Chapter Thirty: Escape

A/N: Hi everyone! Thank you for your patience with my weird posting schedule this week, as we settle back in after the holidays. I wanted to give a brief disclaimer at the start of this chapter, that some of the quotes in this chapter are pulled straight from book seven, as there is some overlap between canon and the fic here. The quotes pulled from the book are not my writing, and not owned by me. I hope you all enjoy, and again thank you so much for reading. I'm grateful for each and every one of you!

~.~.~

Draco didn't sleep that night. He couldn't. Not when Hermione's life depended on him finding a way out of here for her.

Hermione and he had sat until the early hours of the morning, debating and going over different possibilities. After looking at all of the angles, they both came to the conclusion that their best option would be for Draco to somehow cause a distraction, and in the confusion help Hermione escape. Draco would try and lift someone's wand so that she could apparate before anyone had a chance to stop her.

He had made the decision that he was going to try and grab his father's wand. After Lucius' previous attempt, it wouldn't be too far of a leap to believe that he had wanted another chance at torturing Hermione before Bellatrix got her chance. Lucius would deny it, of course, but it would at least instill in the others' minds that he was part of the reason she escaped.

How would she have gotten his wand otherwise?

He just had to hope the Dark Lord would be angry enough that he would punish Lucius without bothering to check his memories to see if his protests were warranted.

Draco sighed and paused in his pacing to look out his window towards the direction of the maze.

It didn't matter if it came back on him and he was punished. He didn't care. As long as he could get her away from here, it didn't matter what happened to him.

He glanced to his watch, nerves fluttering within him like loose pixies. It was time. Bellatrix had called his family to meet her before she dragged Hermione out, and he knew this would be his only chance to grab his father's wand before it was too late.

He made his way down to the drawing room where he would be joined by his mother, father, and aunt, and begged Salazar that Hermione would make it through this day.

~.~.~

Draco was seated in the Drawing Room, refusing to look at his father who sat opposite him. He needed to figure out how to separate Lucius' wand from him, but unfortunately the wand was being twirled between his father's fingers, as though Lucius somehow knew what Draco needed to do and was taunting him.

Bellatrix hadn't yet appeared, and his mother had been pulled away by a heavy knock on the front doors and had flitted away to handle it, leaving Lucius and Draco to ignore each other.

His mother's voice carried to him from the open door to the entrance hall, and Draco's attention was momentarily pulled from his goal as he recognized the tension there.

His head snapped towards the door, eyebrows pulling down in a look of displeasure as he heard heavy footsteps heading towards the drawing room where they currently sat, following the staccato taps of his mother's heels.

She entered the room first, her face pale and eyes wide as she looked to Draco before stepping aside to reveal the source of the commotion behind her.

Fenrir Greyback stepped into the room, looking even more vicious and animalistic than usual, dragging a young wizard with messy black hair. Draco could almost feel the blood draining from his face as he saw the tall, red-headed prisoner struggling against the hold of another snatcher who had shoved him through the door after Greyback, and realized just who the black-haired wizard was.

What the fuck were they doing here?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Draco's heart was thudding against his chest as he stared at Hermione's two best friends in his drawing room, fear flooding through him as his father stood to his right. It was as though everything in the room faded to nothing as he stared at the wizards struggling against their bonds. He couldn't let them call the Dark Lord. If the Dark Lord appeared and killed Potter, it was over.

Everything was over.

Hermione was over.

"What is this?" Lucius spat, eyes narrowed at the dirty prisoners on the floor. His father was so fucking blind, he didn't even realize who they were.

But Draco knew.

"They say they've got Potter."

His mother's cool voice broke through his tunnel vision and he whipped his attention to her. He saw the warning in her eyes as she continued, holding out a hand to beckon him towards her. "Draco, come here."

He stood shakily, walking across the room to where they stood, swallowing the lump in his throat as he tried to rush through options in his mind. He came to a halt in front of Potter and stared into his wide, terror-filled, green eyes.

"Well, Draco?" said Lucius. "Is it? Is it Harry Potter?"

His father's voice was excited, filled with a dark triumph as he waited for Draco to confirm their suspicions. Potter's face was swollen and shiny, blotchy red splotches breaking up the otherwise pale patches of skin he could see. It was clearly the work of a stinging jinx, and as Draco glanced to Weasley's desperate expression, he was sure he knew who had cast the jinx. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, it was bloody smart of Weasley, and it gave Draco some time to stall and attempt to figure out a way out of this as he feigned ignorance.

"I can't—I can't be sure."

"But look at him carefully, look! Come closer!"

Lucius had seemed to have forgotten his tense relationship with his son for the moment as he gripped Draco's arm and dragged him closer. His father's voice dropped lower as he tried to reason with him. "Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv—"

It seemed as though Lucius hadn't gone low enough, and Greyback interrupted him with a growl.

"Now, we won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope Mr. Malfoy?"

Lucius' head whipped around to glare at the werewolf, disdain laced through every line of his face as he looked upon him. He seemed to realize that he needed to play nice with Greyback in order to get what he wanted, and he quickly cleared his throat before rearranging his features into a slightly more pleasant expression.

"Of course not, of course not!"

Lucius took a step closer to Potter, narrowing his eyes as he took in the state of him. He leveled an accusatory stare at Greyback and the other snatcher as he spoke his next words.

"What did you do to him? How did he get into this state?"

"That wasn't us."

"Looks more like a Stinging Jinx to me." His father leaned in closer, moving aside the bangs that hung over Potter's forehead to take a closer look at the taut skin there. "There's something there," he muttered. "It could be the scar, stretched tight. . . ."

He turned to Draco, speaking louder as he again grabbed Draco and dragged him even closer. Draco stumbled at the force with which Lucius had seized him and he had to fight the desire to shove his father off of him. "Draco, come here, look properly! What do you think?"

Draco swallowed heavily, reluctantly pretending to take a closer look as he stood nearly eye to eye with him. A plea seemed to be waiting there in his emerald eyes, a plea for Draco to keep his secret, to keep himself from telling them what he knew. He knew that Potter wasn't stupid enough to believe that Draco didn't know who he was. They had tortured each other for the past six years of their lives. They'd likely know each other anywhere, despite their loathing for the other.

Draco glanced nervously at his father, then his mother beyond, before bringing his eyes back to Potter.

"I don't know." He said it with a finality before turning to join his mother where she stood by the fireplace. His father flashed him a brief look of annoyance laced with disappointment, as though Draco had stolen his prize from him.

"We had better be certain, Lucius, completely sure that it is Potter, before we summon the Dark

Lord . . ." His mother said it cooly, clear that she was unwilling to call the Dark Lord at the moment, and Draco hoped they would throw the two wizards in a cell to wait for the stinging jinx to recede, giving him time to come up with a new plan in which he freed not only Hermione, but the other two-thirds of the golden trio as well.

"What about the mudblood?"

Draco's heart froze as he turned in horror to the werewolf, who clutched Potter tighter as he flashed a vicious, yellowed smile.

"Yes!"

Lucius turned to Draco, a triumphant smile on his face. "Go now, Draco. Fetch her."

Draco didn't move for a moment, his stare stuck on Potter and Weasley who had both doubled their efforts to escape from the hold on them at the mention of Hermione, but when his mother cleared her throat softly next to him, he lurched into action.

He hurried from the room, moving quickly through the hallways of his manor as he ran to Hermione, his heart beating faster with every step.

~.~.~

Hermione was staring out her window, looking upon the grounds of the Malfoy estate for possibly the last time. Anxiety was coursing through her veins and she couldn't stand still as she waited for Draco's signal.

She would be leaving here today, one way or another.

She just hoped it would be alive.

Bang.

Hermione jumped, whirling around with a gasp to find Draco standing breathless in her doorway, the wooden door open and flush against the wall, clearly the source of the noise. His silver eyes were wide with fear as he stood there and her stomach dropped as she realized that meant something must have gone wrong.

"What? What is it?" She rushed to him, glancing over his shoulder to try and see if he had been followed.

He grabbed her hand, pulling her against him as he enveloped her within his arms. He crushed her to his chest as he buried his face in her hair for a moment, his deep breaths reaching her scalp through her curls in puffs of warmth as he caught his breath.

"Draco, you're scaring me, what's happened?"

She pushed herself back, just enough so that she could place a hand on his cheek and pull his attention to her face.

"They're here."

She furrowed her brows as she glanced past him again, still seeing no one.

"Who is here?"

He closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly as he said in a low, defeated tone, "Potter and Weasley. They've been captured by snatchers. They're downstairs."

No.

No, no, no.

She froze, a cold fear that had nothing to do with her own wellbeing slithering down her spine.

Harry and Ron, here. No.

She backed away from Draco, shaking her head as she extricated herself from his arms. He caught her hand as she stepped away, preventing her from getting too far from him.

"I'm so sorry."

His voice broke as he said it, and she knew he wasn't sorry about Harry and Ron. It was her. But she couldn't care about her own fate in that moment, not when her best friends, and the fate of the entire war sat somewhere below her in the manor.

"Draco, we have to save them."

It came out in a choked whisper, her throat thick with fear. She looked pleadingly into his eyes, trying to force him to look past his distaste for them and realize what this meant.

"We have to save them," she repeated, desperate.

He nodded, pulling her close to him again to rest his forehead against hers.

"I know. I have an idea. But right now we have to go back downstairs. They're waiting for you to try and confirm it's Potter and Weasley."

She didn't get a chance to respond before he started dragging her out of the room and down the hallway, continuing quietly and in a rush as they moved through the dark halls.

"Weasley must have cast a stinging jinx on Potter because his face is swollen, too swollen to really get a good look at him. I stalled as much as I could."

They were already approaching the stairs, and he dropped his voice even lower as they continued.

"I'm going to try and get the three of you close to the fireplace. There's floo powder in a small container on the right of the mantel. Grab some, throw it in, and escape anywhere. It doesn't matter where. Wherever you land, run. If one of you can grab a wand off of one of the snatchers, then apparate."

They reached the bottom of the stairs and Hermione's heart sped even more quickly if possible.

"Wait. You want to help Harry and Ron?"

He paused for a moment, glancing at her as he snorted softly. "Don't get me wrong, I still don't like the twat twins, but along with you they're the best chance we have of winning this war."

She froze, stumbling to a halt and staring at him in wonder as he tried to keep going. He frowned as he realized she wasn't moving with him. He tugged on her hand to try and spur her back into motion, but she remained frozen.

"You said we."

He furrowed his brows for a moment in confusion, until he realized what she meant. He glanced around then took a step closer to her. A fierce burning in his eyes as he looked down at her.

"I told you, I know where I stand."

Despite the fear, despite how close they were to her potential death, despite how close they were to her potential freedom, she couldn't help the affection that burst in her chest for him, moving through her body like lava, spreading heatedly through her and nearly scaring her with its intensity.

"Draco, I-"

He interrupted her by dragging her to the side, quickly, darting into a room, and closing the door behind her.

Before she could ask what they were doing, she was against the door and his mouth was on hers. His lips were warm against her, and he was kissing her as though he may never get the chance again.

And for all she knew, he wouldn't.

She wrapped her arms around his neck for a brief moment, allowing herself to crush her body against him, trying to memorize how his lips moved, how the soft skin of his neck felt beneath her hands, how his silky locks moved through her fingers, how his frame fit against hers as though they were two pieces of a whole.

The kiss lasted no longer than a few heartbeats, then they were both pulling back, and where the warmth had been moments earlier was now a paralyzing cold.

They stared at each other for just a moment longer, trying to convey everything they knew they didn't have time to say, and she hoped he knew what she wanted to tell him, hoped she might get the chance one day to actually say the words.

But then, he was opening the door, and dragging her back across the entrance hall towards a set of doors that were parted just enough for her to see the glow of firelight, and she knew that it was time.

She shoved all thoughts of Draco, of what she felt for him, behind a wall in the back of her mind. She couldn't worry about him right now, couldn't worry about them right now.

She needed to focus on Harry and Ron, and hope to Godric that this tentative plan might work.

Draco pushed open the doors, and shoved her into the room in front of him, pretenses falling back into place as though they hadn't just been tangled up together in a nearby dark room.

Her heart skipped a beat as her gaze landed on her best friends.

Two sets of jewel-toned eyes flitted to her, and both sapphire and emerald widened in fear as they saw her stumble into the room.

It seemed as though everything in the room froze, even time itself, as they watched the trio reunite for the first time in months.

Harry's face was swollen nearly beyond recognition. His hair was shaggier than normal, the ends brushing against his shoulders, and a dark stubble lined his jaw – overall he looked nothing like himself. But she'd know him anywhere. It was him.

Ron stood next to him, struggling against the bonds that held him. His red hair was longer than usual as well, resembling his brother Bill more than he ever had before. Bruises mottled his pale skin, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

She wanted to run to them, wanted to throw her arms around them and pull them close.

But she couldn't.

She tried to feign a look of confusion as a harsh voice called from her right.

"Well, mudblood? Is it your wee friends?"

She turned to look at the source of the voice, and found Bellatrix Lestrange standing near the fireplace, nearly bouncing with anticipation.

Hermione shook her head, her voice failing her as she remembered the last time she had seen Bellatrix and the pain that accompanied that meeting. Her mouth dried and she fought to stop herself from shying backwards, as though every nerve remembered exactly what the witch in front of her had done and wanted to be as far away as possible.

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes, and took a step closer, but her attention was drawn from Hermione towards the snatchers who stood with Ron and Harry.

Her expression changed in an instant, the excitement that had been there a moment before morphing into a combination of rage and fear twisting her features.

Hermione glanced backwards to where the snatchers stood and with a surprise noticed two other prisoners standing there. Dean Thomas and a goblin she didn't know stood to the side of the door she had stumbled through, but before she had a chance to even look at Dean in recognition, she noticed another wizard behind him. The snatcher was holding up a large sword, rubies inlaid into its intricate gold hilt. It shone brightly, as though it had just been polished, and she recognized the Goblin-made object immediately.

The sword of Gryffindor.

They had found a way to destroy horcruxes.

"What is that?" Bellatrix asked the question sharply, warning clear in every syllable.

The snatcher didn't seem to realize who exactly he was dealing with as he said with a grunt, "Sword."

"Give it to me," Bellatrix hissed.

"It's not yours, missus, it's mine, I reckon I found it."

With a bang, the snatcher dropped to the floor, stunned. Another of the snatcher's looked to Bellatrix like she was unhinged, crying out in alarm as his peer fell, "What d'you think you're playing at, woman?"

Within a heartbeat, the other snatchers were stunned, falling to a heap next to the four prisoners they had held. Bellatrix stalked towards Greyback, the only one still standing.

"Where did you get this sword?" She whispered dangerously, snatching his wand from him as she did.

Hermione backed away from the interaction, trying to position herself closer to the fireplace.

"It was in their tent," Greyback was saying. Everyone's attention was on Bellatrix and the werewolf, and Hermione was taking the moment to continue sidling closer and closer to the little container of floo powder.

"Draco, move this scum outside," said Bellatrix, suddenly. She was nodding at the unconscious snatchers, and Hermione froze as everyone's focus was broken. "If you haven't got the guts to finish them, then leave them in the courtyard for me."

Hermione felt herself bristle at the tone Bellatrix used with Draco, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying something stupid. Luckily, Narcissa seemed to feel the same way and began to snap at her sister. "Don't you dare speak to Draco like—"

Bellatrix interrupted her with a wave of her hand, alarm clear in her raised voice.

"Be quiet! The situation is graver than you can possibly imagine, Cissy! We have a very serious problem!"

Bellatrix glanced around the room with wild eyes, as she began pacing and muttering to herself. Everyone in the room seemed frozen in place, terrified that to move a muscle would be to bring Bellatrix's ire upon themselves. Finally Bellatrix paused in her pacing, seeming to make a decision. She looked to Greyback before she began barking instructions.

"Take the prisoners to the cellar. All except. . . . except for the mudblood."

"No!" Ron's shout was immediate, and she wanted to silence him as he continued, "You can have me, keep me!"

Bellatrix silenced him with a blow to the face and Hermione couldn't help the step forward she took as she saw Bellatrix's hand make contact with Ron's already bloody skin.

"If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next," she snarled at him. Bellatrix tossed Greyback's wand back to him before she turned with a purposeful look towards Hermione, pulling a small silver dagger from within her robes as she did so.

"Now, mudblood, you're going to tell me how it is that your little friends came to be in possession of this sword."

Ron and Harry were dragged from the room, both shouting protests as they were pulled away from her, and Hermione couldn't stop herself from shaking with fear as she tried to back away from the advancing witch.

Bellatrix cast a quick knockback jinx, knocking Hermione backwards to the floor. She hit the wooden floorboards with a thump, a hiss escaping her before she could stop it. She tried to push herself up but before she could, Bellatrix was upon her.

"Please." Hermione whispered, trying to reason with her. "I've been here for five months. Malfoy's been in my head and has seen, I don't know anything."

Bellatrix gave her a cruel smirk that said she didn't care, and Hermione knew. She knew that Bellatrix was absolutely aware that Hemione wouldn't have any knowledge of the sword. Bellatrix leaned down, her whisper dancing across the shell of Hermione's ear and causing her to jerk back instinctively.

"When they hear your screams, they'll be begging to give me what I want to know."

Hermione's heart stopped as Bellatrix pulled back, and a ferocious look of anticipation twisted her features.

"I've been looking forward to this, mudblood."

She spat the last word, then without warning, pointed her wand at Hermione.

Pain.

All she knew was pain.

A scream tore from her throat and she heard a cruel laugh as her back arched, protesting against the invasion of the curse within her.

Tears welled in her eyes and she couldn't tell if she was still screaming or if the echoes of the first scream were simply ringing in her ears as her body jerked and flailed, every bit of her on fire. She felt as though she were being torn apart from the inside, as though she was being melted from within.

Please make it stop, please make it stop.

The tears spilled over, and the pain was gone as soon as it had started. Hermione's breaths were ragged, desperate to fill her lungs with the air they had wasted on her screams. She couldn't have moved even if she wanted to, her body too weak to do much other than twitch in the aftermath of the curse.

An involuntary sob broke from her throat as Bellatrix straddled her, pinning her down. The small knife she had pulled from within her robes glinted in the firelight as she moved it across Hermione's vision and Hermione didn't have even a moment to recover before a sharp pain lanced through her forearm.

Another scream was forced from her as the burning continued, and finally she found the strength to thrash, hopelessly trying to buck Bellatrix off of her, but the witch simply tightened her grip on Hermione's arm and continued. Hermione continued to struggle, unable to see what Bellatrix was doing past her untamed, inky black curls, but it felt as though she were carving something into Hermione's skin. Hermione refused to beg, but she couldn't stop her distressed body from reacting with tears and compulsory cries as the knife sliced into her.

Time meant nothing as she struggled against the incessant pain. She could feel nothing past the white-hot agony that coursed through her arm.

Finally, Bellatrix pulled back to stare at her handiwork. All Hermione could see was blood, dripping slowly down her arm. She could make out symbols, or maybe they were letters, though she couldn't tell what they were meant to be through the mangled mess that was now her forearm. A soft sob pulled from her lips as the pain seemed to worsen, now that she could actually see the injury, and she squeezed her eyes shut against it, trying in vain to think past the throbbing.

"Crucio."

Before Hermione had the chance to realize what Bellatrix had said, before she had more than a moment to breathe, her throat was once again being run ragged as scream after scream ripped through it.

The pain was endless, as if the curse was a part of her and lived in her very cells. She wanted it to stop. She would do anything to make it stop.

A part of her begged for Bellatrix to simply end it as Hermione twisted against the agony.

Finally, finally, it was gone. And Hermione was left gasping in its absence.

She was frozen. Paralyzed. As though her mind had been severed from the rest of her body.

The pain in her arm paled in comparison to the cruciatus curse, but the burning throb was still pulsing there, adding to the agony.

She felt so, so weak, and she couldn't form any sort of coherent thought, her mind made fuzzy by being forced through the Cruciatus curse twice in such a short period of time.

Everything in the room seemed muted, distant, blurry. She could hear voices talking, but couldn't tell what they were saying. Could see a glowing light reflected on the ceiling above her, but couldn't remember where it was coming from.

Movement appeared at the edge of her vision, but she couldn't make her brain work correctly enough to turn her head and see what was going on.

~.~.~

Draco stared at Hermione's still form on the ground, and without a doubt he knew that this would haunt his nightmares for years to come. With her wide eyes gazing blankly at the ceiling above, she looked like she could have been dead. She was paler than usual, her arm a bloody mess where his Aunt had carved into her. It terrified him.

He wanted nothing more than to run to her, to grab her and take her from this place and never come back.

Rage filled him from the inside out, and only his mother's grip on his arm stopped him from killing his aunt right then and there.

He had taken a step forward the first time Bellatrix had cast the curse, and his mother's cool hand had flown to his arm, stopping him before he could move another foot forward. In that moment, he didn't care if she knew, if she could see what he felt for Hermione because all he cared about in that moment was Hermione.

He would have leveled this house already if it would have made a difference.

Bellatrix was speaking with the Goblin that the snatchers had apprehended, flicking her wand in quick, slashing movements that reflected in shallow cuts on his face as she interrogated him.

He had no idea why she had the sword of Gryffindor in her vault, why it terrified her so badly to think that Potter and Weasley had it, or why they had a copy of it, but the Goblin seemed to be sure that this one was nothing but a fake. Satisfied, Bellatrix turned with a sneer to stare at Hermione's still form at her feet.

"Now, we call the Dark Lord."

She pushed back her sleeve without waiting for agreement from any of the others in the room, and touched her finger to her own Dark Mark. Draco's own burned in response, and he knew that his father's did as well as Lucius flinched, anger clear in his features that Bellatrix had stolen his glory.

"And I think," Bellatrix continued once her finger dropped from where it had pressed to the black ink on her skin, still staring at Hermione's prone form, "we can dispose of the mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her."

Malfoy's eyes widened and his heart doubled its beats as he wrenched out of his mother's grip. At the same time, a strangled shout sounded from the doorway.

"No!"

Weasley burst through the doors, rushing into the drawing room with Potter close on his heels. Bellatrix wheeled around, but not quickly enough as Weasley shouted the disarming curse at her.

Her wand flew in an arc towards Weasley, and Potter caught it deftly in his nimble fingers. Lucius, Draco's mother, and Greyback pulled their wands out and adopted defensive stances as they faced the two wizards before them. Bellatrix snarled wordlessly at them, and before anyone else could act, Potter had sent a stunning spell towards Lucius. Draco felt a surge of pleasure at the sickening crunch that sounded as his father collapsed against the hard ground, but didn't have a chance to think on it as his mother and Greyback began dueling with Potter and Weasley. Spells and jinxes flew left and right, bursts of varying colors lighting up the room. Draco worked to send his spells just over their heads, sending near miss after near miss as he tried to move closer to Hermione in the chaos.

He froze as his aunt's voice carried over the sounds of their dueling.

"STOP OR SHE DIES!"

Bellatrix had grabbed Hermione in the confusion, and was holding her now unconscious form tightly against her. The silver dagger flashed dangerously in the light as Bellatrix held it to Hermione's throat.

Draco couldn't hear past the roaring in his ears. He saw her lips moving and he forced himself to focus, though his eyes never left the blade. One wrong twitch from his aunt's hand and he didn't give a fuck about the consequences for himself, she was dead.

"Drop your wands," she whispered. "Drop them, or we'll see exactly how filthy her blood is!"

Potter and Weasley stayed frozen, making no move to drop their stolen wands, and Bellatrix's grip grew tighter on the knife, forcing a thin red line to appear where it rested against Hermione's skin. He took a step forward, his grip on his own wand tightening as he did.

"I said, drop them!"

The two dropped their wands, realizing that Bellatrix was deadly serious, and raising their hands in surrender.

"Good! Draco, pick them up!"

Draco moved forward slowly to grab the wands, not wanting to give his aunt any other reason to harm the witch in her arms. He moved back towards her, the wands held loosely in his hand.

"Now, Cissy, I think we ought to tie these little heroes up again, while Greyback takes care of Miss Mudblood. I am sure the Dark Lord will not begrudge you the girl, Greyback, after what you have done tonight."

Draco couldn't help the sound of anger that spilled from his mouth and he moved towards Bellatrix, but at the same time a noise of metal grinding against metal sounded from above. Every pair of eyes glanced up towards the chandelier above, now swinging perilously above them. It began to fall, and everyone dove out of the way while Draco moved towards Hermione, who had been dropped by Bellatrix as she rushed to get out of the chandelier's path, dragging her to safety.

The chandelier hit the floor with a booming crash, crystals shattering and exploding in every direction. Draco bent over Hermione, shielding her from the shards that were sailing towards them. Chaos erupted anew and in a heartbeat Potter was there, and Draco found his opportunity. He shoved Hermione towards Potter, letting go of the wands in his hand as he did so that they slipped easily into Potter's hand as he reached for them. He pushed Potter, now with the wands and Hermione, towards Weasley, hoping that Potter wouldn't think too much about why he was able to obtain the wands and get his friend back so easily.

Potter rushed back, wasting no time in stupefying Greyback as he moved across the room. The spell crashed from all three wands into his chest, his large body slamming into the ground with a thud. Draco's mother was pulling him away from the fighting as Bellatrix brandished her knife, prepared to fight wandlessly.

Potter lifted the wands in his hand again, and Draco noticed that Weasley now held Hermione tightly in his arms. He couldn't even find it within himself to be jealous, so relieved that she was with her friends and they had wands.

"Dobby!"

Draco's head whipped around in confusion at the sound of their old house-elf's name falling from his mother's lips. He saw the small elf peeking out from behind Potter and Weasley, his large green eyes round with fear as he pointed a shaking finger towards his old masters.

"You must not hurt Harry Potter." His voice shook, but he stood his ground, a fierce determination clear on his small face. Draco didn't have time to wonder how or why Dobby was there before Bellatrix was again shrieking for blood.

"Kill him, Cissy!"

There was a sharp crack, as Dobby snapped, and suddenly his mother's wand was flying across the room to be caught by Harry as well. Bellatrix was screaming indignantly, furiously, "How dare you take a witch's wand? How dare you defy your masters?"

"Dobby has no master! Dobby is a free elf, and Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!"

Malfoy couldn't help but be impressed by the confidence in the little elf, though Bellatrix clearly didn't feel the same. She let out a sound of frustration and began to move towards them.

"Ron, catch—and GO!" Potter tossed a wand to Weasley before grabbing the unconscious Goblin. Dobby grabbed onto Harry's hand and Draco saw them begin the spin that would take them far away from here.

Go, go, go.

It was a mantra, repeating over and over as Draco watched them.

Go, go, go.

Time seemed to slow as he waited for them to disappear.

Go, go, go.

He didn't even see the knife Bellatrix had thrown until the group vanished, taking it with them.

His aunt screamed wordlessly, angrily, and though he knew the Dark Lord was coming and they were all utterly fucked, he didn't care.

She was gone.

She was safe.