Hermione's head rested comfortably in the crook of Draco's shoulder, and she stared unappetizingly at her breakfast, today's bland oatmeal in seemingly contrast to the turmoil raging in her stomach. People had already began to clear out of the Great Hall to get seats for the task. They wouldn't be able to see what was in the forest, or going on, rather, but they'd see them all go in and they'd see who - if anyone - came out. Harry, Ron, Neville, Ginny, Luna and Hannah had all gone to get seats first thing, Harry and Ron embracing her tightly and the others giving her reassuring smiles and pats on the back. She could tell Ginny had wanted to do more, but even her reassuring smile looked more to herself than Hermione. The red-head was too worried to beproperly worried - Hermione knew that somehow it made sense, but she wasn't sure how. The hall was mostly empty, and McGonagall had, at one point, grasped her wineglass so tightly it'd shattered and spilled. David was trying to seem nonchalant about everything, but even his brow would furrow with concern occassionally as he looked at his own breakfast. Draco was trying to put on a brave face. He'd rolled his food over and over again, sometimes taking bites so she'd see and eat, but other times just looking at it like she did. His skin had increased dramatically in warmth over the night, because the whole time, they'd been in each other's arms.
Hermione had her eyes closed, shut tightly, wrinkled in concentration as she tried to count sheep and sleep; coutning sheep was supposed to be a boring activity, but her heart was hammering so she couldn't focus on any one thing and when she tried, she succeeded - the sheep were all different. Some were overly-fluffy, some were thin-wooled and they came in the normal sheep colors, the majority of them being white; she thought of them jumping over a white picket fense, with a grassy green hill expanding into the distance and meeting with a sapphire-colored sky. The deatail was so sharp, she tried to make it sharper still, and fought off other thoughts as she focused, focused, focused. One, two, three...
She had reached three hundred and seventy-two when the door to the dormitory creaked open slightly. Immediately, her eyes flew open and she reached for her wand, her fingers curling around the familiar wood. She sat up and pointed the wand directly at the door, which revealed - Draco.
She lowered her wand at once, the girls in the dorm besides her still sleeping soudly, their snores and tosses in their beds oddly calming.
He had undoubtedly seen her reaction, and smiled gravelly. "Come," he whispered - she never heard it, per say, but she saw him mouth it and felt the air around him tense. She'd become so adept at the little things about him, noticing even when he exhaled the slightest bit, that now, she could sense every breath he took by the basic and rhythmic thud-thud, thud-thud of the star she wore around her neck. She nodded once, and carefully and slowly, so as not to awake her dorm mates, she stepped out of bed, her feet shocked by the cold floor. She took quiet and light steps across the ground, not failing to notice how Draco looked over her quickly, clad in a scanty night-gown, and then discarded it, choosing to admire her eyes instead - how does one not love a man who ignores your body and loves you?
He grabbed her hand and their temperatures, now hardly different, mixed. Her heart fluttered, as was normal when he touched her at all, and the star wobbled in its beats.
He then took her from the dorm, turning them knob and closing the door silently. He led her away from the dormitory and out of the common room entirely. She was suspicious, but trusted him completely, so she did not ask where they were going as they plodded along silently, hoping ot to attract the attentions of any ghost browsing over the area.
He led her to the door of the broom cupboard where she'd hid after hearing Ron and Lavender break up and smiled at her, now anxious and nervous at the same time. She loved it when his eyes lit up like that. His free hand turned the knob, and pulled the door open quietly, so quietly you'd have heard a pin drop. Hermione stifled her gasp with her hand, biting dow on her palm to keep from exclaiming.
Inside the little cupboard was an entirely new room. It had a dark brown carpet, soft ad plush under her feet as she hesitantly entered. The walls were gold and silver, choosing the secondary colors for both of their respective houses, and bare from any shelves or cluttered materials. The cieling was raised another five or so feet, and was colored beige, a green chandelier anging from it, its candles burning a red flame; a perfect unity of their different house placements once more. The chandelier hung above a large double bed that had been made with cream-colored sheets - it had an ornately carved frame of darkened wood that glistened in the candlelight. The room was warm, and inviting, and completely innocent, and yet she wasn't sure about what it all meant, and she was nervous, too - a double bed and not another bed in sight. Did that mean he was planning...?
She looked at him curiously, and he led her to the bed and sat down gently, flicking his wrist and closing the door, and with aother flick locking it. She sat down next to him, and he whispered, "Muffliato," at the door.
He turned to her. "Tell me."
"Tell you what?"
"Tell me when you started having feelings for me."
"Hm..." she thought for a moment. "Started having, or started aknowledging?"
"Started having."
She thought some more. "Probably when you asked Ginny's permission to call her Weaslette."
He grinned boyishly. "That stuck, didn't it? Now I call her Ginny."
She laughed quietly. "Tell me," she said softly, not wanting her voice to carry but knowing it wouldn't, not with the spells he'd put up.
"The first Yule Ball," he said immediately.
Her eyebrows shot up. "That long ago?" She was shocked.
Draco put his hand beind her hair and brought her head closer to his, their foreheads touching. "There was not an insult I could throw at you," he whispered, his breath washing over her flushed face and cooling it somewhat. "Do you remember? The whole ball, I was thinking about possible insults, and realized not one would apply, because, right then, you were perfect."
She frowned. "Are you saying I wasn't perfect after that?"
It was his turn to laugh. "You're not perfect, Hermione, that was a poor choice of words... How about, you're perfect for me? And you have been since, I've just been too blind to see it."
"I'm not perfect?"
He smiled. "For me, you are. Hermione," he said, noticing her dubious expression, "you're not supposed to be perfect, but I'm supposed to love your flaws, because they're part of you."
Hermione's heart swelled to the bursting point and she feared it would shatter from the affection. But being with him made every part of her whole and she knew she'd be alright when he was there.
They managed to exchanged a few pleasantries before sharing a kiss that electrified her brain and made everything clearer than before. Falling back onto the bed, their arms around each other, their lips moving into synchronizatiion, the soft pillows welcomed them and fit to their heads perfectly. When they pulled apart, they both had their eyes closed, and did not repoen them the whole night; they slept in a loving and romantic embrace, their dreams sweetened by the other.
Hermione wasn't done remembering this when she realized Draco was standing with her in the Champion's tent, and the roar of the crowd was almost defeaning, even hidden away.
Sudden fear gripped her heart. Everything went out of focus and her blood ran cold. She gripped Draco's hand with vice-like strength, her knuckles white as her face, which had lost all color. Her body seemed detatched from her mind - she could not get her body to move, whereas her mind was moving at a million miles an hour. She was dizzy and barely saw the ground rushing at her face and felt Draco's arms catch her. And after she was upright again, she realized she'd been falling. "Hermione," Draco whispered, his voice urgent, his grey eyes filled with a burning fear that she felt twisted her stomach into knots. "Hold your star."
Hermione, barely realizing what she was doing, grabbed her star as she'd grabbed his hand - the star was barely beating, and feebly at that. As she looked into his eyes to find solace, she felt it restart. The warm pulsing of it against her palm was a soothing beat, steady now.
"Feel that," he whispered, "In the forest. Know I'm scared for you, but I'm not going to say goodbye - for two reason; one, I believe you'll get out. And two, you'd not accept it anyway." He grinned suddenly.
Hermione felt tears start in her eyes and she flung her arms around him, hugging him to her, promising to herself that when she could, she'd grab him again.
"Hermione," called Kingsley, opening the flap of the tent and looking at her. "You're all starting at the forest's edge. Come on."
Hermione nodded, and as he left, she looked to Draco, eyes wide and her heart beating against her ribcage painfully.
He smiled at her. His fingers pushed a lock of hair behind her ear again, and he let his fingers drop to the back of her neck, bringing her close and kissing her forehead gently, his lips' touch bringing oceans of comfort.
She could not bring herself to look at him once more. He went to leave the tent by one flap, and she went to the other. She forced herself not to look back, knowing that if she did and she saw him looking, she'd not be able to push herself forward to get to the task.
She moved with ghost-liked steps, not even recognizing individual voices in the crowd as they cheered her on. The air was frail, like clouds about to rain, but she dared not look up to check. She kept her eyes on the ground and focused intently on her feet and the ground they trod on. One step, two steps...
She found her feet meeting up with another pair, and looked up to find Simis, smiling nervously. She raised an eyebrow. "Why are you smiling?"
"Well, you can always pretend you've searched by finding an empty clearing, rubbing grass and twigs in your hair, sitting or napping for half and hour and coming back out," he answered in a conspiratorial whisper.
She felt the disgusted look on her face. "You won't even try? You don't have a plan to win?"
"I have a plan to stay alive," he snapped, seeing her look and his smile vanishing.
Their eyes met and a fiery line of energy passed between them before they both looked away, angry and awkward.
"Ah, you're all here," said Kingsley, striding up to them. "Right. the task is simple. Look for the
Goblet as well as you can, and if you can't, get out quickly. If you do, don't die, grab it and get out quickly. Good? Good. Wait -" he looked at bith of them. "Where's the other?"
"I'm here!" Brant shouted, coming out of the tent right then and jogging to join them. The Einsworth students clapped and cheered loudly - but all schools and all students had cheered for her and her struggles, and she couldn't help the twinkle in her eye she got whenever she felt slightly superior. "I heard your speech," he informed the Minister, "I know what to do."
"Good," Kingsley repeated himself. "Alright. You have ten minutes before the canon sounds to talk to your partner."
They all looked to Filch, standing by the canon, waiting for it to prove them wrong. When nothing happened and he sneered at them unbecomingly, Kingsley sounded vaguely interested when he said, "I guess you really do have ten minutes. Partners!" he then called, waving over the other two Headmasters and David. McGonagall looked anything but happy.
"Hermione," said David, upon reaching her, "I'llbe right here when you get back. We're all behind you," he added, "All the schools ad students gathered here."
"Dave, I can't - I can't do it -" Hermione was beginning to fee the wear of the loss of Draco's touch.
He placed his hands on her shoulders and frowned reprimandingly. For the first time, he lookedlike a teacher, and a very strict one at that. "Miss Granger," he said, "Hermione Jean Granger, the world has heard of and watched your struggles for seven years. If we believe you can do it, you should believe too."
"I nearly always had help -"
He was already shaking his head. "No, Hermione. You were the help. Without you, Harry and Ron wouldn't have lasted a day looking for Horcruxes. Without you, Draco would have -"
"Have what?" Hermione jumped at her boyfriend's name.
David seemed to have said too much. "Never mind. If he wants you to know, he'll tell you."
She gave him a dirty look.
His voice turned desperate, as if to give her information. "Hermione, in my will -"
The canon blasted just then, and Hermione heard Kingsley shouting at Filch angrily for being unable to control a Muggle canon. She looked to David and urged him to finish his sentence, but he smiled instead, and pushed her toward the forest. "Go," he told her. "I'll be here when you get back."
She hesitated, one foot in the wild brush of the forest, the rest of her body out and looking at him nervously. Simis and Brant had bolted into the forest, and the crowd was waiting for her to enter, chanting her name again and again - she even saw McGonagall joining in - and David mouthed, Go.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, threw her shoulders back, and sprinted.
She dodged trees and bushes as the roaring of the crowd was left behind her. Her feet created a solid thump against the silent forest. There were no birds chirping, and the air still smelled of rain. She looked up now; she saw dark, brooding clouds; she looked back down to avoid hitting a particularly thick oak. She veered away from the tree and continued forward, not looking where she was running. She couldn't hear the crowd now, and she counted beats of her star and tried to time her footsteps to them, but it was difficult. Draco must have had a ranging ability to have complete faith in her and complete distrust in the circumstances, because one moment it would beat normally and the next eratically, and sometimes just stop for a second or two. She wished she could be by him, hold his handand soothe him, tell him it would be okay.
And then her right foot placed itself and her full weight over a pile of leaves, and she found that the leaves immediately vanished over an empty, deep pitfall. She screamed as she tumbled headfirst into the dark of the hole, where the few beamss of light that made it through the thick canopy of the tree leaves could not reach. As opposed to the time in the tent where she'd pitched forward and Draco had caught her, this time, she knew she was falling - her heart dropped to her stomach.
And then she hit the dark earth and her neck was bent unnaturally as she'd tried to reposition herself to land on her back - she landed on her shoulders and her chin hit her collarbone painfully. She gasped as little orbs of light floated in front of her eyes. She couldn't catch her breath, yet knew she had enough; she couldn't make herself move, because whenever she did, her spine sent jolts of pain down her back and into her legs that were almost too much to bear. She lay on the ground, wondering if they heard her scream, because she hadn't heard them shouting and cheering, after a while - but maybe they'd stopped -
She's unconsciously moved her neck and her vision cut off for a second, and when it did, she found her hearing cut off too. She felt like she was hiding in somewhere dark and silent, and then realied - her hearing and sight hadn't stopped working, the tiny bit of light from above had been covered up by a looming shape, and the forest was silent. And then she heard a crunch of pawshitting both sides of the hole's edges. Dirt crumbled from the top and bumped itself off the dirts walls so little pieces flew onto her. She looked up at the figure, wndering what could be so big.
And then she spotted something sharp glint under it - a fang.
A fang.
And the edges of this shape were billowing.
A lethifold.
She bit her lip to keep from screaming, and felt her skin break with the firceness of her bite. She stared in horror as the lethifold descended down into the hole, sliding along a wall. She thought wildly about her last time with Draco, completely alone, before the broom closet - she remembered how he'd laid with her by the lake, soaking up the sunlight - she remembered how the sun had gleamed, just... just like the star pulsing on her chest.
She moved her arm as the lethifold moved toward her as it hand before, and she heard a breathing, just a sliver of air going in and out, that she hadn't before, and she felt her hand grasp her wand. She managed not to scream in pain as she pointed her wand at the creature and shouted, "Expecto Patronum!"
A silver otter burst forth from her wand and charged at the lethifold head-on, and the lethifold gave an inhuman shriek before it turned from a black cloak to a black smoke that rose above her head and curled into the night sky.Her arm dropped immediately, but her Patronus stayed, and floated down to her level.
She wasn't controlling it at this point, and, eyes wide, she watched as it nudged her star, and took on the fiery gold color of it, the warmth and light of the object spreading across the invisible threads of sleek fur. It seemed to act o its own. Hermione stared at it, ad it sat on its haunches like an obedient dog awaiting a command.
"Tell Kingsley, McGonagall, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and David they've set traps and not to follow me, because I'm fine," she ordered, without thinking. "And relay that last part to Draco."
The otter bobbed its head, and rose as if to take off - but it seemed opposed to lying, and it licked her stomach softly, its invisible tongue soft through the fabric of her shirt. She watched and cried out as it licked her again, and she felt the bones in her back shift once more - and then, to her surprise, the only pain was in her heart, from the hammers slamming it against her chest bones. The otter gave a smile from its eyes alone and then soared over her head and dug its claws into the dirt wall - it left footholds all the way up for Hermione to climb, even though it need only float.
Hermione propped herself up on her elbows and watched it disappear in amazement, thoroughly mystified as to how that happened. She happened to notice a particularly odd stone right next to her, and reached out for it innocently, possessively putting it in her pocket. And then she remembered her cirumstances, and stood. She walked over the uneven ground, not bothering to wipe the dirt off of her clothing or out of her hair, and grabbed the highest hold she could reach - she began to climb. The dirt seemed to solidify wherever she chose to hoist herself up further, and she had no problems scaling a wall that had to be over fifteen feet tall. She bent over at the top, using her upper body's weight to push her lower half up, and soon she was lying face-down in the forest's dirt floor. She got onto her knees, and looked around, her wand pointed around her in a general direction.
She didn't know where to go next, and she wasn't up to running again - she was already out of breath - and so she started in the direction she thought must be north, away from the castle, where they'd probably taken the Goblet. Who'd steal soemthing and keep it close to where they stole it from? It made no sense to her, and she realized that there was a very distinct possibibility that they'd taken it through the forest and off Hogwarts grounds and then apparated away with it, but she had some sort of nagging feeling in the back of her mind that told her it was in the forest.
And then hoofbeats of an entire centaur populus welcomed her, and she immediately dropped her wand, knowing they'd respond to it. She turned around and saw a whole tribe, looking at her with indifference.
"You should not be here," said the one in the front, whom she immediately recognized as Bane.
"I know," she said, "but I was sent here."
"For what purpose?" asked one behind him, his horse's chest undulating.
"To retrieve something very valuable stolen from the castle."
A different one hissed, and she took a step back. "If it was brought into the woods, it is on Hogwarts ground!"
"It..." she tried not to sound possessive. "Look, I know that you are protective and appreciative of your land, because it is, after all, your land -"
She saw most of them loosen up as she said the land was theirs. Knowing she was a little safer to proceed, she continued:-
"- and I swear that I never meant to hurt any part of it. somebody dug this hole," she said, pointing to it, "as a trap for either me or one of my two other companions who've also been sent in."
"What is this object you seek?" asked Bane, his voice flat.
"The Goblet of Fire," she answered readily, not expecting any reaction and her expecttions becoming a reality. "It is extremely dangerous when tampered with and somebody's been tampering with it. I'm afriad what it might loose will hurt your land. I want to get it out of here and where it can be fixed so it doesn't hurt you or your land." The last part was true, though she hadn't thought of it before hand - she was improvising her brains out here, and she didn't
"What might it loose? We can protect ourselves," shouted one in the back, and there was a whinney of agreement.
"It might loose any number of things," she responded, "including, a..." she thought back to the day she'd been shown the Goblet's malfunction. "... Manticore."
The effect was blunt. The centaurs whinneyed and neighed with indignation and territorial pride, but they seemed to realize if it was to conjure a Manticore, their land and themselves could and probably would be wiped out. Hermione waited patiently for the tribe to calm; when it did, Bane spoke.
"We will help you find this object," said he, "to protect our land. and then you must leave."
She nodded. "I've no qualm with that."
Bane turned his head over his shoulder. "Someone volunteer for the witchto ride!"
"Oh, no!" Hermione cried, raising her left hand inprotest as her right still held her wand. "I don't want to ride you, that's derrogatory - the last thing I want to do is belittle you."
Bane eyed her curiously, until she began to feel itchy from his speculation, and then said, "You are wise in the ways of rhetoric."
"Thank you," said Hermione. "The search will go faster should we split up."
Bane raised an eyebrow cynically. "and these companions of yours?"
"If you see two boys about my age, but a little taller," she said, "ask if their names are either Simis Travelton or Brant Kensworth. One has an American accent, the other a slight Russian one you have to focus on to hear. Brat is the American, Simis the Russian."
Bane nodded. "Separate!" he barked to the tribe, "And do not kill unless you can't help it!"
Hermione watched as they all galloped away, until one was left behind.
"You are the Granger girl?"
"Yes."
He smiled kindly at her, and sauntered forward, and though the action was smooth and supposed to be reassuring, she had to fight the urge to run. His index finger began to reach toward her star, and she had a fleeting moment of panic. "Don't touch it, please," she said abruptly, trying her best to sound up-beat but sounding territorial, and knowing that was a mistake with a centaur, she bit her tongue quite literally.
But he smiled even more kindly, and his finger brushed agaisnt it.
All of a sudden, the glow brightened so much she had to close her eyes; it was blinding, and even then she had to cover her face with her hands. She didn't know what to make of the magic today. It scared her and worried her that she knew none of it.
"We centaurs know magic you humans do not," said the half-breed gently. "And I do believe that this is one of the finest pieces of human magic I have seen. However, it can be improved..."
Hermione tried not to squeak, "It needs no modifications."
He didn;t sound convinced. "Would you like to be able to communicate with him?" he asked. "To totally and completely be able to tell what he is thinking?"
It was tempting, but Hermione knew for certain that a relationship required trust, and she very well might just show him that she didn't trust him if she allowed the centaur to modify it - also, she might discover that he did not trust her, and she wouldn't be able to take that, so no; she did not wat to be able to read his mind and vice-versa. "No," she said.
The red tinge her eyelids had taken faded to black, and she lowered her arm and opened her eyes again; the star still shone on her chest, the same as it always had, and the centuar backed away. She saw the excitement in his eyes fade out, and felt guilty.
"It is all the same," he said nuetrally, begining to leave.
"What is your name?" she called after him as he began to gallop away.
"Avenil," he shouted back, disappearing beyond trees.
She stood for a moment, secretly wishing that she had accepted the offer. To be able to tell when he was lying - to know everything, to be able to help him! She could comfort him and connect with him on new levels previously unknown to magic, and she could, at the very least, figure out how it worked. But she had turned it down, and with good reason.
There was a movement deep into the wood on her right. She whipped her head and her wand around, prepared for another centaur to step out - but nothing happened. Cautiously, she began to move toward the source. Nothing else happened as she stepped between trees with spindly branches that looked like fingers - spindly branches that looked as if they'd grab her -
They did.
With twigs as fingers and leaves as claws, they grabbed at her, whipped her face and arms repeatedly as she turned and began running, trying to get away. Some thick, bendable branches struck out as she would pass. One hit her square in the stomach, and the air gushed out of her lungs; another cut open her forehead, and bloog gushed from her wound; the other tripped her, and she scraped from the cut on up to her hair on the branch that had hit her head so her hair got tangled tightly in the branches, and her head was jerked back painfully as her body tumbled over the middle branch. The brach could not hld her entire weight, though, and she was loosed so she crumpled - but she was back on her feet quickly, ignoring the blood as it dripped down the sides of her face and down the middle of her nose, through the dirt that crowded the egde of the slash from her filthy landing in the hole. The branches made to grab at her once more, but she pointed her wand, and shouted, "Immobulus!" and they stilled. She panted heavily, cathing up with her breath, and then, not even thinking, she began to run again, faster this time.
The smell of blood nauseated her as she sprinted through the trees, hoping these wouldn't grab her - they didn't, but she had to lean to avoid them as she ran, her feet hitting the groud hard, almost too hard, sending foot shock shooting up her ankles. She ignored this pain, as well as the stinging from the whipped cuts she'd gotten from the tiwgged branches as the rain began to fall lightly and the drops landed on them. She huffed heavily, her chest heaving and her body crying for rest; she gave none. She continued onward as the sprinkle grew into a drizzle that matted the dirt and grime to her face, and mixed it with the crimson that exitted the wound on her forehead.
And then, through the trees, in the midst of four patricularly thick ones, was a tree stump, and on it sat - the Goblet of Fire.
She did not think.
She did not think that it was a trap, she did not think that it was a portkey, she did not think that it had been placed there with no protection. She gave no thought to its lack of security or seemingly random placement; she gave no thought to anything.
She lunged forward and grabbed it.
As soon as her hand touched the right handle, she felt herself begin the familiar sensation of travelling by portkey. She was spun around as her feet were torn from the ground dizzyingly and when she landed a moment later, she found herself once more face-down in dirt, and the cup lying several feet from her, its blue glow dying as embers of a fire did. She was confused and scared, and looked around her with an unsatisfactory and nervously agitated glance that really picked up on nothing, and scrambled to her feet, holding her wand out in front of her, slouched over in a protective stance. She was surrounded by trees, still, but the gorund here was barren, not filled with lush grass like the rest of the forest. It was clay dirt, and the rain that had begun to truly come down made it muddy; she lifted her foot gingerly, hating the squelching sound, and made a face.
There was the sound of a breaking twig behind her, and she whirled around, a spell on her tongue.
"Oh, Brant," she said, sighing with relief and lowering her hand. He began to walk over to her, his own feet squealching against the ground, and she asked, looking around, "Do you know where we are? How did you get here? Did -"
There was suddenly a fist connected with her jaw, and she heard it crack before she felt it; and then she did feel it, and stumbled back, falling to her knees and clutching it.
"What... the... hell?" she sputtered at him. "Brant?"
"Oh, that's right," he said, sneering a very un-Brant-like sneer at her - a sneer that reminded her terribly of how Lucius Malfoy had looked at her in second year in Diagon Alley. "You still think I'm this." He gestured to his body widely, which was becoming soaked thoroughly by the downpour that had begun, making anything over a shout incomprehensible.
"What-?" she was beyond confused. She looked into those surfer eyes of his, and found nothing but hostility. Wasn't this the man who'd helped her, talked to her, kissed her...?
He knelt down in front of her and wrinkled his nose in disgust. "That's right," he said, seeing her eyes widen as she took in the information that now circulated in her mind. "I set the lethifolds loose in the castle, I sent the note, I was the one who's been plotting against you." He then proceeded to spit in her face, and she couldn't wipe it off, because rough hands grabbed her arms and twisted them behind her, letting her cry out in painful realization. "It was I who stole the Goblet, and I tampered with it to begin with." He grinned evilly, as if this was the mot natural thing to admit to.
An unconscious figure was dragged out of the woods behind Brant by none other than Augustus Rookwood, and Hermione stifled a scream, because nobody would hear her now and she knew it. Simis's bloody head was bent an broken, literally - they'd beaten him so forcefully his face had become distorted, and she struggled uselessly, trying to reach him.
"Why?" she asked Brant. That was the only question she could ask now - the only answer she needed.
As an answer, Brant lifted his wand and waved it in front of himself, and Hermione saw as his own rain-drenched, American surfer features morph into that of feautures she could have sworn she'd seen before. And she realized where as she saw him smile once more; the papers when the loose Death-Eater list had been published.
"Rabastan Lestrange," she whispered, fearful.
"Yes," he said, proudly: "It's me. Tell me, does my dolt of a nephew realize what filth he's dating?"
Hermione lashed out before she could stop herself. As she tried to break free, the arms holding her twisted more painfully, and she felt her head shoved down by another set of hands.
"Thank you, brothers," said Rabastan easily. Another lightbub clicked.
"Rodolphus and Randilphias," she muttered.
"Very good," he awarded her, suating down to her level, and looking her in the eye, his coal black one soulles to the pointof a Dementor being rendered useless but happy. "Mudblood," he added, "Mudblood slut."
"I'm still a virgin!" she said through clenched teeth, feeling the anger rise up and take her mind by control.
He clucked his tongue. "And you'll die one, Mudblood," he said, "Becuase I refuse to let my dickhead nephew touch such filth, and who else would?"
"If I'm good enough for him, I'm good enough for many," she said, and felt her hair yanked back so her head titled upward and into matching black eyes.
Rabastan snorted and stood up again. "Good enough," he chuckled, "For a couple shags, maybe, and then casting you aside is the thing to do, if not murder your filthy little highness."
Hermione growled, "I am like a Queen to the Wizarding World!"
"You are a failure and an insolent child!" shouted Rabasta suddenly, his face becoming apoplectic.
"I'm a success and a brilliant woman!" she bellowed back.
Behind her back, she dared not move her fingers, for fear of drawing attention to the fact that she still held her wand.
"Lies!" he belittled her, "Dirty lies like your dirty blood!" And then he was crouching in front of her again, his fingers tracing the trail of a drop of blood from the cut in her forehead that had swallowed the dirt from the ground whole. "See?" he said softly, in control once more. "Real dirt in your blood."
Hermione spat at him, and got him in the eye.
He shouted a particularly nasty word and reeled back, and she shot a stunning spell from her wand at random. It appeared to have hit someone to the left, because her hands were released and footsteps from behind her ran there. Without looking, she aimed once more and shot another, and then another when she heard more footsteps coming; she aimed Petrificus Totalus at a shocked Rabastan, and he became as stiff as a board on the ground. Rising to her feet, she shook out her wrists and faced what was left of the clearing, and to her surprise, there was an army behind her, waiting to attack. She didn't stay to make out faces or remember names. Without thinking, which was odd for Hermione by itself, let alone maybe six times in a day, she threw herself toward Simis, on the ground, and the cup, next to him. Her one hand grasped Simis's shirt tightly and the other the rain-slicked handle of the Goblet.
As she was ripped from the clearing individually, she felt herself land, with a thud, beside the group of trees, the Goblet once more on its stump, Simis still clenched beneath her. Without wasting another second, she picked him up into her arms and began sprinting. Who knew how close that barren clearing was; they could catch up any minute, and she had a considerable weight. She ran as fast as she could, knowing it was useless to apparate on Hogwarts land. She ran towards the small dot in the sky she recognized as the top of the owlery, and she knew it would bring her back to the crowd. If she could get there quick enough, nobody else would have to hurt before they got everyone inside. But carrying Simis made her twice as slow, and she was never the fastest to start with. She bolted as fast as she could but despaired of ever reaching the crowd again. She wondered if Simis was even alive, and if he was, if he'd ever wake - and if he wasn't, if she shouldn't just drop him and go herself. But she carried him, knowing that even if there was the slightest chance of him living she wouldn't give up on him.
"There she is! Crucio!"
There was a distant yell from behind her, but she could tell they were gaining quickly enough to aim well - the spell just issed her shoulder.
But there! The edge of the tree, she could see the people, see David, see McGonagall, pale and wondering what had happened to her. As she burst through the trees, she heard someone behind her shout, "Avada Kedavra!"
Everything moved in slow motion. She tripped over her own foot as she emerged, and the crowd cheered wildly for just one moment at her appearance - Simis was sent flying off to somewhere, and Hermione barely had time to put her hands in front of her face and turn to face the curse before David had jumped in front of her, and the green jet of light hit his chest insted of hers.
"No!" she screamed, "No, David! DAVE! NO!"
But she watched as his body slumped, lifeless to the ground, and she couldn't help her own fall - she hit the ground and screamed as they came closer.
"Hermione!" Harry was yelling, trying to break through the paralyzed crowd to getto her. "Hermione!"
"DAVE! NO! DAVE! NO! NO!" she shrieked, inncapable of seeing anything but the dead body of her favorite teacher and partner and confidante lying dead before her. David, David, David, no, no, no...
Things were happening around her. The crowd had begun to run and try and get away as she brought her face down to David's, screaming for him to get up. Harry's red trail of sparks soared over her head and hit a Death Eater; Ron was trying to show people to safety and McGonagall had taken on the frontal-assault idea.
"Hermione!" Harry shouted, "We need to get you out of here!"
"DAVE! GET UP, DAVE, NO!"
"Hermione, he's dead, come on!" Harry shouted, deflecting a spell and aiming another.
"DAVE! DAVID! DAVID, NO -"
"Hermione!" a new voice cried, panicked, as hands grabbed her. Draco.
"NO!" She shook him off and grabbed the sides of David's face, shaking him so his lifeless eyes rattled in their sockets. "DAVE! PLEASE! NO!"
And then Draco's hands ripped hers from David and placed themselves around her waist, restraining, not comforting. She fought against him as much as she could, she had to get to David, wake him up, get him to look at her, to fight, to wake up -
"Come on!" Harry yelled to Draco, and he grabbed her one arm and Draco her other. They, taller than her and stronger, lifted her and began to carry her away, away from David.
"NO!" she screamed, flailing her fists about painfully, smackng them wherever she could and kicking all of them she could reach, causing them to stumble several times. People were running into battle, students and Death Eaters alike, and people were running, screaming like her, but away from the body, away, and still blocking her view, her view, she had to see him, to wake him up-
"Ron!" Harry bellowed, "Come help us!"
And so the red-head's hands grabbed her feet and held thems still.
"NO! DAVID! LET ME GO, LET ME GO TO HIM, DAVE, DAVID!"
"Stop!" Harry begged her, but she only had ears to see if David would wake.
And then she saw McGonagall fall after a flash of the green light that had taken David.
"NO! MCGONAGALL! NO!"
"What?" Harry yelped, turning to look, but Draco stopped him.
"Not now," he shouted to Harry, "We have to get her safe!"
Hermione lost sight of everything. David was now hidden entirely from her, and McGonagall was lying on top of Simis, who may or may not be dead. She hadn't screamed this hard since Bellatrix had tortured her, and this was much, much worse. She shut her eyes to pretend she had chosen not to see them, that they had gotten to safety and she was the one they should be screaming over, but she was a terrible liar, and couldn't fool herself -
"LET ME GO! LET ME FIGHT! I'LL KILL THEM! LET ME FIGHT! DAVID! MCGONAGALL!"
Hermione continued to struggle to kick and hit and scream, never tiring of trying to get away, not even when they got inside and her voice echoed back at her, hurting her ears. She fought back every inch of the way. She had to get to him, had to get to them, if they'd just let her go! Spells flew like wild after them, and people on both sides fell - she watched Lavender go down and her spell, cast before her downfall, take out Yaxley. She watched as walls exploded, she watched as the centaurs came streaming near the lake, and watched as a huge tentacle surfaced through the window - and then she was dragged through hallways with dead bodies and unconscious people and people still fighting to the death. She was dragged past a huge pair of double-doors into a room that was familiar; but she didn't care enough to figure out why. She fought harder than ever in the enclosed space - she had to get outside, had to get to them -
"Ron!" shouted Harry at one point, "Parseltongue! Copy it!"
"Why can't you?"
"He's dead, I can't! Do it!"
Ron made a strange hissing sound, and Hermione realized they were in the girl's lavatory. Nothing happened but that her keening changed in pitch, a higher octave, and she started biting anything she came into cotnact with in desperation. Her mind wouldn't work, it just kept telling her she had to get to them, to get back, to get to Dave and the Headmistress-
"Try again! We have maybe a minute before they catch up!" Harry ordered.
Ron tried again; it was strangely warbled this time, like an ill songbird being swallowed by a cobra. And then the sinks began to separate.
"We'll take her down," said Harry, trying to be calm and dodging a failed punch from Hermione, "down there, and we'll wait until the whole thing blows over."
"That could be days!" Draco argued.
"We haven't got time! We have to keep her safe! Look at what it's done to her!"
Draco's grip tightened. "I'll keep her safe." The promise was never questioned, because it was unquestionable. He meant it. There was never any doubt.
Harry paused as the chamber opened fully. "You know, this small part of me always thought you were lying," he admitted to Draco.
And then a red blast knocked him sideways.
"Get her to safety!" Ron said, shoving the two of them down the hole int ime for her to hear the doors clang against the bathroom walls and see the opening shut over them.
They tumbled down a long pipe that had several openings; it was rough and Hermione didn't like it one bit. She felt Draco's hand leave hers, and it terrified her more than when she'd been fighting against him; but she was overwhelmed by the need to save Dave and McGonagall. As she was spat out of the tubish pipe, she turned and desperately tried to climb back up it - but a hand stopped her.
"Hermione!" Draco begged, "Stop it! Listen to me!"
"DAVE, NO, MCGONAGALL, NO, NO!"
"Hermione, you can't help them, they're dead!"
"NO, THEY CAN'T BE, NO, DAVID, NO, MCGONAGALL, NO, NO!"
"Hermione, please!" he pleaded, not able to keep the desperation out of his voice. He grabbed her shoulder and turned her to face him, keeping both arms pinned to her sides as she struggled to get away. Tear stains covered his cheeks. "They're dead, they're gone, they're never coming back! They'll never teach another lesson, they'll never help you with an assignment, they'll never award house points, they'll never see you again! STOP IT! STOP IT!"
Hermione immediately stopped wiggling and looked at him in horror.
He took a deep breath as he saw the disgust and loathing in her eyes for saying such dreadful things. "The man you're disgusted by," he promised softly, "is the man I'm disgusted by, too, and he, too, is dead and gone. I'm a better man, and you, Hermione, are the reason. I love you, and 'always' isn't an acceptable word for how long I will. So stay here, stay safe, stay with me, and I promise you'll make it to morning."
Hermione was frozen.
Hermione barely had time to put her hands in front of her face and turn to face the curse before David had jumped in front of her, and the green jet of light hit his chest insted of hers...
She saw McGonagall fall after a flash of the green light that had taken David...
"They're dead, they're gone, they're never coming back!"...
Hermione barely had time to put her hands in front of her face and turn to face the curse before David had jumped in front of her, and the green jet of light hit his chest insted of hers...
She saw McGonagall fall after a flash of the green light that had taken David...
"They're dead, they're gone, they're never coming back!"...
Hermione's face burned with the hot, wet tears she'd spilled, and the blood she'd poured, and the rain that had tried to cool it, and the heat-trapping dirt in it all. And yet Draco let her bury her face in his chest and sob. "It's horrible," she wept.
"I know," he whispered, his voice breaking, "I know."
Hermione splashed the cold water in the bucket on her face while Draco worked his magic behind her. She rubbed off the dirt and blood and tear stains, but there was nothing to do about the cut. It was dark magic that hd been on the trees, and that was what had cut her. It was a deep gash, and she knew it, but it would have to heal on its own, and with the dirt inside it it'd probably get infected. Behind her, one scarce rock turned itself into a fully-made, comfortable-looking bed.
Her mind was wracked with guilt; she'd screamed and shouted and her friends might be dead because she refused to go along with them to safety. Her mind was wracked with fear; what if her friends were dead? Her mind was wracked with questions; was Rabastan after revenge, or was he after something - and if he was, was that something Harry, or something else? Her heart, however, was wracked with grief; David was dead, McGonagall was dead, Simis might be, and who knows how many others would be lying lifeless right now, all because she'd been stupid and had taken the fight to them instead of dying right then and there for the greater good. The greater good... everything good was greater than her, and everything great had definitely more goodness.
Draco's fingers traced her wound lightly and he sighed. "Thats nasty," he said. "How did that happen?"
She looked at him. Not a word had been exchanged since she'd stopped crying and they'd greed they need to get her cleaned up and transfigure things into the basics of living, though there was virtually nothing to transfigure where they were - a long hallway, with water on both sides, the floor simple and the walls carved so snakes jumped out of it, and Salazar Slytherin's huge face loomed at them. The bones of the basilisk seemed to have been of magical properties, because it had apparently just faded like a ghost, and disappeared.
She had to tell him everything. She sighed. "A tree attacked me," she said. "Actually, several did, but this one managed to really hurt me."
He didn't ask her to clarify or elaborate. Instead, he asked, "Dark Magic?"
Surprised, she nodded.
He pointed his wand at her forehead and looked her in the eyes. "This will hurt," he warned.
She smiled. "I already hurt."
He grimaced, and then whispered, "Tenebris Remedium."
At first, it was like there was Crookshanks, licking her wound; and then her cat's sandpaper tongue turned icy-cold, so cold it was to the point of burning, and then it was white-hot fire that raged throughout the deep gash, and she pitched forward, into his arms, and lt it finish its work in silence.
"Wow," she gasped when it was done, and then pulled back, trying not to let her voice shake. "Is it gone?"
He nodded, and closed his own eyes. "God, I hate it when you hurt."
Her lower lip trembled, but she smiled bravely. "Distract me," she said.
"How?"
She knew she was enroaching on dangerous territory, but she said, "Tell me about Pansy."
His eyes darkened, but he tried to smile, and began.
"Pansy and I were friends from almost first glance. Both of us were taught to hate Muggle-borns, both of us later on realized we didn't." He smiled at her and tucked a lock of now-clear hair behind her ear. "In fifth year, we started dating, and it wasn't exclusive. I ended up getting drunk and sleeping with some bimbo in sixth year Ravenclaw, losing my virginity."
She pursed her lips.
"Well, she didn't like that and got really mad." He sighed. "And so I got mad, and slept with another girl... and another... and another, and so on, and so forth. When we made up, she said I'd never be able to replace her." He looked at Hermione, as if asking permission to continue. She nodded. "I proposed to her last year, on the train coming. She said yes, and we had the wedding all planned..." he shut his eyes tightly, as if repressing unpleasant memories. "That day, when you, Ron and Harry came back and she said to give Harry up, she only said it because she knew there'd be a fight, and she knew Voldemort was pissed at my dad, and would slaughter me without a second thought.
"Well, the fight broke out anyway, and she... she told me g-goodbye." He took a deep breath. "Said that if he was to have me brought to him, I'd die, so she'd take all possible blame... and she left when you and Ron burst through to get down here." Hermione winced, and he petted her cheek. "She snuck out and went to him in the forest, and he... well, he enjoyed it." He shuddered.
"Draco?"
"Yes?"
"What did he do to her?"
Draco's eyes were as lifeless as David's, and it scared her. "He tore every superfluous outward apendage apart piece by piece, he ripped out her heart, he decapitated her, he took the blood from her and drank it like a vampire would. He laughed when she screamed, and so did aunt Bella..." he shut his eyes again, and when he opened them, the emotion was staggering. "I can't talk about this."
"I get it,"she whispered, petting his hair softly. The star throbbed on her abdomen.
"I love you," he said quietly, leaning into her hand as it cupped his cheek.
She grinned. "I know."
"You're not Han Solo, you don't get to say that. You have to say you love me too."
She gave a start. "You know who Han Solo is?"
He shrugged. "Saw Star Wars once or twice or... you know, thirteen different times..." he grinned sheepishly.
Hermione didn't wait for an explanation. She did not wait to hear why he'd watched a Muggle movie series, did not wait to hear what good excuse he had - she flew at him, into his arms even further, buried herself inhis embrace and snogged him passionately, feeling the burst of bliss that erupted on her tongue. Though surprised, he was just as fiery as her. Their lips moved together and were hot against one another - their bodies both were warm and getting extremely used to the way she curved into him. She kitched her leg up on his thigh, and they fell back onto the bed right behind them that Draco had transfigured into existence. It was soft and fluffy and welcoming, and ready to be of use for a normal, settled-down couple who would sleep peacefully.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." There was no doubt in her mind that she was ready.
Sorry bed, she thought. Settled-down and normal aren't what you've got coming for you.
Hermione woke on top of Draco, nude. Their skin was bare, and electrified; his arms around her waist kept her weight on his as if they were stuck together by glue. The perfection of his body made her ogle for a moment; and then she met his eyes.
"Good morning," he said huskily, his voice deep, a playful growl.
She smirked. "I'll return that sentiment when it is one," she said seriously, she smirk fading. "How can we even be sure it's morning? How do we know it's happy?"
He sighed, and his arms around her waist tightened. "You know," he said, "generally, when I wake up after bedding a girl, I feel guilt and yet that little throb of pleasure."
She cocked an eyebrow. "Generally?"
He smiled. "With you," he continued, "I feel nothing but that throb of pleasure."
She smiled back. "Good morning," she greeted him, and she felt his lips press to hers. Her stomach somersaulted and her heart flip-flopped. She waited to feel something from the star, but then remembered he'd kind of... ripped it off and thrown it aside with the rest of her clothing.
His hand caressed her lower calf, massaged it, and she leaned her head into his broad shoulder. "Draco?"
"Mm?"
"We should realy go up there and see if the fight's over."
He sighed. "And if it's the same state of chaos."
"We fight." She said it with finality. There was nothing that would stop her from fighting this time - because she wasn't going to resist running if she had to. She would avenge those falling, she would avenge those already fallen.
He sighed again. "I suppose we should." All hope left the chamber. "Let's get dressed."
She smirked, but it was dead on her lips. "If we have any left."
He grinned. "You might have problems with that."
Hermione grinned back, and then they both exhaled sadly, and rolled away from each other and off opposite sides of the bed. Hermione bent down to see where her clithes were, and spotted her necklace, laying about four feet away, right next to the shiny little stone she'd picked up in the hole.
She wet to pick up the necklace, no longer caring about the stone, an then she saw it.
The sign of the Deathly Hallows.
She gasped, and, in one fluid motion, swooped it up in her hand to examine the triangle with the circle and line through it that was carved perfectly into the stone, which had a crack running through it, right along the Elder Wand's symbol.
"Hermione?" asked Draco, hearing her gasp.
"Draco, this is what they want."
"What?"
"They want the Resurrection Stone. To... probaby to bring him back, in a sense."
Their two pairs of eyes met, and the normal dizzinessfrom each others' gaze was diluted by the facts they both knew now.