Icy tendrils of fear raced along Hermione’s spine. Her French might be limited, but she knew enough to grasp the meaning behind M. Delacour’s words. Ils viennent…they are coming.
“Who? Who are coming?” she cried frantically, struggling to recall her French. “Qui… qui viennent?”
He froze, his eyes staring through her into hell. “Ils viennent,” he whispered once more.
“Avada Kedavra,” said a voice softly. The spell whispered across the grass. Its green light cast a sickly glow over M. Delacour’s face as it hit him in the back. He sighed softly and collapsed onto Hermione, knocking her to the ground. She looked down, frozen in horror, at his blank eyes staring up at her.
She screamed.
A warm glow filled Draco from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair. He stretched out his hand to the doorknob of the bedroom reluctantly, not wanting the memories “ what wonderful memories! “ to be blurred in sleep.
Hermione’s scream tore through him.
Without conscious direction from his brain, he flung the door open and dashed to the window. Through its dusty panes he saw dark figures approaching the house from all sides. He wanted to cry a warning, but his throat seemed glued together with fear.
“What was that?” Harry asked muzzily, pushing himself up. Ron’s tousled head rose from his pillow. Draco’s mouth opened and shut, but he couldn’t force the words past the lump in his throat.
“Attack,” Draco managed hoarsely. Harry stared for a heartbeat in horror, then seized his wand and bolted out the door, Ron close behind him.
“What do I do?” Draco cried, leaping after them.
“Wake everyone up, then hide,” Ron called over his shoulder. “You’re no good without a wand.”
Draco nodded reluctantly and ran out after them, hammering on every door he saw.
“Get up!” he yelled, over and over. “We’re being attacked.”
In the times they lived in, such words were not taken lightly.
A hand clamped tightly over Hermione’s mouth. Metal cut into the soft skin of her lips “ so many rings! She tried to scream again, but the person only tightened their grip.
“Quiet, girl, or I shall slit your throat,” hissed an accented voice. Hermione froze. Madame Delacour!
“Did she wake them? This is all your fault! If you hadn’t let that fool slip away…” a man shot at Delacour. His narrow eyes flickered over the silent house.
Please let someone have heard me,Hermione prayed. Please let someone come. A pale flicker in one of the windows “ a face? “ caught her eye. It was enough.
With all her strength, she stamped down on her captor’s dainty foot. As Delacour screeched, her grip lessened. Hermione ducked, rolled to avoid a hex, grabbed her wand and leapt to her feet.
“Stupefy!” she cried, pointing her wand at the narrow-eyed Death Eater. Miraculously, her spell hit home and he collapsed on the ground.
“Hermione! Look out!” She spun around and fired a hex at Delacour, ducking to avoid the jet of green light that flew over her head. Her hex failed to find its mark, and she was forced to fling herself to the side to avoid another curse.
Ron hauled her to her feet, his eyes sweeping over her in hasty concern. Behind them, the Burrow erupted in shouts and roars. Both rushed to defend the house, hoping against hope that help would arrive.
Please let Bill have told someone, Hermione wished frantically as she ducked two curses sent after her at once. Delacour pursued her relentlessly, her silvery hair falling in disarray over her face. Hermione was slowly being driven back, away from the main fighting force of her friends.
Stupefy, she thought desperately, but Delacour merely smiled and deflected the spell with a careless wave of her wand. Her smile widened showing all her teeth in a predatory grimace. Hermione leaned back in fear, but the incantation for the Shield Charm just would not come to her.
Not now, not now, not NOW! Her mind was a terrified blank. She cried out in terror as a Leg-Locker curse thumped into her. She lay, helpless, while Delacour walked slowly towards her, raising her wand with a vicious, gleeful smile as she…
Collapsed. Hermione’s breath rushed out of her in an enormous gasp, and to her shame tears pricked her eyes. A pale hand gripped her arm and pulled her gently to her feet. She wobbled, her feet still jammed tightly together. This was forgotten, however, as she realised who had rescued her.
“Draco! But you shouldn’t be out “ you’ve got no wand!”
“I saved you, didn’t I?” he shrugged. She glanced down at Delacour’s prone form, at then at the large stone he still clutched in his hand.
“Could you pass me my wand?” she asked him, trying in vain to get to her feet. He did so, and pulled her up with a half-smile after she had released herself. “Now you’d better get back inside, and stay there.” He grimaced but joined her as she sprinted back up to where the main fighting was going on. “And thanks,” she threw over her shoulder.
Harry stood with his back to the wall of the house, surrounded by Death Eaters , firing hex after hex with his face contorted in rage and hatred. Ron lay very still on the ground beside him. Hermione’s breath caught. No, he’s alive, he’s alive! she tried to convince herself.
“Watch out!” Draco yelled, and both flung themselves on the ground as a huge Death Eater sent a jet of green light flying towards them. We’re losing, Hermione could hardly accept it. We’re outnumbered, and we’re all going to die.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Hermione looked up to see Tonks and Lupin leaping into the fray. Bill! He told them! With renewed hope, she stood and joined the rest of the Order as they drove the Death Eaters back. Hermione ended up standing beside Harry as they forced a particularily fat wizard away from the house.
“Is Ron okay?” Hermione cried, dodging a Body-Bind curse.
“Just knocked out!” Harry replied as he sent yet another hex.
“Retreat!” one of the Death Eaters suddenly cried out. “We’re outnumbered, just get out!” Relief flooded Hermione as she parried her opponent’s parting shot. It was somewhat lessened when she saw Delacour joining the others unsteadily. Her eyes narrowed when she saw Hermione. Amidst the cries of the Order and the bangs and pops of the Death Eaters Disapparating, she raised her wand and screamed an unintelligible curse before disappearing with a screech of triumph.
Hermione dived to the ground and felt her hair ripple as the spell passed over her. She heard a gasp from behind her, and a thud that rang out ominously in the sudden silence. She turned slowly, heart thumping as a dreadful feeling of déjà vu swept over her.
Draco sprawled at the foot of the wall. Blood trickled slowly down the side of his face. His eyes were closed.
Hermione’s heart plummeted and shattered. Tight bands circled her chest, constricting her until she couldn’t breathe. No. Nononono. This isn’t real. It can’t be real, her heart screamed as Tonks ran to kneel beside him.
“He’s breathing, but unconscious,” she called out. “His head wound might be serious “ can we get a Healer?”
A tidal wave of relief swept over Hermione. Suddenly weak-kneed, she gratefully accepted Harry’s steadying arm.
Moody stumped up to stand beside her. Blood trickled from a cut above his eye and he wiped it away irritably. “Not a chance. He’s wanted by the Ministry; there would be too many awkward questions.
“We can’t just let him die!” Hermione burst out angrily.
“What about Madam Pomfrey?” asked a voice from behind her. She turned to see Ron swaying unsteadily, clutching Kingsley Shacklebolt’s shoulder for balance.
“Oh! You’re okay!” she cried out, flinging her arms around his neck. He staggered and almost fell. She pulled back immediately, looking apologetic.
More of the Order had gathered by now. “Poppy can be trusted, I’m sure,” Professor McGonagall asserted.
“I’ll fetch her,” Tonks volunteered and she vanished with a bang. McGonagall turned to Mrs. Weasley.
“Molly, I’m afraid the Burrow won’t be safe any longer,” she said gently. “Luckily, we’ve prepared for something like this.” She turned to Harry. “Potter “ and Weasley and Granger too, I suppose“ you’ll be living at my house.” The slight tightening of her lips indicated this was not exactly a welcome event.
Harry stared. “Your house, Professor? But why? What’s wrong with Grimmauld Place?”
“It’s not safe now that its Secret Keeper is dead,” Hermione told him distractedly, craning her neck to watch Kingsley check Draco for broken bones. “Everyone who knew is a Secret Keeper now, so Snape could lead a horde of Death Eaters in on top of us.”
“Precisely, Miss Granger,” McGonagall nodded. She turned back to Mrs. Weasley. “Molly, while you’re welcome at my home, of course, I don’t think it’s big enough in the long run. Is there any relative’s house you could stay in?”
“Oh…well, of course, yes… I suppose there’s Aunt Muriel,” Mrs. Weasley stammered, looking around her in bewilderment. Smoke rose from the blackened skeleton of what had once been a tree, and glass littered the ground from several smashed windows. “But what about food? And clothes? And“”
McGonagall rested a hand on her arm. “Come now, Molly, we’ll get everyone safely there and then worry about things like that.” She steered her gently to the roadside. “Has someone managed to find some Muggle taxis?” she called back over her shoulder.
“I have, Minerva,” replied a black-haired witch whom Hermione vaguely remembered seeing at the Order’s headquarters a few times. “They weren’t too happy, I can tell you “ I shouldn’t think many people should need them at one o’clock in the morning in this sleepy village!”
Hermione glanced back at Draco again. “He looks dreadfully pale.” A thought struck her suddenly. “Professor! Professor McGonagall!”
McGonagall looked up from a conversation with the black-haired witch. “What is it, Miss Granger?” she asked irritably.
“What about Draco “ I mean Malfoy? Where will he go?”
McGonagall paused for a split second before replying, “With you three, of course. I understand you’ve taken responsibility for him while he’s recovering.”
Harry scowled, but Hermione continued, “Where’s Madam Pomfrey? He looks really awful “ what if she’s too late?”
“He’ll be fine, Hermione,” Ron reassured her. She looked up at him, wishing she could believe him. “Malfoy isn’t going to die just by cracking his head off a wall! Catch him giving up the opportunity to torment us for the rest of his miserable life,” he joked. Hermione smiled reluctantly and buried her face in his shoulder. It was times like these that she missed those few weeks she’d been with Ron the most.
Ron! Oh my God, he’ll kill me! The thought jolted through her like an electric shock. She pulled away suddenly.
“Hermione, are you okay?” Ron asked her in concern.
“Fine “ fine!” she managed. If Ron found out about Draco… but she’d have to tell him, wouldn’t she? At least…
It was then that Hermione saw the awful choice that lay before her. Ron or Draco? Draco or Ron?
Ron will never speak to me again if I go with Draco. That will be it “ no going back. But if I choose Ron… Hermione felt an awful sense of loss cut through her. The way she had felt when Draco had kissed her, she had never felt with anyone before. Her stomach still tightened in giddy pleasure when she thought of it. It hadn’t been that way with Victor, with Cormac, nor even, she thought guiltily, with Ron.
Hermione’s thoughts kept running in circles “ vicious circles, with pitfalls and jagged-toothed traps lurking everywhere. The journey passed in a blur of fear and indecision . Each agonising second, she debated with herself what was the best thing, the right thing, to do, and each second she reached a new decision.
“Here we are, then,” McGonagall said briskly. Hermione started; she hadn’t even noticed the taxi stopping. She looked out at the terrace of houses before her, each one tall and narrow, and to her tired mind, infinitely foreboding.
The Weasley family soon appeared from nearby taxis, with Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt levitating Draco on a stretcher. As they shivered (the night had grown breezy, and a thin drizzle drifted down), Hermione noticed Kingsley passing from one person to the next, whispering something in their ears. He bent his head to Mrs. Weasley’s; an expression of mild surprise spread over her face, and she stepped forward impatiently.
“What is Kingsley doing?” Ron muttered in her here.
“I’m not…” Realisation dawned. Feeling like an idiot for not understanding sooner, she hissed back, “He must be Secret Keeper for McGonagall’s house! He’s telling us so we can go in.”
He reached the three of them moments later. His deep, rich voice whispered, ‘Belvedere,’ softly into her ear. She blinked, and suddenly another house began to appear, starting out as only a tiny sliver but growing until its soaring roof finally levelled with the rest of the terrace. Tall, tightly-shuttered windows let out no chink of light from its imposing bulk.
“Better get in before any Muggles start asking questions,” Moody growled, and with a flick of his wand he started forward, Draco floating beside him. Hermione followed everyone up the damp steps, through the porch and into an anteroom. They stood and shivered in the cool tiled room.
“In here,” McGonagall said, pushing open a door to her right. Stepping through, Hermione found herself in a large, rectangular room. A table stood in the corner with a sheet draped over it, only the ornately decorated legs showing, with several matching chairs stacked beside it. With a wave of her wand McGonagall lit a small fire in the fireplace looming at the other end of the room, surrounded by several armchairs and a small couch. It was onto this that Moody lowered Draco. Hermione’s breath caught as she saw him for the first time in good light. His face was deathly pale, throwing the blood that still trickled down his face into sharp, evil relief.
A ring at the doorbell sent McGonagall hurrying out. She reappeared moments later with Madam Pomfrey at her side.
“Good heavens,” she exclaimed at the sight of them all clustered around the fire. “Let the boy breathe!”
“Molly, perhaps it would be a good idea to take the children down for some tea,” McGonagall said. “Just down the hallway, through the door at the end.” Mrs. Weasley blinked and nodded rather absently before leaving the room as if in a dream.
Hermione followed Ron and Harry down to the kitchen, another long, high-ceilinged room, but this one at least looked as though it was used once in a while. She helped Mrs. Weasley with the tea mechanically, her mind still fretting about whether Draco would recover and (worse still) what would she do then?
The wait seemed to drag on for weeks, though it couldn’t have been more than half an hour. Mrs. Weasley pressed them all with so much tea Hermione was sure she would scream if she ever tasted the stuff again.
At long last, McGonagall came down to tell them that Madam Pomfrey had finished. Hermione spilt her tea over Ron as she leapt up and rushed out. Luckily for him, his mother was too distracted to hear his curses as he hurriedly mopped up and ran.
Moody and Kingsley were talking quietly by the fireplace as Hermione entered. Her heart plummeted as her eyes fell on the prone form on the couch. Moody looked up and saw her expression.
“No, Granger, he’s not dead, just sleeping. He’ll wake up when he’s ready.”
Hermione’s spirits, after leaping in joy at news of Draco’s wellbeing, sank at the thought of yet more torturous hours of waiting. She glanced at Draco’s still face, willing him to show some sign of life.
A flicker.
Hermione fell to her knees by his side, barely daring to breathe. Had it been her imagination “ no, there again! His eyelids fluttered weakly. Her breath caught as he slowly raised his lids and turned his grey eyes towards her.
“Draco “ you’re awake! You’re okay!” Her heart danced in her chest, and she felt light-headed from relief and delight.
His eyes narrowed. “What’s it to you, Mudblood?”
My Name is Draco Malfoy... I Think by mooncalf
Chapter Notes: Apologies for the umpteenth time for the long wait. It's been written forever, but after DH I had to change some things. I'll try to be more punctual, I promise!