Prelude:
Hermione looked across the smoldering rubble toward the tall disheveled blonde. He normally would always stand with such dignity and grace, a proud smirk usually embellishing his pale features. Now, he was nothing more than a hallowed out shell. He stood next to his wistful mother and his emaciated father as the Dark Lord continued his venomous speech. Draco's eyes downturned toward the ground, his platinum mane dulled by dirt, dust and clods of dried blood now lay limply in waves near his crown. Why wouldn't he look up? Wasn't this what he and his proud pureblood family wanted? He needed to look up as he watched his precious Dark Lord lay to waste everything that she and her friends held dear. HOW DARE HE NOT LOOK AT THEM!
Hermione could feel the split in her lip stinging harder as she pursed her lips dangerously at the atrocity that was Draco Malfoy. He no longer was the spoiled rich boy that walked the hallowed hallways of Hogwarts like he owned them, nor was he a full blown death eater that would kill you on sight, he was worse. Much worse. He was a coward. If Hermione was to ever survive this she would make it her mission to make sure that Draco Malfoy felt for each and every death that lay before them in the minutes to come. She would make sure he felt the agony of loss, the agony of pain, the agony of never knowing what was to come.
Before Hermione knew what was happening, a glint of light hit her in the eye, slightly blinding her and pulling her amber eyes away from the defeated frame she had been staring at. It was Neville, brandishing the sword of Gryffindor. Hermione could feel her jaw drop as everything began to whirl around her. Death eaters shot up into the sky in black spiraling smoke while students and teachers ran in all different directions. Without having a chance to speak someone had latched a protective hand around her wrist and began to pull her back against the rushing tide of people into the ruins of her precious school. Before the blackness from the smoke and cinders could cloud her eyes something distinct burned itself into her retinas.
Passed all the chaos, passed the Dark Lord himself, three distinctly blonde heads walked away from the wreckage and pandemonium upon the last tattering of the sacred Hogwart's bridge. They were running away. They were leaving everyone there to die! Hermione gulped in the last breath of fresh air she could as the war enveloped her.
