So so much love goes out to RESimon and shestoolazytologin. They're my dream team. Love you both.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
She'd thought of everything.
It had taken months for her to create her own tracking spell, researching every potential nuance and fine-tuning intricate detail she had come across. Perfecting it had required so much trial and error, and it had only been when she had retrieved fresh blood that they had been able to activate the spell. As few and far in between they were, every report the Order had given them indicated that the Death Eaters had only discovered tracking via taboo. There was no other conceivable way for them to have found them, unless —
She pressed a fist to her mouth to quell the sobs that threatened to start anew. Tears still streamed freely down her cheeks, dripping onto where she held his cloak in a tight fist in her lap. Blood trickled down her arm and dripped onto the cloak from a wound she hadn't even realized she'd gotten. Her hand trembled as she lifted the cloak, unable to stop herself from drinking in his scent that still clung heavily to the thick fabric.
She let her sobs flow free. She wanted to be wrong. She needed to be wrong. She needed — him.
She looked back at the cabin and immediately felt herself seize up. She couldn't go back inside, not when his presence clung to every inch of the space. She pressed a hand against her heart as it spasmed. She'd thought she'd known pain before this — broken limbs, torn flesh. But this— depthless, all-consuming darkness seemed to fold in on itself in a never-ending cycle, drowning her.
She so desperately wanted to be wrong.
The look in his eyes as she'd dropped the portkey on him haunted her. The silver-grey of them bright and glassy in the moonlight, betrayal twisting his frozen features as he looked at her. His eyes screaming the thousand words she'd prevented him from speaking himself. She tried to recall the time when she'd known how to exist without him, trying to pull back to scant more than a year prior, yet feeling it slip away as if it had been decades. His hold on her had crept up slowly and revealed itself all at once in that final moment of suspended silence between them as the coin glinted in the air before falling upon him. She was inextricably his — beyond the bond, beyond that feeling of his presence that lay currently dormant at the back of her mind—
She wrapped his cloak tighter around her shoulders and sobbed harder. She would likely need to return to the Order, face confronting Harry and Ron yet again, and — him. With a shaking hand, she pointed her wand toward where the door to the cabin still stood open. The small radio flew into her outstretched hand a moment later. She clutched it tightly. She needed to hold on to why she'd done this in the first place — for the Order, for herself, and for him, too. She couldn't give up.
She reminded herself of that even as she mumbled the night's password and a familiar voice began to filter through the speaker. Silent tears continued to run down her cheeks as the words filtered through her. He was safe. What mattered was that he was safe. Captive in an Order safehouse somewhere, but safe. Bound by the magic of the bond to not reveal anything he chose not to. Safe. Safe. Safe—
A new voice on the wireless interrupted her thoughts.
"I've joined today to share some somber news with you all," he started. Hermione's throat went dry. Harry—
"—muggleborn allies of ours were tracked across the countryside in Wales," Hermione froze. Dean, the kind-eyed man— "We have managed to shelter them safely, but we've made an unprecedented discovery. Although we'd thought it magically inconceivable, the Death Eaters have manipulated Dark Magic in a way that allows them to track us. They've fashioned small, marble-like objects that they've been slipping onto peoples' clothing during skirmishes—"
The rest of his words went unheard as blood pounded in Hermione's ears. The trees surrounding her started to blur as her world went grey at the edges. Her fingers were frantic and trembling as she tore into the pockets of his cloak. No— no— no—
"Acc—acci—" her voice trembled. "Accio—"
A miniature dark ball flew out of his pocket and into her outstretched hand.
Her heart stopped. She'd been wrong. She'd been so wrong—
Loud cracks of Apparition cut through the pounding of blood in her ears. Her panicked eyes flew from the nearest Snatcher to the open cabin door. She was outside the wards. She screamed a random curse at her nearest attacker and scrambled forward only to be dragged backward by her braid. She was kicked hard in the stomach and screamed as she felt a rib crack. She scrambled at the dirt and melting snow on the forest floor as she tried to crawl toward the wards again. She needed to survive, she needed to survive for him—
There was a sharp pain at the back of her head, and then nothing.
X
There were voices. Angry voices.
She was being dragged. Sharp pains radiated all over her body as she was pulled across a smooth floor by her hair. Her head throbbed, and she felt a slick trail of wetness running down her neck that she didn't doubt was blood. She tried to blink, only to be assaulted by a barrage of stars exploding behind her eyelids as the person who dragged her jerked harder.
Her head was dropped abruptly, and more stars exploded behind her eyelids as she felt her head crack against the floor. When she opened her eyes, there were more stars. Her eyes swam and she blinked again. The stars blurred into sharper focus, and she blinked again. Not stars. A massive, glittering chandelier lit with the light of dozens of candles. It was suspended from a dark ceiling above where she lay on her back. She tried to crane her neck and figure out where she was—
She froze halfway. Bellatrix Lestrange stood several feet away, her head cocked and her teeth glittering as brightly as the chandelier as a cruel smile stretched across her features. Hermione jolted as horror flooded through her and she tried to sit up, fighting to ignore the stabbing pain in her abdomen. Her eyes were desperate as she looked at the wand clutched in Bellatrix's fist as the woman approached slowly.
"Bellatrix," a cool voice spoke from across the room. Hermione craned her neck to see, but she'd known from the second he'd spoken — Lucius Malfoy.
He stood across the room, his face twisted in disgust as he flicked his eyes to her before turning to Bellatrix once more. Her heart lurched. Even from across the room, Hermione caught the glimmer of recognition in his eyes.
"Must you do this here?" Lucius said, his voice tinged with annoyance although his eyes shone with something unreadable.
"You no longer have authority here, Lucius." The words were a hiss, and Hermione swore she saw a brief flicker in his expression before his face was cool once more.
Malfoy Manor. Hermione almost let out a wild laugh at the irony of the situation. Dragged exactly where—
As if on cue, her ring started to burn. Draco was awake. There was a ball of tension growing at the back of her mind, pulsing like a blooming headache. Something deep in her told her that it was him, his presence inextricable despite her betrayal. The burn continued, and she felt her flesh searing beneath the weight of his punishment.
"I've summoned the Dark Lord to identify the prisoners," Lucius snapped at Bellatrix. "Be quick about it."
Her ring burned again. She recalled the time she'd done the same to him what felt like a lifetime ago. Before— before he'd become everything. Her hand curled into a fist where the ring was still glamoured, burning harder against her skin the longer he activated the protean charm.
It was no less than she deserved.
Bellatrix stepped closer to Hermione, bright white teeth flashing behind crimson-smeared lips. "A shame. I so hoped to take my time." She flashed another wicked smile before tipping her wand toward Hermione. "Crucio."
Pain.
Blinding white that was swallowed by endless darkness, dragging deep into a void of fire and ice, invisible yet consuming, tearing at her flesh and burrowing deep within her—
The pain stopped.
At some point, she'd screamed. Her throat ached with the lingering pain of the gesture, her mouth filled with blood from where she'd bitten down on her tongue.
Bellatrix was on her knees beside Hermione, lips twisted in a mockery of a frown as she looked Hermione over. "Not nearly enough," the woman said as absently as though she were brewing a potion. Bellatrix dipped lower, until the dirty tangles of her hair were in Hermione's face, practically choking her as they fell in her mouth. Bellatrix smoothed a hand over her hair and down her braid, curling its length around her fist.
Bellatrix's lips brushed Hermione's ear as she spoke. "I know what you did."
She was thrown into the void of pain once more, drowning, tearing, burning from the inside out—
When she came to, the first thing she registered was the way her ring still burned on her twitching fingers. Draco— Draco— Draco—
She had to survive for him. She had to hold on for him — for his presence that she could feel coiled at the back of her mind, a pulsing ball of tension.
"Where. Is. He?!"
Bellatrix moved over her, so close that Hermione could see the manic glint in the woman's eyes. Hermione barely caught the flash of Bellatrix's hand moving before her head was thrown sideways with the force of Bellatrix's slap.
Her vision pulsed grey as she coughed, spitting out blood. Still, she forced her eyes open far enough to meet Bellatrix's. "I don't know."
Bellatrix tightened her grip on Hermione's braid and forced Hermione to look at her. Her eyes were sunken into a gaunt face, pale skin stretched too far over sharp features. The crimson slash of lipstick she wore was smeared around the edges, amplifying the air of mania that hung over her presence. The color of her lipstick matched the droplets of blood that spattered the woman's face.
Bellatrix snatched Hermione's chin and dove into her head without a moment's notice. Her mental shields were pulsing, weakened by the lingering aftershocks of torture. Still, they held fast. Beyond the walls, the bonding magic reinforced all that protected him, encompassing it in an impenetrable shell that had Bellatrix screeching in rage as she retreated.
"I don't—I don't know—" Another echoing slap that left her head pounding.
"CRUCIO!" An inferno burst through Hermione's body as Bellatrix screeched the spell. Her existence dissolved into a single pinprick of pain, her every nerve ending alive with a blaze that sought only to tear her apart from within. Someone somewhere was screaming, the sound a grating screech that barely managed to pierce through the haze of pain that swirled in her head—
She tried to burrow into a shelter of Occlumency, digging deep into her mind as she sought sanctuary. But the pain burrowed through easily, shattering her refuge and tearing her apart once more.
When it stopped Bellatrix was still perched above her, the tip of the woman's wand pressing painfully into her throat. A steady stream of tears had begun leaking down her face, and her limbs still twitched from the ghost of the pain that still lingered. Somehow, even then, the burn of her ring as it ignited once more against her skin bloomed harder than the cruciatus had.
As the fog lifted, all she could think of was him. She had to hold on. She needed to hold on. She needed to buy time. She had to hold on. She had to endure. She had to gather her strength to resist, to get the wand that she could still see peeking out of Bellatrix's robes. If Bellatrix killed her—
"Where is he?" Bellatrix's words felt like a whisper through the haze of pain that still lingered.
She had to survive. She had to survive. For him. "Who?" Her voice was little more than a croak.
There was a flash of Bellatrix's bared teeth before Hermione's world dissolved into fire once more. It felt as though her lungs were wont to give out under the force of her screams, but still she screamed louder. The pain stopped and started again in an endless cycle of anguish. Between each of Bellatrix's screams, she knew nothing but a void of darkness and pain, and three words: I don't know. I don't know. I don't know.
She sobbed openly now, babbling the words every time Bellatrix lifted her wand long enough to repeat her question. She knew her finger was blistered with burns from the force of the charm as Draco activated her ring over and over, but she welcomed it, centering herself on the reminder that she couldn't give up, that she had to hold on for him.
Draco. Draco, Draco, Draco—
Bellatrix snatched her arm suddenly, ripping open Hermione's sleeve with a harsh flick of her wand. The woman laughed, the sound tinged with its ever-present manic edge. The glint of a blade was Hermione's only warning before Bellatrix dragged it across her skin.
The curse had been fire. This— this was ice. An ice so cold that it bit and burned, and she found herself screaming again.
There was a horrified gasp from somewhere else in the room and Bellatrix pulled the blade away. Hermione let out as sob as the wound continued to throb as painfully as though the blade was still embedded in her skin. She blinked open heavy lids, trying to identify the new figure that was blurred by her tears. Her babbles had reduced themselves to low sobs, and she tried to lift her still-twitching fingers to wipe at her still-blurry eyes.
"What are you doing?" It was— Narcissa.
Hermione blinked until the woman came into sharper focus. She almost wished she hadn't. The woman's face was a mask of sheer horror as she looked at where Hermione lay. Hermione knew she was still twitching and trembling, and likely still bleeding from the injuries she'd sustained from the Snatchers.
"I don't care about your pathetic rug, Cissy!" Bellatrix screamed.
Of course Bellatrix assumed Narcissa's horror was about the rug and not the woman who lay bleeding out upon it.
"We agreed that you would contain your activities to the wing you were designated—"
Bellatrix hissed. "I take no orders from you." She kicked Hermione in the side and smirked at Hermione's gasp of pain before turning back to her sister. "I operated there out of convenience. I take no orders from you."
Hermione's eyes were focused on where the hilt of her wand still peeked out at her, trying to force her spasming fingers to comply as she tried to sit up.
Lucius spoke through gritted teeth. "The Dark Lord will be here shortly to identify the other prisoners, yet you waste your time on this—"
Bellatrix lifted her wand and turned to her once more and Hermione shrank back, waiting for the pain to begin anew—
An angered screech had her forcing her eyes back open a moment later. Bellatrix's wand was clutched in Narcissa's hand, her entire posture screaming defiance.
Bellatrix's skin was flushed as angry of a red as Narcissa's. Her eyes bulged as she directed her burning rage at her sister. "YOU—"
There was a sound of Apparition behind them that had Bellatrix cutting off and snapping her head to stare at something beyond Hermione. She caught only the rage blooming brighter in Bellatrix's eyes before she heard it.
"Hermione!"
She didn't need to turn her hair to recognize the voice. Harry. Harry, Harry—?
There was another voice shouting her name, a voice that she'd often wondered if she would ever hear again — "Hermione!" Ron.
"Harry..." The sound was but a gargle as she tried to force her trembling limbs to comply, twisting and raising herself to her knees. "Ron—"
There was a small cluster of people gathered around — Dobby, she realized. Ron, Luna, a goblin, a man she didn't recognize— and Harry, Harry who ran toward her with wide, panic-stricken eyes—
Bellatrix seized her by the braid once more, pressing a blade to her throat. Harry froze where he was halfway across the room, his wand trembling as he pointed it at where Bellatrix held her.
There was a crack of Apparition that felt like thunder. The room seemed to vibrate under the force of the new presence that overwhelmed her, a spot of rage burning bright— Voldemort, perhaps—
But the rage intensified as she felt the presence move, and she clutched her head painfully as she was overwhelmed with the force of wild, angry emotions stirring—
It wasn't Voldemort at all.
She forced her eyes open to find Draco Malfoy standing across the room, his expression wild.
Their eyes locked, and time froze for a suspended moment. Her heart fluttered a frantic rhythm in her chest. She looked at him, drinking in the fact that he was there, he was there—
Draco clenched his fist and wrenched it sideways, and an invisible force tore Bellatrix's arm away from Hermione's throat. There was a sickening crack of bone, and the blade clattered to the ground as Bellatrix screamed.
Draco's eyes burned bright with intensity as they met hers once more.
And then he pointed his wand upward.
A crack of lightning burst from the tip of his wand, igniting the room in light. She was blown back by an invisible force just as the lightning struck the chandelier above them, sending it crashing down in a storm of flame and glittering shards. Fragments of shattered crystal rained down over them, bathing the occupants of the room in its jagged sleet. Flames began to lick the floor around the broken fragments of the chandelier, bathing them in warmth.
"Hermione!" She heard Ron's cry and his footsteps as he started running toward her behind Harry, feet crunching over broken crystal.
But her eyes were fixated on Draco. She reached out toward his blurred frame beyond the flickering flames, crawling forward despite the lingering shocks of pain that tried to force her to do anything but. "Draco—"
Behind Draco, she saw Lucius lift his wand. No. Her eyes flew to where Harry was almost upon her and back to where Lucius' wand was pointed steadily. Draco's eyes were on her, and he stood frozen beyond the growing wall of flame. "No—!"
She didn't realize the spell was aimed at her until the force of it threw her back against the far wall. Pain blossomed in her side as she scrambled to her feet. There were shards of crystal embedded in her arm and she brushed them off, wincing at the pain as she spotted Draco.
"Accio wand!" Her voice was hoarse around her scream, and she stretched a desperate hand toward where Bellatrix was straightening.
"You little bitch!" Bellatrix screeched as the wand flew away before she could grasp it, sailing across the cavernous room.
Hermione caught the wand in her fingers in time to block the curse Lucius shot at her through the flames, sending it flying into the wall in an explosion of orange.
"Expelliarmus!" Her spell hit true, and Lucius wand clattered to the ground.
Harry scrambled to his knees, snatching Lucius' wand where it had clattered to the ground before him. "Come on!" he shouted, his eyes wide with desperation.
But her eyes were on Draco, watching him as the flames licked higher between them. She took two desperate steps forward, moving toward him—
Strong arms locked around her middle and dragged her backward. "Are you bloody insane?!" Ron shouted in her ear.
She tried to wrench herself away only for Dobby to catch her arm. "We needs to be going!"
She searched for Draco and froze. The Bellatrix's blade glimmered in her hand once more, shining in the light of the flames. Even from where she stood across the room, Hermione could see the manic glimmer in the woman's eyes as she raised the blade and her arm reared back, the silver shining with orange light.
Hermione had seen the blade — but Draco had seen it too.
He'd seen the tip of the blade as it was aimed towards where she stood — and she'd seen the calculated resolution in his eyes before he moved. Everything felt too slow — her limbs, her scream, the spell she tried to utter — everything except the way he moved—
Directly into the path of where the blade swung down in a low arc. Hermione's entire body seized up as her vision started to blur and the shouts behind her dulled. She saw only him, felt only the way anguish bloomed in that space he occupied at the back of her mind.
The bloody blade fell to the ground somewhere beyond the circle of flames, ripped from Bellatrix's grip by the way it had been dragged across Draco's back. Hermione's primal scream echoed in the room, sounding endless as she watched Draco stagger and straighten. It was only when Narcissa snatched her son's arm that Hermione realized her own scream had been mingled with Narcissa's.
She managed only a blink before Narcissa had snatched both Bellatrix and Draco's arms and disappeared. Another blink before strong arms locked around her once more.
Another, and they were gone.
X
Hermione stumbled to her knees, her world still pulsing with darkness as her limbs locked, frozen with shock as she tried to take in the sandy ground beneath her.
There was no creeping cold feeling growing within her, slowly consuming her life force. He wasn't dying. Even the presence of him that she'd felt throbbing at the back of her mind was nearly as subdued as it had been when he'd kept his Occlumency walls carefully in place.
Still— she could feel it. A low, throbbing pain that flickered at the back of her mind, not quite extinguished by his efforts.
He was hurt. He was— somewhere, and he was hurt.
"Hermione!" A shadow fell over her, but her eyes did not move. They stayed fixated on his dirtied denims. Harry's, most likely. "'Mione?" he said again, softer this time. He descended then, and she soon found herself staring into familiar blue eyes that brimmed with concern.
She stared at him, through him, the image of him blurred by thoughts of Draco's state that appeared in her mind's eye. He was still speaking to her, but the words filtered past her in waves.
"...you couldn't get her, not then...we know you wanted to...heard you screaming from the dungeons...we'll get her next time, I swear…"
Inside, she let out a manic giggle. Of course they assumed it was Bellatrix she'd gone after — her going after Draco was still inconceivable to them.
It was when Ron caught her shoulders and spoke again that she realized she'd laughed aloud. "'Mione?" he asked again. "Are you alright? Of course, you're not alright. You're got scrapes all over you, and you were tor—" he paused and hesitated, his hands tightening on her shoulders. "You've never even fought anyone before, how could she—"
Oh, how little they knew. "Go, Ron." Her voice was harsher than she intended, but she didn't bother to correct herself.
"'Mione—"
"Go."
Something in her tone made him pause. She wondered if he had caught the note in her tone that signaled that she was about to break, to shatter into millions of screaming pieces as minuscule as the sand they were surrounded by. For a moment, he seemed wont to pull her closer, but instead, he stood.
"She's…" Ron hesitated, speaking to someone beyond her line of vision.
"Let her go, Ron," Harry spoke from behind her. "We can come back."
Ron shuffled, and then: "We're at Shell Cottage, Bill and Fleur's place. Dobby's been cursed, so Luna took him inside. He'll be alright though, by the looks of it. If you need anything, just...yeah."
She said nothing in response.
She didn't know how much time had passed while she sat staring out at the sea, the hours measured only by dawn turning to midday turning to dusk. Someone had left food beside her before leaving quietly several times. She registered nothing — nothing except the waves of grief that passed over her as constantly as the waves that fell upon the shore, somehow gaining strength the more hours that passed.
At some point, she'd raised her wand and slowly healed her cuts and bruises using the familiar movements she'd watched Draco use on her a dozen times. Her wand had shaken when she'd gotten to the raw, throbbing wound in her arm, a jagged line with a small knick at the end that still burned like fire and ice. She managed only to quell the bleeding. A cursed wound— a cursed wound that was much longer, much deeper on her husband's back, forcing him to endure twice she pain she was.
Sometime after the sun had disappeared over the horizon, Ron re-appeared before her. "'Mione?" he said softly.
"Yes?" She hadn't known she could answer. Her mouth had moved of its own accord, forcing the hoarse word out.
"We need to go," he said. "Dobby's resting, but he'll recover. There aren't enough beds for everyone here though. We'll need to go to Andromeda's for the night."
"Okay." Another small, hoarse word.
She stood, ignoring her protesting limbs. Each step was practiced, almost mechanical as she followed Ron to where Harry stood several feet away. She met neither of her gazes. Instead, she took in the small, white-washed cottage that stood atop a small cliff in the distance, burning with low candlelight. Once upon a time, she would have called it beautiful. Now, all she could see was the cottage that had been supposed to be theirs, and fire— everything burning to the ground while she stood helplessly among the ashes.
She barely registered when someone took her hand and disapparated them.
X
The home — Andromeda's they'd said — was silent and dark when they arrived. Harry and Ron lit the sconces around the room, revealing a sizable but empty sitting room.
Ron moved over to her when they finished, as cautious as though he expected her to bolt or fall apart in a moment. Perhaps both. "We're going to go out and check the wards. Habit, and all. Andromeda should be back soon— I think at least, everyone's always disappearing off to who bloody knows where these days." He chuckled, and it was then that she caught how it didn't quite reach his eyes, how the troubled look in them spoke more than words could convey.
He hovered awkwardly for another moment before heading out the door.
The wound in her arm throbbed and she closed her hand over it. The burning hadn't stopped — she wondered if it ever would—
She was dragged backward roughly, her back slamming into the wall. She raised shocked eyes to see a rage-filled face that she knew every inch of.
Draco.
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