"Stop! Lower your wands or she dies," Bellatrix demands "and we will see just how filthy her blood is."

She is deranged, absolutely deranged. Her dagger presses against Granger's throat.

Granger, who I had attended school with. Granger, who always beat my marks by a smidgen. Granger, who once slapped me across the face for mouthing off. Granger, who now has bright red beads of blood forming on her exposed neck as my aunt clutches fistfulls of her hair.

I can't look away, I can't move, feeling strangely out of place in my own home, feeling strangely out of place in my own body.

It all seems so surreal, can it actually be happening, or is it just another nightmare? When had it become so hard to tell the difference? Maybe if it's a nightmare I can control it, sometimes that works. I read that can happen once you've mastered occlemency.

Potter and Weasley stand across the room from me with a goblin at their sides. They lower their wands to the floor.

"Pick them up, Draco. Now!" Bellatrix shouts.

I'm only partially aware of my own movement as I cross the room and gather the discarded wands. More than anything I am aware of Potter's glare burning through me. He looks disappointed, it seems strange to notice such a thing. I wonder if he knows I tried.

I thought it would be enough to not identify them, to claim I was unsure whether they were actually Harry Potter and his friends. I had been so wrong.

Granger had screamed till her voice gave out, as Bellatrix cast upon her one Cruciatus curse after another. Everything became so hazy after that.

I walk back to my parents carrying the confiscated wands. My mother stands rigidly behind my father who looks, if possible, more pale than usual.

Greyback was close, far too close for my liking, with his menacing leer, emitting a rotten smell, wild eyes staring greedily at Granger's limp form.

Bellatrix notices this as well.

"Hungry, are you, Greyback? You want her for yourself, of course. Don't be hasty, you can have her when I'm done."

My stomach turns, threatening to spill it's contents.

A metallic noise overhead makes everyone look up. A house elf, my house elf, my former house elf is loosening the bolts of the crystal chandelier directly over the heads of Bellatrix and Granger. What a strange dream this is.

Bellatrix releases her hostage to throw herself out of the way. Suddenly unsupported, Granger collapses onto the ceramic tiles at the same time the chandelier crashes down upon her. The sound brought me abruptly, painfully, back to my senses.

This was indeed a nightmare, but I was awake.

My face stings. Shards of glass had sprayed on impact, knicking my skin in several spots.

Everything is chaos. Voices and jets of lights. The wands, including my own, are summoned right out of my hands. Potter catches them. Weasley sends curses towards my aunt with his newly acquired wand. I would not have intervened if I could. Curse the lunatic into oblivion for all I care, she had been unhinged for as long as I could remember.

Just beneath the shattered crystal, Granger was stirring feebly.

"Call him!" Bellatrix screeches. "Now!"

No, not him, don't call him. Potter and Weasley were giving it their best, the house elf has just reached them. My family and the demolished chandelier seperate them from Granger. They would not reach her in time. I have no wand, nor does she. Maybe it would work, it has to.

I narrowly avoid a jinx as I dive. Granger's eyes flicker as I land beside her, grabbing her arm.

"Somewhere safe" I say loud enough for only her to hear. "Think of somewhere safe!"

Her eyes try to focus on me. Someone is yelling her name.

"You have to focus, envision somewhere safe!"

I could break the wards, I could apparate us out, but I need her to work with me, to outperform me as she always did. Wandless magic is hard enough, and side along apparation is tricky.

"Come on, Granger! Please!"

She sputters a bit, a drop of bright red blood slides down her neck.

"Sea- Seaside Cottage. In Crescent Cove," she chokes out the words in a hoarse voice.

I hope she's certain of the place, focusing all her energy on it. All I can do is trust her, and hope she trusts me.

"Take my arm, Granger, do not let go."

Everything happens all at once, lots of shouting, a loud crack, an agonizing scream, a pull from the core of my body, smothering, dizzying blackness, fingers digging deeply into my arm, a pop of stars behind my closed eyelids, then the smell of salt water and a soft landing.