Author's Note:
Week 6 Constellation: Orion
Word limit: Exactly 394
Result: 3rd Place
Guaranteed Catch
Frigid air seared Draco's lungs as he ran through the forest. Branches bared by autumn grabbed his cloak, scratched his face with splintered fingers. Desperate, he sent a spell ahead. The overgrown deer path cleared with crackle, the branches sparking blue where they broke.
He might as well have sent up a flare.
Not thirty seconds later, the crack of Apparition. A second pair of footsteps close behind, light and fresh for the hunt.
He couldn't be caught. He'd already failed tonight's mission, led his team of Death Eaters into a trap. Returning meant a night of torture for him; capture meant the same, but for his parents.
Draco knew which he preferred.
He slung a curse over his shoulder, wincing as he heard it crack against a tree. He swore, cast another, and felt a moment of confusion as the world disappeared beneath his feet. The dark path ahead tilted, sank, and Draco landed hard on his back.
Hermione towered over him, wand sighted and steady.
"Don't move."
She bent to retrieve his wand, just beyond his left hand. But Draco wasn't above playing dirty. His right hand shot up to yank her braided hair. She fell to her knees with a cry, off-balance, and he swung an ill-aimed fist toward her face. She dodged it and threw her weight into her elbow.
She was worse than a Bludger to the gut. Draco moaned, instinctively tried to curl, even as Hermione straddled him. Her weight pressed against his chest. Her wand dug into the soft skin beneath his chin.
"Give me a reason," she hissed.
"Do it," he bit out. "I'll die before I give the Order anything. I'm no use to you."
"Agreed," Hermione snapped. "You're no use to the Order at all. But your mother is."
Draco stilled as understanding dawned. Narcissa had provided the intelligence that had sent him on this mission. Narcissa had suggested he lead it.
Narcissa had planned the whole thing.
"She wanted me to get caught."
"She wanted you to get killed." Hermione stood and offered her hand.
Draco looked from her open palm to her resolute eyes. "Why?"
"She weighed her priorities and decided to tip the scales." Then, far more brittle: "You're the price we all have to pay. Now come on." She helped him to his feet. "We have a death to fake."