His gentle hands continued to caress the exposed skin. The damage from the
final battle had done some work on it.
At first, all she could feel was the physical pain; the pain of the first curses thrown her way, of the heat from the surrounding fires tormenting her already sensitive flesh, the muggle devices they used, despite their disgust of muggles. Finally, the sounds began to dim, and she thought herself to be dying. She slowly was losing consciousness. Moments before she was drawn into darkness, she felt someone lift her and cradle her; a solid form that she leaned against for comfort and warmth.
Now?
She was regaining consciousness slowly, and all she could really focus on were those hands. She could still feel the pain, but the hands were soothing; tracing gentle circles along her skin, spreading the cream that she knew they were using to treat her. She didn't have the energy to open her eyes in search of the owner of those hands, so she allowed them to continue without disruption.
Pushing her focus beyond the physical contact, she tried to listen to her surroundings. She could hear many mutterings of incantations, tears of despair, people moving to tend to the sick, the dying, and the dead.
Dead.
Now the emotional pain was coming back, although not tremendously. She was too tired to deal with all of that now, but she briefly remembered some of those who she knew lost: Harry, Ron, Dumbledore, all gone. Even Draco, the little manipulative shit who had saved her life only a few days ago, gone.
Not wanting to think of those lost anymore, she turned her attention back to those hands. Warm and comforting, knowing of the pain that she was in. But they stopped. She couldn't feel them anymore. She let out a whimper. There was no more comfort for her. She didn't deserve it. She lived after all, survived the final battle. As soon as that whimper was let out, those hands came back; still gentle, comforting. They came with a voice this time.
"Rest. I am still here." She heard the voice say, familiar, but she could not place it.
At first, all she could feel was the physical pain; the pain of the first curses thrown her way, of the heat from the surrounding fires tormenting her already sensitive flesh, the muggle devices they used, despite their disgust of muggles. Finally, the sounds began to dim, and she thought herself to be dying. She slowly was losing consciousness. Moments before she was drawn into darkness, she felt someone lift her and cradle her; a solid form that she leaned against for comfort and warmth.
Now?
She was regaining consciousness slowly, and all she could really focus on were those hands. She could still feel the pain, but the hands were soothing; tracing gentle circles along her skin, spreading the cream that she knew they were using to treat her. She didn't have the energy to open her eyes in search of the owner of those hands, so she allowed them to continue without disruption.
Pushing her focus beyond the physical contact, she tried to listen to her surroundings. She could hear many mutterings of incantations, tears of despair, people moving to tend to the sick, the dying, and the dead.
Dead.
Now the emotional pain was coming back, although not tremendously. She was too tired to deal with all of that now, but she briefly remembered some of those who she knew lost: Harry, Ron, Dumbledore, all gone. Even Draco, the little manipulative shit who had saved her life only a few days ago, gone.
Not wanting to think of those lost anymore, she turned her attention back to those hands. Warm and comforting, knowing of the pain that she was in. But they stopped. She couldn't feel them anymore. She let out a whimper. There was no more comfort for her. She didn't deserve it. She lived after all, survived the final battle. As soon as that whimper was let out, those hands came back; still gentle, comforting. They came with a voice this time.
"Rest. I am still here." She heard the voice say, familiar, but she could not place it.