Chapter 10 – Changing Ideals?

Hermione had spent a pleasant lunch with the snakes. They teased and joked one another about things she had no knowledge of, but they often would give her backstory and Hermione would laugh along with them. They gave her many insights into the life of a Pureblooded child, and Hermione had to say she did not envy their upbringing.

Of course, she was suffering for it now. Dotty was cramming so much information into her mind during her nightly lessons that if Hermione had not always been an excellent student, she was not sure she could have retained it all. She was going to be very busy for the foreseeable future, but some part of her had expected that the moment she had found herself to be the best friend of Harry Potter.

No one brought up the past, or how things would be so very sideways from what they knew when they returned to school this term. Instead they talked about what they would like to do after Hogwarts. Evidently, Blaise was intending to live off the galleons in his bank account for at least a year after graduation, and do nothing for a time. Theo had been curious about going into Curse Breaking, or perhaps magical law. Draco had expressed interest in gaining a Potions Mastery as well as learning to be a Healer. Hermione could certainly have never seen any of the that coming.

They were all good pursuits, but even as they sat and talked about their dreams, Hermione wasn't sure any of them would ever see these dreams come to fruition. They were as trapped in their Pureblood legacies as she had been in the idea that she was a Muggle born and would always be lesser. She had always known she was not lesser, simply other than what they decreed to be pure. And she had constantly proven their misconceptions to be false, she was doing so even now.

There was a saying that actions spoke louder than words, and Hermione was a big believer in that. Actions and results were important. What did it matter if you tried something new and failed, if you kept at it until you succeeded? The persistence was key, and success was the result. Hermione thought to herself that she would enjoy those sitting at this table with her to be able to chase down their dreams, much as she was free to do. She found herself adding in another goal altogether to her already labyrinthine plan of attack.

Before she knew it, their meal had come to a close, as had their time together. She needed to go and meet Harry and the Weasley clan. Hermione pulled her wand from the sleeve of her dress robes and cast a silent tempus. Bugger! She was due to meet them in front of the shop at any moment!

"I'm afraid I must take my leave. I have plans this evening," Hermione remarked cordially to her table mates.

"Quite alright. We enjoyed having you along for lunch, even if you are a Gryff," teased Blaise.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, "Yes, yes, I'm a lion. You'll eventually get over your house prejudices. One day. Then you'll regret all the teasing. I could be helping your grades, you know?" Hermione winked at Blaise, who just laughed.

She did not notice the narrowed grey eyes directed across the table at Blaise. Hermione said her goodbyes to Theo, who promised he would take her up on the study sessions they had discussed earlier.

"Let me escort you back to your shop," Draco offered his arm.

"You are aware of who I am going to meet right now, aren't you?" Hermione hesitated. There was no love lost between the Malfoy's and Weasley's. Hermione didn't understand what the bad blood was about, because the Weasley's were as pure of blood as the Malfoy clan. It could be they were blood traitors, but Hermione had always felt the feud to be far more personal in nature.

"I do. Have no fear, witch, I can hold my tongue long enough to simply drop you off," Draco assured her. Hermione doubted that but decided against speaking it aloud.

"It's not your tongue I'm concerned for. They are a rowdy bunch, you know?" Hermione replied, tucking her elbow into his arm. He had offered, and it would be rude to refuse. Besides, it was considered polite for him to drop her back off to her Grandfather according to etiquette. Hermione thought the etiquette antiquated and a bit insulting, but it was all they knew.

"I'm aware. I think I will make it. It's my duty to see you back home," Draco replied kindly. Hermione just nodded at him.

"I had fun with you all at lunch," she remarked.

"I think we all had more fun with you than we expected to," Draco commented honestly.

Hermione chanced a look at him from the corner of her eye, but he was looking ahead to find them a clear path from the restaurant to the wand shop. He was being honest with her, so she would return the favor.

"I almost thought it was a prank you were pulling over on me. It was nice though, even if I've been dosed with some slow-acting poison. I usually carry a bezoar, just in case," she winked as she turned her head to look at him fully in the face.

Draco looked offended at first, and then started to laugh. It was a deep belly laugh, the kind you only seem to accomplish when you are surprised into humor. He didn't seem to notice the other witches and wizards turning to give them their attention, but Hermione did. She could even understand it. Draco Malfoy had a wonderful laugh when he was unguarded.

"You've not been poisoned with anything, Merlin! We aren't so brave as all that. We're snakes. If we were going to kill you, we would have done so away from prying eyes," he replied, mirth still lighting up his face.

Hermione squeezed his arm with her hand, ever so slightly. She was glad to see there was some life inside Draco Malfoy. He had most definitely harmed her as a child. Not physically, but he had hurt her emotionally. Hermione did not know what to be about the fact now, as it did seem rathe relate to go back and undo several years of snide comments and menacing smirks. He had wished for her death once at the fang of the Basilisk, but she couldn't fault a child for uttering childish things. She had not been much better, not really.

After becoming privy to hearing some of the stories told at lunch, Hermione was made perfectly aware of the situations these boys had grown up in. There wasn't much to be done for someone who was raised to hate for hatreds sake. They feared what they did not know, though the same could be said of Muggles too. It was funny to Hermione, given the fact that they feared humans who would hunt them down with a pitchfork simply for being different, but the mark of what made them so proud was they themselves were considered to be other by a population much larger than their own. Fear was the source of prejudice and hatred, and really, there wasn't much to fear at all.

Perhaps there could be more to the treatment of Muggle-born witches and wizards, but if there was Hermione was not sure what it was. She had heard it uttered they posed a safety risk to the Wizarding world due to the Statute of Secrecy. She was not sure she agreed. Most who entered the Wizarding world did not leave, and only those who were closest to them were told of their magical gifts. Usually it was only the parents who knew, unless there were siblings. It wasn't a common practice to go gallivanting around in Muggle London telling any and everyone who crossed your path that you could levitate a feather or fly on a broom. No, Hermione kept her magical skills a secret. She hadn't even told her parents everything when they had been alive. It had been too dangerous.

"Note to self: do not follow Draco or any other snakes into dark alleys or alcoves this year," she mumbled lowly.

There were several journalists running about, snapping photos of them walking arm and arm down Diagon Alley. Hermione paid them no mind. Draco laughed at her grumbling.

"I don't think you've got anything to fear from us, Princess. You're a Gryffindor, so we're going to have to tease you some for posterities sake. We aren't going to harm you though. You're rare and precious in this world now, Granger."

"Granger-Ollivander," she smirked at him.

"Ugh, that's too many syllables! I keep telling you!"

"Hermione, then."

Draco looked shocked at her willingness to allow him to call her by her given name. It showed familiarity and friendship. Perhaps it was different among the Gryffindor house, but Slytherin's did not call each other by first name most of the time. There was too much intrigue and plotting going on to really account for anyone as a friend.

"Then you must call me Draco," he replied kindly.

"Draco it is. At least you'll know when I'm insulting you if I stand with Harry and Ron. They'll always call you Malfoy," Hermione teased.

"Are you sure you can't switch houses?" Draco smirked at her.

"I would rather not. I have a family there, after all," she said sweetly.

"Alright then, Hermione. I have delivered you safely back to your shop. Please do your best not to be hexed the moment I leave you for being seen speaking with me in public by your friends," he commented stopping them in front of the door. Hermione had not at all been paying close attention to her surroundings as he walked her back to the wand shop. She was enjoying the conversation, instead.

Draco untucked her left hand from the crook of his elbow and raised in gently to place a kiss upon the back of it. Hermione had not been expecting that, at all. According to Dotty it was a mark of respect and interest by the person doing the kissing. It was a simple statement that could mean anything from he respected her as a person to him being interested in her romantically, one day. Hermione chose to file this away for later, along with the look in his eyes she could not decipher.

As fortune would have it, at just the moment Draco was placing his lips on the back of her hand, her group of friends appeared from inside the shop. It was Harry who stood flabbergasted in the doorway. Ron was behind him, his face going an unpleasant shade of puce. Ginny stood to the side and back, not forgetting that the elder Malfoy was the one to slip Tom Riddle's diary into her cauldron in her first year. Arthur said nothing, but the twins were grinning, and that generally meant trouble.

"You should saunter off now, Draco. The twins are looking rather predatory, and they do consider themselves my family," Hermione snarked playfully.

Draco stood and released her hand gently, eyes darting over the crowd in the shop front. He nodded to Hermione politely and took off back towards the heart of Diagon Alley.

"WHAT THE BLOODY FUCK WAS THAT HERMIONE?!" Ron screamed at her as soon as she had closed the shop door behind her.

Hermione looked at Ron coolly, unwilling to let him get a rise out of her for doing nothing wrong. "He was dropping me off after lunch, that's all." She walked around the group, unhurried, and collected the bag she planned to take with her to the World Cup.

"That's all? THAT'S ALL?!"

"Really, Ronald. There is no need to shout. I'm perfectly fine. Lunch with Draco, Blaise, and Theo was lovely. Blaise's grandmother is a good friend of my Grandfather's, so I ran into them the other day when we went for lunch. " Hermione shrugged, not about to explain more than that. The fact her Paterfamilias had no issue with where she had been during lunch was enough for her.

"Hermione – "

"Do you mean to say – "

"That you've just returned- "

"From lunch with not one,"

"but three snakes?" asked Fred and George. Hermione had eventually gotten used to the way they finished one another's sentences.

"Yes, and I had a nice time. Thank you. Are we ready to go now?" Hermione asked Mr. Weasley with a smile.

Arthur met her eyes, but he looked worried for her. "Hermione, what were you doing out to lunch with them?"

"Harry, I just explained that. I ran into them with my Grandfather, and they invited me to lunch. It was nice. The food was great. The conversation was lovely. Now, aren't we supposed to be catching a Portkey or something?"

Hermione was doing what she could to deflect attention from her back onto the World Cup. She would much rather they left this particular issue alone. The Weasley's didn't hold to a lot of the Pureblood teachings, but she knew that Arthur knew the way things had been done for hundreds of years. If your family was friends with another family, you were generally expected to be polite and get along with one another. He couldn't fault Hermione for her choices, not when they made sense. He didn't have to like them, of course, but he couldn't fault her either. Not when he knew the rules.

"Leave it boys, let's go. We're going to be late, and I would rather not miss the World Cup," Arthur said with a forced brightness.

Oh no, he did not like what she was doing at all. Hermione could care less. He had apologized, sure, after his wife and Dumbledore had meddled in her life. That wasn't enough. Hermione ignored the grumbles of everyone around her, smiled and linked arms with Ginny, and joined the large troop of them.

They had things to buy and a Portkey to catch. She wasn't exactly happy about the Quidditch part, but she was glad to see her friends. Even if her friends were currently being prats. Unfortunately, Hermione was used to them being prats.

She had already purchased everything she needed to take with her back to school this term, so she wandered through the stores they visited and made happy chatter with Ginny about this and that. Eventually everyone had gotten what they needed, and Hermione was pleasantly surprised they had not been intending to go back to the Burrow for the night, but were instead headed straight to the Ministry to grab their Portkey and set up camp.

That suited Hermione just fine. The last thing she wanted to do right now, was deal with Molly Weasley. Especially given that she and Draco were sure to be in the Prophet tomorrow for deigning to walk down the street together. Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes as they waited in the room for the Portkey to activate. At least they had a separate room and Portkey. People who were travelling in smaller groups were stuck travelling with people they did not know. No, thank you.

Draco was not brought up again, and Hermione found herself pleased by this. Ginny had shot her a questioning glance or two, but Hermione just shook her head. She knew better than to try to talk about it around the others. Harry, Fred, George, and Ginny had handled it just fine, or at least, had contained their rage long enough it had simply become disbelief and confusion. Hermione could work with those emotions, but she did not want to listen to Ronald rant and rave. His ire was ridiculous, and she was not in the mood to placate the ginger's fury. Fury he had not earned, by the way.

Ginny had seemingly understood, because she hadn't brought it up again until they were wandering the camping ground outside of the World Cup. The tents seemed to go on for miles, and there was much to see. Mr. Weasley had warned them not to go too far, but they had been wandering between the tents and ended up on the crest of a hill overlooking the encampment. They were far from their tent, but Hermione was not worried.

Once or twice, she had been stopped by those she walked past. There were many questions about her heritage and if it were true she was now an Ollivander. She answered them honestly and moved on. She did not like all the attention which had been pointed at her lately, but she knew after her lunch today it would likely get worse before it got better. If it ever got better. Somehow Hermione doubted it would. The air was thick with tension and excitement, like something was coming. Hermione chalked it up to people waiting for the game to begin tomorrow morning.

"So, are you going to tell me what having lunch with the snakes was all about, Mi?" Ginny poked Hermione in the side.

Hermione sighed, "I wasn't lying before. The Zabini's are friends of my Grandfather. Where Blaise goes, often you will find Draco and Theo. It was just a lunch. We sat and chatted and ate food. It wasn't any different than when we all hang out together."

Ginny gave her a look of disbelief, "Okay. I can't believe Malfoy has a decent bone in his body, but if it's as you say, then I can understand that. I guess. I don't know why he was walking you back to the shop though, or why he was kissing your hand. That's something that hasn't been done for a long time."

"It's still done in the Pureblood circles. It's antiquated and annoying but, I am the heir to the house of Ollivander, and I'm doing my best. Some of it is nice. Chivalrous, even. I don't need anyone to fight my battles or open my door for me, but I will say it's nice being around people who have manners when they eat," Hermione snarked.

"Yes, well. I live with my brother, so I can understand the sentiment," Ginny agreed. "I just don't get what you're trying to do here. Are you trying to fit into the mold they've made for Pureblood women? Because really Mi, it could never hold you," Ginny said with a smile.

"I will take that as a compliment. And no, Gin, it isn't that. I'm going to be taking over for my Grandfather. I'm trying to make this transition to the idea of me as his heir easier rather than harder. Sometimes you have to go with the grain first," Hermione explained. She couldn't tell Ginny everything. She would not, knowing she still lived with her mother, and Dumbledore was often there. Ginny didn't have anything to protect her from his legillimancy. Hermione had spent a lot of time learning to do just that.

How could Hermione tell Ginny she didn't trust Dumbledore, when it would inevitably be read from her mind. She certainly couldn't confess her plans, not even to Ginny. She couldn't tell Harry, either. Ronald had too large of a mouth to be trusted with anything delicate. No, there was not a soul she could utter her thoughts and plans to, aside from Dotty. Dotty understood.

One night, Hermione and Dotty had been working together on her Pureblood etiquette, and Dotty asked Hermione why she was so interested in doing any of this. Hermione knew that her Grandfather would not expect for her to toe the line and manage all the pomp and circumstance. It was because of this Hermione had wanted to make the effort. And to undermine Dumbledore at every turn. She wanted to unite Hogwarts. She didn't want Dumbledore to use Harry or herself for his "greater good," anymore.

Dotty had looked at her with such maliciousness that for a moment she was terrified. Dotty's grin was feral, and vicious in a way that she'd never seen on an elf's face. Hermione had seen it in a book once though. Dotty wasn't a house elf at all, she was a brownie.

She had told Dotty in no uncertain terms she was not allowed to go Bogart, and Dotty's face had softened instantly, her eyes snapping to Hermione's. Dotty had told Hermione how no one had known what they really were anymore. No one had bothered to educate themselves in the old ways. None of the wizards seemed to care, and all of magic was suffering for their ignorance. So, Hermione had started to learn about that, too. Dotty told Hermione she despised Dumbledore, because it was, he and Grindelwald who had stripped them down to what they were now. They had tamed their magics, so the magic of humans could complete with them. According to Dotty, something similar had happened with the Goblins. Hermione was enraged all over again, at the look on her friend's face.

Hermione couldn't tell Ginny any of this. Hermione knew things it was better weren't known to anyone, and she would not put her friend in danger. The modern Wizarding world was left over from pieces of ancient magic, magic that hadn't known any boundaries. Dotty told her that magic was dying as surely as the wizards would die out if they didn't change their ways, and Hermione could not argue with her. Dotty was a house elf now, but she had been more brownie than house elf for many years before Hermione had ever been born.

Hermione didn't know how she was going to accomplish her ends, or if she even could. But she had to try. The first thing she had to do was remove Dumbledore from a place of influence on Harry Potter, on Hogwarts students, because he did nothing to stem the discrimination and ire between the houses. For Hermione to have a prayer, she was going to have to have her classmates behind her. Yes, all of them. Wars over blood status were irrelevant. Madmen notwithstanding, Hermione had her work cut out for her.

"Gin, I'm not being forced into this, honest. And they really were nice, and I'll probably do it again. It was fun," Hermione soothed.

Ginny turned to look at her again, "Alright, Mi. You're still you, that's all I care about. Let's get back, I'm starting to get hungry and Ron won't leave anything if we aren't there."

"Good point," Hermione smirked. The looped their arms together and headed back to their tent for the night. Tomorrow was the World Cup, and it was sure to be a show none of them had ever seen before. Hermione wasn't rooting for a specific team, but it would be good for her to be seen out in the public eye as she was now. It would do good for her plans, and Hermione had so many plans.

The morning of the World Cup was mayhem. Hermione had never seen Ronald or Harry awake before seven, but there they were, bouncing in their chairs and waiting for them all to be ready to leave. Hermione found it both irritating, and endearing.

Hermione didn't take forever getting ready, but it took her more time than she would like to admit taming her hair without Dotty. Where Dotty could placate her curls and tease them into something beautiful with a charm, it took Hermione many. She dressed carefully, not wearing house colors or the colors of either team. Instead she wore dress robes in the brightest of corals. The color played up her sun-kissed skin, and the natural hue of her lips. The bodice was fitted, but not improper, and it flared at her waste and hit her ankles.

She and Dotty had taken care when choosing what she would wear out today, and she really doubted anyone else would have chosen coral robes. It was a statement of sorts, and Hermione knew this was a good place to make it.

They sauntered together with the crowd to find their seats, though the line was incredibly long. Standing on stairs in heels was not her favorite activity, and she was once again thankful for the permanent cushioning charms Dotty had performed on all of her shoes. It wasn't fun navigating the mud to get to the stairs either, but she had managed when Harry had offered her his arm.

Hermione had read somewhere that if you set a bar of expectation for people, they would rise to meet it. She really hoped the psychology behind that was correct because it was part of the basis for her plan. She was hoping if she provided higher standards for those around her to live up to, they would. Harry was apparently going to be the first to take that leap, but she wasn't surprised. Harry had always been a sweetheart under the exterior he showed to the outward masses.

Somehow, during the seating process, they had ended up in front of the Malfoy's. Hermione had not noticed until Ron had turned around the step, he was one to stay something to Harry, and his face had gone violet. Confused, Hermione looked behind her to see Draco and his father.

Hermione offered a polite smile to Draco, and nothing more. She could not be the first to say hello, not in this situation. Draco needed to be seen reaching out to her, for this step to be any good. She hadn't anticipated the opportunity to arise here, of all places, but Hermione would take what she was offered. Draco smiled warmly at her and motioned for her hand. Hermione gave it, aware of eyes on them.

Draco loosely grasped her hand and laid a polite kiss on the back of it. "Hello Hermione, you look lovely today."

"Thank you, Draco. You look…festive," Hermione teased.

Draco chuckled at her and released her hand, turning to the man next to him. "Father, allow me to introduce Hermione Granger-Ollivander."

"Miss Granger-Ollivander," Lucius Malfoy nodded his head at her, "it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Hermione really wanted to tell him off right then, but she held her tongue. "And yours, Mr. Malfoy." She turned back around to the rest of her friends, who still had several flights to climb before they could be seated.

Upon turning around Hermione saw that Ron's face had gone from purple to something darker. His face was almost bruise colored. When you bruise so deeply that the color is a deep purple so that it's almost black. Hermione wondered if he was even breathing, to have such a complexion.

"Ron, turn around," Harry ordered. Harry had not bothered to greet the Malfoy's when he'd noticed what the problem was. Hermione probably should not have either. Not right in front of Ronald, but she found she couldn't be arsed to care. Ron was going to have to grow up at some point, and Hermione wasn't going to walk on eggshells so he wouldn't give himself a rage induced heart attack.

Surprisingly, Ron listened to Harry and pulled a silent about face. Fred and George were watching her with expressions of curiosity. Hermione ignored that, too.

Hermione turned to Ginny who had been standing on the other side of her, "Does it always take this long to get seated? I swear we've been standing in line for hours at this point."

"It can. The World Cup only takes place every four years, so it draws a huge crowd. People are really excited about this one, as both teams have really good records. I think the turnout might be more than they had anticipated, though," Ginny supplied.

Hermione could only nod, and they all remained quiet until they found seats. As luck would have it, they were seated directly next to the Malfoy's, Nott's, and Zabini's. Hermione couldn't believe her luck. The entire box they occupied was people she knew, aside from their parental figures, anyway. Hermione found it much easier to relax after they'd been seated, and she'd volunteered to take the seats closest to the Slytherin troupe. She knew she would get along just fine with both parties, and it would most likely keep a fight from breaking out at some point during the game.

As soon as Theo and Blaise had seen her, they had risen to greet her, much the same as Draco had. Then the game started, and Hermione was bored. Bored out her mind. She had never been a huge fan of Quidditch, and she wasn't invested in who won the match at all. She had been listening to her best friends talk about some star player named Krum, and something called a…Wensky…Winksi Fate? She wasn't sure, but she definitely didn't care. She barely watched the progression of the match. Instead she studied the faces of those around her.

"Still not a fan of Quidditch, I see," commented Draco on her left.

"I've never been much into the game," Hermione allowed.

"Is it because you don't like to fly, or because you don't understand the game?"

"Maybe a little bit of both? I'm not sure, but it doesn't interest me much," Hermione replied honestly. The rest of the time in the stands was as much about game commentary as it was about the good-natured ribbing Hermione was getting from everyone else seated in the box with her. She didn't mind, really. It was a step in the right direction.

At some point, someone caught the snitch. Ron was beside himself with his love for Krum, and his artful skills on the broom. Hermione could not have cared less. She was tired and wanted out of this box. Her bum hurt from all the sitting.

It took less time to get out of the stands than it did to get into them, but even so by the time they had gotten to their tent people were already celebrating the win of their team, or mourning the loss of the game. Hermione was as equally disinterested in the festivities as she had been in the match.

Mr. Weasley had insisted they retire at some point, and Hermione was more than happy to do so. She had been bored to tears for hours, and sleep seemed like a good idea to her. A very good idea.

Just as it was about to be her turn in the bathroom, they all heard a crashing, banging, clamorous sound. Followed shortly by screaming, and these screams didn't sound like those of victors or losers. No, these were the screams of people who were terrified.

Hermione dropped her pajamas to the ground and went in search of everyone else. They were all clustered around the front of the tent, staring outward.

"What in Danu's name is happening out there?" Hermione asked, irritated. Mr. Weasley and the others turned to look at her, faces pale. Beyond pale.

"It's the Morsmorde. It's been put up above the encampment. We have to get out of here, now!" Mr. Weasley told them all.

Quickly, he cast his Patronus. Hermione and the others didn't waste any time. They gathered all their belongings and were ready to run. Hermione had her wand out, willing to use it if the need arose.

"Pair off and get out of here. Run towards the woods, Aurors will find you," Mr. Weasley instructed.

None of them protested. Fred and George took Ginny with them. Harry, Ron, and Hermione ran together towards the woods. Why can nothing ever go smoothly, without psychopaths or murder?

Hermione had one hand on Harry at all times. Ron was on the other side of him. They ran. They didn't look back to see what was happening behind them. They didn't have the time and they could not be caught. They had to run until someone found them and could get them to safety.

They ran through rows and rows of tents. Some of them were on fire. Hermione had seen a body or two laying on the ground, but she didn't stop. They couldn't stop. The air smelt putrid and ashy. Her eyes burned as if the air around them was acidic.

They had lost Ron at some point, but he had caught up with them in a few minutes time. None the worse for wear thankfully. Hermione refused to stop and refused to let go of Harry. She needed him to be safe.

The hem of Hermione's dress got caught in some tent line, tearing it and tripping her. She let go of Harry and told them to go ahead. She would be right behind them. She was fine.

They took her at her word and ran off towards the trees. Too late, Hermione realized she had also twisted her ankle when she had fallen. She couldn't do much running now. No, she had to hide and hope she wasn't killed.

Hermione stumbled and limped to an abandoned stand. She slid beneath the door of the small installment, the door askew just enough to grant her entry. She clawed her way over to the corner of the small shelter and hid. And she hoped.

Trying to control her breathing, Hermione closed her eyes and performed some breathing exercises Dotty had taught her. She could call her Patronus to her, but that would give away her position if anyone were to see it emerge from her hiding place. She could only wait.

As Hermione got her breathing under control, she started hearing voices. They were far away but coming closer to her.

"I swear, I saw her go this way."

"If I were her I would have gone for the trees, too."

"It makes sense, but she wasn't found by the Aurors. Potter and Weasley said she was right behind them, so where did she go?"

Hermione let out a quiet sigh of relief. It was Draco, Blaise, and Theo. They were looking for her, but she didn't know why. She wasn't daft, she knew they were the children of Death Eaters. What if they had been sent to find her and bring her back to them?

"We have to get her out of here, Blaise, before she's found by someone else," Draco said heatedly.

"You're right, but we can't guarantee she'll be safe even if we do find her. She's a Half-Blood, but she's also friends with Potter. Our father's will be looking for her," Theo said resignedly.

Hermione made her decision. A group of wizards was better than a solitary witch. She only showed herself because of what they had said. She was being hunted by the Death Eaters, and Draco sodding Malfoy was trying to get her out of danger. That was a positive step.

"I would risk their anger if it meant she survived the night," Blaise said seriously.

Hermione slunk her way out of the shelter she had come to hide in. She could see them about one hundred feet from her, their backs facing her. She moved as quietly as possible to get out of where she was hiding.

"I'm glad to hear that, personally. I would rather not die tonight," Hermione whispered with a wry smile. They turned at the sound of her voice and descended upon her quickly

"Witch, where have you been?! Come on, we must go now. They're coming this way," Draco said. He grabbed her by the hand as if to pull her along with them, but Hermione whimpered in pain as she struggled to hop along after them.

"Shite. Okay. How hurt are you?" Blaise asked.

"I twisted my ankle. I cannot put any weight on it. That's why I was hiding instead of running," Hermione hissed in pain.

Draco didn't say anything else, he just picked her up and started walking away from there. Blaise and Theo stayed on either side of them, wands out, eyes scanning the horizon for trouble. Hermione was honestly too shocked to protest, and then she was in his arms, and she didn't care. She had to get away from the encampment and she wasn't about to do it on her own power. She made a mental note to study some basic healing spells.

Quietly, so that not even Blaise or Theo could hear her, she whispered, "Thank you," up to Draco. Draco didn't reply, only nodded. And they got the fuck out of there as fast as they could, because they knew they would be punished for rescuing her and keeping her from the Dark Lord. Hermione knew that she would be killed or worse at the hand of the Death Eaters. They could not afford to talk, dawdle, or otherwise occupy themselves. They used the tents for cover and made it to the tree line, and they didn't stop until they found an Auror to get them away from the ghastly death scene they had just waded through in search of safety. Hermione knew they had come back for her, and she was not one to forget when people saved her life.