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document.write(''); Death or Something Like It

Author: Elizabeth lissag7@juno.com

Rating: Probably more around PG, but I'll PG-13 just to be safe. Some violence and allusions to more adulty things.

Summary: The final battle has taken place, and Harry and co. mourn their losses, which include Hermione. But just as they begin to move on with their lives, there is an unexpected twist of fate.

Ships: H/Hr, first and foremost, some D/Hr, H/G, and a little R/L. Maybe some D/G, too. We'll see. :)

Disclaimer: Sadly, none of these characters are mine. On a side-note, I started a similar fic with Buffy, Angel, and Spike a while back that I never finished. So if you happen to be one of the three people that read that and think that I'm stealing that idea, don't worry. It's mine.

Draco apparently saw very little need for ceremony as he pushed open the front door to the Weasley's home without knocking and stormed inside. " Where is she?" he inquired, his tone suggesting little room for any dallying.

" Upstairs," Bill stammered, having just come out of the kitchen. He was carrying a half-eaten cookie in one hand and a glass of milk in the other. As Draco raced past him, he looked after the younger man in wonder. " What is Malfoy doing here...?"

If Draco heard him, he scarcely registered the words. His heart was pounding quite rapidly in his chest, inflating to twice its normal size, making it rather difficult to breathe. Still, he didn't stop until he had reached the open doorway to what he presumed must be Ginny's room and stepped inside. At first, all he could see was a flash of red hair; Ron and Ginny were crowded around the bed, talking animatedly. The next thing he saw was Harry, who seemed to have regained his annoying Potter-ness overnight and was now laughing and smiling like a normal person again.

And then he saw her.

Hermione, sitting up in her bed.

Hermione, laughing at one of Ron's jokes.

Hermione...alive.

Draco merely stood there for a moment, fighting back the waves of emotion that had once caused him to be whipped as a child, content to just watch her for a minute or an hour or however long he could get away with it without being committed. But then, seeming to sense his presence, Hermione glanced up at him, and their gazes met. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room as Potter and the two Weasels recognized that he had arrived, and then Hermione was smiling at him. " Hello, Draco."

It was like a flood of emotions was drowning him. He wanted to laugh and cry and run to her and kiss her and throw himself at her feet, but pride kept him from doing any of those things. Knowing that the others would be watching, would see his weakness...

He swallowed and tilted his chin up ever so slightly. " Hello, Granger..." It was almost too much, and he took another moment to compose himself. " Could I...um, could we have a moment to ourselves, please?"

Going into protective friend mode, Ron folded his arms and glared at him. " What have you got to say that the rest of us can't hear, Malfoy?"

Draco rolled his eyes, remembering now why he was never polite. " Will you gits leave, or do I have to bloody the lot of you to make you get out?"

Ron started toward him, seeming to welcome the challenge, but Hermione hastily intervened. " Ron, Ginny," her voice softened ever so slightly, " Harry...please. Just give us a moment."

Begrudgingly, Ron turned and left, followed shortly by his sister and best friend. Draco watched after them smugly, noting with particular pleasure the look of discomfit in Harry's eyes as he left.

As soon as they had shut the door behind them, Draco turned back to face Hermione. He felt suddenly inexplicably shy. " Hey."

She smiled at him kindly. " Hey." For a moment, she glanced down, fingering nervously at the little tufts of yarn on her bedspread. Finally, she looked back up, smiling crookedly. " So, apparently, I was dead."

" Apparently so," Draco returned, smiling in return. " You have a tombstone and everything."

Hermione shivered. " How dreadful. I suppose it's something terribly morose and sappy?"

Draco considered this. " Well, it didn't seem so at the time, but now that you're alive..." He took in a deep breath, venturing a little closer to her. " How do you feel?"

Hermione shrugged. " Absolutely fine. I don't even remember...well, dying. One moment, I was fighting alongside Harry, and then the next thing I knew, I was here. And everyone's been telling me that I've been dead for more than two months."

" Sixty-four days," Draco corrected automatically. He felt suddenly very foolish for stowing away such information.

Hermione met his gaze with a mixture of wonder and sadness in her eyes. Impulsively, she reached out her hand to him. Draco obligingly took it and seated himself on the side of her bed. Lowering her gaze, she began to absently draw little half-circles on the skin of his hand with her index finger. " I'm sorry," she said finally.

Draco felt a tiny sting in his eyes and was suddenly very glad that Hermione wasn't looking at him. " Don't be," he managed finally. " You're back. That's all that matters."

***

Out in the hallway, Ron and Harry were waiting tensely-Ron pacing up and down the small stretch of carpet, Harry checking his watch every few seconds. Ginny rolled her eyes and let out a melodramatic sigh. " Oh, honestly," she snapped, " you two act as though she's in there with the Devil or Hitler or something."

" Close enough," Ron muttered, shooting another scathing glance in the direction of Ginny's bedroom door.

Harry said nothing, as he had just visualized a rather disturbing image of Malfoy with two pointy horns and a little patch of mustache.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Draco stepped out into the hall. Shutting the door behind him, he turned to face the others coolly. " She's asleep now," he informed them.

" Well," Ron said brightly, " no need for you to stick around, then. Thanks for dropping by."

" Not until I get some answers," Draco returned evenly. " Which one of you wankers cast the spell to bring her back to life?" He spoke generally, but turned his gaze pointedly to Harry.

Harry's eyes darkened visibly. " For the last time," he half-growled through gritted teeth, " There was no spell. Hermione was brought back because she wasn't supposed to die that day-- "

" Oh, come off it, Potter!" Draco spat. " Hermione knew what she was doing when she died for you. It was supposed to be her big glorious sacrifice for you, only someone's changed that now. There are prices to be paid for that sort of thing, and she might be the one who has to suffer for it. So which one of you cast the bloody spell?"

The hallway was suddenly submerged into silence as Draco and Harry glared at each other. Ginny cleared her throat tentatively. " I'm a little confused," she admitted. " I thought that there weren't any spells that could raise the dead."

" Oh, there are spells, Miss Weasley. But like Mr. Malfoy suggested, the consequences of those spells are so high that the knowledge of them is kept mostly hidden to discourage anyone from being tempted."

They turned, recognizing immediately the kind, mellifluous voice. Dumbledore. He smiled his composed smile as he approached, meeting each of their gazes respectively. " Only unlike Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore continued evenly, " I find it hard to believe that any of you were involved in the raising spell."

Ginny furrowed her brow. " Then...who?"

Dumbledore smiled at her indulgently. " Before I make any speculations, I wonder if I might speak with Hermione for a moment?"

They led him into the room. Hermione was awake, sitting up in bed and staring down at her hands. Draco raised an eyebrow. " You told me you were going to sleep," he reminded her.

" I lied." Hermione returned simply. She looked up, resting her gaze upon Dumbledore. " I heard everything. Do you really think that someone cast a spell to bring me back?"

" I think it was a distinct possibility," Dumbledore informed her honestly, " but not the only one. All the same, for whatever reason, you're back with us now, and it is my first concern to make certain that you're all right. How do you feel? Do you remember anything from that day?"

Hermione shrugged. " I feel fine. But I don't remember anything about dying." Her friends winced at the words, but she continued, " The last thing I remember is Voldemort using that spell to take Harry by the throat, and then I was here."

Dumbledore nodded, as though all of this was familiar. " I suspect that your memory will come back in time," he revealed, " and that you'll be able to notice any side effects of your resurrection that might surface."

Harry frowned at this, concern evident in his eyes. " What sort of side effects?" he inquired.

" It's hard to say," Dumbledore returned honestly, " but you'll know when you experience them. Let me know if anything...unusual should arise."

There was a short pause as everyone fell into contemplative silence, wondering what sort of side effects Dumbledore meant. Sensing that things had perhaps become a bit too serious, Dumbledore smiled once again. " And my second concern as your former headmaster is to offer Hogwarts as the center for your homecoming party. I assume that there will be many people who are anxious to speak to you..."