Hermione

I woke up in a dark, damp sack that swung and shook like a leaf on a very thin branch. In fact, I was pretty sure that was very near the truth. I was probably on the back of a broom. Oh, merlin. I hated brooms. The coarse material of the sack rubbed at my bare arms and I shivered. I was only wearing my filthy jeans and a strappy top, someone had taken my jacket, and it was freezing.

Where was I? I thought. How the heck did i get here? The last thing I was running from some snatchers, hand in hand with Fred Weasley and then... Nothing. That was it. Where was Fred now? Was he ok? And George? Where were they? Were they worrying about me? Did they know where I was? It was obviously not them on the front of this wretched broom...

Where was I?

I wasn't about to give up just because I had no wand though. Unlike some certain girls, ahem lavender, I wasn't a wimpy cry baby when boys left me. Holding my hand out, I murmured "accio". Nothing happened. Ok, I thought, no magic, no wand... Climb out? It was worth a try... I stuck my hands above my head, pushing out of the hole in the top of the bag. It was draw string and I easily puled my head and shoulders out the top. Yep, I was definitely on a broom. In front of me a dark, cloaked figure rode the broom, completely ignoring me. I looked around and saw four more brooms flanking the one I was on. None of them carried sacks. I let out a sigh of relief. This meant that the twins hadn't been captured. Unless...

No. I couldn't believe that they could be dead. I had to believe the best. It was just me I needed to worry about.

I couldn't get off this broom that's for sure. We were at least 100 metres up in the air, flying over British fields. I didn't like my chances of overpowering the broom either, particularly since I couldn't fly. So I would wait, I told myself, lowering myself back down into the sack and wrapping my arms around my knees. For Ron, for Harry, for all those others that had died during the Great Battle at Hogwarts. I wouldn't be another dead hero and if that meant waiting my time in this sack until the time was right then i would do it. I would wait this out and be brave...

I must have dosed off because the next minute we had stopped and the sack I was in was being dragged along the floor. I started to yell and kick, pushing up again to get out of the bag.

"Who are you?! What do you want?!" Inspiring words I know but I needed information. All I got was a kick in the gut, making me fall back and get dragged along again. I felt my ankle twist under me, but I didn't give up.

"*# !*! Let me out you complete *# !*'s! Or godric help me I will hex your buttock's into the next week, you utter-"

That was when a wand pocked through the hole in the bag and a gruff voice grunted, "silencio!"

I heard a knock on a door, the creak as it opened and the sound of murmured voices. Then a voice I wished never to hear again rang out, a woman's voice.

"Draco, dear? Come down, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

Is there a word with very little profanity that can describe what I was thinking right now? Ah yes.

Crap.

Draco

"Draco, dear? Come down, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

I sighed and stood up from my bed, putting down the quiditch magazine I was reading and stretched. Brilliant. Another public appearance. Another time to show the world that I was an utter prat. What fun.

I pulled a black silk shirt over my shoulders and slipped a belt through my trousers, tucking a wand into my pocket. I walked out of my room and down the staircase. I would much prefer to slide down the banister but no. I was 19 now and heir of Lord Malfoy. I had to be "professional".

"What is it Mother?" I asked, as I entered the entrance hall. Mum was talking to several filthy men who looked like their heads had been pulled through a hedge backwards. I was shocked that she would let them into the house actually. And on the floor, by mum's feet, was a big sack that kept on twitching like something alive was in there. She didn't reply to me so I repeated. "What, mother?"

"Draco, these men are our guests. They have brought our family a gift." She smiled at me but it didn't meet her eyes. It was her humour me smile that went with the title Lady Malfoy, wife of the new dark lord. She hated it, I could tell, but she loved dad enough to accept the position. Either that or she was too frightened to refuse it.

"Oh?" I asked, bored, but I decided to play along for her sake. Then one of the men, who I presumed were common snatchers wanting glory, pulled open the bag and dumped the contents on the floor. I caught my breath.

A young woman tumbled out of the bag, a ball of brown hair matted into clumps, pale skin and a lot of filth. She seemed very thin, too thin, and covered in black and blue bruises that spread over her arms. But none of that was why I caught my breath.

As she looked up at me, I took a step back. I recognised those eyes. I'd seen them across the classroom at Hogwarts. I'd smirked at them as I mocked her and her friends. I'd cowered from them as she punched me in the face. And now they looked at me with all the contempt in the entire word.

I took all this in in an instant and quickly looked away, staring hard at the wall. Of all the girls, it had to be that one didn't it?

"Mother." My voice was quiet and angry. " What. The. Heck. Is. That. Girl. Doing. In my house?!"

"You wanted a servant of your own, didn't you?" I refused to look at my father as his voice echoed down the hall.

"I wanted a house elf." I retorted through gritted teeth.

"A mudblood, darling." Mother put a hand on my arm, a warning. "The latest servant."

"yeah, sir," one of the snatchers spoke up. " You take the wand away? No magic! Besides," he grinned at me, showing off disgusting yellow teeth. " They're much more fun to play with!"

Ugh. I actually felt sick at that. Did he want me to use her as a torture toy? A thing to crucio for entertainment when I got bored? Or was he on a much more horrible train of thought...

I pushed away the temptation to look inside his mind, Belatrix had taught me Legilimency before she died. I did not want to know what he was thinking.

"She's yours." What. I looked at my father in disgust.

"And why would I want her?"

"Why not?" I could tell my father was loosing patience with me now. "The prize of the golden trio, under the power of the late Potter's nemesis! What could scream victory more than that?"

Of course. He was doing this for himself. How did I not guess?

"Draco." It was a command, not a call. I looked up at my father, sure that he could see the anger in my eyes. "Take her away."

I hated my father then. Right then and there I hated him. But I bit my lip and smirked down at the girl, holding my gaze steady. " Granger. Get up and come with me."

She just stared at me, scowling, her eyes saying "why on earth would I just get up and follow you?" Honestly I didn't blame her.

I walked towards her, reaching a hand out to drag her away. I hated the idea of touching her but I had to be the mean one. I paused, towering over her, and glared at the snatchers. " you've done your business. Now. Get. Out. My. House." I didn't wait to see if they would or not. I just grabbed hard onto Granger's shoulder, digging my nails in harder than necessary, and disapparated upstairs, bringing her with me.

Fred

"They've locked down the area! We can't disapparate!" George yelled at me, the desperation of a trapped animal in his eyes. I chucked a few stunning spells at the oncoming deatheaters and glanced back at George.

"What now?" I asked. "Run?"

"Run." He confirmed. There were too many to fight and George was badly wounded, his arm bent at an awkward angle, bone sticking out in a bizarre twisted way.

I spun around. "Hermione?"

"Coming!" I saw her hex the figure on her tail, a swooping motion that sent him crumbling to the ground. Stars, she looked incredible mid battle, her hair was crazy and her eyes had such a look of determination and fierceness in them that it made my heart thump hard. And then she was running towards me and I realised I wasn't running. She grabbed my hand and we ran towards the edge of the forest where we knew the boundary of the lock down spell ended.

And then we were out of the forest and George grabbed my other hand and we disapparated just as I heard a shout and Hermione was tugged from my grasp.

I woke up, with a gasp and looked around me. The comforting, stone walls of Shell Cottage stared back at me, the sun shining through the small, stained glass window. In the distance I could hear the soothing tinkle of wind chimes and as I took a deep breath, I smelt mum's famous apple pie, wafting up from downstairs. To my left lay George on an identical bed to mine, his arm no longer broken but wrapped in white cloth at his side, his eyes closed, peacefully sleeping.

Then I remembered. Hermione.

I turned to George, shaking him awake. " George!" I hissed. "where's Hermione?"

I watched him gradually wake up, take in our surroundings with a smile of relief, and then watched in slip off his face and be replaced by shock as he took in what I said.

"I-I..." He swore loudly, the look of horror on his face increasing every second. "I don't know."

We searched the house after that, double checking every room and questioning every family member. None of them knew where she was. George kept on swearing under his breath, over and over again in between apologies. I just searched, over and over again, refusing to believe that she was really gone.

She was really gone.

"Fred, mate..." George's voice was a shakey croak. "I'm so sorry..." It wasn't his fault. I knew that but at that moment I wouldn't acknowledge it. I turned away, to the window, staring out at the sea.

"We are going to find her." I told myself more than him. I turned back to George. We were only a foot apart and being identical twins we were the same height. But as I stood there with all my anger, I felt like I towered over my brother. " We are going to find her, George, no matter what."