One-Shots

⚠️TRIGGER WARNING⚠️

[Self Harm]

Draco ran into his dorm, wiping everything off of desks and breaking everything in sight angrily. He stopped in front of his mirror, looking at his pained reflection, red and puffy eyes, covered in dirt from head to toe.

He screwed his eyes shut, trying to hold back more tears before slamming his fists against the mirror, completely shattering it, although he was unable to care as he dropped to his knees, broken sobs escaping his mouth, “It’s my fault...” he muttered silently to himself.

“IT’S MY FAULT!” he cried out, his voice audibly cracking. If he had taken the curse for her, she would be fine. It should have been him. If it was, she wouldn’t be gone, she would be alive... Alive and happy. She would have won the war, everything would be alright.

Draco positioned himself so he was sitting with his back against the mirror, ignoring the shards of glass that were digging into his back. He deserved it, he was a coward, as always, he didn’t save her the first time, and now he didn’t save her the second time. He deserved the pain, He deserved to die and rot in hell for allowing an angel to die.

He inhaled deeply, barely getting any air, as his throat had blocked slightly from crying. He looked at the shards of glass all around him, biting his lip harshly. He blinked hard, to get all the tears out of his eyes, blocking his vision. He slowly picked up one of the pieces of glass without thinking. He looked at the shard for a second, grimacing slightly at his pained face in the reflection of the glass.

He then put the edge of the glass to his wrist pushing it down, wincing at how it broke skin so easily. Despite his urge to pull the glass away and drop it, he guided the sharp edge through his skin. He deserved this. He deserved the pain, he had let one of the only people he had actually cared about die. He deserved this.

He then pulled the glass away from his skin, slowly raising it to his neck, pushing the edge against his throat, pushing down slightly, but not enough to break the skin.

If only there was a way to bring you back...

Wait.

Draco dropped the glass like it was on fire and got up from his spot on the ground and ran to his nightstand. He opened a drawer, digging through it, smiling for the first time in hours when he saw it.

He grabbed the Bezoar and ran out of his room, then the common area, and rushed to the battleground to find everyone crying over everyone who had died. He looked around and saw Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter crying over Hermione Granger’s dead body. He teared up at the sight of her but ran to her, knowing that it was almost too late, if not already too late.

He pushed Ron out of his way, dropping to his knees in front of Hermione’s body.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing Malfoy?!” Ron asked angrily, “You’ve already done enough damage”

Ron was fully prepared to blame Draco for Hermione’s death. Of course, he was. As if he hadn’t punished himself enough. Harry was about to say something before he looked at Draco’s hand, seeing the Bezoar in his grasp.

“Malfoy...” He said with an awed look, “You’d use that on her?” he asked in disbelief.

Draco nodded, before quickly pulling Hermione cold body on his lap, putting the Bezoar into her mouth, waiting for a minute, tearing up when she didn’t warm up or even start breathing.

“It didn’t work.” Ron said, annoyed, “Way to get our hopes up Malfoy, what a way to let the pain actually sink in, you’re sick, you know that ri~”

Hermione shot up, looking around and breathing heavily. She then looked forward, her breath slowing slightly, her eyes widened and Draco smiled widely at the first thing she said.

“Draco?”