Ginny paced nervously in what little space there was in her room, waiting impatiently for Hermione to wake up. This Dreaming Charm was one she'd never heard of, but it certainly did the trick—her friend had fallen immediately into a deep sleep, and her eyes had started flickering back and forth under her eyelids almost as quickly. She knew a quick Rennervate would wake her, but Hermione had assured her that she'd wake up out of the dream herself, once she had the information she needed.
That was all very well and good, but Ginny couldn't just sit there and do nothing while Hermione slept. Unable to be still any longer, Ginny began rummaging through the drifts of discarded clothes and abandoned toys littered underneath her bed. Within moments she retrieved a small satchel.
It was empty, but not for long. Keeping a weather eye on Hermione, Ginny darted about the room, snatching up whatever potentially useful items she could find: a Beater's bat, half a roll of Spellotape, one of the twins' Skivving Snackboxes that had been shoved into a drawer. As she straightened up from putting the last item in the now very-full bag, something out of the window caught Ginny's eye. The roof of the shed was just visible in the moonlight, and she hesitated for half a breath, before opening the casement wide, climbing up, and dropping quietly to the ground outside.
She made her way across the yard towards the little garage where her dad kept all his Muggle plugs and things, but which also housed the Weasleys' small collection of brooms. They were stood in the front corner, quite near the door, so it was only the work of a moment for her to grab up the first pair her hands fell upon.
No sooner had she closed her hand around the second broom handle, it began bucking and jerking, trying to escape. What was worse, a third broom flew out of the corner of its own accord and began beating her about the head and shoulders, not doing any real damage but certainly stopping her from getting away. She managed to get out of the door, but she was forced to drop both brooms the moment she stepped back outside.
Infuriatingly, all three brooms dropped to the ground the second she let go.
"It's polite to ask, you know, if you're going to borrow someone else's things," came a soft voice practically in her ear.
Ginny whirled on her heel to see Luna Lovegood standing right in front of her. Luna was dressed in a flannel nightgown with immense boots. Her blonde hair was loose about her shoulders, practically glowing in the moonlight, surrounding her face like an unearthly halo. "What… what are you doing here?"
"It's a lovely night for a walk, don't you think?" Luna replied, lowering herself gracefully onto the grass beside Ginny.
Ginny gusted out a frustrated sigh and dropped to the ground herself. "I suppose," she hedged.
"It was just the perfect time for it, when I left my house." Luna's voice drifted lazily as it always did, ending her sentence on a rising tone. "Although I think that may soon change."
Ginny frowned in confusion. "Change? What do you–"
At that instant, Luna's head jerked upwards, staring at the house. A figure was crossing the garden, directly towards them. Ginny tensed, but then she recognized the silhouette, a great mass of hair twists flying in every direction.
"Ginny, I know where–oh, Luna!" Hermione stopped dead just short of stepping on the tiny blonde girl, her whispered greeting sharp with surprise. "What are you doing here?"
Luna paid her no attention. "Genevra, if you will please ask to borrow the brooms, we can be on our way," she said with uncommon formality.
Ginny's frown deepened. "Fred and George would never let me borrow their brooms, not in a million years. Besides, we'd wake Mum."
Luna's silvery laugh pealed through the darkness. "Not them … ask the brooms, silly! They're only particular about manners with people they don't know well yet."
Ginny looked towards Hermione in mute appeal, but her friend's anxiety had returned, and she could only shrug and grimace. Shaking her head at the ridiculousness of it all, Ginny bent over the pile of brooms still tumbled in the grass.
"If two of you… broomsticks … don't mind, we need to go save Hermione's soulmate," she hissed. As she reached for them, she cast a questioning glance over her shoulder at Luna, who was nodding serenely. "Please?" she added, just in case.
When Ginny did pick up the brooms, there was no more of the bucking and thrashing like before (although she swore that the one that had attacked her was heavier than she remembered.) She went to put the third one back, but it refused to stay in its place on the rack. Shrugging, she held it out to Luna instead.
"Perhaps you'll know what to do with this one," she grumbled, but Luna gave her a brilliant smile.
"Oh, I would be honored to join you on your quest!" she beamed.
"But where are we going?" Ginny asked, turning to Hermione.
Hermione's face fell. "I'm not certain we can get there by broom. It's… they're in the Shrieking Shack."
Ginny started to protest, but a hand on her arm stopped her. "I think this might help," Luna said, offering Hermione what looked like a massive key ring, but without the keys. "It's a portkey. I borrowed it from Father. It should take us just outside the school's wards."
"Luna," Ginny replied hesitantly, "why would your father have a portkey to Hogwarts?"
Luna's voice took a sad turn, her face in shadow. "He worries, the poor dear. Either that, or he's found a nest of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks in Scotland after all. When we land, mind you don't step in any holes. I'd hate to ruin one of their nests, you know."
Ginny and Hermione just exchanged a look.
"Everyone hold on," Luna said, and the three girls each grasped the ring in one hand, and a broom in the other. With a whispered word, they disapparated into the night.
A small sound woke Dean out of a shallow doze. Without so much as a twitch, he took stock of his surroundings, silent and completely alert to the least movement. When enough time passed without event, he slowly sat up straight, loosening his grip on the hilt of the dagger Malfoy had brought with them. He badly missed his own silver knife, but this one was at least sharp enough to defend himself with. Draco hadn't wanted to part with it, but Dean had convinced him that he'd be more able to defend them with it than without it.
It was a good thing, too. Draco was out cold, breathing shallow but even, where he lay on the dilapidated mattress in the corner of the room. Magic or no magic, he was in no fit state to do any fighting at the moment. Whenever he woke up again, they'd take stock, decide what to do and, if possible, where to go from here.
Dean had no idea whatsoever where he was. The huge manor he'd been on before was surrounded by wild lands, so it was pretty obviously nowhere near the center of London where he'd been abducted from. And now? They'd freaking teleported somewhere else, God knew where, and while they were relatively sheltered, there wasn't a scrap of food to be found anywhere. They could hide here for now, but not for long.
He could see plenty of trees out of the windows, but no large areas of light pollution to tell him where a decent-sized city or town might be. It was easily the darkest night Dean had ever seen, including that one time Bobby had taken him and Sam camping in the Badlands. Sammy had spent half the night looking at the stars, you could see so many of them out there, away from the lights of civilization. How this place could be even further from civilization, when the British Isles were so freaking small, he had no freaking clue.
Dean shuffled over towards the windows again, peering out from a position low to the floor, just bringing his eyes over the lip of the windowsill. There was virtually no light in here at all, since Draco wasn't conscious to be casting that light spell of his, but he wasn't about to chance being seen, even if the danger was low. Stupid shit like that got good hunters killed, and he wasn't about to risk it, if he didn't have to.
The landscape wasn't changed much since he'd last peeped out, but the night was definitely progressing. There wasn't much cloud, thankfully, so he could see the moon had moved: it was much closer to setting now. Good thing, that. More darkness would make for better cover, if they could get out of here tonight, that is.
He was just about to turn away from the window when he caught a glimpse of something coming down out of the sky. It was just a flash between the trees, but there was one—then another, and another—flying in a straight line towards the ground.
That was close enough for him—they had to be ready to move. Dean moved quickly but quietly back across the room to where Draco lay on his back, hand on his chest curled around his wand. "Draco," Dean hissed, "Draco, wake up."
No response.
Compulsively, Dean laid his hand on the other boy's chest to check his breathing. His chest rose and fell, but he didn't respond. "Dude, we gotta go," Dean said, more urgently, giving Draco's hand a slight shake.
He stirred, but didn't wake.
"Draco," he said, hand clasped tightly around the boy's wand hand, desperation clear in his voice, "wake up. "
With a lurch, Draco sat up, shoving Dean hard enough to throw him back a couple of feet. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded savagely.
"Waking you up, we gotta go," Dean replied tersely. He was in no mood to placate snobby punks like Draco.
"Not that I wouldn't appreciate a change of scenery," Draco huffed, "but why so soon?"
"I just saw a bunch of things fly down and land in the forest on the other side of this clearing, and they weren't birds," Dean snapped. "Can you walk, or am I gonna have to carry you?"
"Depends," Draco said sardonically, "on whether we have to run or not."
"Hold on," Dean said, and he crept back over to peek out of the window again. The clearing was empty, the moon nearly set behind the trees. He squinted across to where he'd seen the figures land, but it was so dark he couldn't be certain the movement he saw wasn't only the wind in the branches of the trees.
"Can't tell," he said, slumping down to the floor once more. "Do you have any more juice in that teleporter thing of yours?"
"If you mean the portkey," Draco replied haughtily, "then, no. It was a one-use only."
Dean sighed, but nodded his acceptance. "Okay, so no portkey. Right. So our options are hole up and fight, or get out and run."
Draco gave a tight grimace. "I find leaving much preferable to dying here."
"Hey," Dean said, looking the other boy in the eye, "you're not dying on my watch."
"And why should I trust you with my life?" Draco sneered.
Dean just shrugged. "You saved mine. Call it payback, if you want. But it'll be pointless if they find us here, so let's get a move on, shall we?" Dean reached out a hand to him, and waited.
Draco's expression was inscrutable, but with only a moment's pause, he took Dean's hand and allowed himself to be hoisted to his feet.
In the silence that followed, they heard the sound of footsteps and muffled voices, coming from somewhere down the hall.
"You were saying," Draco said in a hushed whisper, grabbing his wand in his off hand while he held onto Dean's left arm for balance.
Dean just widened his stance, and tightened his grip on the dagger in his hand.