May 2, 1998 - continued
"Ginny, come on!" Hermione choked out. "We have to move!" She swiped impatiently at her eyes. The time for tears was later, when - if - they made it out of Hogwarts to the sanctuary of Shell Cottage.
She tried to pull the redhead up by the arm, but she resisted. "I l-loved him, Hermione. I can't leave him alone like this," Ginny protested.
After months of eating poorly on the run, Hermione was no match in physical strength for her athletic friend. Instead of trying to force Ginny to her feet, she grabbed her chin, making her look away from Harry. "Do you honestly want to be here to watch when they desecrate his corpse? Harry wouldn't want you to see that."
Ginny blinked at the harsh words, but then shook her heads. "No, he wouldn't," she agreed.
"We need to get to Kingsley," Hermione urged. "He's holding open an escape route with the teachers. Harry would not want you captured or killed while mourning him. He'd want you safe, safe to fight another day."
Ginny nodded, albeit reluctantly, with some of her usual fire returning to her brown eyes. "Let's go," she agreed. She gave one last, lingering glance to Harry's prone form before raising her wand. "Evanesco!" she cried, Vanishing the corpse.
Fighting back-to-back, the two girls attempted to sidestep their way to the narrow path to safety that Kingsley, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, and a few of the other adults had managed to create. Unfortunately, Kingsley had been standing behind Voldemort, while Ginny and Hermione had been near Harry, so they had several meters to traverse to get to the exit route. They had made it less than halfway to their goal when they were separated in the scrum of the crowd.
"Ginny!" Hermione called out, jumping on one of the benches by the Hufflepuff table to search for the younger witch. It was a task made easy by Ginny's blazing red hair, the same hair that made all of the Weasleys natural targets. From her vantage point, Hermione could see knots of Death Eaters closing in on Ginny and the surviving sons throughout the hall, until Mrs. Weasley did one of the bravest things Hermione had ever seen.
Molly, Arthur and Percy had made it to one of the stairwells when she stopped and cast the Sonorus Charm on her throat. "I'm the one you want. I'm the one who killed that bitch Bellatrix," she gloated. "What is your master going to do to you when I escape?" she asked mockingly.
Molly then dashed down the stairs to the dungeons, followed by her husband and son, with more than a dozen Death Eaters in pursuit. Hermione realized that by drawing so many of them away, Mrs. Weasley had given her children and the other Order and D.A. members still remaining in the Great Hall a fighting chance to get out. Hermione vowed to take full advantage of that chance, and began casting a series of Reductos to ruthlessly blast anyone in between her and the exit out of the way.
Dolohov jumped into her path. "Not so fast, pchelka." He muttered the incantation for his signature curse, and Hermione ducked away from the purple flames, her heart racing as recalled how much damage that spell had done to her at the Department of Mysteries and as she recalled the vile man's hands groping at her.
She turned on Dolohov with a snarl and screamed two words she had never thought to utter. "Avada Kedavra!"
He tried to dodge, but shock at her use of an Unforgivable held him in place for one fatal fraction of a second. The jet of green light from her wand struck him in the shoulder rather than the chest, but he still was instantly dead.
For the first time in her life, Hermione understood why Mudblood was the worst slur known to the wizarding world. She felt filthy inside her body, as though the magic running through her veins had been contaminated by Dark magic. She had to stop and take several deep breaths to stave off a panic attack, and in that half-minute she was loosely surrounded by a circle of wary Death Eaters.
"I've got this," Draco Malfoy said arrogantly to the other Death Eaters, shoving his way through to confront her, his wand deceptively loose in his hand. She knew he was a quick draw, that skill going hand-in-hand with his Seeker's reflexes. Hermione held her own wand more tightly.
"Granger, you're not going to be able to fight your way out of this. By the time you get through us, if you don't get yourself killed, that escape route will be gone. The shields are already wavering." His grey eyes were fixed on her with unnerving intensity. For once, Malfoy was not sneering or smirking. He was deadly serious.
Sparing a quick glance past Malfoy, Hermione saw what he said was true. Beads of sweat were running down Kingsley's bald head, while Professor McGonagall looked close to collapse. She could not see Professor Flitwick, and hoped the Charms professor had gotten away.
"Drop your wand and surrender, Granger," Malfoy urged. "I owe you a life debt, and I acknowledge that in front of my fellow wizards. I'll keep you safe. My honor as a pureblood demands it."
Hermione's eyes widened a bit. From what she knew of pureblood culture, life debts were a serious matter. She had thought Malfoy would try to weasel out of any obligation to her, either by claiming that Ron had been the one to fly him to safety or that a life debt could not be owed to a Mudblood. Then she saw the trick, and a look of disgust flashed across her face.
"You'll keep me alive, but I doubt I'd be safe. Given the conditions you would keep me in, I would probably prefer to be dead," she spat out. "Expelliarmus!"
It was not her first choice of spell, particularly after how it had failed Harry, but she needed Malfoy's wand and could not bring herself to kill him to acquire it. He was a bully and a prat, but that did not justify ending his life.
Hermione knew that Malfoy had become the master of the Elder Wand by disarming Professor Dumbledore last year. She had assumed Harry became the master of the wand in March at Malfoy Manor, by punching Malfoy in the face and taking his wand from his hand. But perhaps the Elder Wand would not transfer its allegiance if seized by non-magical means. Or perhaps Harry had lost the wand's allegiance sometime earlier tonight, when he lost physical possession of Malfoy's wand. Since there was a chance Malfoy remained master of the Elder Wand, Hermione was determined to take it by using one of the spells known to have worked throughout the wand's history.
Hermione realized her mistake almost as soon as Malfoy's hawthorne wand slapped into her palm. The Disarming Spell left him unarmed but also unharmed, and he was much physically stronger than she was. He slammed into her a heartbeat later, tackling her to the stone floor before she could hex him. Malfoy took the brunt of the impact, grunting in pain as his right shoulder hit the flagstones, but Hermione still had the wind knocked out of her.
While she was breathless, he rolled them so that he was on top, the full length of his body pinning hers to the floor. He held her wrists in one hand and plucked his wand from her grasp. She fought him with everything she had, thrashing underneath him, biting and scratching, and desperately trying to loosen his grip on her wrists so she could aim her wand towards him. From the cheers and jeers of the Death Eaters surrounding them, she could tell they were enjoying the show.
"Quite the hellcat, isn't she?" someone drawled enviously.
"Try that again later with no clothes on, Malfoy!" laughed a hulking Death Eater. Hermione thought he might have played Beater for Slytherin a few years back.
"You could Vanish the dirty little slag's clothes right now, Malfoy," suggested another with a leer.
"Just curse her and be done with it," a grey-haired Death Eater advised in a bored voice.
"Imperio!" Malfoy hissed, the tip of his wand at her temple.
The horror of the battle and the pain at the loss of her best friend faded away. Hermione smiled vacantly at the lovely, floating feeling.
"Stop struggling - you'll only hurt yourself. That's a good girl." It was Malfoy's voice in her head, praising her obedience as she relaxed.
"Now I'm going to release your wrists. Go on, tuck your wand in your pocket. Yes, just like that, pet."
Hermione preened under his regard. She ignored the nagging little voice telling her that this was wrong, and that she needed to pull her wand and fight, just as she ignored the raucous male laughter at her sudden docility as she lay beneath Malfoy.
"Oi, look at that! She's as tame as a Crup, now. Bet she'd go to her knees and polish your knob right 'ere in the Great Hall if you asked her."
"Ignore Jugson. He's an uncouth wanker." Malfoy's command made her giggle, with how the drawling voice in her head sounded exactly like him at his most snobbish.
"Stand up and take my arm." Bereft of Malfoy's warmth as he climbed off her, Hermione eagerly complied. "Walk with me."
It was just like the Yule Ball in fourth year, walking into the Great Hall with her hand on her escort's arm, suppressing a smile at everyone's shocked stares at seeing Hermione Granger with such a handsome wizard. Come to think of it, she had not experienced this type of mental bliss since fourth year, in Mad-Eye Moody's DADA class on Unforgivable curses.
"That's because he wasn't the real Moody. He was a Death Eater under Polyjuice, who got his kicks cursing students. Malfoy's a Death Eater, too. He has you under the Imperius Curse right now." Hermione frowned slightly at this voice in her head. It was strident and shrill, like her voice when she was nagging at Harry and Ron to do their homework.
"Harry's dead," the unpleasant voice reminded her. "Remember how he managed to fight off the Imperius Curse in DADA class? You need to do the same. It's a question of willpower. Use that Gryffindor obstinancy for something useful!"
The Sorting Hat had put her in Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw based on her stubborn streak. Hermione dug deep down, far below the shallow surface of her mind that was responding to Malfoy's curse like a puppet, and found the reserves she needed.
"Ow! Fuck!" Malfoy yelled, as her elbow connected with his ribs. Hermione stumbled away from him, shaking off the vestiges of his curse and blindly casting a Protego behind her.
Kingsley had just taken down his own shield charm and was running for the double doors, the last man out, covered by Professor McGonagall. Her favorite teacher saw her coming. Despite being grey-faced with exhaustion, the old witch raised her wand and cast one last Patronus. The silvery tabby cat hissed and spat its way to Hermione, swatting at the Death Eaters in its path.
"Come quickly, Miss Granger!" the Patronus urged unnecessarily in a Scottish burr. Hermione already was running full tilt.
"Stupefy!" she heard someone yell.
Hermione felt the Stunner hit between her shoulder blades. Then, everything went black.
A/N: as always, thanks for reading! Quick note on the master of the Elder Wand. Several people guessed Narcissa in their reviews and I agreed, but I've since reconsidered. For purposes of this story, I am going to leave it ambiguous for now whether the Elder Wand needs to be acquired through use of magic and/or whether it can be gifted to someone. So that leaves a few potential owners, as well as a nice little research project for Hermione!