Roses are red
Violets are blue
I don't own Harry Potter
This is sad, but true
Written for a 'Battle of Hogwarts' drabble challenge on Dramione Fanfiction Forum (18+ ONLY) on Facebook.
Prompts: rubble, stupefy, apple, and 'why would they want me?'
T/W: Canon compliant character death
Hermione stood amongst the rubble of what had once been the courtyard connected to the Great Hall. The right leg of her jeans had been completely torn away; blood, warm and sticky, flowed freely down the exposed flesh, but the brunette witch paid it no mind.
She was staring at the masked Death Eater who had stopped on the other side of the courtyard. His wand dangled from his fingers, and his chest heaved with the exertion of running.
He began to walk stiffly towards her. Hermione did not move; she knew that it was him, even if his tell-tale blond hair wasn't visible under the hood.
"Granger," his voice was ragged. He stopped just in front of her; he smelt like dirt and blood, a musky, metallic scent that settled unpleasantly on her tongue.
"Do you often stand in front of Death Eaters without concern for your personal safety?" His tone was serious, but hinted at relief.
"I knew it was you." She whispered.
Draco chuckled, though there was no mirth behind the sound. The blond opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by heavy footfalls approaching from around the corner.
Draco moved instinctively, pushing Hermione behind him and held his wand straight out in front of him.
"Easy, Ferret." One of the Weasley twins appeared, his red hair coloured almost black with soot and dried blood.
Draco did not lower his wand. "Why are you all so bloody sure it's me? I'm completely concealed!" He huffed, adjusting his hood before pushing his mask to the top of his head.
"No one else poses like a pompous arse when they're in an offensive stance." The twin winked and Draco grumbled, finally lowering his wand.
"You two really need to move," Weasley urged with a quick glance over his shoulder. In the distance, sparks of every colour danced across the dark grounds. Muffled cries and soft thuds signalled that the tally of fallen fighters was rising.
"He's right," Hermione placed her hand in Draco's and tugged him in the direction of the grounds. "We need to get you to the Order; you can leave your mask here."
"Granger," Draco pulled his arm free and turned to look Hermione in the eyes. "I can't protect you if I defect now; there's no time to inform all Order members, and I'll be a moving target for anyone of the masked maniacs. It's safer – for both of us – if I just keep playing the dutiful Death Eater."
"We're so close to the end, mate." The twin spoke up – Draco couldn't remember their names, let alone tell them apart. "It's time to settle your allegiance. When the Order wins, there'll be a hell of an ordeal trying to prove your innocence to the Wizengamot."
Draco's mind whirred. The ginger was making a lot of sense; but the fact remained the same – there wasn't enough time.
"No," he bit out, "there's no time for the original plan." He shot a pointed look at Hermione before returning his gaze to the twin. "Look after her."
He pulled his mask down over his face just as two sets of heavy footsteps approached them.
"No!" Hermione screamed and leapt forward, knocking the mask from Draco's face. It clattered to the ground, but he did not bend to retrieve it.
"Granger!" He roared, half exasperated, half relieved.
"Run!" She screamed back at him, and they began to flee.
"Go!" The red-head shouted at them. "I'll hold them off!"
Hermione hesitated for only a moment as the silhouettes of two hooded figures appeared.
"Stupefy!" She pointed her wand under the arm Draco had latched on to. She heard the spell connect with stone, rocks clattering to the ground; she hoped she had bought them some time.
"Come on!" Draco tugged on her sleeve and then let it go. Hermione faced forward, head down, as she started to sprint.
Draco matched her, stride for stride. As they rounded the North side of the castle, something squelched and snapped beneath him. Draco stumbled forward and landed in a crouch. He glanced down, bracing himself for the sight of a mangled corpse or perhaps a disembowelled animal.
It was an apple.
Or, at least it had been. The half that hadn't been mangled by his foot was green; just like the one he'd used last year to test the vanishing cabinet.
I don't deserve this, he thought.
"I don't deserve this." He whispered.
"What?" Hermione had stopped a few paces ahead, and jogged back to him.
He pulled himself slowly to his feet and wiped his hands on the front of his robes. He peered down into her face, her eyes glowing with fear and determination.
"Why would they want me?" He whispered.
"The Order? Because that's what we do – we fight bad guys. You also fight bad guys; that puts us on the same side." She placed her hand flat against his chest and then curled her fingers into the material of his robes, tugging him forward. "Now come on, before – "
In the distance they heard the sound of familiar laughter. Pride briefly flared in Hermione's chest.
And then it stopped.
A faint thud.
A roar of triumph.
"FRED!" Hermione pivoted and made to run towards the source of the commotion. Two strong arms caught her on the second step forward.
"No," Draco whispered in her ear as the first sob racked through her chest. "Come on, Granger, we have to go."
"Fred! No…we - !" she choked.
"There's nothing we can do…I'm sorry," Draco began to drag her backwards, her body falling limp in his grasp. "I'm sorry," he repeated. Tears of his own had started to prickle behind his eyelids as he took in a shaky breath and held it.
Hermione twisted suddenly in his arms and he pulled her close, enveloping her in his warmth.
"I've got you," he murmured into her hair, as his tears silently rolled down his cheeks. "I've got you, Hermione."