War

"Go!" He looked upon her. Why wasn't she running like the rest of them? "Go on, what the hell are you doing?"

She looked at him with sad near ending eyes. That was the exact moment Draco Malfoy knew he was going to die. He had never seen Granger, angry scolding smart Hermione Granger, with such a face of gentleness and the eyes of an actual human. They were always narrowed or cross, but never filled with whatever was in her eyes now.

It was funny. He couldn't feel anything. His whole body felt numb, strange. Like it was full of gravity.

He had never thought about her much before. Who was Hermione Granger? He had never bothered to find out. He cared now, but only a little. Only because of her expression.

"Where am I?" he asked. His head was empty, full of half thought thoughts and half felt feelings. Nothing had substance, only her.

"You're in the middle of the Dark War," she said. "Your father just attacked you. I managed to drag you in here. Away from it."

"My father?"

"It's very confusing out there now," Granger said, looking away from him to the wall. "Friends are attacking friends. It wasn't meant to be like this."

"It's war, Granger. What was it supposed to be like?"

She sighed. "Even if Harry defeats Voldemort now, we will never win. All the losses..."

"It is a war," he insisted. "What had you previously thought?"

Hermione looked back at him and said, with complete sincerity, "I hadn't thought this."

"Of course not. You had your little head full of nice little ideas of triumphant music and Harry striking the Dark lord down in one blow, didn't you? No loses, no deaths, no blood..."

She looked down at him angrily but her anger was short loved. That was, of course, because he was so fatally injured. Her eyes lingered on his stomach, his stomach, where a half-solid red liquid was excreting.

"Well, what did you expect?" she challenged him.

"I wasn't even meant to be here, Granger. I didn't want to get into no war. I was supposed to be going to Durmstang in a couple of weeks. Nobody expected it to have happened so soon."

"Which side were you on, Malfoy?"

"I wasn't loyal to any side, Granger. What was I, a seventeen year old teenage boy, going to contribute to such politics? Best to stay out of the way. Except I just happened to get right in the way of the war, didn't I?"

"So you weren't going to be a Death Eater?"

He tried to smirk but it didn't happen. He was losing control of his body and he knew it.

"I dunno, Granger. Maybe. It was definitely an option."

Even as he said these words, he felt the pain suddenly burst in his stomach. Suddenly it was real and raw and eating him with anguish.

He yelled out and his hand tried to get to it, to touch it, to rip it out of him. She caught his panicked hand and held it in her own, trying with all her might to stop him. He was in a frenzy suddenly, trying to grope at it now with his other weaker hand. She grabbed both of them and held them against her chest, trying with all her might to stop him. Tears spilled from her mouth.

She knew this was how it went. She had watched Ginny die the same way. He had been in shock, in disbelief but now he was only seconds from dying. She had never felt anything but contempt for Draco Malfoy but the sadness still ached at her as she watched him suffer through his struggle.

He was a victim of war as were all the people before him.

There was nothing she could do to help him, except be with him and hold his eyes in her own.

"I really hated you, Granger," he guzzled after many moments, "but I'm glad you're here."

No one was going to remember him. He was just going to be another solider lost in combat, another statistic written on some kids project about the Dark war. A figure in a book, a simple stereotype, "young loss."

His words sent a deep feeling through her body, echoing and bouncing off all her other pent up feelings.

She shouldn't have kept her grudges. She should have worked harder to get to know him, get to know what was going on inside him. She shouldn't have judged him on his house and Harry and Ron's view of him. She shouldn't have taken his snide remarks so personally.

Of course, this was not unusual feelings for someone in her position. A part of her knew that even if she could live her life again, she would still feel the sting of his words, still not welcome that smirking face. But even knowing this didn't stop the deep whips of regret that were striking her at that moment.

She imagined he was feeling somewhat the same thing. Well, she could definitely see regret in his eyes. But she would never know what he regretted. She simply didn't know him well enough.

He would never know whether his father had accidentally killed him or not. His father had no reason to do so. He had seen the craziness outside, he had seen a Weasley slash another Weasley and he had seen a Slytherin attack another Slytherin. Everyone as blood crazy, mad to escape or to revenge their dead or dying relative/family/best friend/lover.

When out in a Battlefield, nobody had time to examine each other's faces. Nobody had time to see who was who. The brain was over heated, the heart pounding, blood rushing in the ear until nothing can be heard but the occasional scream. The eyes are watering and everyone is blinking rapidly. Everyone's hot and sweating. Everyone's angry. Everyone's holding grief and fury in their heart.

Draco's father was probably out their revenging his death as he lay there dying.

And he would never know.

He looked at Granger and she looked at him. They stayed there for a minute but it seemed like an age. At that moment they were at the same exact place in the world. Just at that moment they were close.

Then his breath shuddered, and in one confusion moment, he started shutting down. He wasn't really aware what was happening. It was too strange and weird a sensation for him to realise that he was dying. There was no flashing lights, no life memories playing out like a film roll, there was no strange music or a deep peace vibrating inside of him. All there was, was a shocking confusion that blotted out all pain because it was so strong and full of questions. All there was, was bewilderment, confusion and a thin scream of panic.

Granger...

And then it all stopped like a heartbeat. One second he was alive and then he was dead.

Hermione Granger stayed with him for a while. She stayed and shuddered and even tears fell from her eyes although she did not cry. The tears were not just for him, but for everything.

The she got up and joined the war. Ready to fight although now, she did not know what for.

It had no reason, no logic. She didn't recognise anyone. Didn't know anybody. She was striking people down, anyone that got in her way. She needed to get out, then she needed to fight. She didn't know what she was doing. She was in her own universe of pain and panic. A universe full of pulsating hearts and gushing blood. A universe of screaming mouths and grabbing hands. She knew nobody in this universe. She had no friends or enemies there. This universe was her war, the war, and there was a high chance that she would never get out, the further she got in.

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