done being the most terrified he' d ever been in his relatively short life.
Draco needed her to look at him.
His obvious distress seemed to bring her out of her own state. Sill on their knees, Hermione crawled into his arms.
Draco had no idea what he mumbled. It was him at his most inarticulate. There were a few Oh My Gods in between asking her if she was hurt over and over again. He cheek was pressed against his bare chest and he knew she was listening to the sound of his heartbeat. It was all reassuring stuff.
He wanted to pull her into his skin and keep her there, safe and oblivious to the dangers all around them. Her small, hands held him to her tightly, clutching over the bare skin of his tattoo. When she slid her palms down to take his hands, they were so warm, they burned. That too, was reassuring.
And still he couldn't give her the words, could not, rather than would not. She would beggar him, with this staggering, debilitating love of hers. The currencies he relied on - his wit, his pedigree, his name and his fortune - it all counted for nothing with Granger.
If he went to her, all he had to offer was himself. Everything he had been brought up to believe was good and worthwhile and important now seemed like a big, pile of Goblin gold. Pretty to look at, but always disappointing it its ephemerality.
What was the purity of your blood worth when your heart or soul was a dark, diseased mess? How could anyone want him just for him? It was inconceivable.
But Granger did. She would have him and he would become less than he was and maybe at the end of the day, that was alright. Maybe Granger, closet romantic that she was, with her idealism and optimism and innate goodness, was the wise man' s definition of 'wealth'.
If that was the case than he was the richest man in the world.
"I should have known he wasn't you. It took me too long to realise that,"
Granger was telling him. She sounded extremely cross with herself.
Draco assumed she was referring to Blaise. He realised he was rather cross with her too. "Yes, you should have known."
She was staring up at him in wonder. "How did you get here so quickly?"
He was so gratified to see the fear leaving her eyes that he kissed her on the forehead, pleased with her resilience. "I' ll explain later. We' re leaving after we find Tonks and Goyle."
"Tonks!" Hermione gasped. "She's alive then?"
"For the moment," Draco supplied. "What about Goyle? Granger, have you seen Goyle anywhere?"
The tone of his voice spoke volumes about why he needed to know.
She shook her head. "No. I'm sorry, I haven't."
"Okay." Draco ran a hand through his hair and then grimaced when his bloodied hand encountered equally blood-encrusted hair.
He pulled her against the wall, suddenly aware that they were in full sight of anyone who chanced to appear at the other end of the corridor.
"Stay close to me and keep to the shadows. If anything happens, you run. If you can't do that, you hide until it's safe to come out. Got that?"
Hermione glared at him. "This is not the time to play hero!" she said, angrily.
"Do as I say!"
"It might surprise you to know that I' ve actually been in situations like this a few times! Probably more so than you!"
"It doesn' t surprise me, it terrifies me," he whispered back, much more gently.
That immediately sobered her. Not too long ago she had been out of her mind with worry for him, after all. Hermione nodded in understanding and the movement caused a fat tear to slip down her cheek. Draco knew Hermione didn't realise she had started crying the moment he had found her.
Tears were the only thing that gave any indication that she had been afraid. Her brown eyes were all purposefulness now.
This is what Potter sees, Draco thought, feeling a surge of irrational, badly timed jealously.
"What were you planning?" she asked. He was prickled by the scepticism in her voice. The girl's ego was nearly a match for his.
Besotted though he may be, he was no Harry Potter and would not be pulling off an incredibly stupid act of Gryffindorish bravery.
Such as capturing Blaise, for example, as much as the thought appealed.
Bugger the Ministry. The Aurors could hunt down Zabini on their own, thank you very much. He was getting