A/N: Superbowl on Sunday had an ad on, sparked an idea inside me. Leave a review if you know which one (or tell me your favourite commercial from the game)!
This short little fic is set on the night of the World Cup in Goblet of Fire.
"Help! Someone, please!"
A scream tore through the air, mixing with the other sounds of terror hanging in the air. The hair's on Ron's body stood on end. Despite it being a distance away from him and intermingled with what seemed like hundreds of other yells and cries, he knew who it was.
"Hermione? Hermione, where are you?"
"Help! AHHH—!"
"Shut your filthy mouth, Mudblood!"
"Hermione!"
Ron raced towards the area where the screams came from, branches tearing at his sides, the thick underbrush crackling underneath his feet. His breath came out in gasps, and the smell of fire overwhelmed him, invading his nostrils and lungs, forcing out ragged coughs. He doubled over, hands on his knees, trying to determine where he was and how he could get to Hermione.
"Crucio!"
Ron raised his head and saw a dart of bright green light aimed directly at him. He leapt out of the way in the nick of time and his hands fumbled around in his pockets to try to find his wand. Another burst of green charred a nasty black spot into the trunk of the tree beside him.
"Expelliarmus!"
"Ron!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Stupefy!"
As he dove for cover behind a massive tree to ward off the Death Eater's spells, he heard other footsteps coming in their direction. Please, oh Merlin, not more of them!
"I'll kill her!"
"Stupefy!"
Shouts rang from all around him as red sparks shot out from the wands of the Aurors. A loud thump signaled the end of the duel.
"Oh my God, Ron!"
A figure burst out from beside the wizard on the ground and ran towards her savior yelling, "It's me, Hermione Granger!"
Ron burst out from behind the tree and caught the full force of Hermione's bear hug. She was crying, her grimy tears staining his sweater.
"Thank Merlin you're all right," he said, patting her bushy hair awkwardly, not knowing what to do. "I was so worried when I heard you screaming—who was it? Dolohov? Nott? I'll make sure they go to Azkaban for this!"
Hermione let go of his neck and wiped her face to dry the tears. "Dolohov, I think. He caught me while I was running through the forest looking for you and Harry and Ginny and everyone else."
Ron gave her a reassuring smile and reached up to grab one of her muddy hands. "Let's go find them all, shall we?"
She nodded, and squeezed his hand to show she was ready. "Let's go."
The two stumbled through the woods back to the chaos of the campgrounds where people were still trying to escape the wrath of the Death Eaters. Flames were everywhere: tents, flags—anything that could burn.
As they neared the end of the woods, Hermione saw a shadow in her periphery and spun around to see who it was.
Draco Malfoy.
Ron's lips turned downwards in a snarl.
"Having fun, are you, Malfoy? Where's Mummy and Daddy gone? Burning and terrorizing some more innocent people? Do you find that fun? Amusing? You sick bastard!"
Malfoy didn't reply. His gaze was focused intently on Hermione.
Hermione stared back as a slight wind blew through the trees. She saw the foggy air coming from her lips as her mouth parted slightly. Smells of—freshly mown grass . . . She loosened her hold on Ron's hand and took a few shaky step forwards.
"Hermione, what are you doing?"
She didn't reply but kept a steady gaze on Malfoy.
. . . and parchment?
"Hermione? Hermione! Snap out of it; what's the deal with you?"
Ron made a grab at her arm but Hermione shook his hand off, quickening her pace towards the mysterious source of the scent, which happened to be in Malfoy's direction.
Hermione felt her legs moving, faster and faster, until they suddenly stopped. She closed her eyes as she inhaled deeply, loving the smell of whatever it was that was giving it off.
Malfoy stared at the shabby girl in front of him, taking in the sight. Her eyes closed, face craning upwards towards his, rosy lips parted—until he covered them with his own.
Hermione's eye jolted open at the feeling of Malfoy's lips pressing down on hers. It was so soft and tender she could hardly believe it was Malfoy who was behind it.
Spearmint?
After a few blissful second, Hermione realized what she was doing and pushed Malfoy off, whipping around to see if Ron had saw.
His bright red, astonished face told her all she needed to know. He turned around without a glance and stalked away from her towards the campsite.
"Ron!"
Malfoy smirked as Hermione ran after him, her pink cheeks glowing even under the darkness of the woods.
Nothing beats a Malfoy. Ever.