March 1998
Adrenaline pumping, Hermione rolled on the cold, wet grounds of Paddington safe house, frantically aiming stunners at her attackers while doing her best to avoid their hexes. Gasping for breath, she scrambled to her feet but twisted her ankle in the process. She could see Harry and Angelina's Shield Charms were faltering. Crying out in pain, she cast a Shield Charm at Harry, and flew backwards.
Everything went black.
ooooooooooooooo
"She's alright!"
Hermione blinked her eyes open to see a smiling Angelina Johnson extending a hand to lift her up. Her ankle was killing her. Ever since the Order learned about the impending raid, combat training was every day, and more brutal, requiring the use of Healers at the end of every evening. Leadership started drilling a defense but hadn't told anyone they were actually expecting a raid, unsure as to how the location of the Order had been discovered.
"My left ankle," Hermione groaned, groggy from being Rennervated. "I think I sprained it."
She clasped Angelina's hand and allowed her to lift her up, careful not to put her weight on her left leg.
"You got George though, before Fred hit you." Angelina winked at her as she gazed across the lawn to see George with his hands thrown out, offended.
"She did not!" he called out.
"You need help?" She bent over to look at Hermione's ankle.
"No, I'll manage," Hermione said with a grimace. "Go have fun teasing George."
Angelina wagged her eyebrows. "Oh, I will."
"Who else needs the Healers?" Auror Pamela Proudfoot's sharp voice echoed across the grounds.
A few Order members ambled over as Cho, Mary and Terry Apparated in. Dedalus Diggle strode across the grounds over to Hermione.
"You okay there, Granger?"
"Yeah." She winced as she experimented with putting more weight on her left ankle, and limped over to the Healers. "Nothing the Ravenclaw Trio can't fix."
The older Auror placed a heavy hand on her shoulder and peered into her eyes. "You make calculations when you fight."
Puzzled, she furrowed her brows. "What do you mean?"
"You don't even know you're doing it." A grin graced his wrinkled features. "But I've noticed. When you're in a fight, you protect Potter, Brown and Thomas over the others every single time. I'd have thought you'd defend Weasley first."
Hermione blushed. "We're not-"
He waved his hand. "Doesn't matter. Potter's importance is obvious. I don't know what Brown and Thomas are up to but you're valuing their lives over others when in combat."
Her stomach lurched. She had been protecting them on a subconscious level, but he was right. Harry, Lavender and Dean were more important than anyone else right now, so she defended them first. Even over Ron.
She felt slightly sick to her stomach, feeling even guiltier for cutting things off with Ron. He still wasn't talking to her and there was going to be a raid. Anything could happen to anyone. At any time. There was no time to waste on fights.
"I hadn't realized," she replied, somewhat mortified.
He squeezed her shoulder and leaned in, answering in a low voice, "Keep doing it. Not everyone will think that way and that's what the Order needs. I'd put your lives ahead of mine."
"What? Why?"
"Next generation." His blue eyes pierced hers. "You're the ones that have to rebuild when this is over."
Hermione couldn't think past the war. Let alone rebuilding. She took Dedalus's hand as he helped her limp towards where Cho was healing George's knee. "I don't agree. We're all so young, we need your experience."
"Eh," he shrugged dismissively. "A few parlor tricks."
"I'm heading out early," John Dawlish called over to them. "See you tomorrow."
Diggle turned to him, nodded and gave her one last knowing look before walking over to Proudfoot and Savage.
Hermione stared at the Aurors conversing and hobbled over to where the Ravenclaw Trio had begun treating everyone.
Without realizing it, she had assigned a relative value to everyone's lives in the Order according to their ability to help win the war. Even over her close friendships. She didn't know whether to feel pleased or horrified with herself.
ooooooooooooooooo
"Towards me. Towards me!"
Draco was deflecting Jugson's rapid-fire curses as best he could. But now the arsehole decided it wasn't good enough to deflect them, Draco had to aim them back at Jugson.
Hex deflection was difficult psychologically. Instead of instinctually dodging, he had to force himself to stand there, catch the hex and shoot it off elsewhere. He swished and parried, occasionally dodging with his body but did his best to stand his ground. After days of practice, he found that deflecting curses was easier than dodging them, and it expended less energy. Which was good because it was nearly night and he had been fending off Jugson's attacks for two hours straight.
But aiming deflected curses?
"With your wrist!" Jugson barked back at him before shooting a Stinging Hex to Draco's knee. "Stop moving your arm!"
It landed and his knee buckled in pain. Draco collapsed to the ground. Fuck that hurt.
"And don't forget your Shield!"
Draco growled and jumped back up, ready for the next assault when his Dark Mark started burning. He grimaced and rubbed his forearm as Jugson's large, heavy frame barreled over from across the Quidditch pitch. He didn't seem bothered by the pain at all. The man probably ate nails for breakfast.
"Ready Malfoy?"
Draco eyed Jugson as the two donned their robes and masks before Apparating away to wherever the Dark Lord was calling them to. Draco found himself outside the Avery Estate with at least forty other Death Eaters, and more arriving every second. He scanned the crowd with mounting horror before turning to Jugson.
Jugson's deep voice snarled through his mask. "Time for them to fucking die."
It was the raid. He wouldn't be able to warn Granger. Not with Jugson right next to him. He started inching away to get out from the crowd but Jugson raised his wand, shooting out red sparks.
A sea of masked figures in black hooded robes turned to face him, but Yaxley addressed everyone.
"We're attacking the main Order safe house where the Potter boy is staying!" Yaxley called out. "It's a surprise hit, and we'll outnumber them two to one. Bring back all bodies dead or alive. Harry Potter is for the Dark Lord!"
Fuck.
A piece of paper was being passed around. When it was given to Draco, he glanced down to see an address in Paddington he didn't recognize. He passed it on to Jugson and tried to work his way inside his robes to reach his Galleon without anyone noticing. Just when he thought he might reach his trouser pocket Jugson's gloved hand clamped down on Draco's forearm.
Terror shot down his spine. Did Jugson know?
He felt a sudden nausea and they Apparated to a forest at the edge of a clearing. Sodding fuck that was close. He thought Jugson figured out what he was doing.
Draco stumbled from the sudden Side-Along. He lifted his mask, spat on the ground and looked up to see a large house towards the middle of the clearing. Lights were on. An easy target.
Jugson set to installing his anti-Apparition wards around the clearing. He'd obviously been here before to stake out the area in preparation for setting the massive wards. Draco felt uneasy at the thought of Jugson so close to Granger, and he had no idea it had been going on.
"Wait for the signal," he growled back.
Yaxley cast a Silencing Charm around the large group and began to instruct those, like Draco, that didn't already know about the raid. They were confident, expecting an easy victory. The Order was trapped, outnumbered, and would be taken by surprise. Draco tried to back towards a tree where he could get inside his trouser pocket without notice, but it was too late.
Not half a second after Jugson finished his anti-Apparition ward, the loud blaring of Caterwauling alarms sounded throughout the clearing, interrupting Yaxley's briefing. So much for a coordinated attack. The Order knew Death Eaters relied on anti-Apparition wards during their raids. And they were prepared.
Draco knew when he warned Granger that he'd be directly fucking himself over, but he had done it anyway. And she still said it wasn't enough to build trust.
The alarm confused the Death Eaters. They had thought they'd be sneaking up on the Order. Yaxley and Jugson yelled at them to rush the house, that the Order was still outnumbered despite the alarm. But a series of popping cracks were heard from across the grounds at the exterior of the wards as more Order members arrived. It reminded him of the popcorn popping at the Cineplex. Everyone started turning around, craning their necks to see where the Order had Apparated into. A few moments after that, hexes started whizzing through the trees.
So much for an easy raid. Within the span of a few seconds, the operation turned from a quick and easy win to a battle for survival. The odds Voldemort's Army would succeed in capturing Potter and killing or capturing the rest had just plummeted.
Maybe Draco wouldn't survive.
What did he expect? If he helped the Order defeat the Dark Lord's army, he would always screw himself over. He was the Dark Lord's army. Of course this would come back to bite him in the arse.
Fucking. Granger.
Life was simpler before she gave him that sodding Galleon.
Draco ducked as a jet of light shot by his head and hit someone behind him. It was Shunpike by the sound of the scream. He dropped to the ground and crawled on his elbows in the mud, trying to get closer to the safe house. Curses were flying over his head in both directions. While he was fully capable of maintaining a Shield for longer periods of time than in the past, he knew it was stupid to rely solely on them. His was still useless against the harsher curses, but getting better.
Draco couldn't tell who had the advantage in numbers at this point, but Voldemort's side was not prepared for this many Order members. Or for them to be ready for battle. Everywhere was a haze of yelling, smoke and flashes of light. He wondered what Jugson would have to say about the predictability of the Dark Lord's army. They started every single fucking raid by putting up anti-Apparition wards. Could they be any more obvious? It was like waving a flag.
Draco's elbows sank in grass and mud still cold from the thawing winter and his leg snagged on his robe. He pulled, ripping the robe with his boot. Why did they wear these goddamn robes anyway? They may instill fear in others but were impractical for the realities of battle. Jugson had at least shown him how to charm his mask so it wouldn't obscure his vision.
Sodding fanatics, indeed.
Lying down, Draco positioned himself behind a rock and aimed several well-placed stunners at Order members as they ran across the lawn, picking them off one by one. He was also keeping an eye out for Granger. He already had a plan, haphazard as it was. He'd stun, Disillusion and hide her in the trees until the raid ended.
Draco turned around and saw a Death Eater duck behind a tree after firing off some curses. Fucking hell, he didn't even know who had his back. They all looked the same. Plastering himself against the rock to avoid counter fire, he watched the Death Eater. The casting style looked like Yaxley's.
Another curse shot by his head and thudded into the ground next to him.
"Yaxley!" Draco cried out. The Death Eater behind the tree turned to face him but didn't stop his flurry of curses aimed towards the safe house.
"Levitate them out of here!" He pointed to the unconscious bodies strewn across the lawn that he had stunned. A curse flew by and he yanked his arm back to his chest, just missing it. He saw the bodies levitate and begin to float past him into the woods. Draco continued picking off Order members as he saw them, changing the angle of his body so he was always protected by the rock in front of him. Someone finally got smart and blew his rock up. He flew back several yards from the force of the explosion, hitting his head on the ground, teeth clacking together.
Draco pushed himself up and then promptly fell back down in a wave of dizziness and nausea. He tried again and felt a heavy hand on his chest push him back into the cold, wet ground.
"How many fingers, kid?" It was Jugson's gruff voice. He leaned over him holding up… Draco couldn't count the fingers. His gloved hand was blurry, and he couldn't see. Lights from the flying curses skewed his vision even more.
"Don't know."
"Drink this." Jugson pulled a purple vial out of his robes. Draco removed his mask, popped the cork with his thumb and knocked the vial back. The nausea and dizziness disappeared instantly.
"Always bring an anti-concussion potion into battle." He held out his hand and helped Draco to a standing position.
"Let's see how many Mudbloods and Blood traitors we can round up, 'eh?"
Draco motioned to the floating bodies that Yaxley was manipulating. "They won't fire at us through them."
"Smart," Jugson growled.
They ran towards the safe house, dodging through the levitated bodies. He recognized a few of his ex-classmates floating by and felt an immense relief that none were Granger. All of a sudden, the stunned Order members dropped to the ground. Yaxley must have gotten knocked out. Or worse. He and Jugson sprinted the rest of the way, burst through the safe house door and felled two fighters firing from the lower floor window. They ran from room to room, clearing the bottom floor until they reached a room towards the back.
Jugson ran in and immediately fell to the ground with an agonized yell, clutching his leg. Draco followed, wand at the ready. He barely had time to register Granger, splattered with blood and crouching in a corner clutching a beaded bag to her chest before she shot a curse at his head. He jerked backwards and the cabinet where his head had been half a second ago exploded. As Draco ducked for cover from the shards raining down around him, she fled out the back door into the yard, firing hexes behind her.
He sprinted out the door after her, thinking she was crazy for running into the line of fire. He shot some stunners after her for show and watched, open mouthed as she leapt twenty feet up into the air and over the blasts of hexes. Her legs propelled her forward before she landed at the edge of the clearing and continuing on unharmed to the forest.
Draco's stomach lurched. How the fuck did she do that? At least he knew she wasn't injured.
When she disappeared into the trees where he saw most of the Order members were, he turned around and crouched down next to Jugson. Dust and wood splinters still fell around them.
"She got away, leapt clear over the field into the trees." Draco was already tearing Jugson's trouser leg open. "What did she do to you?"
"It's an old Auror trick. Haven't seen anyone use it in years. You can break your legs if not done right." He gritted his teeth in pain, leaning forward, trying to see the damage. "Fucking bitch sliced my Achilles tendon. Heal it and get upstairs."
He pulled off Jugson's ruined boot and sock to see a clean cut halfway through the upper part of his heel, bleeding profusely.
"I can't heal a cut this deep."
"Of course you fucking can't." He spat. "Do your best so I don't bleed out."
Draco ran his wand across the cut and watched the skin stitch itself while Jugson grunted, plainly suffering.
"I can only seal the skin. You won't be able to walk, but if I leave you here then you're liable to get captured."
Jugson surveyed the area. "Get me to the corner with my back to the wall where that cunt was waiting for us."
Trust Granger to find the most strategically defensible position in any given room. Draco helped Jugson hobble over to where she had been and sat him down on the floor facing the entry and exit ways.
"You're wasting time. Get the fuck upstairs, Malfoy!" Jugson called after him as Draco ran back through the house and thundered up the stairs two at a time. Curses were still crashing through the ground floor windows, some absorbed by his Shield. He didn't know if the fire was from the Dark Lord's army or Order members. Probably both.
He circled the second and top floors, finding no one and cast a Homenum Revelio for good measure.
There was some yelling downstairs, and blasts rang out. All of a sudden, he heard a long, loud cry echo from outside.
"APPARAAAAAAAAATE!"
If Jugson's anti-Apparition wards were down, then he wasn't conscious anymore. Draco ran downstairs to the sounds of cracks both near and far echoing across the grounds. He crouched and blasted open the door to the back room where he left Jugson and curses immediately crashed into the wall above him. An older wizard he didn't recognize appeared in the doorway and Draco felled him immediately, but not before getting his legs knocked out from under him. He recast his Shield, quickly crawling on his elbows across the floor to the door opening and peering around. Jugson was slouched over and one of those annoying Creevey kids was sprawled on the floor.
Not wanting to leave Jugson to the Order, he scrambled over to him, placed a hand on his calf and Apparated them back to the Avery Estate.
The Dark Lord was there, as were an increasing number of worn out and bloody Death Eaters, very few had prisoners. None of them were Granger. Draco had no idea what the hell he would do if she were here. None of them were sodding Scarface either.
Draco contained his relief and scanned the scene around him. From the look of things, the operation was a complete failure, and the Dark Lord was not pleased. Draco needed a prisoner or he and his family would be tortured. It was a struggle to retain their standing within the army, and Draco's failure to bring a prisoner could set them back.
Draco Disapparated and reappeared in the back room at the safe house, gazing down at the two prone bodies of the Order members. His blood pumped loudly in his ears.
Fuck.
Was he really doing this?
If he didn't bring a prisoner, he didn't know how severe the punishment would be for him and his parents. But if he brought someone back, they'd all be fine. Better than fine since this raid was a clusterfuck. The Malfoys would continue digging themselves out of the hole they were in, and they'd reassert themselves in the Dark Lord's esteem.
Draco had no choice when he brought back Lovegood and the other Mudbloods on raids. This was different. He had a choice. He stared down at the two bodies, breathing heavily. If it was just himself being tortured, he might have let it go. Might have. But he never knew when his parents would pay for his failures and mistakes.
He hated this.
It was the Vanishing Cabinet all over again. Someone else, or him and his family.
Draco stood over the two prone bodies and clenched his fists, trembling slightly. His chest heaved with the violence of his indecision. He could go back now. He could say he had scanned the area and no one was left.
But he and his parents would still suffer. He recalled his mother and father screaming on the floor while the Dark Lord stood mercilessly above them after the debacle at the Department of Mysteries, wondering if he would have to share their fate. He squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled sharply through his nostrils. They were only still alive because Draco succeeded in bringing the Death Eaters into Hogwarts.
Fuck. FUCK!
He only had to bring one and he wasn't taking a sodding teenager. Hating himself for what he was about to do, he crouched down in front of the older man he didn't recognize, placed a hand on his leg and Disapparated.
Draco reappeared with his prisoner and looked around. More Death Eaters had returned in his absence. They were still missing several. The Dark Lord paced slowly back and forth in front of them but no one else appeared. He counted six prisoners, two among them dead. He tallied the missing Death Eaters. It was a wash. Not the expected outcome at all. The plan was to clear the safe house and capture Potter; they had barely made a dent, and had lost some of their own.
Anti-Apparition wards made sense if there was a clear strategic advantage. If not, you were just as trapped as your enemy, and the Order knew they were coming.
Would the Dark Lord suspect they had been tipped off? But he brought a prisoner. That would allay suspicion, wouldn't it?
Voldemort tapped his chin and Aunt Bella's white teeth flash between red lips while she held onto a struggling blond, one of the Hufflepuff women he vaguely remembered from his year. A male whose face he couldn't see lay bleeding at her feet. Probably dead from the angle of his neck. He looked like Finnigan, that Irish bloke from Gryffindor.
He glanced at Jugson, sprawled on the floor, still unconscious. In retrospect, Draco could have left him at the safe house. He'd probably be better off sitting in a holding cell with the Order now that they could administer Veritaserum. Injured ankle or not, the Dark Lord would torture him for failure. Draco scammed all the masked, robed Death Eaters. Many that hadn't managed to bring back a prisoner were visibly trembling. He could feel the fear spreading slowly throughout the room.
It was going to be a long night. Most of them would be tortured.
Did Draco make the wrong decision?
It didn't matter. It was too late now.
Chapter end notes:
Some people were getting antsy. I don't want to give away specifics of when the first kiss is or anything like that, but you guys have made it this far! I'll be vague and say that by chapter 45 they are shagging regularly. There's also another excursion into the world of Muggles before then.