misery. “Great,” he muttered.
“We just won’t talk about it,” Hermione proposed. “We’ll just relieve ourselves as needed and not draw attention to it.”
Draco gave a small nod in agreement but then made a loud, exaggerated moan. Hermione puffed out a breath.
“Stop fretting about your dignity. It’s just me here,” she said.
“No…it’s not that. It’s my arm,” he said, his eyes still shut. “It’s really killing me.”
Hermione glanced over at the offending limb but didn’t say anything.
“You were right,” Draco whispered. Hermione frowned slightly.
“About…?”
Draco cracked open his lids and looked over at her. “I’m fairly certain that it’s infected.”
Hermione’s eyes widened slightly in alarm. “Why?” she asked, stretching her neck in an attempt to see it better.
“I feel ill,” he informed her. Hermione swallowed hard at that.
“Ill?”
He merely nodded, his eyes closing again as if the action had hurt.
Hermione pursed her lips as she assessed first his face and then his arm again. Her brow furrowed sadly at the marbled appearance of his exposed muscle. “What…what does the initial wound look like?” she inquired. “I can’t see the other side.”
Draco returned his attention to it. “It’s all red and swollen and…it’s draining pus. Fuck me,” he said, resting his head back. “And it feels like my heart’s going to beat right out of my bloody chest.”
“Lean your forehead to mine,” she said somewhat urgently. Draco complied at once and Hermione pursed her lips again. “You’re burning up,” she said at the heat radiating from his skin to hers.
“Fantastic,” Draco drawled, leaning his head back from her and closing his eyes once more.
"Describe the redness in more detail to me," Hermione requested then with a serious look to his arm. Draco opened his eyes with a huff and glared at the oozing gash as he lifted his free arm over to poke gingerly at it.
"It's all blotchy, and it covers the whole top of my forearm from what I can see. The color ranges from pink to dark purple. Almost like deep bruises that are sort of puffy."
"Puffy?" Hermione confirmed hesitantly. “Like blisters?”
"Yeah, why? What does it mean?" Draco asked, lowering his right arm while not bothering to mask his fear at her obvious apprehension.
"It...it means it's infected alright," Hermione answered, refusing to meet his gaze. Draco looked back and forth between his torn flesh and her downcast, worried face.
"Granger...." his voice was pleading and Hermione slowly raised her eyes to his. “What is it?"
Hermione searched his wide eyes for a moment and then looked sadly back at his arm. "It’s gangrenous,” she informed bleakly. “It’s going to start to smell in here.”
“What does that mean, gangrenous?” he asked anxiously. “Why is it going to smell?”
“Gangrene,” Hermione said, “is a type of fast-spreading, necrotizing infection. You’ve got almost no blood-flow to that arm and so the bacteria are able to flourish within it. It’s going to start to smell because your arm is literally rotting away as we speak.”
Draco stared back at her in horror. “Rotting?” he whispered almost inaudibly.
Hermione merely nodded reluctantly.
“And it’s going to spread,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
“The toxins from the dead tissue will soon cause your blood pressure to drop…which will cause organ failure,” she explained.
Draco swallowed hard. “How long?”
Hermione bit at her lip. “I don’t know… maybe a day.”
Draco inhaled sharply and looked back at his arm. “Is…is this contagious?” he asked very seriously.
“No,” Hermione replied. “Though it doesn’t really matter. I doubt I’ll be far behind anyway with this gash in my head and… without you to wake me, I’ll succumb to exhaustion regardless.”
Draco continued to consider his arm as if deep in thought. “So, we only have a day left?”
“Maybe two days, maybe six hours, I don’t know,” she said uncomfortably. “I’m not exactly a Healer.”
He didn’t respond and stared almost catatonically at his arm for several minutes.
“Malfoy?” Hermione said worriedly, trying to snap him from his trance. “Malf-”
Draco suddenly turned his face back to her and she nearly gasped at the intensity behind his gaze.
"I'm likely going to die today, right?" he said.
Hermione didn't respond and merely blinked back at him. Draco’s eyes darted over her face rapidly before falling to her mouth. "Fuck it," he said and then abruptly pushed his face forward to capture her lips with his own.
Hermione’s eyes shot wide and she went stock-still. When she didn’t reciprocate the kiss, Draco slowly pulled back and looked down.
“Well… that went about as well as I’d always imagined,” he said dryly.
“I…” Hermione started then stopped as he turned his head away from her and simply stared at his arm. She watched his jaw muscles tighten as he let his head fall against the wall and then took a deep breath.
“Malfoy…” she said gently.
He shook his head slightly. “Leave it, Granger,” he said in a tight voice.
Hermione worried her bottom lip in her teeth again and then, “But...I’m sorry, I ju-”
Draco closed his eyes. “Don’t,” came his biting response.
Again, Hermione watched the muscles tick in his jaw. Her eyes traced over every line of his angular features as he obviously attempted to hide his emotions. “Draco…?” she said tentatively.
“What!?” he snapped, opening his eyes to look back at her. The moment their gazes locked, his expression shifted to one of guarded shock as the sound of his given name finally registered.
Hermione licked her lips and then went to raise her hand to his face. He flinched and she hesitated fleetingly before ignoring his movement to set her palm to his cheek. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “You caught me off guard is all.”
“You shouldn’t apologize,” Draco said. “I shouldn’t have done it.”
“I’m glad you did.”
Draco’s eyes widened and his chest stilled at her quiet admission. His Adam’s apple bobbed with the force of his swallow when Hermione’s gaze finally traveled downward to focus on his mouth and she began to tilt her face toward his. “What’re you-” Draco started to ask, his tone nearly frantic. But he was silenced as Hermione pressed their mouths together.
This time, it was Draco that didn’t reciprocate as he stared back at her in surprise. Hermione pulled back and looked at him.
Brown eyes met with grey. Neither moved or took a breath. A second passed. Then another before they both abruptly pushed their faces together. They inhaled deeply through their noses as their lips sealed together and their free hands flew up - Hermione’s grabbing at the back of his scalp, Draco’s clutching at her cheek.
Lips moved. Tongues darted. Hearts raced.
Their actions quickly synced and every move one made the other copied as the session stretched on. The seconds turned to minutes as the two became lost in one another, until the strain of their heavy breathing on their compressed chests finally forced them to pull apart. Each gasped for full breaths, but kept their hands and faces close.
“I can’t…believe…we just did that,” Hermione panted.
Draco leaned his forehead to hers. “You…you wanted to know why I wished you were a pureblood…” he said quietly once his breathing slowed.
Hermione ran the pads of her fingers against his disheveled, yet still soft hair. “You wanted to know why I fixed your potion…” she whispered back.
A keening moan echoed in Draco’s chest as he returned to snogging her with a force that made her grip at him. She tilted her face upward and let out a small moan of her own when Draco began trailing a line of kisses from her mouth down her jaw. He slowed to a stop when his eyes came upon the dried blood and mud coating the side of her neck.
Draco held his head there, unmoving for several moments as he stared at the sad mess.
“Draco…?”
He set his cheek to hers and closed his eyes. Hermione made a worried face and rubbed the back of his scalp. “Are you okay?”” she asked. He opened his eyes and frowned at the state of her skin before nodding against her.
“I’m ok-” he started to say, but his words were cut short when Hermione jerked back abruptly and made a screechy giggling noise. Draco moved his head back and scowled lightly. “Granger, what the hell was that?”
Hermione rapidly rubbed her hand over her cheek. “Your stubble is like sandpaper,” she said.
Draco twitched his nose a bit as if trying to move a mustache and then smiled. “Oh…sorry,” he said, sounding not the least bit apologetic but rather more amused, “I’m not used to being so, uh…unkempt.”
Hermione let out a small laugh. “No, I imagine you’re not.”
“And just what is that supposed to mean?” he challenged, tweaking a brow. Hermione smiled and gave a pointed look down toward their legs.
“You wore nice trousers and Italian leather shoes to trek into an overgrown field to collect plants,” she pointed out drolly. “I somehow doubt you make a habit of letting yourself go.”
Draco tried to look down as well. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look your best at all times,” he said.
Hermione chuckled again. “I didn’t say there was.”
“Anyway, at least I can take comfort in knowing that, even as a corpse, I’ll be decently attired,” Draco joked darkly. Hermione’s smile faded.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “If only we’d tried sooner…”
Draco gave her a slightly confused look. “What’re y-”
“I should’ve thought to try Apparating the moment we fell in here,” she interrupted, “I should’ve thought of the tandem casting sooner. When we weren’t already too tired…when your arm wouldn’t have hurt as bad. If only I had-”
“Stop,” Draco halted her. When she opened her mouth to keep at it, he shook his head. “Just stop,” he said more forcefully. “It’s done. There’s no going back.”
“But I should’ve tried harder from the start,” Hermione kept on miserably.
“I wasn’t exactly full of ideas on how to get out the first two days either,” Draco reminded her.
Hermione cast her gaze downward. “I can’t believe I was so careless to have locked my wand in my trunk. Or if only I’d told someone where I was going. Why didn’t I? How could I be so…”
Draco reached up and cupped her face in his hand. “Granger,” he said, making her look at him, “stop.” He kissed her. Hermione closed her eyes and let out a sad whimper.
“It didn’t need to be like this,” she lamented, her lips still brushing over his. Draco pulled back and shrugged.
“I won’t lie and say I don’t wish this had played out differently,” he said, “but it is what is.”
Hermione’s brow knitted in deep thought. “What if…we might have one more chance. How ill do you feel? Do you have enough energy to tandem cast right now?”
Draco took on a much more attentive look. “What did you have in mind?”
“Your wand,” she said. “We each have a free hand now to try and grab it. If we tandem cast to strengthen the spell, we might be able to summon it from wherever it fell.”
Draco blinked at her a second as his mouth spread into a smile. “Well, what are you waiting for!?” he asked loudly, presenting his cheek in an exaggerated fashion. Hermione bit her lip in hopeful anticipation and carefully set her cheek against his rough skin.
“Accio Draco’s wand on three,” she instructed.
“On three,” he agreed. “One.”
Hermione took in a deep breath. “Two.”
They both held their hands out, ready to grab as Draco finished, “Three!”
“Accio Draco’s wand!” they both shouted together. “Accio –“
Before they could complete the second casting, Draco’s wand came zooming up from the darkness below and straight past their outstretched hands.
“Get it!” Hermione cried frantically as they watched it stall in momentum above them and then begin to plummet back downward.
“I got it!” Draco yelled out, his eyes locked onto the wand with focused concentration. “I got it!”
“Get it, get it, get it!” Hermione chanted as it rapidly approached. Draco’s hand swiped at the falling stick.
“GOT IT!” he shouted in triumph as his fingers clasped around his wand. He let out a crazed laugh of relief as Hermione cheered.
“You got it. You got it,” she smacked her hand at him ecstatically.
Draco smiled so wide, all of his teeth were visible. “I got it,” he sighed. “I go-”
The happiness drained from his face in an instant when he finally looked at the wand in his grip. Hermione watched his expression change and darted her own gaze to the wand.
“NO!” she cried at the sight of it. The tip was splintered off, exposing the core.
They both gaped in horror at the broken stick.
“May…maybe it will still work,” Draco said pleadingly. He flicked it. “Lumos.”
Nothing but a few dim sparks fizzled out the damaged end. Tears started leaking down Hermione’s face as she watched him try several more simple spells with no success before he finally hurled the useless wand up at the crevice’s opening with an angry roar.
Draco glared up at where it had disappeared over the ledge and then slumped his head back against the stone wall.
“Well…that’s that,” he said quietly.
Hermione closed her wet eyes and laid her cheek on his shoulder. “That’s that,” she whispered sorrowfully.
Draco looked down at her and carefully brushed at her still damp hair to push it back off of her face. “There are worse ways to die,” he echoed her words from earlier, before placing a kiss to the side of her head. She felt for his hand with her own and entwined their fingers.
“Yes,” she agreed. “Yes, there are.”
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Five Days