Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This applies to all following chapters.
A/N: First of all, a huge thanks to my betas, especially to Goddess of Cliffhangers. Without her, the story would look very different. Also, cookies for 2DaughtersofAthena and AyaDiefair, who managed to get this baby under the word count! (::) (::)
The poems used in this story are:
The Charge of the Light Brigade By Alfred, Lord Tennyson
How Do I Love Thee? by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Ae Fond Kiss, And Then We Sever by Robert Burns
She Walks in Beauty by Lord Byron
Technically, this is the first part of a two-chaptered story, but it can also stand alone.
Enjoy, and don't forget to review!
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
I would for you - Part 1
"It's time."
Although Theodore Nott had whispered, his voice carried through the whole, shadowed cave. Their single lantern wasn't enough to illuminate the open space. A hidden hole in ground formed the cave's entrance; a steep tunnel led down into an irregularly shaped hollow with a high ceiling. Sharp, jagged stone formations stood out in odd angles, making it easy for someone to hide.
"She should be here by now," Nott added.
"She better be, or there'll be nothing left of the blood-traitor to rescue," Crabbe Senior grunted. He was looking forward to having his revenge on the spy and his little Mudblood girlfriend. It was their fault the Dark Lord was defeated, their fault that he'd lost everything.
Nott glanced nervously at the barely conscious, chained-up figure. The boy's face lay partially in the shadows, strands of his distinctive silvery-blond hair reflected the light. "So, why isn't she here yet?" Nott wondered.
"I told you she won't come. Not for me anyway," the prisoner whispered weakly. "Hermione's too smart to walk into a trap. Especially one set up by you two idiots." His voice lacked the Malfoy causticity; he didn't have the strength to deliver his usual snide remarks.
"Shut up, Malfoy!" Crabbe snarled.
He moved so fast that Draco didn't see the blow. He only felt it–a sharp, near-unbearable pain that shot through his chest, making it impossible to breathe for a few moments. His ribs must have been badly broken by now; he could only take shallow breaths. His head was spinning, and it was incredibly hard to stay focused. He felt feverish, but that could also be the poison already at work…
"You… you're wasting your time. She isn't called the brightest witch of her age for nothing," Draco sneered with all the arrogance he could muster, which admittedly wasn't much.
"Shut up, you worthless scum of a blood-traitor!" Crabbe bellowed. Malfoy had betrayed their cause; he'd passed confidential information onto the enemy. He'd been a bloody spy, and nobody'd realised it until the very end. But now, it was time for Malfoy to get what he deserved: death.
Crabbe was drawing back his hand to punch Draco again when a small noise distracted him. All three froze, scanning the cavern, but its structure made it impossible to determine where the noise had come from.
Hermione stiffened and tried to lie as flat as possible on the narrow shelf of rock that was just wide enough to hold her slim body, biding her time. She felt like a spy, watching the enemy. Was that what Draco had done during seventh year? Had he felt this afraid? He'd never talked about it with her.
"I'll go check," Crabbe announced. "Watch out. He's right. The Mudblood's clever." The bulky man disappeared into –what they considered– the only passage to this cave.
They thought they were so smart. It's their arrogance that'll bring them down, Hermione thought bitterly. They'll pay for hurting Draco.
It was so hard to stay calm and collected while Draco was dying. It was the hardest thing she'd ever done. It required a strength she didn't know she possessed, an iron will she'd never tested before.
It had let her discover that she'd be good at this, at being an Auror. But it had also made her realise how far she'd go for Draco, how much she'd give to save him. Everything. Even her life.
.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!" he said.
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Why are you doing this, Theo?" Draco asked his former friend quietly. "I don't understand."
Nott glanced at him. If he felt sorry for Draco, he didn't show it. "It's not personal; it's my revenge on the Mudblood. You were just the perfect target: easy to kidnap and even easier to use as bait."
Draco paled further; the black and purple bruises contrasted crassly with his deathly white skin. He tried to straighten his feet, but his legs failed him. The deliberate starvation had weakened him more than he wanted to admit to himself. Although it was warm in the cave, he shivered–ague, he reckoned. The fever must be getting stronger. "You're wrong. She won't come," he replied huskily.
Finally provoked, Nott turned, his cool demeanour changing into uncontrolled wrath. "You told me yourself that you loved her. She'll come to ransom you, and we'll get our revenge." His voice trembled with angered determination.
Draco smiled sadly. "Yes, I love her. But I never said she loved me back."
"You're lying," Nott snarled furiously, gripping Draco's shirt and shaking him hard. "I've heard stories about you two. I… my information's correct!"
Draco's eyes fluttered shut. He was too weak for this argument, but he still couldn't resist adding, "I can't lie. You gave me Veritaserum, remember?"
Nott growled deep in his throat but let go of Draco. "Even if she doesn't love you, she'll come. She knows what'll happen to you if she doesn't."
"And you thought she'd sacrifice herself for me." A cynical laugh escaped Draco's lips. "You're even dumber than Crabbe."
Nott whipped around, slapping Draco. "Shut up!"
Draco chuckled, spitting blood to the ground. Nott's punch hadn't half the power Crabbe's hits possessed, but it still hurt like a bastard. With some difficulty, he kept up the aloof, arrogant mask. "All this effort for nothing. Poor Theo. You're looking at a life sentence in Azkaban, my friend. Murder doesn't look so well on one's record."
"I haven't murdered anyone yet. But she did. My father's dead because of her!" Nott yelled, his voice skipping a few octaves in rage. His self-control seemed to slip away with every word Draco uttered. Now he was shaking from head to toe, his fists clenched, ready to shut Draco up with another punch.
"Your father's dead because he was a Death Eater!" Draco snapped more aggressively than intended, but Theo was talking nonsense. Taking in a shaky breath, he calmed himself and added, "Be sensible. Revenge won't bring him back; but if you kill me, your life will be over, too." His tone was intense, almost pleading, maybe in the hope of reaching his friend, to bring him back to his senses.
Shock crossed Nott's face at Draco's suggestion. But he quickly let his smooth mask fall back in place. "I won't kill you," he replied flatly.
"No, you'll let the poison finish the job," Draco whispered bitterly, all the betrayal he felt evident in his voice. Nott had been his friend, a long time ago.
"No! I don't want–" Nott shook his head vehemently. "She'll come. And you'll live."
"What makes you think I'd want to live after…" Draco interrupted himself, swallowing hard. "She won't come." This time it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself rather than Nott.
The other Slytherin acknowledged that with a smug smile. Then he glanced at his watch. "Where's Crabbe?"
Draco realised that it was too late; his former friend wouldn't listen to him. A Malfoy wouldn't lower himself to plead for his life–he'd always known how this would end anyway. Death was inevitable for a spy.
"Maybe he's already dead," Draco speculated, his voice full of gloating. "Maybe she brought the Aurors. Maybe you're next."
"Well, then she better hurry," Nott announced loudly, drawing his wand. "Because the time's up."
Hermione checked her watch. Nott was right; time was running out for Draco.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Nott lured her in a sing-song voice, sending shivers down her spine. "He's dying."
Hermione could see that. Draco was sickly pale, corpse-like, and it appeared difficult for him to stay conscious. He looked feverish. His teeth were gritted in pain, and sweat from his forehead dropped to the ground, mingling with the blood from his split lip and various cuts. Hermione clenched her fist, realising that these cuts could only come from dark curses. Crabbe had tortured him–Dammit. Sadistic bastard. She wished she could jump down and make Crabbe and Nott pay for hurting him now, but she had to stay put. She had to stay in control.
Suddenly, heavy steps approached. Crabbe was coming back. Finally.
"She's not here. I checked all the spells, and nobody's entered the cave," Crabbe said.
"That's not… that's not possible!" Nott stuttered. "He told me… he–"
"His information's wrong then, you fool!" Crabbe snarled. He took a deep breath, continuing with forced casualness, "Fine. We'll find another target. One she's willing to come for."
He began to gather his things, but Nott stood rooted to the spot. "What about Draco? Where's the antidote?"
Crabbe stared at him. "You know what he did. It's just as much his fault that your dad was murdered than the Mudblood's. Let him die. We'll put him on her doorstep, so she understands we're serious." He seemed to have packed everything, now shouldering his backpack, ready to leave.
But Nott wouldn't move. "No, we can't–"
"False loyalty, Nott. Forget him! He's a spy and blood-traitor." Crabbe grabbed the boy's shoulder and shook him slightly. "This time we're doing it my way!" He reached for Nott's rucksack, thrusting it into his abdomen. The young man caught it automatically, but he still didn't move, apparently undecided on whether to leave Draco or not.
Hermione had been hoping he'd reveal the antidote, but Crabbe hadn't. Draco was running out of time, the fever was already reaching a critical temperature. She had to move now.
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of hell
Rode the six hundred.
"Did you really think your spells would stop me, Crabbe?" she said quietly, hoping to sound as smug and mocking as she'd intended to. "A first year could get around those."
For a second, the wizards froze; then they went from static to being in a flurry of motion. Nott almost dropped his wand in panic while Crabbe fumbled with the fabric of his robes, digging in his pockets for his wand, finally drawing it. Bewildered, they pointed them at shadows that seemed to be moving around the cave. Draco, however, straightened, almost as if ready to fight. He tried to banish the spark of hope that her presence had evoked in him, but in vain. Maybe he'd get out of here alive…
"No!" Draco screamed, his voice breaking. She shouldn't be here. It'd get her killed. His life meant nothing; he'd accepted that he might die when he'd volunteered to spy for the Order. Death was something a spy should expect every second. He'd already lived beyond his time.
"Hermione, run!" he pleaded with her, hoping she'd for once listen to him.
Who shall say that Fortune grieves him,
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerful twinkle lights me;
Dark despair around benights me.
But, of course, she didn't. In a swift movement, Hermione stood up, no longer hidden by the shadows. She was clad in tight black trousers, a simple T-shirt, and boots. A rope looped around her hip, and the handle of a knife stuck out of her boots. Her hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail. Draco couldn't deny she looked like a fighter, an angel of revenge. His angel.
But to see her was to love her;
Love but her, and love for ever.
For a second, their gazes met and he thought he could see right into her soul.
Hermione wasn't great with words. She was not a poet; she was a poem–Draco could fill whole books with the way she moved; her simple elegance; her smile like a Sphinx's.
She walks in Beauty, like the night
Of Cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
meet in her aspect and her eyes.
"I'm up here. Come and get me!" Hermione declared boldly.
Her words snapped Draco back to reality. He'd heard what the two Death Eaters wanted to do to her: they wanted to mutilate her, torture her, rape her, and, finally, kill her slowly. His insides turned inside out at the thought. Draco couldn't do anything to protect her. He'd never felt this helpless. It almost broke him.
"No!"
Draco's desperate scream didn't hinder the kidnappers from firing curses at Hermione. Jets of green and red light ricocheted off the stone walls, crumbling rocks rained down on them, filling the air with dust. But none of their spells hit their target; the powerful shield Hermione had erected protected her – just as she'd planned. The darkness was also to her advantage, and most of the poorly aimed curses didn't even come near.
"I'll make it easier for you," Hermione taunted. "I'm coming down."
Instantly, silence fell over the room as the pair stopped firing curses, surprised. The prey shouldn't come so willingly to the hunter.
Hermione's voice took on a note of steely command. "But first, unchain Draco."
Crabbe's face contorted with hate and he hissed, "You think you're so smart–"
"I am smart," she interrupted him mockingly, a smug smile on her lips. "Unchain him, and I'm all yours."
Crabbe's eyes bore into her, and she could read his wish to hurt her. However, before the older man could protest, Nott stepped forward.
"Fine!" he agreed. He seemed so eager to get a hold of Hermione he'd do anything. Ignoring Crabbe's and Draco's protests, he walked over to the blond and released his chains with the swish of his wand.
The chains had been the only thing keeping Draco upright, and, without them, he couldn't support himself and fell to the floor with a sickening thud. Ignoring the fiery pain that shot through him, he propped himself up on his elbows, angling his neck so he could see her.
"Hermione! Just leave me," he pleaded between gritted teeth. It was incredibly hard to breathe, and even harder to stay focused, but he had to tell her. This wasn't going to end well – he was already dying. If she left, he could at least be sure that she was safe. And that was all that mattered.
But Hermione didn't listen. Checking again that her wand was secure and hidden under her clothes, she glanced one last time at her watch, tightened the rope around her waist, and jumped. Just as she'd calculated, it stopped her half a meter above the ground. With the ease of an experienced climber, she freed herself and now stood only a few metres away from the two Death Eaters. Her eyes darted to Draco, but he was still too far away for her to grab him.
Her watch beeped silently. Two minutes.
Crabbe and Nott stared at her, too surprised she'd honoured her word to react yet.
Hermione held up her arms, showing them her empty palms. "See, no wand," she smirked, snapping them out of their state of shock. From the corner of her eye, she saw Draco was trying to crawls towards them. Only about three metres separated them, but it seemed like an impassable abyss. The two Death Eaters blocked her way.
"Now that you have me, give Draco the antidote," she demanded firmly, stepping sideways towards Draco.
An evil grin played across Crabbe's features. "I'd rather let him die, knowing what we'll do to you. Revenge is sweet." He slowly approached her. "Your suffering won't be worth anything. You haven't saved him, little Mudblood." With an agility she hadn't believed him capable of, he grabbed her arm and yanked her close, his fingernails biting into her flesh.
"Revenge is sweet." His whispered words had goosebumps travel down her spine.
Through the blood rushing in her ears, Hermione heard the peep of her watch. One minute. Finally.
If Crabbe thought she wouldn't defend herself, he'd seriously underestimated her. Hermione used her elbow to deliver a punch to his liver (finally, the crash course in hand-to-hand combat paid off). Gasping for breath, Crabbe recoiled and released her. Hermione used this moment of surprise to attack him. The Death Eater might have been prepared for a magical attack, but not for this. With all the strength she possessed, she drove her fist into his face and heard with satisfaction something crack. Hopefully his nose. Crabbe stumbled backwards, howling like a wounded animal.
"That was for Draco, you bastard," she hissed, ignoring the pain in her hand. All she wanted was to hurt him more. But she didn't have time for that.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Nott raising his wand. But Hermione was quicker. Her own wand appeared in her hand, as though she conjured it. "Duro."
The hardening charm hit Nott's backpack, which instantly turned into solid stone. The unexpected weight had Nott stumble, and his stunning spell shot past her. Hermione made a step towards Draco, who seemed to have lost consciousness.
Oh god! Don't let it be too late, she prayed. But before Hermione could reach him, Crabbe attacked her. In the last second, Hermione dove, and his curse missed by inches.
"Duro." The hardening charm hit Crabbe's backpack next, and he fell to the ground like a bag of potatoes, his wand flying from his sweaty fingers.
Two peeps. 30 seconds.
Seeing that Crabbe was incapacitated and wandless, she turned back to Nott. "Surrender and I won't hurt you," she offered, her wand trained at him. For now, she added silently. Oh, she'd make him pay for hurting Draco. As Crabbe said, revenge was sweet.
Nott bared his teeth, hate distorting his face. "Cruc–" he began; however, Hermione was faster.
"Expelliarmus."
Nott's wand was catapulted from his hand, and the power of the spell threw him against the wall where he slumped to the ground and didn't move. Hermione didn't care. Had they surrendered, she might've spared them, but seeing Draco tortured and half dead changed her mind. They deserved what was coming to them.
Peep, peep, peep. Fifteen seconds.
Hermione had no time to waste. Hurriedly, she grabbed Draco's arm, trying to pull him up, but his limp body was too heavy. His skin was flushed, feverish, and she hoped his lack of consciousness came from the loss of blood and not the poison. It couldn't be too late.
The watch started the countdown. …nine, eight, seven, six…
There was no time to summon the antidote.
…four, three, two…
Hermione held tight to the comatose Draco, activating the portkey just before the cave exploded.
*Written for THC, Year 3, Round 9*
House: Ravenclaw
Year: 1
Category: Short
Prompts: [Spell] Duro
W/C: 2,979 (without A/N and poems)
Beta(s): 2D
*Written for the QLFC, Season 6, Round Thirteen.*
Position: Chaser 3
Position Prompt: Ashwinder: Write about someone who seeks revenge and its consequences.
Optional Prompts:( line) S/he was not a poet; s/he was a poem, (role) spy, (word) feverish
Title: I would for you
Word Count: 2,979 (without A/N and poems)
Beta(s): Aya