A/N: *Cackles manically*

Happy holidays, everyone!

*Mwahahaha!*

xx-Kitten.

A Promise Unspoken

By Kittenshift17

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Hermione Granger couldn't quite hold in the scream of terror that tore from her throat when she found herself lost in the terrified crowd running for their lives as men in black cloaks and ghoulish masks blasted tents and set them alight while others levitated terrified muggles high above their heads. The boom of a tent being engulfed in an explosion of magic rung hollowly over the screams and cries of frightened witches and wizards, the celebrations interrupted by the acts of terrorism.

"Hermione!?" Harry Potter shouted, fighting against the tide of people as they all tried to make a run for it.

"Harry?" Hermione called as she turned wildly, buoyed along by the crowds.

She tried to spot him, frowning when she couldn't see him anywhere and feeling the razor edge of panic beginning to cut at her psyche.

"Hermione! Over here!" Ronald Weasley called out and Hermione turned further, trying to spot her friends to little avail.

"Oi, Granger!" someone else shouted and Hermione looked around, spotting Antonin Dolohov across the sea of faces. He was clutching the hand of a young blonde witch and Hermione was relieved to see that Reina was safe. Or as safe as she could be in the stampeding crowd while dark wizards ran amuck.

"Go!" she shouted, waving to him when he began trying fruitlessly to fight his way over to her as though his presence alone might protect her. "I'll be okay!"

Dolohov opened his mouth and she saw his lips move in what was clearly a disagreement, but she couldn't hear him over the boom of another tent engulfed in Fiendfyre before she was swept away.

Hermione pushed futilely, calling out for her friends, trying to find a familiar face, trying to keep from being trampled. She couldn't see Harry or Ron anywhere, and Dolohov and Reina had disappeared from sight when she'd been unceremoniously shoved along with the waves of people running for the forest and trying to avoid the line of fire as spell after spell was fired, and tent after tent was engulfed in Fiendfyre.

"Get your head down," someone's low voice seemed loud in her ear and Hermione squealed, twisting wildly when she felt someone's hand pushing on the back of her head and trying to force her to bend forward.

Draco Malfoy wasn't even looking at her as he wrestled her under his arm and began dragging her in the direction of a thicket of trees, but Hermione glared at him and began to writhe in his grip, just the same.

"Hold still, you little bushy-haired fool," he growled. "Do you want to end up like those bloody muggles, bouncing twenty feet in the air and flashing everyone your knickers?"

He steered her roughly into the trees where they grew thick and heavy – too thick for many of the others amid the crowd to attempt penetrating. The pair of skinny teenagers slipped right between them, however, and Hermione was out of breath and swatting at Malfoy by the time he pulled her behind a tree and caged her body against it, concealing her from view.

"What do you think you're doing, Malfoy?" she snarled, stomping on his foot and shoving against his chest, trying to drive him back out of her personal space.

She wasn't particularly afraid of him. She had her wand in her hand, and she was sure that if she had to, she could hex him hard enough to make him leave her alone. Nevertheless, her experience with Romanov in Romania had left her tetchy and more than a little wary. Something he seemed to pick up on when she shoved him again, forcing him back a step.

"Quiet," he ordered, peering around the trees when another boom sounded, though he moved back a little way and held his hands up in front of her to show that he meant her no ill will. "Or they'll get you next, Granger. Just, for once, hold your tongue, alright?"

"How dare you?" Hermione growled. "What do you mean, they'll get me next?"

"They're targeting muggles," Malfoy said distractedly.

"I'm a witch!" Hermione hissed indignantly.

Malfoy frowned, twisting his head to meet her gaze.

"You're a muggleborn and in the eyes of those wizards out there, that's almost just as bad as being a muggle. They'll be after muggles and mudbloods, so you just stay here, stay quiet, and don't bloody move, got it?"

Hermione slapped her palms against his chest, noting that, like her, he was dressed in pyjamas, clearly having been abed before the screaming started. The partying had been going long into the night and after leaving Finn on the pitch to seek out a loo, Hermione had located Harry, Ron, Ginny and Reina. Knowing Finn likely wouldn't return before morning, and having cleared it with Rhonwen and Pandora, Hermione and Reina had bunked into the tent alongside Harry and the Weasleys. They'd been separated in the melee and now here she was, stuck with Malfoy. If that wouldn't teach her to just stay put, she didn't know what would.

"Don't you dare call me a mudblood, you foul little git!" Hermione snarled.

"It's what you are!" he retorted coldly. "No matter the signatures on your magic, and no matter your ancestral bloodlines, your mother and father were muggles. And to those chaps out there levitating and hexing the muggles, that makes you their prey. Now, unless you'd like to join them, shut your mouth and hold still."

Hermione glared at him, thinking very seriously about hexing him for spite.

"Why did you drag me away?" she asked, though based on what she'd learned about his apparent interest in her, she didn't really need to ask.

"You were going to get trampled," Malfoy said. "And one of them spotted you and was coming this way. I saved your life."

"You saved, at most, my dignity," Hermione argued. "Do I need to demonstrate that I am far from helpless like I did in France?"

"You need to realise that you're in danger, Granger," Malfoy said seriously, pulling his head back from peering around the tree where they hid as the terrorists began to move further away from their location. "Why don't you understand that? After what happened in Russia, I thought you understood that the Dark was beginning to rise again."

Hermione scowled at him, having forgotten that though she hadn't told Reina, Harry, or Ron, it just so happened that Malfoy was aware of Romanov's attack on her in Russia.

"That was nothing like this," Hermione argued. "He acted alone and he wouldn't bother with setting tents alight and bouncing muggles about like beachballs at a concert. He'd just rip their throats out with his teeth and eat their hearts."

"Tell me something, Granger," Malfoy said quietly, the gleam of the firelight beyond the thicket catching on his face for a long moment when he leaned just so. "How much do you know about the first wizarding war before the Dark Lord's defeat at Godric's Hollow?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Enough," she admitted. "Enough to know that James and Lily Potter were targeted because of Harry's birth, and I've seen enough since then to know that though he might've been defeated, You-Know-Who was not destroyed."

"Then you know his return is imminent?" Draco confirmed. "You understand that, as a society, many among the Sacred Twenty-Eight believe in blood purity. We endure the awkwardness of inbreeding to avoid adding dirty muggle blood to our bloodlines."

"I'm aware," Hermione said, looking pointedly at him and feeling a sense of smug satisfaction when he bristled a little at the unspoken implication.

"Certain families were very deeply aligned with the Dark Lord before his fall, Granger," Malfoy said quietly, frowning a little bit the longer her looked at her. "There are those in my own acquaintance who would delight in seeing people like you destroyed."

"Yourself and your father among them," Hermione said quietly. "I haven't forgotten your antics during second year when Slytherin's monster was on the loose, Malfoy. I haven't forgotten the bigoted slurs you sling all about the school whenever the urge to posture like a puffed-up peacock takes you."

"My father is very much among them," Draco nodded his head solemnly. "In fact, given the lack of him in our tent before I ran for it, I'd be willing to wager my significant weekly allowance that he's out there right now wearing one of those masks and creating this little stir. There are many who are excited for the Dark Lord's return, Granger. Many more who might fear it but will go along without those more radical souls celebrating it, and even those who will sell out their neighbours, friends, even blood relatives for daring to disagree or displease the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters."

"What's your point, Malfoy?" Hermione demanded quietly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"My point is that having the Dolohov and Malfoy signatures on your magic won't save you. You are still the descendant of a pair of squibs – a more reviled being amid our race, we've yet to discover – and the result of several injections of muggle genetics into a once magical blood line. When you were attacked in Russia, there were doubtlessly a swath of Dolohovs in the area, and only Antonin came to save you. The same indifference will befall you here. The endorsement on your magic might allow you to marry into a half-blood or mostly-pure blood line like the Rowles, but it will not save you. Coupled with your close association with Potter and you are currently one of the witches in the world with the biggest of targets on her back."

"And that has what to do with you?" Hermione huffed, fear beginning to twist its way into her belly. Coupled with the scent of burning canvas from the fires, it was making her feel squeamish.

Malfoy simply looked at her for a long moment, an almost derogatory and yet tortured expression on his face. Hermione knew then that he knew that she knew about his infatuation with her and he thought her a fool for ignoring it, and even more so for daring him to admit it.

"Keep you head down this year, Granger," he said seriously. "And if I were you, and your betrothal to Rowle really is in effect, you'd better get yourself hitched sooner rather than later."

Hermione stared at him in surprise, watching in confusion when he suddenly pushed away from her and strolled out of the thicket, leaving her to her strangely befuddled thoughts and a strange sense of impending doom.

When she followed after him, the crowds were beginning to disperse, many people locating loved ones and beginning to apparate away.

"Hermione, over here!" Harry called, spotting her.

Hermione went to him, hugging him tightly and pleased to see he was safe.

"Merlin, we were so worried," Ron told her, hugging her as well. "Where were you? Someone was shouting that muggleborns would be next. One chap was attacked."

Hermione's eyes were wide.

"Hey, what's that," Harry said, interrupting before she could offer explanation about where they'd been.

Stumbling, Hermione looked in the direction he indicated to see Winky the House Elf struggling to run away. Further on they encountered a gaggle of wizards shouting at Veela and Harry and Hermione were forced to drag Ron away when he began shouting about inventing a broom that could fly all the way to Jupiter.

They kept going, deep into the heart of the wood until there were no more sounds of people talking and shouting, no sounds of Aurors and other Ministry officials trying to restore order and capture those who'd been in the masks.

Just as they were discussing the madness of such a stunt at a fully guarded event like the Quidditch world cup, Hermione broke off abruptly in her tirade when the sound of someone staggering toward their clearing met her ears.

"Hello?" Harry called when the footsteps came to an abrupt halt.

It was much too dark to see very far, and Hermione squinted, the fear festering in her gut beginning to rapidly fizz, once more. She didn't at all like the idea of some unknown stranger out there in the woods, potentially watching them; maybe wishing them ill.

"Who's there?" Harry called when no one answered, and the silence began to creep.

"MOSMORDRE!" an unknown voice shouted, renting the air and making Hermione nearly jump clean out of her skin.

A glittering green spell erupted from the blackness, flying over the treetops and into the sky

"What the -?" Ron gasped, springing to his feet.

Hermione's stomach clenched in terror when she recognised the colossal skull with a snake protruding from its mouth.

"Harry, come on, move!" she snarled, seizing her friend by the back of his jacket as all throughout the wood, people began to scream in their terror.

"What's the matter?" he asked, turning to her.

"It's the Dark Mark, Harry," Hermione moaned, pulling on his jacket as hard as she could. "You-Know-Who's sign!"

Before she could explain further, they were ambushed on all sides, wizards in pyjamas, and other in Auror robes coming at them from all directions.

"DUCK!" Harry shouted after a moment of stunned silence, seizing both her and Ron and dragging them to the ground just before a chorus of Stunning spells roared from the twenty gathered voices.

The light from the spells almost blinded Hermione as she hit the grass beside her friends.

"STOP!" yelled the voice of Arthur Weasley suddenly. "STOP! That's my son!"

In the melee that followed, Hermione realised the full and gripping horror of what had been done here tonight. As Harry was accused of casting the Dark Mark himself, his wand found at the scene despite it being in Winky's clutches. As the inquisition began and Mr Crouch seemed more defensive than surprised, but no one dared to call him on it. Not when he was so well known for his dark-wizard catching days and his tireless pursuit of the Death Eaters during the first war.

His dismissal of the elf incensed Hermione more than she dared to voice, but she had a sneaking suspicion his displeasure with the elf had nothing to do with her 'finding' Harry's wand and a lot more to do with her having disobeyed orders to leave the tent. Perhaps he was hiding something, but she didn't dare suggest it.

When they were free to go, Hermione walked solemnly alongside her friends, the pall over the evening and the seriousness of the actions that had taken place slamming into her full force and making her think that perhaps, Malfoy might've been right, after all.

Just as they were pushing their way through the frightened crowd, intent on returning to bed, Hermione heard someone calling her name.

"Oh, Hermione, darling, there you are," Pandora Rowle said, hurrying forward and gathering Hermione into a hug. "Oh, I've been so worried. Antonin got Reina back to the Tower, safe and sound, but he said he lost sight of you in the crowds. Arthur, you won't mind if I take her home, will you?"

Mr Weasley looked surprised to be addressed by Madam Rowle, but he sighed and nodded. "If Hermione's happy to go, I'm certain she'll be safe with you."

Hermione smiled a little, dodging the expressions Ron and Harry both shot her, obviously not wanting her to go. She didn't think she could face what would likely turn into a history lesson for Harry, who inexplicably had never bothered to learn everything he possibly could about the man who'd murdered his parents or the entire war that had come to a screeching halt when he had survived the Killing Curse as a baby. She couldn't face his ignorance tonight. Not when she was tired, and she had no idea where Thorfinn was, and she'd just been forced to swallow the rather bitter pill of discovering that Draco Malfoy had been right.

"Let's go home, dear," Pandora said, tucking Hermione's hand through her own and clearly intending to apparate. Still no more used to it than she'd been when Thorfinn and Antonin had gotten her out of Russia, Hermione screwed up her eyes and waited for the dizzying squeeze to come to an end.

When they landed, all the lights were on inside the Tower, the many relatives who'd come to stay for the World Cup all having returned there for safety when the rioting started. Hermione blinked against the harsh light.

"Hermione, love, was Thorfinn with you at all?" Pandora asked quietly, stopping her before she could make her way inside, just wanting to crawl into bed.

"No," Hermione admitted. "I haven't seen him since we parted ways on the pitch after the match. Is he not here?"

Pandora's lips pinched together, and she looked up the Tower.

"Looks like his light is on. Maybe he was held up somewhere," Pandora offered, some of her tension leaving her frame. "Why don't we go inside, darling. It's been a long night."

Hermione nodded.

As soon as she crossed the threshold, she was ambushed by Reina, who raced over to her and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're safe," the younger girl said, squeezing her tightly. "When we lost sight of you in the crowds, I feared you'd been trampled."

Hermione cuddled her back, not willing to elaborate about all that had occurred that night. Over Reina's shoulder, Hermione spied Dolohov watching her, his arms folded over his chest and a harsh frown lining his face. From the look in his eyes, she could tell that he had questions and that he wouldn't rest until they were answered. Hermione sighed.

"Let's get to bed," she suggested tiredly to her best friend.

Reina nodded, and the others all agreed, the adults looking very much like the intended to have a long discussion.

"I'll get them upstairs," Antonin offered to Talon and Rhonwen, who both looked torn between a serious discussion about the implications of tonight's events and needing to see the children to bed.

"Thank you, Antonin," Rhonwen said, squeezing his shoulder.

Hermione noticed that as he moved toward them, Reina reached out and took his hand. From the redness of her eyes and the way Antonin didn't resist the hold, she suspected Reina had been crying in her fear over what had become of Hermione.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" she asked. "You weren't hurt, were you?"

"I'm fine, Reina," Hermione said quietly.

Reina peered at her worriedly but seemed willing to believe her. When they reached her bedroom, she bid Hermione and Antonin goodnight before tucking herself.

Hermione kept climbing the stairs, aware of Antonin a step behind her.

"You weren't fine," he said quietly. "You were in more danger there than most, Granger."

"I know," Hermione said softly.

"What happened?" he asked, stopping her with a hand on her arm.

"Malfoy grabbed me," Hermione explained.

"Lucius?" Antonin asked, his eyes widening in surprise before narrowing dangerously.

"Draco," Hermione clarified. "He pulled me out of harms way and reminded me that as a muggleborn, and a close friend of Harry's, I'll likely be in a good deal more danger as You Know Who begins rising to power, once more."

Antonin didn't look surprised to hear it.

"That kid fancies you," he surmised quietly.

"I know," Hermione nodded again.

"You know?" Antonin scowled, looking like he thought she might be entertaining ideas of pursuing something with the Malfoy heir.

Hermione sighed.

"Theo told me he spent ages in first year tracing my bloodline and trying to prove to his father that I wasn't just a muggleborn witch," Hermione explained. "Theo believes Malfoy is such a git to me because he fancied me, and said something about my bracelet from Finn making him lash out, which is why he's always so rude to me."

Antonin nodded slowly.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No, he pulled me into some trees where I wouldn't be seen, and warned me. He said he thought his father was amongst those in the masks."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Antonin nodded. "Lucius was in the thick of things with the Dark Lord during the first war."

"How do you know?" Hermione frowned.

"Because my father was, too," Antonin admitted. "Even Talon was being pulled in before the Dark Lord's defeat, Granger."

"But his own mother is muggleborn," Hermione protested.

"And that very fact was used to blackmail him, Granger. People will do terrible things to protect those they care about, you know?" Antonin said, nodding her up the stairs toward Finn's room.

"Even you?" she asked.

Antonin snorted.

"Especially me," Antonin said. "And so would Thorfinn. If you knew what he'd done in Russia after what that werewolf did to you…"

"I do know," Hermione told him.

'Then there you have it," Antonin said, as Hermione reached' Thorfinn's room and turned the doorknob, pushing her way into the room.

She stopped in her tracks, Antonin walking right into her from behind thanks to the suddenness of her halt.

Thorfinn Rowle stood in only his Quidditch pants and his boots, his hands gripping his soot-stained blond hair while he stared in horror at something on the bed. Following his eyes, Hermione's stomach flipped, and her heart clenched and her whole body went tense all at once.

There, thrown haphazardly on top of the covers was a black Death Eater robe and the terrible skull-like mask worn by the terrorists at the match. Thorfinn's eyes tore from the apparel at the sound of Hermione's gasp of horror.

He looked scared.

And guilty.

"F-finn?" Hermione stammered, her heart in her throat as her hands began to tremble with fear over what she was seeing. It couldn't be. It just couldn't.

"Fucking hell, Thor," Antonin could be heard muttering from behind her before he shoved her hard into the room and quickly closed the door, locking the three of them inside before anyone else could appear and see the evidence of where Thorfinn had apparently been for the evening's events.

Thorfinn's lowered lip trembled, his hands fisting handfuls of his thick blond hair, his eyes fixed on Hermione and his expression wrought with guilt.

"It's not what it looks like…"

NOTE: I wrote a novel! A real one. And I published it on Amazon. Check out my profile page, or google "PARANORMAL DIVISION: AWAKENING BY ELLIE J DUCK" for details and the link to purchase. xx