Hermione's hands were pressed so tightly against her abdomen that they were numb. She couldn't feel the blood pouring out of her, covering her hands and pooling around her body, but she knew. You didn't get shot at point blank range three times and not lose any blood.

She couldn't feel the tears streaming down her face either, but the taste of salt dripping into her mouth let her know they were there.

She was vaguely aware of people shouting over her - their faces a blur at the edge of her periphery.

She couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from deep inside her as she thought about how she'd ended up shot and bleeding out on the floor of the canteen, the one light right above blinding her.

The taste of blood was metallic in her mouth and she felt, rather than saw, someone leaning directly over her, their face inches from her own, telling her to hold on.

"Draco" she muttered quietly and reached up to cup his cheek gently before frowning at the sight of her bloody hand staining his pale face and the edges of his white hair.

She closed her eyes at the sight and felt someone lift her into their arms.

They were walking now. No, not walking - running, she thought as she felt her body sway with the movement, her right arm swinging heavily by her side.

She opened her eyes again - Harry was carrying her and when he noticed her open eyes he gave her a watery smile.

"Hermione. It's ok. You'll be ok. Daphne and Theo will get the bullets out, you'll be - oh shit. Draco, hurry she's bleeding out" he swore, panicked.

"No shit Potter" Draco sneered, but Hermione could hear the worry and fear in his voice. She wanted to wrap him in her arms and tell him it would be ok but she couldn't, and the tears started again.

Heavy sobs that had tears and snot and blood all pooling in her mouth threatening to choke her.

The only noise she could hear (apart from her own wheezing) was the heavy footfall of Harry and Draco as they rushed her, presumably, to an OR.

At that moment it was so soothing that she felt herself drift towards unconsciousness.

"I'm tired" she mumbled and although she was conscious enough to hear their protests at falling asleep, she let the darkness that enclosed her when she shut her eyes, pull her down.

She'd never believed the old adage about seeing your life flash before your eyes when you're about to die and even though she had no interest in dying at all, the memories were nice and she let them momentarily sooth her.

Her, Harry and Ron laughing and joking in secondary school, fast friends from first year.

Her and Pansy staying up all night revising for their end of year exams in university.

Her and Daphne joking about the colour of the bridesmaids dresses Lavender was forcing them to wear in her wedding.

Her and Draco fighting like cat and dog in primary school and secondary school and all through university - running and playing after school when they were kids, sneaking out to go to parties in their teens, cuddled up in his bed at home watching romantic comedies and laughing at the failures of her latest relationship. His face when he threatened Tom only last week.

Tom.

The first night she met him at the Leaky across the road.

The first time she woke up in his arms and all the times since.

The first time she watched him in surgery - the first time he let her assist.

Their first argument, the next argument.

All their arguments - all the make up sex.

When he punched McLaggen.

Their first weekend away.

When she met his father.

When she took him to visit her parents.

His face when she picked her speciality.

His face when McGonagall caught them in his car.

When he thought she was asleep and he told her he loved her.

"Tom" she whispered, as the machine she was hooked up to flatlined and the room erupted into chaos.