Through Glass, a harry potter fanfic

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot! Harry Potter, nor the song: "Through Glass" by Stone Sour. I do not make anything from this fanfiction.

Summary: He stood outside the room, waiting for her to regain consciousness…

Rating: M for Violence.

Ship: Hermione/Draco

Through Glass

I'm looking at you through the glass...
Don't know how much time has passed
Oh, god it feels like forever
But no one ever tells you that forever
Feels like home sitting all alone inside your head

Cause I'm looking at you through the glass...
Don't know how much time has passed
All I know is that it feels like forever
When no one ever tells you that forever
Feels like home, sitting all alone inside your head

How do you feel? That is the question
But I forget... you don't expect an easy answer
When something like a soul becomes
Initialized and folded up like paper dolls and little notes
You can't expect a bit of hope
So while you're outside looking in
Describing what you see
Remember what you're staring at is me

How much is real? So much to question
An epidemic of the mannequins
Contaminating everything
When thought came from the heart
It never did right from the start
Just listen to the noises
(Null and void instead of voices)
Before you tell yourself
It's just a different scene
Remember it's just different from what you've seen

I'm looking at you through the glass...
Don't know how much time has passed
And all I know is that it feels like forever
When no one ever tells you that forever
Feels like home, sitting all alone inside your head
Cause I'm looking at you through the glass...
Don't know how much time has passed
All I know is that it feels like forever
When no one ever tells you that forever
Feels like home, sitting all alone inside your head

And it's the stars
The stars
That shine for you
And it's the stars
The stars
That lie to you… yeah-ah

I'm looking at you through the glass...
Don't know how much time has passed
Oh, god it feels like forever
But no one ever tells you that forever
Feels like home, sitting all alone inside your head

'Cause I'm looking at you through the glass...
Don't know how much time has passed
All I know is that it feels like forever
But no one ever tells you that forever
Feels like home, sitting all alone inside your head

And it's the stars
The stars
That shine for you… yeah-ah
And it's the stars
The stars
That lie to you... yeah-ah

And it's the stars
The stars
That shine for you... yeah-ah
And it's the stars
The stars
That lie to you... yeah-ah yeah

Oh oh when the stars
Oh oh when the stars they lie.

"Through Glass", Stone Sour.

~#^*^#~

She was so pale. She should not have been that pale.

She was so still…

She was normally so full of life, and here she was… broken.

And it was all because of him.

He pressed his forehead to the glass, needing to be as close to her as possible, while the healers worked on her. He did not know how long he stood there: so long it felt like forever.

She should not be here. It should be him, the healers were working on. But no, she had to do it. She had to jump into that curse aimed for him. He killed for her. She died for him. It was a cruel irony.

It was foggy, combination mist brought on by the dementors and horrible Scottish winter weather. It was depressing. Lights flashed, everywhere; curses, jets of light, whizzing past. Screams, shouts, cries of pain rang out from the illuminated battlefield.

Voldemort had made this his last ditch effort.

It was pandemonium.

The only way to distinguish who was order and who was civilian was a thin amber sash around ones biceps. The Death Eaters, the cowards they were, had their heavy cloaks and white masks to hide behind.

Cowards to the end, only the crazy ones brave until their last breath, sprouting Voldemorts propaganda about blood purity.

Rodolphus Lestrange was the latest to fall by his hand, just a tad more sane than his crazy aunt.

A scream and a blur. Bellatrix had raced past him, having seen her nephew fall her husband. It surprised him that she hadn't cursed him on the way past. "NOOO!" Odd… he hadn't thought she had any feelings left for her husband, being Voldemort's mistress and all.

She fell to her knees, clutching at Rodolphus' blood stained cloak.

Her anguish was slightly heartbreaking… she was still family… No… Stop it. She tortured her! She made Luna crazy! Ron only has one arm because of this mad woman! She stopped being family the moment you realised you no longer believed… Once she had shown you how to live…

He steeled himself for what he was about to do. "Aunty…" He said, softly. But Lestrange did not hear. He raised his wand, sent a light stinging jinx her way. It hit her and her head whipped up and around to face him. A sneer covered her face...

He shook his head. It was over and done with, and nothing he could do would ever change it.

Yet he couldn't stop the memories…

...He steeled himself for what he was about to do. "Aunty…" He said, softly. But Lestrange did not hear. He raised his wand, sent a light stinging jinx her way. It hit her and her head whipped up and around to face him. A sneer covered her face.

"You… BLOOD TRAITOR!" Her wand was held loosely in her fist. Her hair was flying in her rage. For a millisecond he felt fear, but then he remembered that he was no longer a teenager and that she could no longer terrify him into obeying her and her master. Her voice took on a cold tone, her anger barely concealed. "Your mother misses you, nephew. Why don't you come home?" She was lying. Mother was safely tucked away in an Order outpost in Switzerland. Father was somewhere on this battlefield too, fighting against Voldemort.

Despite popular belief, Mother and Father love each other dearly, and had followed him when he had abandoned them, finally convinced to do the right thing for their family. Father hadn't taken too kindly to being told about her though. He'd been furious.

"You don't know where my mother is. You've never cared about any of us. So don't pretend you know how she feels. Now, let's end this, shall we?" He brought his wand up, preparing to duel.

That insane look he had become used to finally made an appearance and her face twisted into a cruel smirk, one he was ashamed to say, looked a lot like his. She fired a curse and he blocked. He fired and she blocked. It continued on like this for a few minutes, Bellatrix dancing and twisting like she was on display, he blocking, returning fire, twisting out of the way.

Her eyes, which had been laughing, locked on his, suddenly flickered to his left. He quickly dropped his guard to turn, keeping his wand trained on her. She was there. Her wand was also trained on Bellatrix. But behind her was a masked Death Eater, his wand trained on her back. He was only a few metres away from her, and she was unaware.

Almost of its own accord, his arm swung around to aim at the unknown Death Eater and he shouted the Killing Curse at him. The next thing he knew, she was flying at him, and he turned back in time to see that Bellatrix was smirking triumphantly, having shouted out a "SECTUMSEMPRA!" And he knew, without a doubt. Even if Bellatrix Lestrange died in this battle, she would have won. Her body collided with his and they hit the ground. Blood hit his face and his vision went red. NO. Cradling her body, he aimed his wand at his aunt, and shouted a "CRUCIO" at her.

NO. She was so weak. Her eyes fluttered weakly. Her face contorted in pain. NO! He was enraged. He had enough mind to lay her down gently, and walked over to Lestrange's twisting body, lifted the Cruciatus from her, knelt and grabbed her face.

He twisted it to look at her. The woman he loved. The woman he had killed for. "Look at your work, traitor." He hissed. "Look at it…she is the future. Goodbye, Auntie…" Her eyes widened. "Avada Kedavra!" He dropped what was left of the lunatic, and ran back to her.

He blinked. He could still feel her in his arms, her life draining away with her blood, and he shuddered.

White, hot, pain lanced though his arm, he hissed, clawing at the sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark. Almost as quickly as it had come, it was gone. The mark was fading, leaving angry red welts where it had been.

Potter had won.

But at what cost?

Her life? What shape would Potter be in when he returned? Would Weasley be ok? What about Ginny? So many questions…

The healers seemed to be in a panic, he realised, instantly terrified. What was wrong? Was she ok? Oh, Merlin, he was going to lose her.

Madam Pomfrey appeared beside him, she looked as lost as he felt. She was important to all of them. "What's happened?" He asked, trying not to let the fear creep into his voice.

"There are…complications…" She started, hesitating.

Oh, Merlin, Oh Merlin… No…

"She's going to be fine. It's the baby were worried about…"

…What…? Baby…?

He grabbed the mediwitch's shoulders. "What are you talking about? What baby? Why are you standing here? Why aren't you in there, saving my wife?"

The mediwitch went pale. "Y-you didn't know? She's pregnant. She's about twelve weeks along. Oh, Merlin."

His mouth went dry. The mediwitch thought he looked somewhat like a deer caught in headlights, as the muggle saying went.

Madam Pomfrey drew in a deep breath. She now had to be strong for both of her patients, past and present. "There is a lot of bleeding, which is consistent with the Sectumsempra being cast, but there is also some vaginal blood, and one of the cuts pierced her abdomen. The healers working on her now are running tests, they should know very shortly how the baby is. She's healing up very nicely and she was conscious just long enough to inform us that she could be pregnant."

His mind was blank… "You have to let me see her."

Madam Pomfrey hung her head, "we can't let you do that just yet: although we have stopped the blood, she still has open wounds. Please, just stay here. We'll keep you posted on her condition."

As soon as the woman disappeared back into the hospital wing, he threw his fist into the glass. It didn't shatter, but the pain in his hand felt good. So he did it again and again.

"You shouldn't do that."

He looked at his hand. Flesh hung from his bloodied knuckles. How could he let that happen to her? So much blood…

"Potter?"

"He's in bad shape," the red head behind him said. "Ron took him to St. Mungo's. Wanted me to stay here and find you two. I heard from someone she saved that she was up here." Ginny put her hand on his wrist. "How is she?"

"She's getting better." He had to know. "Did you know? Did you know about the baby?"

There were bruises and dirt smudges on her face, a few scratches on her arms, but she didn't seem to be in too much pain. "She thought she may have been. She was due to get some tests yesterday, but all this happened." Her voice was low, laced with sorrow. "How is the baby?"

He pressed his forehead to the cool glass again. He could feel tears beginning to well, but he fought them back. He couldn't do this now. She needed him to be strong. "They don't know yet."

He heard the red head swallow. "I better get to Harry…If you need us…"

"…Go… be with your fiancée."

She sighed, "It should have been different…"

"But it wasn't. Now we have to deal with it. Go to Potter, Weasley!" He barked at her.

She quickly wrapped her arms around him, offering comfort he could not -- would not -- take from her, and ran down the hall, desperate to be with her soul mate.

She was so pale. She should not have been that pale. But if he looked closer, he could see some colour returning to her body.

She was so still…

She was normally so full of life, and here she was… broken, bloody… pregnant.

And it was all his fault. Five months they'd been married. They had decided to wait until the war was over and Voldemort was finally defeated for good.

He pressed his forehead to the glass, needing to be as close to her as possible, while the healers worked on her. He did not know how long he stood there: so long it felt like forever.

It looked as if the healers were finishing up. He stood up straighter. They were.

He banged on the glass. "What are you doing! Save my wife and my child!" The healers just looked at him and continued to put away their equipment.

A hand caught his arm. It was Madam Pomfrey. "It's ok. They are fine. The gashes she has are closing up. The baby is okay. Everyone is fine."

Oh, Merlin. He closed his eyes in relief. His body sagged against the glass window.

His family is safe.

"We'll find you a bed so you can stay next to them tonight. Tomorrow you should be okay to go home depending on her vitals tomorrow morning. And every few weeks I'd like the two of you to come in to get regular check ups. It's just a precaution." She added when she saw the terrified look on his face again.

He followed the mediwitch into the hospital wing, and towards her bed. "Do not be surprised if she does not wake up tonight. We've given her Dreamless sleep potions, blood replenishing, and pain medication."

As he sat in the armchair beside her bed, an orderly brought a cot and placed it next to the bed. He sat there, in the uncomfortable armchair for hours – he wasn't going to sleep in the cot. When he could take no more he climbed into her bed and wrapped his arms around her. Merlin, she was so beautiful…

He woke the next day, to find her staring at him, her lightly playing with his fingers resting on her slightly more rounded belly. How did he miss that?

"The baby?" She whispered.

He smiled, suddenly very happy.

"The baby is fine."

She closed her eyes, content. "Good."

She was so beautiful. How did he ever deserve her? "I love you, Hermione."

Her voice was so soft, she was drifting off to sleep. "I love you, Draco."

#~*~#

Finished:11:09 PM, Thursday September 10th, 2009

This was my first one shot! Please review and tell how it was!