The mere thought that Fiona was with Blaise made Adrian want to vomit. It didn't help that he felt like he was running a marathon –and losing. Every street he turned happened to have a Deatheater there, but not the ones he was looking for. His mind began to wander over to Draco and Hermione. If they hadn't made it out yet then the odds of them actually doing so were getting slimmer by the second. Maybe he could make a diversion of some sort to ensure their safety? It was a shot. It was a really good shot. He could-

"Don't go biting my head off, Pucey." Blaise said. He was lowering his wand and looking up at him, his free hand over his chest and squeezing it. "I know you're about Deatheater solidarity and all that, but she was a traitor and had to be dealt with."

Adrian couldn't speak. All he could do was stare at the crumpled body of the girl –the woman –he'd been in love with for years. Fiona was dead, and it was at the hands of the man who was standing before him as though what he'd done bore no weight at all.

There were no thoughts running through his mind. Well, no, that wasn't true. There was one thought in particular, and it involved him performing a vicious murder. The Killing Curse was too good for Blaise. He needed to suffer. He needed to be subjected to a cruel and slow death. Adrian could just imagine it. He'd use a spell he knew that was reserved for engravings. It could very well be used on skin and he would absolutely relish in the act of carving Fiona's name into Blaise repeatedly so that he never forgot the horrific pain that Adrian was now going through.

Adrian raised his wand arm, ready to knock Blaise unconscious, drag him into the nearest abandoned shoppe, and get started on his neck –right above the jugular.

Unfortunately he didn't get to do anything because his left arm began to burn. Blaise felt it too and he grit his arm.

"I guess the search for Granger is over." Blaise announced.

While Adrian took off one way, Hermione and Draco went another direction. Deatheaters were starting to spread themselves all over and they had to be careful not to be seen. All they had to do was make it through a few more streets. Once they made it past the wards Hermione could use Draco's coin to get out of there.

Hermione yanked Draco back when she saw a crowd of Deatheaters up ahead. Draco swore. There were even more Deatheaters here than there'd been to begin with. They had to go back the other way. Sure, there had been two Deatheaters to sneak by in the first place, but a quick spell could get them out of their way. And then-

"Draco, stop." Hermione said. Draco's train of thought did indeed come to a halt and he looked at her as she slowly shook her head. "You can't get me out of here. Not without exposing yourself."

"So, what? You want me to let you tackle these mongrels alone?" Draco scoffed. "Fat chance,"

"Of course not. I'm saying… I'm saying that I'm not tackling anyone. I'm going to go through with my plan."

Draco had been holding onto her wrist as they went down street after street. At her words his hold on her had immediately tightened to the point of blood constriction.

"You are not turning yourself over." He said fiercely. "You're not. Do you hear me?"

"Draco-"

"I said no!" Draco shouted in a harsh whisper as he grabbed her shoulders. "You're going to die if you get captured. Why don't you get that?"

"I get it fine." Hermione relied solemnly. "I also get that you'll die if I stay. And honestly? If one of us is to go, I'd rather it not be you."

Draco's heart was racing and his mind was going a million miles a minute. Deatheaters were getting closer. He could hear more than just footsteps now –voices and clear conversations. They were running out of time. No, they had no time. If Hermione was going to be taken in, he had to make sure that he was alive to see the outcome of this horrible event.

Draco kissed her once and made sure to take his coin back from her. Hermione gave him her wand and he slipped it from her fingers, making it disappear like he'd done many times before. She sat down on the ground of her own accord and a bubble emerged in his chest as he used his wand to bind her hands and feet. There were tears in her eyes and he wondered what they were for. Was it because she finally realized the situation she had single-handedly put herself in? Or was it something else?

"Well, look at that! He got her!"

"Damn, I wanted to catch the mudblood!"

"At least none of us will be tortured today."

Everything his fellow Deatheaters were saying sounded like muffled nonsense in Draco's ears. He couldn't hear anything. He couldn't feel anything. He couldn't see anything. No, that last part was a lie. He could still see, but his vision was centered solely on the bound brunette witch who was throwing invisible daggers at her enemies.

The only thing that rustled him from his line of focus were the lips of his aunt pressing against his temple and then her words shortly after. "Well done, nephew. The Dark Lord will be pleased."

Although the gravity of the situation had always been known, it hadn't really hit him until right at that moment. Hermione too, because she struggled against two Deatheaters who had grabbed her by her arms to pull her up.

"Be quiet!" Bellatrix ordered and then raised her wand to stun her into silence. Draco watched as Hermione's head rolled back and her body grew limp. His aunt removed the anti-apparation wards, thus allowing Hermione to be taken away by the Deatheaters. Once she was gone everyone in the immediate vicinity began to follow, including Draco, and his eyes found Hermione the moment he got to Malfoy Manor.

Draco's arm was burning like mad, but he didn't care. Hermione was still bound and she was in the center of the room, surrounded by Deatheaters –a lot of them. Some he saw often. Some not so much because they were stationed elsewhere and governed Voldemort's territories. Others were easily forgotten because he rarely saw them at all. They were always out on missions –missions that Draco was now sure had to do with the Hallows.

Adrian showed up on the other side of the room. Draco's brows furrowed when he didn't see Fiona with him, but they were too far from each other for him to ask about her. Instead he began to scan the crowded room for her, but stopped once he realized that the chattering mass had gone silent.

Voldemort looked neither happy nor angry, and that was an awful sign. The man was unpredictable as it was, but now he was undoubtedly unreadable.

With his floor-length robes travelling behind him, Voldemort stood in front of Hermione. He used his wand to wake her from Bellatrix's Stunning Spell. Once she was alert she was smart to look afraid because bravery at a time like this would only incite his anger and lead to her death.

"You look well for someone who should have died twice by now." Voldemort said as he looked down at her. He had his wand in hand, but it wasn't aimed. "Tell me, mudblood, do you have Healer training at all?"

Hermione didn't say anything. Draco was silently willing her to keep her mouth shut, but it was unnecessary seeing as Voldemort had spoken again.

"Although an injury such as I heard you'd acquired would have needed great care and attention. Someone had to have helped you."

Draco's stomach flipped and he tried to catch Adrian's eye, but the man's attention was far from him. He seemed...distant. His body was there, sure, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. And where the hell was Fiona?

The sound of a hard thud hit Draco's ears and he turned back to Hermione, hoping beyond hope that what he heard hadn't been her body collapsing to the floor. When he took in the scene, however, he'd found out that he was half right. There was, indeed, a body on the floor, but it wasn't Hermione. Right next to her, sprawled in a way that looked very much like a carelessly discarded doll, was Fiona.

Draco had to grit his teeth to keep his face as stoic as possible. From across the way Adrian was doing a miserable job of hiding his emotions and the look he was giving Blaise, who was amongst the crowd closest to Voldemort, was nothing short of pure, volatile hatred. Hermione couldn't hold in her gasp nor the tears that flowed freely down her cheeks.

"I see that the two of you were once acquainted." Voldemort said smugly. He suddenly looked up and addressed his followers. "This," he pointed his wand at Fiona's body, "is what happens when you betray me. Incendio,"

Fiona's body burst into flames and Hermione did her best to scurry away so as not to get caught in the blaze. Draco's hands were in his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he watched the terrible scene before him. He didn't want to look over at Adrian. His face at seeing her dead was enough to last him several lifetimes as it was.

"I will not tolerate traitors." He said loudly, his gaze passing over each and every one of his followers –Draco the longest. The blond didn't flinch. He was, however, wondering now more than ever what Blaise had told him. It was obvious that he had outed Fiona, but what about him? Why wasn't he dead?

"Draco,"

"My lord," he answered without pause.

"Come,"

Draco stepped from the crowd and made his way to the center of the room. He felt sick. From where he stood he had an up close and personal view of Fiona's burning corpse and Hermione's fearful and saddened face. He ignored both and set his focus on Voldemort whose own had drifted to the living witch on the floor.

"It would give me nothing but pleasure to kill you-"

Draco's body stiffened.

"-but fortunately for you, you are a resource to drain dry before you are disposed of. However,"

Hermione gasped as Voldemort's hand clasped around her throat. Draco restrained from every impulse to intervene and instead watched helplessly as his insides twisted uncontrollably.

"You are quite the stubborn mudblood." Voldemort sneered as he applied pressure to his hold. Hermione was struggling for air, but he, of course, didn't care. "I will need you to be compliant. Draco," he said as he let Hermione go. She coughed and wheezed once she was free, and her sounds tore at the blond viciously.

"Yes, my lord?"

Voldemort smiled. "Make her compliant."

Draco hid his gulp, but it did nothing to stop the lump that formed in his throat. "Yes...my lord."

Hermione looked up at him with those eyes he'd analyzed time and time again. He internally begged her for her forgiveness as he raised his wand. "Imperio,"

The curse hit her dead on and everyone in the room grinned maliciously as it happened. But it wouldn't be enough. Draco had to say it. He had to make it absolutely sure, and he cringed unnoticeably as the words left his mouth.

"You will do whatever the Dark Lord asks you to do. You will not complain. You will not resist."

Draco didn't cast the curse that strongly. Hermione was an Occlumens, and so it should've helped her fight the curse. All she had to do was the play the part. Right? So she had once said, she was one of the best damn actors out there, wasn't she? Yet no matter the reasoning, seeing the glazed look in Hermione's eyes, along with Fiona's death, was the worst pain he had ever felt.

Surprisingly enough, Hermione had never once been Imperiused in all the years the war had been going on. Now, she'd never done drugs before, but she imagined that the feeling she had now was quite similar.

She felt...light. All of her fear and anxiety had just melted away and now she was just...there. There and nowhere, she supposed. She was thankful to Draco for not casting the curse as strongly as he could have. She knew because that was the only way that she could be thankful. The Imperius Curse takes away everything that's you. Your thoughts. Your will. Your drives and your desires. Hermione, she realized, still had all of that. She imagined she could defy Voldemort if she wanted to, but she wouldn't. It would only out Draco as a traitor, and if that happened then all of this would've been for nothing.

Fiona's death would've been for thing.

Hermione wanted to cry, but she didn't. Imperiused people didn't have emotions, and so she gladly let the curse envelop her in that regard so she wouldn't feel guilty. She had left to protect them all and it had ended up doing the opposite.

And Adrian! Poor Adrian… He was clearly smitten with Fiona. Hell, he may have even loved her. And now she was gone. Hermione wouldn't blame him if he never spoke to her again. If he ever managed to speak to her again. For all she knew Malfoy Manor was the last stop for her. Adrian wasn't high up on the Deatheater favoritism pole for him to be granted access to the dungeons. So, that had been it. The last memory of him would be of his heartbroken visage at his girlfriend dead and on fire.

It sent chills up Hermione's spine.

More chills followed after that but it had nothing to do with Adrian. Voldemort had come down to the dungeons and Hermione immediately made herself numb to every thought and emotion.

"Stand,"

Hermione stood.

"Come closer,"

She came closer.

"I have a task for you, mudblood, and you will accomplish it with due diligence. Understood?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, my lord."

Voldemort smiled. "Good." He waved his wand once and inside Hermione's cell was soon littered in books. From her periphery she could see a few that were banned from the general public for its dark magic, and others, curiously enough, were fairytales. "You will comb through these books as though your life depended on it –which in fact it does. You will use them to find a way to track the Deathly Hallows."

"Yes, my lord."

Voldemort left Hermione's presence without another word. She continued to stand there until she heard the dungeon door slam. After that she let all emotion bleed right back into her as she stared at the dozens upon dozens of books that littered her cell. Even if she wasn't Imperiused she would've dove into the treasure chest that was her prison eagerly. This is what she had wanted from the beginning. Granted all she had wanted was to know what the consequences of having all three Hallows were, but to be able track them? She could find out, slip the information to Draco or Adrian somehow, and let them tell the Order what to do. It was perfect.

And so, Hermione sat down and got to work, quite possibly becoming the first prisoner to ever be happy about her predicament.

The congratulatory remarks given to Draco as Deatheaters passed by him made him feel like a vile creature. He wanted to curse them all. He wanted to obliterate them all.

But he didn't. He looked down at Fiona's burned-to-a-crisp body and imagined her alive and well, putting a hand on his shoulder, and urging him to get a grip. So he did. He took a deep breath and joined the massively long line towards the Floo so that he could head back to his sanctuary and break down in private. A hand stopped him, however, and although impractical he had expected Fiona, but it was his mother.

"I didn't know you were here." Draco said, his voice thick and heavy. Her mother nodded in understanding.

"Your father sent for me." She explained. "He thought it important for me to witness what was going to happen."

Draco scowled and immediately searched for his father. He found him speaking amicably with Fiona's mother and uncle. Her relatives didn't look the least bit upset that she was gone and it made his scowl deepen.

"Father shouldn't have brought you. You shouldn't have seen-"

"I have lived a war just like this before, Draco." Narcissa said. "There's nothing I haven't seen. Now, let's go somewhere and talk."

Draco sighed. "I don't feel like talking, Mother. I just want to go back to the castle and rest."

"I understand. However, I should point out that you'll be waiting for Floo access for some time by the looks of this mass exodus. Humor your mother, sweetheart."

Draco groaned. He was in no mood to fight. Not after what had just happened. He grudgingly agreed and followed his mother away from the hideous line where Adrian was far ahead in while Blaise was towards the back.

"Do you want to know why the Dark Lord makes me laugh, Draco?"

Her son stared at her as though she'd sprouted a third eye. Narcissa did indeed laugh and put away her wand. They had walked into a nearby parlor room and she had put up Silencing and Locking Charms.

"He thinks he's so powerful, that nothing can escape his knowledge. But no one is better at such a task than a mother towards her children." Narcissa smiled warmly at her son and sat down on a sofa. "I don't know how, I don't know when, and I don't want to know. Doing what you did to that Granger girl hurt you. You've...done far worse over the years, but this has hurt you the most.

'If you want her to make it out alive, then you must pull yourself together. You're no good to her a crumpled, emotional mess."

Draco's jaw had slackened as his mother spoke. She simply continued to sit there, a pleasant expression radiating off of her while his resolve was slowly starting to falter. She stood then and pulled her son into a hug. He didn't cry, but Merlin did he want to. No matter how much on the mark his mother was, he wouldn't let her see him completely broken.

Narcissa pulled away from him some and kissed him on the forehead. "You are a wonderful boy, Draco –a wonderful man. You are a Slytherin because of your resourcefulness, and I have no doubts that this will turn in your favor however you decide to play it."

His mother let him go then and undid the charms on the door before heading out. Draco took several deep breaths to steady himself before leaving the parlor room and heading back out to the main fireplace. He cursed when he realized that there was still a few people left to go before him. He'd had enough of this place and wanted to leave now. And so, he stuck his hand in his pocket to pull out his coin he had taken from Hermione. His brows knitted together when he felt something else in there that didn't belong.

He took them both out, finding two coins in his hand. One was used for apparating, and the other had the faint initials of "F.C." written there. Draco put the latter back into his pocket quickly and had to fight hard to choke back a sob. Fiona had made him her next of kin. He couldn't believe it. It could've been Georgie, Andy, or Gavin –someone who'd been on her side the longest. It could've been Adrian. But no. She had chosen him, of all people, to receive her coin in case she'd died.

"Damn it." Draco mumbled to himself as he prepared to disapparate.

"Don't leave without me. This wait is ridiculous." Came Blaise's voice. He was at Draco's side and smiling broadly, although it appeared that he had some sort of bodily harm. He was wincing terribly –not that Draco cared.

All the cards were in Draco's hands right now. He could apparate them somewhere far and unknown, bound and gag him, torture him to the brink of death, let him heal, and then do it all over again.

But no, he had to control himself. Too many lives were on the line for him to just lose it.

"Grab on so we can get the hell out of here." Draco said roughly. Blaise cocked one brow at the man's demeanor, but did as he said. They were both gone from Malfoy Manor within seconds and soon in the hills of Edinburgh Castle. They both walked into the castle in silence. They traversed the halls in the same manner. Draco had been running through various ways to do away with him, and each one brought a temporary satisfaction to him.

"What's the matter, Draco? You seem upset."

Draco stopped walking. He turned harsh eyes on him and glared. "You killed Fiona."

It wasn't an accusation. Adrian wouldn't have looked so deadly when staring at Blaise if he hadn't. Not to mention Draco had seen the way Blaise had been looking at Fiona as he stood near Voldemort. He'd been proud. He always looked proud after one of his kills. Even now he had a smug demeanor about him.

"She was a traitor." Blaise said with a lazy shrug –another wince. "She deserved to die."

Draco felt his blood boil. His wand hand was itching to reach for the piece of wood and so that he could drop Blaise in a crumpled heap, but he refrained. Instead he decided to ask a pertinent question.

"I suppose you think I deserve to die just the same?"

Blaise took time to contemplate his answer, even going so far as to stroke his chin. The action made Draco want to kill him even more. "Considering you brought the mudblood to us? Not anymore. Think of it as a…reprieve."

With that Blaise walked away, whistling a tune as he went. Draco watched him as he headed down the corridor and immediately decided that he needed to go. He needed to get back to his suite so that he could properly lash out and destroy everything in sight. If he didn't, his inner rage would bubble over and it would take out everyone within range.

Adrian, apparently, hadn't gotten the memo. He seemed to have been waiting for Blaise to return to the hall where his bedroom lay and suddenly stormed in that direction. The man had his wand drawn and he looked angrier than Voldemort on his worst day.

Draco quickly sprang into action and grabbed Adrian by the arm. "Pucey,"

Adrian wrenched his arm away from him. "Get off of me."

Draco latched his hand back on him. "No. I can't let you kill him."

"Screw you, Malfoy!" Adrian snapped as he pulled himself out of Draco's grasp. "Don't you dare tell me what to do. That bastard killed Fiona. He killed her. And now, I'm going to tear his skin off. There's a curse I know that can do just that."

Adrian took off down the hall again, but Draco was right on him. He grabbed him by the shoulder and slammed him into the wall. Adrian was seething. An arm of his swung out in an attempt to punch him, but Draco ducked. The blond got him once in the stomach and Adrian held it as he doubled over.

"Adrian," Draco said forcefully as he held him up. Adrian stopped fighting him and finally looked at him. He sighed as he took out Fiona's coin and slipped it into Adrian's hand. "You'll get to avenge Fiona. I promise you that. But now isn't the time."

Adrian coughed as he straightened up, taking the coin and raising it to his eyes. They watered as he read Fiona's initials and he let his hand envelope the coin. "We'll get your girl and go after the man who took mine, yeah?"

Draco nodded as he clapped a hand on Adrian's back. "Yeah,"

Adrian took a deep breath and left. He and Draco agreed to meet up later that night since they had a lot to discuss. This…what had happened… It was a lot to take in. It was too much. The moment Draco's bedroom door closed he pressed himself against it, closed his eyes and squeezed them tight. His chest felt constricted, so much so that he could barely take in any air. Was he even standing anymore? No, it appeared not. He had slid down the door and plopped down on his arse as his breathing grew erratic. He let his shaking hands travel to his head and he gripped his hair viciously.

"Not again, not again…" Draco kept repeating to himself. Over and over like a mantra the words left him. "It's you all over again."

"Draco. Draco, please. You shouldn't torture yourself like this."

"She's going to die." He said as tears shamelessly fell down his cheeks. Giselle was kneeling before him, worry clearly etched onto her face. "She's going to die just like you did."

"No, she won't." Giselle reassured him. She reached up and removed his hands from his hair and took them in hers. "You won't let anything happen to her."

Draco scoffed loudly. "I promised you the same, didn't I?"

"Yes, but-"

"No buts," he shook his head. "I failed then, and your predicaments are virtually the same. What makes you so sure that I can save her when I couldn't save you?"

Giselle smiled. "Because you only told me you loved me hours before You-Know-Who killed me. Before you realized that you didn't want to live without me."

More tears flooded his face and his body rocked with his sobbing. Giselle placed a finger under his chin and made him look at her.

"Love can make you do many things, Draco. And while you may not love her just yet, you do care for her enough that you could one day. That alone will make you want to do everything you can to make sure she lives. I'm sure of it."

Love can make you do many things.

Giselle was right. No, he didn't love Hermione. He hadn't been around her long enough to develop such feelings. But as for what he did feel? He didn't want her to die. He'd feel lost if she did. He'd do any and everything he could to make that sure she lived. And if he was willing to do that for someone he didn't love, what lengths would he go through for her if some day he did?

Author's note: Well, that was a lot. So yes, Fiona's dead (sorry!). Adrian is a poor heartbroken mess. Hermione's been captured. And Draco's on the brink of losing it.

Tag line? War. Sucks. Bigtime.

Thanks for reading guys. Also, I posted a new story called "Happily Divorced" yesterday. Feel free to check it out if you're interested! :)

-WP