Chapter ten: Into battle we go

One week, it had already been one week since Draco's fiancée had been abducted and that both the Malfoy and the Potter men were looking for Voldemort's hideout.

If nothing happened in the days to come, Draco would go mad! He had taken the habit to cool down his rising temper by training twice as much as usually. Harry, who watched him more than actually training with him, understood his cousin's fiancé all too well. He was watching the blond man hit his training partner, who was twice his size and strength, angrily and with vigour. He was so concentrated on Draco, that he didn't notice Sir Black coming straight toward him:

'My prince', the Knight said, shaking him out of his trance, 'we found them.'

'Finally!', Harry answered, his face illuminated by a smile. Draco had heard his exclamation and came towards the two men already discussing small changes to their plan.

Two days after their men found Voldemort's main camp, the Potters and Malfoys departed to rescue Hermione.

Contrary to what the Potters proposed, Draco had insisted on a more guerrilla like approach: they would attack in the dark and encircle them from all parts, killing the night guards silently and heading straight to Voldemort's tent. There was no guarantee that Hermione would be held in his tent, but the chances were high enough to give it a go.

Harry had been impressed by Draco's tactics and cold blood when speaking of killing the guards silently, thus slicing their throats. Harry had never been in a real battle before, although he had been trained for it. He would lead one troop of his men, attacking from the east, whereas Draco took his men from the west. Both would reunite at Voldemort's tent.

The moment before actually getting into action was the worst: Harry had the impression that his heart would burst from his chest and that his men must hear it. But from the outside the Potter prince oozed calmness and decidedness. Then, they heard it, the three calls of an owl. Their sign to begin their march forward.

Harry's and Draco's men were quick and effective: every man outside of a tent was silenced with a neat cut to their throat.

No light illuminated the tent that was their aim. And no noise troubled the nocturnal silence. In hindsight that fact should have triggered them. No noise? Not even a light snoring or breathing pattern? But the young men entered, only driven by their wish to get Hermione back. And so the trap closed in on them: as soon as all men entered the tent, the flap was drawn and lights were lit outside.

'Caught like mice after the cheese', intoned a joyful manly voice outside. 'Two princes for the price of one: how ingenious of me!'

Harry and Draco looked at each other: what now? Their fathers were waiting to intervene, but their pride wouldn't let the young leaders give up that easily.

'I'll keep him talking. Try to find a way out of this bloody tent', said Draco addressing Harry. The latter nodded and gave a sign to his men to look for a getaway.

'What have you done to my fiancée, Voldemort?', Draco began on a heinous tone.

'So you know who defeated you that easily? Good. Hermione, love, would you care to say hello?'

A moment passed in silence, then Draco heard Hermione's voice: 'I'm fine Draco, more than fine actually. I have the chance to marry the most brilliant man in England if it weren't for our betrothal. But my future husband would gladly rectify that. Come out, alone, and face him like a man.'

Draco didn't believe what he just heard: his Hermione wanted to marry this monster instead of him?! What about their feelings, had all of that been a farce? What for?

Harry then gripped his shoulders and tried to shake him out of his stupor: 'Draco, don't believe what you hear. She has been forced to act. I know my cousin: she loves you. Everyone who saw you these past weeks can tell that she's besotted with you. Don't believe it. But that gives you the chance to beat him. He will be distracted. We will use that. He's far too sure of his victory.'

Slowly Draco's mind began to work out what Harry was saying: yes, Hermione was helping them in playing the disloyal fiancée. He could take him, he must take him.

'Alright', he told Harry, who let him go. 'Alright', he said for those outside, 'I'm coming outside now. No one of my men or Harry's will get out with me, you have my word.'

His eyes found Hermione as soon as he was out of the tent: Voldemort held her in front of his chest, his arms securely wound around her waist and a hand caressing her hip in a somewhat soothing gesture.

She was leaning into him, but her eyes silently asked him to forgive her. He nodded signalling that he understood. A sigh escaped her: he had understood her dilemma and didn't hold it against her.

'What happens when I win?', asked Draco. 'When?', retorted Voldemort, 'you mean "if"!'

Draco shrugged: 'if you say so.' He refused to give him the chance to get a rise out of him.

'Then you will have to fight my men before you can take back what was yours', Voldemort finally deigned to answer. 'Draw your sword.'

Draco didn't need to be told twice and got into battle stance. 'No one touches him. He is mine, is that clear?' The fallen lord asked his men, who eagerly nodded or gave a sound of acceptance.

One light and one dark man circled around each other, sword in hand and ready to kill.

When Voldemort finally attacked, his strikes were so powerful that Draco nearly let his sword fall. But he hadn't trained so much this past week for nothing. He held his ground and riposted soon enough. The noise of metal hitting against metal invaded the campsite, soon followed by hard breathing and groaning men.

As far as Hermione could see, both men were equal in skill. But Voldemort was stronger than Draco. Although strength wasn't everything, she reminded herself, agility and velocity could overcome strength easily. Just as she finished this thought, Draco seemed to catch up on it. He didn't try anymore to measure up to Voldemort's brutal strikes, but rather tried to outdo him in fitness, turning and turning around him, always getting away from his strikes instead of blocking them.

'Quit playing boy!', Lord Voldemort cried out, desperate to catch the prince.

'Who is playing?', Draco asked with glee.

Voldemort then lost his patience and stroke out furiously, which was his mistake because Draco jumped on the occasion to point his sword at his defenceless side, kick him on the side of his knee so that he buckled over and draw his dagger to point it at his throat.

Breathing heavily, Draco held his two weapons in place, unsure of what to do. In any contest he would withdraw now and be acclaimed as winner, but this was real life and the man before him was a villain of the vilest sort that even abducted his love.

No one was moving, no one was talking. Every man was watching the scene. Then, suddenly, men came from behind the tent in front of which the fight had taken place. Harry and the other soldiers had found a way to get out of their impromptu prison, while everyone was focused on the two fighting men.

Soon, a real battle broke out and Draco, unfocused on his prisoner, lost his catch and even nearly his life when Voldemort took his dagger out of his hand by sheer force and turned the weapon against him. Only his reflexes saved the blond prince from being cut open by his own knife.

In all this effervescence nobody took notice of Hermione, who was feverishly searching for a bow. Next to another tent, she finally found some weapons, including a bow and arrows. She only ever used her bow for hunting, but the hour had come to use the object to what it had been created.

When she joined the fight, she saw that her fiancé and the bastard that called himself a lord had begun to fight again. Hermione alternated between shooting down Voldemort's men and looking out for her love.

She heard Harry calling her name and she tried to make her way to him. Unfortunately, Harry's shout had also alarmed Draco, who lost his fighting rhythm and ended up with Voldemort's sword at his throat.

'Finally you little ferret, I got you now!', the man said. But his victory was short lived, because not a second later, Voldemort fell to his knees, an arrow in his throat. Draco had felt the air stream when the arrow barely missed his face. The arms holding him released him and as soon as he was standing free by himself, he was embraced by Hermione.

Holding her to him he whispered: 'damn woman, you could have hit me instead.'

'Me? Missing my aim? Never!', Hermione replied cheekily. The couple looked at each other and after checking the other for wounds, but finding nothing, their lips joined for a passionate kiss.

The noise of the battle having reached the ears of the rest of Lucius and James' joint troops, they too joined in. So now that the false lord had fallen, his men were rapidly losing against the Kings' forces.

Eventually the couple was roused from their little bubble by the shouts of victory of their men and Hermione was embraced in turn by Harry, James and Lucius.

'Never cross a woman in love I say', remarked Harry with a smile.

'Our Hermione, the fearless archer!', James continued to mock-praise.

'There's one fleeing my king', they heard Theo shout. Their heads turned to watch a figure clad in all black disappear in the woods.

'That's Snape', said Hermione.

'He won't be getting far, now it is my time to teach him a lesson', answered James and went after him, followed by Sir Black and a few of his men.

So? Are you happy? :D What do you think: will Snape get away or will James get to him? Until next time, because yes, there will be one. I won't finish this fic wihtout a proper marriage scene :P

All the best,
Lirael