NEVER TICKLE A SLEEPING DRAGON

"Hermione!"

Hermione turned away from the sight of two of her best friends snogging on the Quidditch field. Happiness for them both was prevalent, and she couldn't help but grin.

"Oh, hi, Professor!" Hermione said, noticing Hestia Jones hurrying up to her.

"Hermione, it worked!" Professor Jones was breathless, face flushed, and remarkably excited.

"It...it worked?" Hermione gasped, excited. "The antidote? It was the moonseed, wasn't it! I knew it had to be something so simple as that! The properties of the seed in congruence with the new moon as opposed to the full moon counteract the poison! But could he tell at which phase of the potion's brewing point?"

"Of course he could, this is Severus we are talking about, but he didn't tell me. He was so excited, he left to go tell Remus, so I came to find you," said Hestia.

Hermione grinned. "We have just created the antidote to the Wolflord Potion. It's just...phenomenal!"

"I know!" said Hestia. "And the sample Remus collected from one of the werewolves in Greyback's pack—you know, during that horrifying incident when he encountered a half-transformed wolf on a new moon—well that was really the reason for the breakthrough. And when we discovered that the werewolf's blood was reacting—not to the wolfsbane plant like we had thought—but to the—"

"—the moonseed! I can't believe the answer was right under our eyes this whole time!" Hermione finished the professor's sentence, flushed.

They stared at each other, grinning, as they realized the implications of their discovery. And what this meant to their growing friendship.

Hermione held up her purple beaded bag. "Thank you so much for this bag, by the way, I really do love it."

"You're welcome! It has a recastable Shrinking Charm on it as well, by the way, if you'd like to put it in your pocket instead of carrying it."

"That's so useful! I don't know much about household charms. My parents are Muggles, see, so I only really know what I've read about. Well and with the small bits I've picked up on at the Weasley house. The Undetectable Extension Charm was such a neat idea, where did you come up with it?"

Winking, Hestia replied, "Of all the magical things in the world...I got the idea from Mary Poppins, wouldn't you know."

Hermione laughed.

There was a brief silence as Hermione remembered the issues she had with their Defense professor a few weeks ago, and her resolve after that to just leave the matter alone.

"Professor…" she began.

"Call me Hestia, please," said the professor kindly. "We've been working together as colleagues on this Wolflord business long enough that I believe you've earned the right."

Hermione smiled at the level of trust and respect that Hestia was showing her.

"Hestia, I really owe you an apology. When I came to your office that other week, it wasn't with the best intentions. I didn't trust you. I thought I'd be able to catch you in a lie. I thought you weren't being honest about your past—there were too many contradictions from what I read in your journal with Lily Potter. I guess I wanted to protect Harry from you in case you weren't who you say you were…" Hermione said, faltering in her words.

There was a long pause at this. Hermione risked a glance up to see Hestia studying her, biting her own lip. The other woman looked so young just then. She couldn't have been more than twenty years Hermione's senior.

"Hermione, I…" said Hestia, hesitating. The battle on her face was evident, and Hermione could tell that Hestia knew something she wasn't sure she should say. "You know...you were right. I haven't been entirely honest. There's something I need to tell you. Something I've been keeping from everyone. Something...big."

Hermione froze the smile drifting off her face.

But just as Hestia opened her mouth to talk to her—just as Hermione was ready to listen—

A Patronus, bright and white and silvery, ran up to them. "Hestia. Come quick. It's urgent."

The Defense professor's face turned grim and stony once more. "I'm sorry, Hermione, we will need to get back to this conversation. Please excuse me. You'd do best to go back to your seat where you can be with others. Is your guard here?"

Minutely, Hermione nodded, and Hestia Jones took off, following the wolf Patronus.

Ron stared at the spectacle before him from his viewpoint by the Gryffindor goalposts. Not just at how fast Harry had flown to save Ginny—though if Ron wasn't a fan of Harry's broom and flying skills before, he definitely was now—but in shock at his best friend and his sister downright snogging in the middle of the field far below him.

"That git," he said in amazement.

But anger at Harry never surfaced. Perhaps it was the fact that Harry had just saved his sister's life mere moments before. Perhaps it was the fact that Ron had definitely seen this coming. Perhaps it was the fact that both of them had been about as subtle as Dobby with sixteen hats on his head. Or perhaps...perhaps it was the fact that Ron couldn't think of a better bloke for his little sister to date.

Whatever the matter, Ron found that he was actually okay with it all.

But then something happened that was very...very...not okay.

Ron heard the first roar before anyone else did.

Perhaps that was because all the other players were at the other end of the field. Or because it was because everyone's eyes were glued to the snogging Harry and Ginny. And yet maybe it was because he was completely at the other end of the field, closer to Hogwarts and the mountains, where the sound came from. It was definitely because he was so high up in the air, and that roar came from very, very high up.

Whatever the reason, that roar scared the shite out of him. He felt very, very compelled to turn around and see what caused it.

It was a dragon.

When they heard that roar, Ginny's lips broke away from Harry's with a very unattractive noise.

What now? Ginny thought irritably. She was completely spent from...what was it...oh, yeah, falling to her death at break-neck speeds. And Harry likewise looked rather exhausted from trying to save his girl from certain death. Couldn't they just catch a break…

She turned around, ready to snap or hex (whichever was quicker, really, her mouth or her wand) at whoever interrupted her and Harry.

When she saw what was in the sky behind her, however, both the hex and the cutting words froze as a new terror gripped her throat.

When Harry saw the dragon flying towards them from the mountains, he was immediately at a loss.

His first thought was that he'd gone back in time to the first Triwizard Tournament. But no. Not a Hungarian. As it flew closer, he could clearly tell it was a Ridgeback. And it was just as massive.

His second thought was how impressed he was with Hagrid for not only teaching him this stuff, but helping him to retain the information.

His third thought was how furious he was at Hagrid. Because, of course, this was Hagrid's dragon.

Norberta had come to play Quidditch.

Going back up the stairs, Hermione took Hestia's advice and shrunk her bag till it was the size of a Galleon. She stuck it in the pocket of her jacket, then decided against that and decided to stuff it in her sock. One could never be too careful, after all, and it might fall out if it was in her pocket.

Moody's voice filled her mind from over the summer. "Always be prepared, Granger. Constant vigilance! Make sure you have a backup. And a backup to your backup. And a backup to the backup of your backup! Have every possible outcome in mind and an exit strategy for each. That's the key to living in a war. To fighting in battles. Constant vigilance!"

Maybe she should have bigger plans for her beaded bag. After all, if the worst ever happened and Hogwarts was invaded, she, Harry, and Ron ought to be prepared for fleeing. And if none of the safehouses were safe, if they were all compromised, she really ought to make sure they had the essentials packed and in her bag just in case any of it was needed. Like the four basics: water, food, extra clothes, and shelter.

What would we do for shelter though?

She mused on it as she walked, until Hestia's reference to Mary Poppins jogged her mind and she felt stupid for not thinking of it before. A tent, of course. Muggles were always prepared. And didn't the Weasleys have an old tent—

A sound louder than any Hermione had heard before erupted around her.

Hands clamped hard over her ears, Hermione winced in pain. She was on the fourth floor of the empty wooden corridor that circled around the Quidditch stands. Looking out over the opened window rafters for the source of the ominous screech, her jaw dropped open at the sight of the new terror.

Completely stricken with fear at what was transpiring, Hermione hardly noticed when everyone around started screaming as Norberta the Dragon flew into the Quidditch pitch.

And the dragon zeroed in on Ron.

What Hermione did next was completely thanks to her hours of running away from Death Eaters. It didn't matter that she was a hundred yards away. It didn't matter that Norberta might have just been trying to play with Ron. It didn't matter that there were professors gathering up their breaths to possibly do the same thing she was doing.

The need to save Ron, her best friend, before anything happened to him was tremendous.

"EXPULSO!"

Her wand out, she shot a powerful expulsion spell that forced Ron away from her and Norberta, just as the dragon gathered up its lungs—the gleaming hot scales on its chest glowing red-orange from the heat of what was gathering therein—and shot out a stream of fire right at the Gryffindor goal posts where Ron had been a second later.

The screams intensified until Hermione's ears were ringing. But she only had eyes for her Keeper.

Her expulsion had propelled him fifty feet away from where he had been, but he still looked alive and safe, across in the Hufflepuff stands, where he'd knocked several of them to the planked flooring.

Hermione's relief was profound.

That is...until Norberta turned on Ron again.

Everyone went berserk.

Ron groaned, blinking away darkness and dizziness as he found himself not in the air on his broom, but crashed in the stands in a pile of destroyed wooden chunks and moaning people.

He heard screaming and stampeding to get off the stands. Heard First-years crying. Saw professors running over to help, casting spells and curses at the hovering dragon as she beat her wings and alighted on top of the tallest Gryffindor goal post where Ron had been just moments before.

She let out a horrendous roar that deafened his ears.

And then the orange-slitted eyes turned to the Hufflepuff Quidditch stands right onto him.

It was the stuff nightmares were made of.

Ron struggled to get up, as everyone around him was running to the stairs. He was dimly conscious of the blood gushing from his leg, where he had collided into the stands. It dripped down onto the wood below him, then through the cracks of the floorboards. Really, he was only aware of the giant flying lizard in the air not a hundred feet away, narrowed reptilian eyes staring right into him like he'd murdered its family.

The stream of fire that shot straight towards him came without warning.

Ron's wand arm shot up and he shouted the best shield charm he could think of.

"PROTEGO DOMUS!"

It flew up and around him and about fifteen feet of the Hufflepuff stands surrounding him, a ginormous shimmering blue shield, just in time. Red hot fire amassed, completely covering his shield, spreading around it, licking the edges, just feet away from him. The immense heat was astounding, his wand almost catching fire from its close proximity. But his shield held.

The roar of the fire was so great that he couldn't hear the screams and shouts around him. But he could see just how many of the thirty-odd Hufflepuffs he had saved with his quick shield...not to mention his own life. Horror and awe-struck faces around him, all gray and blackened with the soot of the fire, stared at him; disbelief, relief, and fright written clearly on them.

But the dragon looked furious that its fire had not done the deed. She coiled her legs, as if in preparation for a leap, and took off into the air again, flying in circles high above his head.

Ron's wand arm wavered in his struggle to keep the massive shield up, dread dropping his stomach. What the bloody hell was that dragon going to do next?

And why the bloody hell did it want him?

Everything was chaos.

The unfinished match was all but forgotten as the Quidditch players all dove for cover, eyes staring up at the dragon fearfully. Any curse or hex thrown by the professors seemed to just slide right off the powerful scales, its hide too thick to penetrate.

Norberta was still focused on Ron, not seeming to care about the rest of the stands or the Quidditch players, or even the few people who had tried braving the open grass between the pitch and the castle. She took notice of them and sent a stream of fire towards them, but not much effort was put into that as the runners were too far away and the flame barely licked their shadows. All she wanted was Ron.

Harry had to do something.

A plan formed in his head, and he hopped back onto his broom, trying to organize the rest of the players, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw alike.

"We have to get everyone to safety!" he shouted to them as they all gathered around him.

Eyes cast warily about as the dragon still flew high above their heads, circling the entire pitch now like a giant green vulture. Spewing small bits of fire like spit balls, still directed at Ron and the cowering Hufflepuffs. Most just dissipated in the air, but several landed on different sections of the stands, terror breaking out amongst the students as they all tried to stampede down to the lower sections of the wooden stands.

Harry turned back to the twelve Quidditch players hovering in the air next to him.

"Beaters, I want you to use the Quaffle and Bludgers to take the dragon out. Be careful of the fire! Chasers, I want all of you to chase her away. Use spells. Try to make her go back to the mountains," Harry commanded. The Ravenclaws and the Gryffindors nodded stoically.

Harry told the Ravenclaw keeper to fly around and rescue anyone in need of rescuing. And to Viktor Krum flying past them, Harry commanded to cast shields over the people escaping the stands. The older boy nodded and flew off to obey. The others all followed suit, but Harry pulled Ginny back before she could take off.

"Ginny, I need you to go save Ron! Get him and protect him at all costs, do you understand?"

Taken aback by the ferocity in his eyes, the red-haired witch nodded in alarm. "Why does the dragon want Ron?" she breathed.

"I don't know!" Harry exploded, grief-stricken. "But I do know that Voldemort wants him. He probably used his spy to bewitch Norberta somehow. Cursed her to want to leave Hagrid's cage and go after Ron. And then let her loose when they knew Ron—and everyone—would be out."

Ginny's face turned dead white. "You think V-Voldemort's behind this?"

"Yes, Ginny," said Harry impatiently. Another shriek of rage emitted from the circling dragon. They were fast running out of time. "Voldemort is after Ron and Hermione to get to me. He might even be here now too!"

The horror and fear on her white face mirrored everything Harry was feeling. But they didn't have time for this now.

Harry shouted, "You have to go save him now, Gin! We have to get him away from the Hufflepuffs so Norberta stops targeting them too. Can you do it? Or do I need to go find someone else?"

Ginny stuck a determined look on her face and mounted her broom again. "No. I can do it. But what about you, Harry?"

"Don't worry about me!" Harry said as he took off. "I'm going to take care of the dragon."

Hermione was in a panic.

She had to get to Ron. She had to save him. But he was across the entire bloody pitch, and there were a thousand people in between her and him.

Add to the fact that it was her job to make sure the Gryffindors were safe. She was a prefect, after all. Ron couldn't bloody well do it. Ginny as a Chaser was occupied, as was the other fifth-year prefect, Tobias Rosier, who was a Beater. That left just Hermione and the two seventh-year prefects, Romulus Vane and Helga Higginbotham. And Cormac McLaggen, of course, the Head Boy.

The stampede for the stairs knocked her down several different times, but her quick shield saved all those around her from the worst of being trampled on in their rush to get to the safety of the lower rafters of the stands.

She was able to find Romulus and Helga with no problem, and they both started shouting at everyone to follow them.

"Gryffindors! Follow the Prefects! Be careful! Cast your shield charms! And help those around you!"

They kept telling everyone not to panic, to walk nicely and file out of the stands one at a time, and to cast a shield charm above their heads for protection from the dragon's spitfire.

Hermione looked around for Cormac, frustrated. Why wasn't he helping?

Taking off down the stairs from the stands, Hermione went to herd the last of the Gryffindors. She followed along after the last of them, down the first staircase and then through the long corridor to get to the other staircase to the next level. Wooden planks were all around her, but there were openings that she could still see that Norberta was still high in the clouds, trying to fight off the Quidditch players attacking her. The Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Quidditch teams flew about her, trying to drive her away while they saved the Hufflepuffs.

Meanwhile, most all of the Hogwarts students were being evacuated. Neville was far ahead, helping to get the last of the students down to the rafters below, the safest place from the rampaging dragon.

Her eyes searched frantically for Viktor, and finally spotted his black and white robes on the road to the castle, helping shield students. A breath of relief that she only had two boys to worry about now, instead of three, came gushing out. Viktor would be safe over there, Ron was getting help in the stands, and Harry was being the hero, per usual, leading his two teams of broom-wielding flyers in the chase for the dragon.

An engulfing shadow loomed overhead and she glanced up, wand poised, as Norberta made another round, trying once more to get to Ron and the Hufflepuffs.

She had to hurry.

Students were spilling out on the Quidditch pitch several floors below her, running out on the grass, trying to get out of the dragon's way. Norberta let out her fire at them, and screaming could be heard, although most were able to put their own shields up in time.

They had to get rid of the dragon, and fast.

Neville wanted to help.

He knew Gryffindor was out half of their prefects, so he helped get the Gryffindors to safety. But as the last of them started clearing the stairs, he glanced up at the dragon, and knew more help was needed with her.

Norberta swung low over his section of the stands, and he ducked as she spit out a few fireballs for the fun of it.

Well, she wasn't the only one who could have fun.

Casting a few sparks at the dragon, as he had seen other professors do, Neville tried to dislodge Norberta from her sinister quest. It was to no avail, however, as Norberta just circled around and went back to attacking the Hufflepuff stands.

He had to protect the Hufflepuffs.

Neville cast the binocular charm on his eyes that he'd seen Hermione do. He looked over at the Hufflepuff stands and saw with the enhanced vision that Ron's shield was now being held up by Professors Sprout and Flitwick, who had joined him. More fire came at them, and they dove for cover, holes appearing in the shield from the force of the offending magic laced in the dragon's flame.

I have to do something! he thought, uselessness gripping him again. But spells don't work on the dragon. Only…

Inspiration struck.

...only on the air around her! That's it! Instead of aiming our attention at the dragon itself, we should manipulate the particles around her to create the obstacles needed to stop her! But what obstacles would stop a beast that ginormous? And that magically-charged?

Spells paraded one after another in his mind. Fire to stop it, black cloud to confuse it, a shield charm around it. Perhaps vines shooting up and around her limbs entangling her.

He tried them all. But after casting one spell after another, none of them stopped Norberta for good. They only momentarily hindered the dragon.

Neville was running out of ideas.

Come on...come on...think...what would Harry do?

In a last-ditch attempt to help, Neville cast the Patronus Charm. His spirit-badger scrambled through the air, racing across the pitch and climbing up the dragon's tail and back in fury.

Sensing the animal attacking her, Norberta screeched and took off high into the air, writhing as the little white Patronus scurried around her.

Neville's jaw dropped.

It was working.

Others saw his efforts, and more white Patronuses joined his. No spells were working against the winged beast, but at least the Patronuses were casting the dragon away from the Hufflepuff stands, where the students were still trapped.

Elated, Neville turned back to help the students again.

Harry soared through the sky, smells of burning wood and smoke thick in the acrid air.

The Chasers performed their task wonderfully, nipping behind Norberta and aiming strikes at her flanks in their efforts to drive the dragon away from the Quidditch pitch.

Through the corner of his eye, he saw Ginny tear through the air, sliding under Ron's shield to get to him.

Relieved that Ginny was, for now, safe, Harry swerved in front of the dragon's view, trying to entice her. He needed her to give up Ron.

At first it seemed to be working—she definitely thought Harry might be fun to play with—but the moment she saw Ginny fly off on her broom in the opposite direction with Ron behind her and holding on tight around her waist, Norberta saw red.

Harry cursed and took off after Norberta, as she launched her unfair war on the youngest Weasley brother with an undignified screech.

What the hell is going on?

Ginny's triumph at rescuing her brother from the big, bad dragon was squelched when she heard its shriek of rage. The dragon advanced on them as they raced through the air.

She flew faster than she'd ever flown in her life, dodging streams of fire as she flew. One hit the Gryffindor Quidditch stands, and she sincerely hoped everyone had made it out of there safely.

If she and Ron escaped this unscathed, she reasoned, Ginny definitely deserved a medal for the best flying Hogwarts had ever seen.

Harry and his 'death-defying stunt' be damned.

The boy she silently cursed, however, was busy with his own great flying. He flew about Norberta tantalizing her, baiting her not unlike he did the Hungarian Horntail in her third year. But none of it seemed to be working.

Norberta let out a hiss of fire, and Ginny screamed as it grazed them.

Ron held onto Ginny tightly, muttering about everything being his fault.

"Stop it, Ron!" she finally snapped. "It's not your fault Voldemort's after you. It's not your fault that a great, bloody dragon is after you. Now stop your whinging and hold tight! We're about to dive!"

And dive, they did. Leading the dragon away from the Quidditch pitch.

But the dragon still stayed hot on their tail.

Then Ginny saw something that made it all better. Quidditch players were now all over the field, far more than just the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor teams. But they were bigger and burlier and their clothes were wrong.

It was Charlie and the Romanians.

The Gryffindor Quidditch stands were now on fire.

Screaming began anew as the stampede to the second set of stairs grew, but Hermione turned to the fire behind them.

"Aguamenti! Aguamenti!" She shrieked at the flames, water shooting out and dousing them.

Taking several deep breaths, Hermione tried to relax, telling herself it would be all right. They would come out of this alive, just as they'd done with every bad thing that happened. She would get everyone out in time. She had to.

And where the hell was Cormac McLaggen? She scanned the crowds for him, but couldn't find him. She only hoped he was being useful somewhere and not just covering his own hide.

She must be the last one out of the top section of the stands. The rest of the students were all in front of her, and fire and smoke were now filling the air. Black smoke filled her nostrils, her eyes watered and burned, and she wet her Gryffindor scarf to her mouth, trying to outrun the smoke that was still licking at her boots.

It was as she was turning the corner that she saw it.

A cloaked form slumped to the ground at the corner of the stairs. She ran over to the fallen student and turned him over.

It was Draco Malfoy.

It was like something out of a playbook.

Ron and Ginny flew from the pitch, high in the air, keeping Norberta's sights on them instead of the running people below. On either side of them, the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor Beaters soared, whacking the bludger between them, entertaining the dragon enough that she wasn't blowing fire at Ron. The Chasers flew on the sides trying to block her in with help of blocking spells. The Ravenclaw Keeper and Seeker flew from below, hitting her with Patronuses to keep her from diving. And Harry flew behind, shooting sparks from his wand to get her to keep flying in front and not turn back to the Quidditch pitch.

Harry heard a noise behind him, and saw Charlie and the Romanians soaring after them, trying to catch up with their dragon.

"All right, there, Harry?" Charlie shouted, with a grim smile.

Harry grinned. "Lost a dragon?"

Charlie and his teammates flew faster and shot over Harry's head, shooting out what looked like lightning spells at different points of Norberta's wing joints. She shrieked in rage at first, but Charlie used some sort of whistle to call out a crooning dragon call, and Norberta at once started trilling with her tongue in a seemingly flirtatious way.

The sight of Norberta flying now almost contentedly, with the lightning chains going towards her and guiding her, and the arrangement of Quidditch players all around her, was actually rather spectacular.

"You know, you and your team would be amazing dragon keepers!" Charlie said, dropping down beside Harry. "Fancy a summer job?"

Harry's grin grew wider as he thought about dragon training as a side job.

But Charlie quickly sobered up. "Actually, though, someone broke her out of hiding, and cursed her. Very, very Dark magic, messing with a dragon's brain. We have to get her back to the cave. But I can take it from here, Harry. Thanks for catching her for us!"

With the chains of lightning shooting from their wands, Charlie and the Romanians took over and were able to lead Norberta gently away from them and into the mountains.

Harry slowed to a halt next to Ron and Ginny, and the other Gryffindors and Ravenclaws followed suit, the Quidditch players around him all cheering at the safe capture of the dragon.

Several of his teammates patted him on the back.

"That was brilliant, Harry!"

"We got her! And just in time, too!"

But Harry's face was grim as he turned back to the Quidditch pitch, where smoke billowed into the air and several stands were still on fire. Then he glanced below him at the still stampeding people, trying to get out of the stands and the pitch.

"Our job's not done yet," Harry called out, the obvious leader of their group. "Let's get back to work! Save who you can, and put out the fires!"

Fourteen players flew back into the smoky fray.

Indecision gripped Hermione, but only for a second. Of course she wasn't going to leave Draco Malfoy here to be burned to death. Nevermind that he wasn't even supposed to be in the Gryffindor stands to begin with…

"Rennervate!"

It didn't work.

She shook him, hard. "Malfoy, wake up..."

His ashen eyes remained closed, his blond hair no longer slicked back, but falling boyishly onto his forehead.

Trying other waking spells she could think of to no avail, Hermione was at a loss as to what to do. She couldn't just leave him there…

Plus there was the fact that if those spells couldn't wake him, that must mean he was under a Dark curse, not unlike what Ron had been under at the start of term when the double-wanded Death Eater was after them.

Foreboding gripped her.

It couldn't be an accident that the Snitch was stolen, that Ginny was made to fall off her broom, that a dragon was unleashed on the school, and all this was happening at the same time as a Slytherin was found unconscious with a Dark curse on him.

Something was wrong.

"E-expecto patronum," she whispered, and sent her Patronus out in search of Professor Snape, Malfoy's head teacher, with explicit instructions to let him know of his favorite student's predicament.

Professor Snape will know what to do, Hermione thought in satisfaction, her trust for their Potions teacher shining forth.

She raised her wand, keen on trying out the Mobilicorpus spell that Moony used on Snape in her third year. But then the dragon shrieked outside, and Hermione had an idea. The irony was not lost on her as she cast the Tickling Charm on the 'sleeping' Draco.

It worked.

His eyes shot open, his arms grabbed her, and before she could protest, he had knocked her backwards and climbed on top of her, wand digging into her throat, his weight pressing down onto hers.

Hermione gasped for breath, trapped under the half-conscious Slytherin in fear.

But his eyes were glazed over. He wasn't fully himself.

"Draco!" Hermione gasped, his first name coming to her lips as easily as if they had been friends for years instead of foes. "Draco, wake up!"

But it worked. Hearing his first name broke through the cloudy haze covering his cursed gray eyes. As he stared down at her, he seemed to slowly realize who she was, and recognition alighted his features.

"G-Granger?"

He shot off of her as quickly as if he'd been touching flames, and Hermione coughed as they both stood. His wand did not leave her, however, and she quickly trained a mistrusting wand on him as well.

"Did you attack me?" he snarled in fury.

"Of course I didn't attack you," she gasped. "I tried to save you. You were hit with a Dark curse. I was only just able to wake you…"

Malfoy's eyes jerked around them, scouring the smoky haze for his unknown assailant. "Did you see who did it? Who cursed me?"

"N-no. There was no one there…didn't you see who cursed you?"

"No...he came at me from behind. But it was definitely male. I heard his voice."

He looked quite frightened, the usual sneer adorning his features completely absent. Without it, he looked rather young and innocent...handsome, even…

Ew, Hermione, stop that.

His wide, expressive eyes turned to hers.

But the Quidditch stands shook just then, and they both grabbed the pillars beside them for support. The smoke in the corridor billowed in from a new bout of flames, and she knew they couldn't just stand there talking.

But what he said next shook her.

"Look, Granger, it wasn't an accident!" Draco Malfoy raved, seeming relieved that someone was finally listening to him. Even if it was a Gryffindor Muggle-born. "Someone wanted this to happen, Granger! All of this!" he said.

Indecision tore through her. Of course she knew something was going on, but what did he know? "What do you mean?" she asked, guarded, wand still trained on him.

"Granger, use your brain!" he snapped. "Somebody stole the Snitch so that the match would be prolonged. Somebody sicced the dragon on Weasley. Somebody cursed the She-Weasel to fall off her broom so the crowd's screams would attract the dragon to the Quidditch pitch. And that same somebody cursed me because I figured it out."

Smoke billowed around the corner. They didn't have much time. They had to get out of there.

"Protego!" she said, casting the protection around them to stop the smoke from reaching them.

It worked. Hermione turned back to Draco, prodding him for information. "And why would they do that? What could they possibly get out of Norberta killing Ron? I thought Voldemort wanted him alive, not dead?"

His eyes grew hard and foreboding.

"To get to you."

Draco Malfoy took a step towards her, and Hermione suddenly didn't quite know if he was a friend warning her...or a Death Eater trying to fulfill his Master's dark deed. Did he curse himself to draw her in?

"Voldemort wants you. And he will stop at nothing to get you," Draco Malfoy said, rather menacingly. He advanced slowly. "That's why he has tried. Again, and again, and again."

Hermione prided herself on being quite clever. But his words were foggy in her brain and although she had most of the puzzle pieces, she just couldn't make the connection.

"But...but that doesn't make any sense," she whispered. "Why curse a dragon and sic it on Ron only to come after me instead of Harry? If he was after Ron and me just to get to Harry, then why go after us at all when Harry is out there, exposed? Why not set the dragon after Harry instead? Why would he want me or Ron at all when he could have Harry?"

Draco Malfoy sneered. "Whoever said the Dark Lord only wants you just to get to Potter?"

Hermione eyes widened.

He advanced towards her and, in her fear, Hermione turned around to run—to get as far away from him and this whole messed-up situation as possible. Her feet carried her several steps away—

"Imperio!"

—but the spell hit her back, and stopped her in her tracks.

And Hermione quite forgot all of it.

When the Imperius Curse hit the Mudblood Granger, Draco Malfoy could not believe what was happening.

It wasn't him that had cast it. Hell, it wasn't even a Slytherin.

It was Cormac McLaggen, a bloody Gryffindor. And Head Boy.

"What the…"

When McLaggen snuck up behind Draco and aimed that spell at Granger, Draco hadn't even known he was there.

"What the hell are you—" said Draco, aghast.

The Unforgivable Curse hung misty in the air between McLaggen's wand and Granger, like a thick rope binding her to him.

I can't believe McLaggen just...what the hell is he…

The girl in front of them had her back turned to them, just stopped in the middle of the burgeoning smoke.

"Turn around," said McLaggen.

Draco watched, alarmed, as she turned around and stared right past them.

"Good girl," McLaggen appraised her. Like she was his pet. "Now. Come to me."

Draco stared as the golden-haired Gryffindor Head Boy in front of him commanded Hermione Granger, the reigning Gryffindor Princess, to do his bidding. And she obeyed. Her footsteps brought her closer to them until she was mere inches from McLaggen, looking up at him with a robotic, vacant expression.

Normally, Draco didn't make it a point to stare at Hermione Granger—the arrogant know-it-all that she was—but even he knew the glassy appearance over her normally brown eyes was unnatural. He had seen the Imperius many a time in his life. It was a favorite amongst the purebloods after all. But seeing it performed on the one person in the school who made his academic life a living hell seemed just so...wrong. And seeing her in such a state—so passively obedient and demurely compliant like how his father always wanted Mudbloods to behave—when she was so obviously being forced to...and without her own knowledge either…

It was sickening.

But McLaggen wasn't through with her.

"Walk to the tower," he hissed at her with a grin.

Then she walked past them, her face stoic and emotionless, down the corridor. Draco followed her and the Head Boy, stunned at what was happening, through the eye-watering smoke, until they all came upon the tower's opening. This tower was untouched by flames for the moment, but Draco worried about staying too long.

The Quidditch tower…the one where the Gryffindor Quidditch team soared out from at the beginning of every game. Nearing the top of the tower, about equal in height to the rest of the higher box-stands, was the opening he'd seen Potter and Weasley at numerous times as they got on their brooms and took off into the air. It was so high up…

"Go to the top of the tower."

She climbed the stairs to the tower, and they followed her, up the steep stairs.

When they finally reached the top, they were standing on a platform facing the two openings—one that opened right onto the Quidditch pitch with no railing, just a sheer drop for the players to dive off of. And the opening opposite that one faced the back of the pitch, looking out over the Forbidden Forest.

McLaggen was beside himself with glee.

"Look, Malfoy, we can make her do anything. Anything. Name it, and she'll do it…" said McLaggen, sharing his good fortune.

Draco couldn't take his eyes off her, but he finally made himself tear his gaze off her back and towards the boy next to him. A nasty glint had appeared in the Gryffindor's eyes, matching the sneer overcoming his features.

How the hell did a goody-two-shoes Gryffindor get so dark? Draco thought wildly. Does he work for the Dark Lord? Is he a Death Eater?

But he hardly dared to ask him. This new development was startling. Draco didn't know a thing about this situation. What McLaggen was planning. How far he was willing to go. Who was commanding his actions—the Dark Lord? Or his own?—and whether McLaggen would follow through or make his own embellishments. Whether Granger's life was at risk. Whether Draco even cared...

And most importantly, what this meant for Draco and his own mission.

Hermione was stopped right in front of them, waiting for her next command. McLaggen walked around her left, while Draco stepped around her right side.

"Now…" McLaggen hissed into her ear. "Go to the edge."

The most calm, peaceful, and serene feeling flowed throughout her. An enormous weight had been lifted, and she knew that everything would be all right. Everyone was fine. Outside, everyone else was rushing out of the burning stands and onto the Quidditch pitch, but she didn't see the rush.

Didn't they know everything was wonderful?

She relaxed the stiff muscles in her shoulders, wand arm drooping, her booted feet feeling at the same time both sluggish and yet weightless. Why had she been going to the stairs with everyone else?

Go to the edge.

Yes...walk to the edge...that's what she wanted to do...

Alone, she felt prompted to walk to the edge that was facing the Forest. Behind her was the entire Quidditch pitch spread out, the chaos of it all unfolding. But in front of her was...peacefulness. The beauty of the Forest stretched out in dark green velvety waves, rolling over the hills and up the mountains. A corner of the Black Lake could be seen, its waters like glass, unrippling and undisturbed by the chaos of the dragon and the fires and the screaming crowds.

There was a quiet beauty and serenity here. Nobody could see her over here. It was just her and that voice.

Her Master.

Fear for the girl bubbled unbidden in Draco's chest, and he hardly had time to posit a theory as to why he was worried about a Gryffindor of all people, before he knew he had to act.

"Closer...closer...to the edge…"

Hermione Granger meekly obeyed the Slytherin, and walked closer to the edge, where certain death awaited her. She swayed in the strong breeze, her body teetering towards the emptiness, her toes going over—

And Draco Malfoy knew he had to save her.

He found his opening when McLaggen took a step towards Granger and away from Draco. The stupid pompous Head Boy didn't seem to think Draco was a threat—after all, the Malfoy family should have been pleased that McLaggen was taking care of a thorn in the Dark Lord's side. But Draco knew this wasn't the objective, running her off the tower.

He knew she was wanted alive.

Wand up, he cast the first curse he could think of.

Closer, she stepped to the edge.

There was a scuffle behind her as someone joined her Master. His voice left her mind. He was fighting with someone...but she didn't really care to look. He would join her shortly and show her what she must do next.

Her boots stopped right at the edge. A gust of breeze pushed at her.

Heart elated, Hermione felt like she was soaring.

Sounds of the fight behind her were no more. Silence reigned again. She chanced a look back to see what had happened to her Master.

He was standing over the white-haired boy, who lay rigid on the floor, eyes staring straight back at her with fear and fury, alive and aware of what was happening...but petrified.

Her Master turned back towards her, and strode closer till his body was pressing up against her own.

Hands behind her took the wand out of her fingers. Then they closed about her shoulders and gently unwrapped the scarf around her shoulders, exposing her neck. Her brown jacket was the next to go, fingers tracing down her arms as he took the jacket off her.

She let him take it off till she was free of it, breeze tugging her red blouse around her. She welcomed the wind.

Everything was going to be all right. Instead of heartbreak and worry, she was free from all of it. Careless and carefree, she leaned out over the edge. Her honeyed curls flitted about her in the breeze, and she breathed in the crispy cool autumn air as she leaned out.

Now…

Jump.

Jump?

Yes...jump...

The will to obey drove her forward till she was leaning out over the precipice.

But...she was so high up. More than a hundred yard drop. There were rocks below her and a steep descent from where the hill the Quidditch pitch sat on zigzagged sharply away.

Death awaited the fall.

Yes...do it...jump…

Through the peaceful sensations, an odd feeling came through, and she second-guessed the voice.

Why?

Why would he ask her to jump?

She looked down, no longer feeling that relaxation. She had a fear of heights for a reason. She didn't want to jump.

Her brow furrowed, confused as to how she even got here. Taking a step back, fear sliced through the calm, floating sensation she had previously felt.

Hermione blinked.

She'd been under the Imperius Curse, she realized. Someone had cast an Unforgivable Curse on her. And she was thinking clearly now, which meant...he had either lifted it off her...or she had broken it through sheer willpower.

Someone cast the Imperius on her and drove her here.

Shaking in a way that had nothing to do with the cold chill, Hermione took a step back from the ledge.

But that someone was right behind her.

Whirling around, Hermione gasped when she saw Cormac McLaggen standing mere inches away from her.

"C-Cormac?"

This was beyond surreal.

The Head Boy?

"Did you…"

Imperius me? But no...surely it was Draco Malfoy.

His grin widened. "Why so surprised? Surely you didn't think I was after you for your beauty?"

The insult stung.

What...the...hell…?

A shuffle behind him. Hermione looked over to see Draco Malfoy on his side facing her, petrified on the wooden floorboards, eyes wide, seeing all but with no power to move. And on the floor beside him lay her scarf, jacket and wand, now smeared with blood, as was the floor around her and even Draco himself. The stench of it was heavy in the air.

She was not called the "Know-It-All Mudblood" by the Slytherins for nothing.

Really, it didn't take a genius to figure out what Cormac McLaggen had planned. He would get off scot-free, she realized with trepidation. All he'd had to do was lure her and Draco to the tower together. Make it look as if Draco went on a rampage and tried to kill her, leaving behind the blood and her things as proof. Cormac probably planned for everyone to either find an unconscious Draco amidst the blood and throw him straight in Azkaban...or for the fire to burn most of it and piece together the next plausible outcome when they discovered Draco's burnt corpse.

Either way, she would either be hand-delivered to Voldemort by the Head Boy himself (or whoever Cormac had planned to help him)…or she would be dead at the bottom of the tower. Either way, she would be dealt with. Either way, she would cease to become a thorn in Voldemort's side. Either way...the message would be undoubtedly clear to Harry that nobody he loved was safe, that Voldemort held an unswaying power over him, that Harry and his friends were as good as dead...and that Voldemort reigned supreme.

But she still had to give Cormac McLaggen some serious props for the orchestration of the cursing of the dragon. That took some serious skill.

"You are far too damnable for your own good, Granger," said Cormac, a hard look now in his eyes. He took a step towards her. "You know, it's a pity you broke the curse. This would have been easier on you. I suppose I'll have to do this the old-fashioned way."

Before she could raise her hand—before she could move—before she could breathe—before she could even look at who was now standing behind Cormac—

Hands shoved her backwards.

Hermione fell.

Author's Note:

Dun dun DUN!

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