VIII.

Hermione Granger sat in the doctor's office, clutching Draco's shaking hand next to her. Her head was on his shoulder and he kissed the top of her head, affectionately.

"Hermione Granger, the doctor is ready for you."

Hermione's eyes immedietly watered as she stood up and Draco followed her. They sat down in the office of Dr. Patil. He was sitting at his desk, writing down notes on a post-it note. He looked up at them both, solemnly and motioned for them to sit.

"Hello, Miss Granger, how are you today?" he asked. As she sat, Hermione sighed.

"Well, that all depends on the results of today." She wiped at her eyes as Dr. Patil looked down at his hands on his desk. He looked back up at her, grimacing and she already knew what he was going to say.

"Miss Granger, I'm so sorry to say this but your test results came back as positive for breast cancer."

Tears immedietly streamed Hermione's cheeks and Draco lifted her to her feet, one arm around her as he mumbled a short thank you to the doctor. He lead her out of the office, down an alleyway in Muggle London next to the doctor's office and Apparated them away to the Manor. As soon as they hit the marble floor, so did Hermione, collapsing onto her knees. She finally screamed into her hands as Draco sat next to her, one arm still around her. He wept too. The woman he loved has a deadline on her life.

 

The last two years had been brutal for the both of them. Hermione battled cancer and Draco battled depression. Now bald and frail, Hermione lay asleep in her hospital bed, gently sleeping with one hand over Draco's, clasping together tightly. He wept at her side, letting everything come out that the therapist hadn't already taken away. He looked at their wedding rings next to each other. They had gotten married on a whim as one of Hermione's wishes. She wanted to die a Malfoy, and Draco nearly cried when he heard her say it. He kissed her pale hand and sobbed a few more times before wiping his face and standing up to go to the cafeteria of the hospital.

 

He drank his coffee as he walked. He'd sat in the cafeteria for about three hours, just contemplating everything that would be happening in the future. He knew his wife only had a few days to live. While he was away at home without Hermione, he'd contacted her parents and his own parents, asking them to send out notices for Hermione's funeral. Both sets of parents had been visiting Hermione as frequently as he had. He saw nurses rushing around his wife's room and his heart panicked.  He dropped his coffee and ran the rest of the way to the room.

"What's going on? What's happening?" he cried, trying to see into the room. Nurses pushed him away and he saw Dr. Patil inside bending over Hermione. He finally pushed his way through as Dr. Patil looked at him with sad eyes. They stared at each other and the doctor shook his head. His wife was gone.

 

Draco cried at the funeral. He cried everyday for two months. He cried at therapy without the therapist even saying anything. He would just let Draco cry until the session for the week was done. Everything between the crying was numb. He felt nothing when he visited family, nor when anyone visited him. He did have a lot of visitors though. Hermione had been famous and Draco regretted letting people know where they lived. He didn't want all the extra company nor did he think Hermione would've appreciated it. She didn't necessarily enjoy all the attention the war had given her.

 

Draco sat in his bathroom. He wanted to be with his wife. He stared at the razor blade on the black marble counter and it gleamed at him, enticingly. He smirked, the closest thing to a smile in months. He undressed himself down to his boxers and picked up blade. He sat down in the bathtub and turned on the water as hot as he could stand it. He pushed the plug into the drain and closed the glass doors. He stared at the blade before he guided it across his wrists. He cut an 'H' in his right wrist and a 'D' in his left wrist. He did this on each hip, on each ankle, each hip and each side of his face. He cried as he finally saw the bood mix in with the steaming water. He took one final gulp and sliced downard on his throat on each side. Before his memories faded to black, he remembered Hermione's hands clasping his in her sleep at the hostpital, the smell of her hair, her laugh and most importantly, their wedding day. But within his memories, the last sight he was his own blood running thickly down his chest.

 

I Will Follow You Into the Dark - Death Cab for Cutie

Author's Note

Yeah, this was definitely a more depressing one shot. I haven't had the best week, and this was the result of it.