This story is written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition
ROUND 1
Wilbourne Wasps - BEATER 2
Write an AU you've never written before: Non-magical AU
Optional Prompts:
(word) divorce
(object) knife
(quote) A fit, healthy body - that is the best fashion statement. - Jess C. Scott
Hermione cursed their luck. Of course this would end in mayhem. It always did with Draco.
They hadn't even bothered with an all too complicated plan: Wait for the traffickers to arrive, divert their attention, make some pictures of the goods and leave ASAP.
The plan definitely hadn't involved getting caught by the terrorists while spying on their commission.
Mad Eye had summed up the briefing, "In and out," thumping on the conference table for emphasis.
"In and OUT! What did you not get about that?"
"Apparently the 'out' part," Draco remarked, reloading his M4.
They were stuck between a bomb-gutted building while on their other side a group of terrorists and traffickers had taken up position. The terrorists were waiting for them to come out from behind the still intact pillars of the grand entrance, serving as their only cover, to riddle them with bullets.
Draco fired some shots to keep them at bay, quickly ducking back behind the pillar, when they answered with a blaze of gunfire.
"You are responsible for him and you can't even keep him from sneaking right into their damn truck just to get a better look at it?!" Hermione was furious.
"It's his job to get a better look at it!" Draco counted the remaining shots in his magazine.
"It's not when it means failing to stick to the plan and being discovered!"
"Guys, I'm sorry! I was more concerned with my new fancy boots than listening to your fancy-pants plan. They needed a last shining before being officially introduced to the battleground."
"Well, now we're stuck and your shiny boots won't get you anywhere, Dean." Hermione rolled her eyes at his antics. He was incorrigible. When he deemed his outfit not perfect, not even an atomic blast could keep him from changing at least twice before seeking shelter.
"Is she always like this?" Dean said in a stage whisper to Draco. He simply shrugged and fired another round at their enemies who were trying to get closer. "No wonder you're running from her clutches, pal. I'd be over the hills and far away if someone harped on me like that the whole day."
"Oh, shut it, boys. No time for your silly jokes. We need to get out of this situation before they decide to haul in the bigger guns. We'll be mush if they try out their new rocket launchers."
"Where the heck did they get rocket launchers from anyways? I thought their sources were depleted after nearly three years of constant fighting," Dean griped, pressing further back against his pillar next to Draco as another round of shots were fired by the terrorists. Bullets hit the debris left and right of them, causing splinters of stone flying in every direction.
"Did you listen to what Mad Eye told us at all? Briefings are there to get all that information, not to shine your boots!" Hermione snarled. "Honestly, why do we even bother taking you along on missions?"
"Because I'm not only incredibly good looking with a great sense of fashion - thank you for acknowledging the extra shine I gave my boots - but I am also the best weapons engineer you have."
"That's true," Draco agreed. "And we need to get you out of here before they reach us and snuff us. We still plan to make use of that fine brain of yours to rebuild the stuff we just witnessed them trading."
"Well, how do you suppose we get out of here, Draco?" Hermione asked exasperated.
"Guys, please! No fighting."
"You are the strategist, Hermione. Why don't you come up with a plan for a change?"
"I had a plan!" Hermione growled. "Until you went and followed you own plan."
"They are coming closer, you two. We don't have time for this!" Dean whined.
Draco fired another round of shots. Then it was quiet.
"I'm out of ammo," he said quietly.
"Just great." Hermione ground her teeth.
When Dean suddenly rolled out of his hiding spot to get a good throw with his emergency grenade, Draco and Hermione were both equally surprised and shocked at his reckless bravery.
With horror, they watched as the sleeve of Dean's throwing arm caught on a broken metal beam while he attempted to throw the grenade.
As the dread of what was about to happen settled in, it brought all other thoughts to halt, forcing their senses to focus solely on the outstretched hand, holding the deadly explosive that he wouldn't be able to hurl far enough.
His expression that moment stuck to Hermione's retina, mirroring her own moment of realization that he wouldn't be able to make it.
Then everything turned to deafening hell, as Draco threw his arm across her face and pulled her down with him behind her pillar as shrapnels cut the air like wrathful wasps. The explosion was over faster than Hermione could blink, but it's shockwave rang through her bones for several seconds.
Draco pulled away from her, shouting for Dean. His voice sounded like faint thunder, muted by the humming deafness the explosive had caused.
They crawled out of their hiding spot, acknowledging that Dean had been successful in eliminating the terrorists who had managed to get dangerously close. But Dean hadn't been out of range of his own grenade and looked terrible. His clothes were bloody, mauled by the splinters that Draco had protected her from, his breath coming in ragged puffs of air, as he tried to roll onto his back.
"Steady," Draco calmed him.
He put a reassuring hand on Dean's shoulder and accessed the situation with the professionalism of a trained soldier.
The years of fighting hadn't been kind to him, Hermione noticed in that moment, her brain offering her a brief distraction from the horror that lay at her feet in form of a wounded friend. Draco's skin was littered with scars and sorrow creases. She had been there to witness the cause for every single one of them. His hair had once been shining in the dullest light but now was bleak and dusted with soot. She desperately wanted to reach over and smooth out the deep line of worry between his brows. She felt her heart twinge when she didn't.
Draco pulled out his knife to cut away the bloody shirt and examine the damage on Dean's upper body.
"You look like shit man, but wow, these abs, when did you get so fit?" Draco's voice wavered a little, betraying his calm demeanor.
"A fit, healthy body - that is the best fashion statement, or whatever it is they say," Dean joked, pulling a face as laughing seemed to cause him a great deal of pain. "Man, I can't believe you're only noticing that now when the rest of me is all messed up. I've been working out for you, you know? Had a crush on you for months! Will you grant a dying man a- a wish and ma- marry me, pal?
"Dude, don't die on me. You know I need to file those papers first. I'm still a prisoner to a bossy and scary harpie, remember?"
"I'm sure she only wants the best for you, Drake…" His voice was a bare whisper.
"Dean, hey man. Keep your chin up. They'll be here soon."
"You know they won't … I … was an honour. To have you..." He swallowed hard. "To have you with us, Draco."
"Screw you, Dean. I don't care if you want to die now. We need that stuff only you can build for us."
"Ouch, you hurt me, Drakey." His eyelids fluttered in delirium. He was fading fast, his eyes glazing over. "Here I thought you really cared for me…"
"Malfoy! Granger!"
"Oh, thank god!" Hermione moaned.
Hurrying towards them was General Moody with two combat medics in tow.
"Quick, he's badly hurt!"
"Patil, Macmillan, take Thomas back ASAP!" Moody bellowed.
"How did you know to come?"
"We were watching you with a drone. I decided to interfere when you got stuck in this position, but I see you managed to get yourself out of it by nearly killing our best engineer. Great job, Granger, you nearly lost us this war."
Hermione seethed, how was this her fault? She was just the strategist! Not only had Dean decided to be all heroic himself, it had been Draco's job to take care of his safety!
"He'll be alright, won't he?" Draco asked.
"Let's get out of this first, debriefing later. I'm sure there are already new bloody terrorists on their way to raze this place to the ground."
Hermione nodded and pushed Draco, who had already opened his mouth for a retort, to get him to move.
Just a few hours later, a heavily bandaged Dean was rolled into the conference room of headquarters in a wheelchair by a tight-lipped nurse.
"Good to see you up and about," Draco smiled.
"They drugged me with more painkillers than is holy. But the Doc said I'll be back on my feet in a couple of weeks."
"The whole 'I'm dying'-crap was a bit overstated, don't you think, Dean?"
"Pal, I am an overstatement. In its purest form," he grinned back. "Pity that my boots are never going to be as shiny as they were before…"
"Don't worry, I'll get you a new pair."
Dean scoffed. "Please Drake, those were real Hugo Boss combat boots. You wouldn't know the difference between a pair of flip flops and Valentinos if they were on a shelf next to each other with big labels in sparkly pink letters."
"True," Draco laughed.
Hermione missed his laugh. It was rare and rich, warming her very soul. He didn't laugh around her much anymore. Not since everything went to pieces, fight after gruesome fight.
"Don't let her go, Drake. She's your star. She's the reason you joined us, right? Even with all my fabulousness, I can't replace her. We both know that." His laugh quickly turned into a pained expression. "Bummer, this hurts a lot."
"Don't strain yourself, Dean."
"Moody, can we get this over with so we can rest already?" Hermione asked impatiently, equally worried for their friend, even if she had trouble expressing it.
Mad Eye grunted and indicated for them to take a seat to start their debriefing.
Afterwards, General Moody released them to lick their wounds and wash the grime off their bodies.
Hermione was relieved to finally be able to climb into the shower, turning the heat up until it nearly burned her. Her muscles slowly relaxed as she indulged in the hot water, humming quietly.
When she stepped out of the shower, wrapped herself in a towel and entered her room, she was surprised to find Draco sitting at the foot of her bed. He was already dressed in clean clothes, his hair messy and wet, shining brightly in the dull light of her bedside light.
He hadn't been in her room for a long time. It had become a lonely place since he had left one morning and never returned to her at night.
He looked up, appraising her with gleaming eyes.
"Please take me back, Hermione. I don't want a divorce.
Beta'd by DaughteroftheOneTrueKing, TheQuietAwakening, Ayesha Altugle, AshesGleamAndGlow and Fantasticlavendercrystals