Chapter Fourteen

Enough

Inside of the gate were two men in black cloaks, one stocky, the other tall and lean. They were at ease with their arms crossed over their chests, their wands hanging limply. Inside of their dark hoods they snickered as if they found something funny about the scene, but it all made her blood run cold, a shock when she had felt so warm (burning) earlier.

Draco was creating bruises where he held her hips, until a moment later he came to himself, and helped her stand, taking a protective stance in front of her.

She had a terrible recollection of when Ron did the same thing. She tried to stand beside him, but it was deja vu as Draco pushed her back drawing his wand.

She gave up for the moment. Not because she wanted to, but because it wasn't the time to fight with him. She told herself that it wasn't the same thing. They weren't in the Weasley's basement, he wasn't Ron, and these Death Eaters were only two, not dozens. When it came time for fighting, he wouldn't keep her back. He wasn't Ron. And she wouldn't lose Draco like she lost him.

It was odd though... She found that she wasn't afraid, she wasn't feeling anything. It was surreal, a dream - no a nightmare. All over again. She could've been relaxing, reading a book for all it was doing to her nervous system.

"Be reasonable, Draco. You have had to expect this." The thin man pointed his wand back at him. "What do you think happens to traitors?"

"Worse than what happens to Mudbloods," the short one chortled, his hood straight at her.

"How did you get in here," Draco asked icily.

"Your ward is weak, I would've thought better from you. You only allow the people you trust to enter. Even pieces of them."

"Pieces," he choked out.

The tall stranger fished inside of his pocket withdrawing something knobbly and white. He pitched it to Draco who caught it nimbly without blinking an eye.

For a second he froze, and then began shaking. She leaned sideways to glimpse past his arm to see the reason for his distress, and she felt ill immediately, her empty stomach churning. She could feel her face ashen, her head spinning. She felt like hurling.

In the center of his palm laid a bloodless, bony finger with a gold ring of an unfamiliar crest. Draco folded his fingers around it.

"Bastard," he spat at the Death Eaters. "You fuc -"

"Draco," she gasped restraining his upper arms to keep him from storming at them, their wands raised at them threateningly.

"You killed him," he boomed, a vein popping from the side of his neck. "You bastards killed him!"

"No, he had the honor of dying at the hand of Lestrange." The slender follower took a step forward, Draco tensing as he did this. He barked out a short laugh. "Is this... It can't be... The Granger girl? No, I suppose she's a woman now. Beautiful for a dirty Mudblood." He faced her. "We've been looking for you. We thought you'd be next to Potter. Apparently you aren't the faithful dog we thought you were -"

"Shut up," Draco yelled. "Shut the bloody hell up! Don't talk to her like that!"

"You disappoint us, Draco. You should've been there when we killed them. I thought that's what you wanted? To see Potter die? For the Mudblood to go too. It was quite a sight if I do say so myself."

She was ice, frozen into the frozen ground. She couldn't breathe, someone having stolen her breath. She knew then, that the Death Eaters were one of them that killed her family. They not only stole her breath, they stole her whole life. It was their fault.

"I told you to shut it, Carrow."

Carrow... Her mind reeled. The Carrows who took over Hogwarts years ago while she was with Harry and Ron looking for Horcruxes. That couldn't be right. The Carrow's died. It must've been their offspring. She shuddered.

"She looks scared out of her wits," the stubby one said.

"You can come back, Draco. You can have the position your friend Theodore Nott was to have. All you have to do, is give us the girl."

Theodore Nott... She considered that name. It sounded so familiar, on the tip of her tongue. Then it came to her. Draco's best mate, Theodore Nott, the man who resembled a bad-tempered rabbit. He was dead? They killed him? She looked to Draco examining his expression but it was twisted with fury at his old comrade.

"Never," he growled.

"You're making a mistake," he sighed rolling up the sleeves of his cloak. "I guess we'll have to do this by force."

Draco shook his head before yelling, "expelli -"

"Expelliarmus."

His wand flew from his grasp into the waiting hand of Carrow. He twirled it like a toy baton. "Nice try. Now, if you don't mind we'll get down to business."

With his mouth agape in worry and fear Draco pushed her further behind him. She clung to his arm, her nails digging into his arm. Her heart raced, sweat beading her forehead. She was starting to feel the trickling haunt of fear. Not for her, of course, but for him.

"Any last words?"

Fleetingly Draco glanced to her. "Merry Christmas, love. You have your wish."

She couldn't speak, but internally she screamed, no, this wasn't what I wanted! It wasn't what she wanted. He wouldn't die because of her, not because he couldn't but because she wouldn't allow it.

With half of her body hidden behind him she felt along her backside. There in her back pocket was Mrs. Malfoy's wand. She bit the inside of her cheek to refrain from grinning. Then, without notice she brought it in front of her. She didn't give them the chance to look surprised before she cursed the tall one, thinking of Draco, of her family. The blood, the pain, the screams, Teddy. Their fault.

"Crucio!"

Carrow crumpled to the earth, his face contorted in agony. He bellowed in a way much like the Muggles and heroes he tortured. He curled into himself twitching madly.

She held her wand on him, not letting up. She watched as he became red. She listened as his screams became hoarse. She enjoyed it. Revenge was sweet. She smiled, feeling sick for turning so callous, but he was it, the one, he stripped her of her family, of her freedom.

Stop, Hermione. Stop. Enough.

She heard her brother's voices as if they were next to her. And she cried.

***

Hermione's eyes danced as she used what was once was an Unforgivable Curse. The man was dying feet from her and she was smiling. It was her revenge, and there was no doubt that Carrow deserved it, but he couldn't help but feel cold at the thought of his lioness enjoying the pain she was inflecting. It wasn't like her, she was nurturing and sweet and feisty. What he was seeing wasn't who she was.

Draco stared at the scene unable to turn away from the frightening resemblance she was holding of his aunt. It was the same expression Aunt Bellatrix had when she tortured Hermione in the drawing room of the old Malfoy Manor.

Out of the corner of his eye Carrow's brother aimed his wand at her. He was shaking, inexperience plain as day in that action. However, Draco barely took that in when he bounded at him, tackling him to the ground, his hood falling from his flat blond head. The man grunted beneath him, and in return Draco pressed his body weight harder on to him grabbing his wrist twisting it until he released his wand.

"Your first mistake," Draco hissed in his ear, "was killing my best mate. Your second was aiming at my girlfriend. Neither are a smart move concerning that both will piss off a reformed Death Eater. And your third mistake was taking your eyes off of your enemy. Too bad you won't be able to put these new lessons to use." He grabbed the man's wand and aimed it at his head. "Adava Kedarva."

Green light flashed beyond his lids, and when he opened his eyes the younger Carrow laid motionlessly dead beneath him.

Draco looked to Hermione. Her wand was trembling, her eyes streaming tears.

The tears stabbed his chest and he stood. He went over to her, and laid his hand over hers lowering the wand. The curse broke, the eldest brother still but alive as his chest rose and descended slowly.

"Stop, Hermione," he told her quietly. "Stop. Enough."

Then she broke. Again. So many times she broke, and she did once more. She fell into him crying into the crook of his neck.

He supported her as he rubbed her back soothingly. He buried his face into her snowy flecked hair letting it absorb his own tears.

Theo... His best mate... He was dead. They killed him... Tortured him... His uncle killed him like his wife tried to kill Hermione. They would never stop. They would never stop hunting until she died too, and while Uncle Rodolphus was at it, he would kill him too.

He wondered how much they could take especially her when she was already willing to give up her life. "It's all right," he whispered. "It's over."

"It'll never be over," she sobbed, a fresh wave of salty rivers ran down his neck soaking the neckline of his cloak.

He wasn't about to argue with that statement. He agreed with her. They would always be hunted, the top of the wanted list. France was now Death Eater's land. He was running out of countries. Soon there would be no where he - they could go.

He held her arms steadying her before he bent next to the unconscious man. Draco broke the wand in his possession, and then went to the eldest Carrow's breaking his as well, and took back his own pocketing it.

He strolled through the icy depths towards Hermione capturing her cold body in his arms. "I'm going to apparate, love. Hold on to me."

In response she locked her arms around his neck, and his around her waist. He spun on the spot apparating in his lounge. Without letting go of her he went into the fireplace and lit into a burst of emerald flames as he called out over her cries of a familiar bar.

They left their place by the sea in France. He only had one destination in mind. The last place anyone would think they would go. It would hurt Hermione to be there, but she soon wouldn't remember. He still planned on keeping his promise. It was after all, a promise. She upheld her end of the deal, now it was his turn.

A/N: There are thirty-two chapters.