BROKEN
Author: Harikari (Formerly Known as Nox2)
Notes: That's all folks! This is the end, the big finish, the last...well, you get the idea. This last chapter is sort of long, and didn't come out exactly like I thought it would - which is odd, because I based the whole fic around the idea for it. Go figure. I'd like to thank everyone who took the time to read and review "Broken"! I'm very grateful. I love reading feedback. I hope you all enjoyed reading, and I hope I don't disappoint with the ending! Thanks again, everyone! I'll see ya next fic. : )
Part Twelve:
Ron ceased trying to get back the wands from Hermione. He straightened from his crouch and moved slowly away from the girl, his eyes not leaving the figure of John.
The boy was wearing an array of muggle things. Jeans, a t-shirt, cross trainers with the laces untied...All of these rather normal clothes, however, were badly stained with mud, and grass, and rust-colored splotches that looked suspiciously like dried blood.
"What's the matter?" Macnair's voice was low and tinged with malice. He sounded tired, despite the wicked smirk on his face and the excited gleam in his eyes. "Surprised?"
Ron knew his mouth was hanging open. How could he and the others have been so dim?
Macnair. Of course.
"It's not terribly unbelievable that you two didn't figure it out," said John in a nonchalant manner - as if he weren't an utter psycho with his prey within reach. "I mean last time," he continued, "you gave that Williams git credit for all my good murder attempts."
He turned his attention to Hermione, who was still in the same spot, being loosely held in place by a stunned-looking Draco. "Herm," he said, as if he'd been the Gryffindor girl's friend for years, and they were in the middle of a completely normal situation. "Who did they think it was this time?" He shot a look at Ron. "I know they had a suspect."
"Professor Snape," said Hermione, and all eyes turned to her. Draco seemed to realize what he was doing and finally let her go; backed up until he was shoulder to shoulder with Ron. "They thought it was Professor Snape. I heard them talking by Hagrid's hut just before..." She faltered.
Macnair, who didn't seem to notice this, barked out a laugh. "Snape? Right."
And suddenly, the sound of Macnair's taunting voice and of Draco's harsh breathing beside him seemed to fade into the background. Ron's earlier thoughts on Hermione's unusual actions, on her notable attendance of Creatures class during the spider attack, came back to him in a surprising, confusing wave.
And then everything just...clicked.
The Imperius Curse. Hermione was under the Imperius Curse, and Macnair had put her under it. There was no doubt in the redhead's mind that the boy was capable of doing this. After all, he had used one unforgivable curse on Ron two years before - had almost killed him with another. It certainly explained everything. Hermione's zombie-like manner, her failure to help her classmates during the spider attack (an attack that must've been brought about by Macnair himself), her kidnapping he and Draco... Even that first day of classes when Ron had seen the girl walking beside the lake with that Viktor look alike - with Macnair. It made sense, and Ron was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. He hadn't even noticed that one of his best friends was in trouble.
"Bastard!" shouted Ron, abruptly and loudly. Macnair flinched and turned to him with narrowed eyes. "You've cursed her!"
"Well, yes." Macnair said this as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world. "It was really easy. She was so upset about not having friends, and about school. You know, some tosh about not being Head Girl." He grinned so that his teeth were showing. "Besides, what better way to get back at the two imbeciles who forced me into hiding for two years than through one of their friends?"
The guilt the redhead was feeling over not helping his friend swelled considerably. Macnair had used Hermione to get to him, and the only reason she'd been so vulnerable to the wizard was because of him. God.
"So," said Draco, "this time it's personal?"
The grin faded from Macnair's face. "Exactly."
"No rogue mission in order to please Voldemort?" asked the blonde. "No trying to get at Harry through Ron?"
"Voldemort!" growled Macnair. "That fool!"
Ron's eyes bugged at this. John Macnair was calling his Dark Lord a fool?
"Dumbledore never reported the incident during Winter Break. So you weren't hiding from Aurors or the Ministry for two years," Draco theorized. Ron wasn't sure what the blonde was trying to do and - considering Macnair's rapidly reddening face - was even less sure it was a good idea. "You were hiding from Voldemort, weren't you? He hadn't wanted you to go after Ron in our fifth year, and you got caught, and-"
"Shut up!" demanded Macnair. His eyes were blazing. "Voldemort's an idiot. I got out of trouble before the Ministry or Dumbledore could question me, didn't I? I managed to slip through the no apparation barriers when the so-called Dark Lord wouldn't have been able to! And still, he tries to go after me. As if I'd somehow get caught and let it slip about the goddamn station attack-"
"That was Voldemort, then?" asked Ron, genuinely interested in what was unraveling. He wondered how long they could keep Macnair talking. Maybe they could distract him enough that-
"Who cares about his plan!" bellowed Macnair. "Over two years of planning for something as stupid as a station attack! What good was that?" He waved his wand around frantically and began to pace. "I was eleven when I managed the unforgivable curses. Eleven!" He continued pacing, his teeth clenching, and Ron shuddered. He certainly remembered that. "I'll soon be greater and more powerful than Voldemort ever was - ever will be!" He stopped, breathing hard, his fist like a band of iron around his wand. "But first," he continued, seemingly coming back to himself. "First I'll have my revenge."
He turned to the two seventh years with a wicked smile. Ron realized, his stomach twisting, that they were out of time.
"Hermione," said Macnair, quite casually. "Kill your friends."
oooooooooo
Draco could feel his heart beating double-time in his chest. He could feel the warmth that was Ron's arm pressed against his own. He watched with strange detachment as Hermione spun on her heels to face them, raised her wand, looked him in the eye...
"No."
It happened so quickly that the blonde was left blinking incoherently. Hermione didn't move her body. She just lifted her arm and, without even taking a split second to turn and look at Macnair, yelled out a spell. Purple sparks flew from the girl's wand and right at the wizard's chest, knocking him back into a tree. He let out a surprised yelp when his back connected with the unyielding bark; slid down the trunk to land in a heap at its foot.
"How? Wha-" he sputtered, looking dazed. He shook his head and looked up at the Gryffindor girl with watery eyes. "How?"
"Throughout history there have been reported instances in which a witch or wizard was able to break through the control of the Imperius Curse. Harry Potter, for example, was able to fight its effects three years ago during Defense Against the Dark Arts class." The girl sounded as if she were quoting a textbook. Her face was ghost-pale and her whole body was shaking horribly, but she still had her wand pointed squarely at Macnair. "Plus," she said smartly, "you're magic is rather weak."
Macnair exploded at this. There was no other word for it. He growled and pushed himself to his feet, his wand almost seeming to appear out of thin air to point at the three seventh years. He hadn't let it drop when he'd hit the tree. "Stupefy!" he yelled, and a bolt of red light came wizzing out of the wand, straight at Hermione's chest. The Gryffindor girl let out a squeal of dispair when it hit, before falling promptly to the ground, unconscious.
"Herm!" And Ron was immediately at his friend's side. He got his arms around her shoulders, his fingers tangling briefly in her hair, and lifted her to a sitting position.
"Enough!" shouted Macnair. "Enough of this shit!" He aimed his wand so it was pointing at Ron. Draco moved to block the redhead but -
"Avada Ke-"
"Stupefy!"
The unexpected yell caused Macnair to look up in surprise a split second before finishing the words of the killing curse. He yelped and just barely dodged the sparks that had come wizzing at his head.
"YOU!" Macnair's eyes were wide to the point that he looked insane. He was looking beyond the blonde Slytherin, to the source of the life-saving spell.
Surprised and still feeling as if he were disconnected from things - as if everything were happening in a terrible sort of slow motion - Draco spun around.
Standing behind him, broom in one hand and wand in the other, was Harry Potter. "Well," panted Harry, not taking his eyes off of Macnair - his glasses were slipping down his nose and sweat beaded his brow. "I've figured out that it wasn't Snape."
Ron didn't laugh, Draco didn't move, and John Macnair turned and ran.
oooooooooo
"Stop him!" But it was useless. Harry shot a series of disarming and stunning spells in the boy's direction, but Macnair was running so quickly and crookedly towards the Hogsmeade train station that every single one missed him. The Gryffindor sprinted forward, as if to go after the bastard, but stopped abruptly next to Hermione. He shot a regretful look in the direction of the station before kneeling.
"Is she alright?" he asked. Ron shrugged and shifted a little, casting a worried glance over his shoulder at Draco. The blonde was glaring at the quickly fading form of Macnair, his arms hanging loosely at his sides and his fingers twitching. And then, suddenly, even as the redhead watched him, he strode over to the trio on the ground and knelt himself.
"I'm going after him," he said, and he sounded so matter-of-fact about it that Ron didn't bother with arguing. He watched as Draco gently - if quickly - dug in Hermione's pocket for his confiscated wand. Once he'd retrieved it he stood and turned to leave.
"Take her," said Ron, and Harry looked a little shocked but wrapped his arms around Hermione's shoulders anyway. "Stay with her," he ordered. He grabbed his own wand from the Gryffindor girl's pocket before standing himself. He saw that Draco, who had heard him, was already looking at him and shaking his head defiantly.
"No, Ron. You stay here. I don't have time to argue with you. Just...stay."
"Don't be ridiculous," he spat. "I'm going with you."
A pause. And then, "Ron he almost killed you!" Draco was breathing hard, his whole body tense and his eyes - light by nature - looking unusually dark.
"Twice," agreed Ron, standing his ground. "Which is why I'm most definitely going with you." The blonde opened his mouth, as if to argue further, but Ron plowed on. "I deserve to get that bastard, Draco."
The Slytherin didn't argue with that.
From behind him Harry shifted Hermione in his arms and looked up nervously at the two other seventh years. "Maybe I should-" he began, and Ron knew exactly what Harry was going to say. The boy expected to be a part of shit like this. He was almost always a part of it, but...
Both the redhead and the blonde cut him off with a harsh, "No."
"Somebody has to stay with Herm," pointed out Ron. "Did Ginny and Harvey...Is help coming?" he asked.
Harry nodded. "Snape's gone to get Dumbledore and the others. I just, uh, took it upon myself to start searching for you guys a little sooner."
Took it upon himself? That just meant that the Gryffindor had defied Snape's orders and had left to look for them before he was supposed to. Ron turned to gesture in the direction of the station. "Okay, so when the help shows up you can go after us."
Harry didn't look too pleased by this. "But I can-"
"John Macnair is..." Ron stopped; glanced at Draco before turning back to his friend. "I deserve him, Harry."
Harry looked even less pleased at that - like he wasn't quite sure what Ron meant by it and didn't like the implications - but nodded. "As long as you know what you're doing." He looked worriedly at his friend, then at the Slytherin. "As long as you know...where your going."
Draco got an odd, wistful sort of look on his face at this. "To play hero," he said, before spinning around and hurrying off in the direction of the Hogsmeade train station.
Ron followed him.
oooooooooo
"You do realize that he wants us to go after him?" Draco was ahead of him, his whole body tense with anger and his head turning, back in forth, in all directions - as if he expected Macnair to jump out from behind a boulder or a bush at any moment. "He'll be fucking waiting for us there. You saw him earlier. If he'd really wanted to get away he could've just de-apparated."
"I know," said Ron, who was concentrating on battling through the rough terrain that led to the Hogsmead station. He was only partly listening to Draco's rant. His mind kept flashing back to Hermione - her glazed eyes, her wierd moods. How had he not known what was going on? How could he have possibly believed - for even a second - that she was purposely involved in all those terrible things? In the attack on King's Cross?
The whole issue with Harry finding out about the events of fifth year, and about his relationship with Draco had rather quickly and unexpectedly turned into another series of Unfortunate Events. He hadn't had the time to theorize about whether or not Hermione had been acting normally, or to wonder if maybe John Macnair - someone he had hoped to never see again - could be involved in the it-could-have-been-a-fluke spider attack on Hagrid's class. Heck, the redhead hadn't even been sure that someone was trying to kill him again until that pumpkin explosion just a few hours before.
/Right. But that's no excuse./ The Gryffindor couldn't ignore the facts that he'd had enough time to theorize about Snape; had even had time to curse him.
"...don't really know what to expect," Draco was saying. He stopped to glance back at Ron and catch his breath. "Just...be careful. I don't fancy the idea of picking itty bitty pieces of you up off the floor."
Ron grinned toothily. "Ah, Draco," he crooned. "I love you, too." He ignored the blonde's confused look and gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder.
oooooooooo
The train station seemed deserted.
Draco knew that at the best of times Hogsmeade station wasn't busy; it was very small, and remote, and its main purpose was to be there for the Hogwarts Express every school year. But now, it being so late, and Halloween, and with the recent station scare...Well, it was quiet and dark to the point of being eerie.
"Now," hissed Ron, who was at his side. "If we're very quiet, I'll bet we can-"
"I WONDER WHERE MACNAIR IS?" boomed Draco, quite suddenly. Ron turned around to look at him, his eyes wide and round as saucers. "HE'S SUCH A COWARDLY LITTLE SHITE, I'LL BET HE'S NOT EVEN-"
There was a familiar loud crack and Macnair appeared a few feet in front of them, just a few inches away from one of the several benches that sat facing the train tracks. His face was a color of red that even the Weasley's would have to fight to achieve.
"Well, yes," admitted Ron. "That works, too."
Draco moved first. Before Macnair could compose himself he pointed his wand and yelled, "Expelliarmus!" The spell flew towards Macnair, almost too quick to see. But, to the Slytherin's immense surprise and horror the spell simply...bounced off of the boy. There was no other word for it.
"He cast himself a shield," muttered Ron.
Draco had just enough time to process the words and realize they were correct before Macnair shouted and he felt himself lock up. His legs and arms were suddenly just stuck, he couldn't blink, couldn't move his mouth to speak, and...Crap. He'd been petrified.
He fell to the ground with an undignified thunk.
The blonde could see Ron's face hovering high above him, stunned. Then, from beyond his field of vision, came Macnair's voice.
"Well, well. Just me and you again, huh Ron? I've got some pleasant memories from our time in the forest together but..." He trailed off, and Draco could hear it as he slowly, slowly stepped closer. And then he too was just above the Slytherin, smiling viscously and face to face with Ron. He leaned in close to the shocked-looking Gryffindor, and for a moment it looked as if the bastard was going to kiss Ron.
From his helpless position on the ground the blonde looked on. /Don't fucking touch him. Don't fucking touch him. Don'tfuckingtouchhim. Donfuckint-/
Macnair bypassed Ron's lips and leaned in so his mouth was next to the redhead's ear. "What say we skip the torture this time and go straight to the killing you?"
For a helpless moment Draco wished that he could at least close his eyes. That asshole, that utter fuck was going to make him watch as Ron...as the redhead died.
Macnair leaned back and the Gryffindor seemed to snap. He blinked and a look of rage swept across his face. In a sudden, surprising move he pushed at the bastard's shoulders; he stumbled back. Ron was aiming his wand before John had even regained his balance.
"Idiot," laughed Macnair. "That's not going to do anything. Haven't you been paying attention? No spells can work against-"
BAM. In the moment that Macnair had stopped to talk Ron had lunged forward and punched him, right on the chin. The boy's head flew back helplessly, his wand slipped from his grip and he fell, dazed, to the ground.
He landed right next to Draco.
"Ahhhh!" yelled Macnair, his anger finally so great he had lost the ability to even speak. He pushed himself up off the ground and the fight was on.
oooooooooo
Ron had some experience when it came to physical fighting. Not much - he was far from being great at it - but he did have five older brothers he'd dealt with all his life.
He didn't know what he was doing, really. Didn't know if it was a good idea. But it was his only chance - everybody's only chance. If Macnair couldn't be beat by magic this time, well...This was the other option. Because there was no way he was going to let Macnair get away with what he'd done to him and his friends; no way he was going to let Macnair win.
Because if Macnair won...Well, it was very likely that he'd become as big a nuisance as Voldemort. Too likely.
A balled up fist caught his gut and Ron cried out. Another fist caught the side of his head - before he could fall a pair of strong hands were wrapped around his neck, cutting off his air. The Gryffindor gasped and pulled fruitlessly at the hands. Okay, so he'd found the flaw in his plan - he wasn't a murderous psycho with the urge to kill. Macnair, on the other hand...
Ron's vision seemed to narrow until he could only see John in front of him; a red face, teeth clenched tightly, muscles twitching. Shit. Ron couldn't breath anymore. Couldn't think.
"You really believed you could beat me with such a stupid trick?" Macnair growled, punctuating each word with a harsh shake. "You really think, after I outsmarted Voldemort, after I got through Dumbledore's barriers, after all I've done that you alone could beat me?" Ron's world was rapidly turning black. He thought vaguely that this must be what dying felt like, and then...
"You're mistaken, Mr. Macnair," came a voice, strong and confident and wise. And as Macnair's grip loosened slightly Ron realized that it was Dumbledore. "Ron is not alone."
And then the hands had left his neck. Ron fell bonelessly to the floor. He managed to look up and saw everyone - Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Harvey, even Snape - standing just behind the Headmaster, their wands in their hands. "Now, Mr. Macnair, don't do anything rash," Dumbledore continued.
But it was useless. Macnair lunged for his fallen wand; had it in his grip before the redheaded Gryffindor could blink. Trying not to think too deeply about it - spells won't work on him, he has that shield - Ron lifted his own wand, which he'd miraculously managed not to drop during the fight, and aimed.
"Ava-" But the boy was cut off almost before he'd started.
"Expelliarmus!" yelled Ron, and at the same exact moment heard several different voices echo his spell, or shout one of their own.
"Incarcerous!"
"Petrificus Totalus!"
"Stupefy!"
Macnair dropped his wand, let out a blood-curdling cry, and fell. When the spells were done he lay on the ground, his sightless eyes on the night sky above, drool slipping from his mouth, blood dripping from his ears, and his fingers twitching frantically.
oooooooooo
Draco stood near the back of Dumbledore's office, carefully not listening as Harry went on and on about what had happened. The blonde was more preoccupied with the lingering stiffness in his limbs and, of course, with the angry dark bruising around Ron's neck. It was strange. He should've been concerned about the fact that Snape and Dumbledore knew he'd told the Boy Who Lived everything about fifth year, and about being in the Order. He should've been a little relieved that Macnair was no longer a threat - and damn hadn't that bastard looked bad when he'd finally come out of the body bind and had sat up to see? Those are the things he should've been thinking about.
But he wasn't.
"Professor Snape?" Dumbledore cut in to Harry's tale and the Slytherin forced himself to pay attention. "Why in the world would you think Professor Snape-"
"Well, he did practically kill Ron and Draco when he caught them together." Harry said, squirming a little.
"I'm sure he was merely concerned that Mr. Malfoy was in danger of being found out," replied the Headmaster. The man was sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair and looking rather unconcerned, considering everything that had just happened. Fawkes was asleep on his perch, and kept listing slightly to the left.
"He was also the one to suggest the Halloween dance," put in Harvey, from his place next to Ginny. When everyone turned to look at him he flinched noticeably, then shrugged. "I mean, Professor Snape pulling for a dance for the students - that was a little odd, wasn't it? It could've been part of his plan to-"
Snape, who had been standing rigidly at Dumbledore's side, glared at the Ravenclaw through parted curtains of dark, greasy hair and spoke up. "The Headmaster and I have already explained to you all," he said, "that the dance was an attempt to bring into the open the culprit-"
"Brilliant," piped in Ginny, who had a supporting arm around a rather haggard looking Hermione. "Was it your plan to have Hermione put under the Imperius curse and kidnap Ron and Draco so that John Macnair could kill them all? Because if it was, I tell you, it worked out gre-"
"Miss Weasley!" boomed Dumbledore, suddenly. Everyone got quiet. The old man calmly settled back in his chair and popped a lemon drop into his mouth. "As I said before, Professor Snape and I detected a disturbance in the barriers around the school the very first day of classes. Of course, it wasn't a very big disturbance - young Mr. Macnair is quite talented - but we both decided to keep an eye out for anything unusual. We obviously noticed some particular students lurking about, or acting rather odd." He pointedly eyed the Trio and Draco. "And then there was that incident with the spiders. We thought it might be wise to have a social event to draw out whoever it was who had disturbed the barriers. We had reason to believe that it might be John Macnair again, maybe working with Voldemort, considering how it all ended two years ago. We were afraid he might be after Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy once again. So, Professor Snape and I took shifts - trading between being in my office and being at the dance. However, we had no solid evidence that something was going on around the school. You see, the students that should have come to me as soon as they had any suspicion," he stopped to look at freaking all of them, "did not."
"Well," put in Harry, defensively. "We weren't sure ourselves until-"
But Dumbledore ignored him. "So I'm afraid that Professor Snape and I rather carelessly changed shifts, leaving certain students free to wander off into more dangerous situations." This last proclamation was met with silence. Harry shuffled his feet, and Ron looked at the floor.
But Draco was tired of this. Okay. So he and Harry should've told Dumbledore as soon as they'd heard that mysterious someone listening to them in the hallway. And maybe he and Ron should've said something to Dumbledore about Ginny letting it slip to Harry about fifth year. But there was no way any of them could've known, even after that spider thing, that they were in danger. There hadn't been any real proof until the pumpkin had exploded and Harvey had seen the cloaked figure watching them. And as for Ginny and Harvey, they hadn't even known anything remotely unusual was going on until they'd rescued he and Ron from the stupid pumpkin. And they had gone to tell Dumbledore right away. And Hermione...Well, Hermione certainly couldn't have told the Headmaster something was wrong.
Dumbledore was trying to put this mess off on them. That was fucking ridiculous. Draco opened his mouth to say so when -
"I think a great deal of us made mistakes," said Dumbledore. Snape glowered from beside him. "We apologize, and I'm sure everyone else apologizes. Let's hope this doesn't happen again."
/Again/ And then, suddenly, Draco did have something to say. "Why did you make us keep Macnair a secret in the first place?"
Harry turned to look at him with wide eyes. Ron did the same. As if questioning Dumbledork was a mortal sin or something. Whatever. He wanted to know.
Dumbledore nodded and sat up straighter. "For you, Draco. If what had happened in your fifth year had gotten out - if say your father or Voldemort had found out that you had helped a member of the Weasley family - that would have been bad news for you. Am I right?" Reluctantly, the Slytherin nodded. "Also," admitted the Headmaster, "there was the matter of you being useful." The old man leaned forward, his eyes twinkling. "Even if Mr. Macnair hadn't disappeared two years ago I would've tried my hardest to keep what had happened a secret, Draco. Because of your usefulness."
"Because of the Order," said Draco, finally realizing. "As soon as you...As soon as I helped out Ron you thought I might be willing to join the Order." There were a few gasps around the room - Hermione, Ginny, and Harvey. And Draco realized that they hadn't known anything about him being a member of the Order. Well, Hermione might've - but she wouldn't remember, having been cursed at the time she'd heard about it.
"That's right," agreed Dumbledore, turning away from Draco so he could face the room at large. "And speaking of the Order, I'd like to talk to you all..."
oooooooooo
"I'm hungry," announced Harry, who came hopping down the spiral staircase last. There was a click and the stairs began to disappear. The stone gargoyle jumped back into its original place as guardian of the entrance to Dumbledore's office and glared morosely at the Boy Who Lived. "Is anyone else hungry?"
"I'm starving," said Hermione, from her place next to Ginny. And she was. She wondered when she'd eaten last. Her memory of the last two months was almost non-existent. She remembered little things. Shifting through mud for flobberworms, sitting in the library doing homework, Ron telling her that he was worried about Harry...Her last really clear memory was of her first day of seventh year. She'd been rather upset, she remembered. Everything had seemed...wrong, somehow. She remembered walking alone, by the lake, wondering if Viktor would reply to her letters soon. Then there was a startlingly familiar looking, friendly young boy - Macnair, obviously. Then nothing. "But I'm supposed to see Madam Pomfrey first."
"Come on, Herm," pleaded Ron, coming to stand next to her. "It's almost sunrise, anyway. Let's all go eat something and get some rest. Then I'll go with you to see Pomfrey." He frowned and rubbed absently at the bruises on his neck.
"Okay," agreed Hermione. She paused to look down at herself - she'd taken off her cloak and was dressed only in the costume she'd worn to the dance. She strained her neck to see and - yes, there they were. Her wings were still hovering sadly at her back, torn and bent. She pulled away from Ginny's support. "You all go ahead," she said. "I'm just going to get rid of these things."
Harry had - in his excitement - already trotted away towards the kitchens, secure in the knowledge that his friends would all follow. Ginny and Harvey nodded at Hermione and turned the corner to go after him.
With a deep sigh Hermione knelt - in order to aim better - and pulled out her wand. "Finite," she muttered, and the wings fell to the floor with a soft plop. She picked them up and, still kneeling, studied them with a frown. What was she supposed to do with them now? She didn't want to carry-
"You're sure you okay?"
Startled, Hermione looked up to see Draco and Ron leaning against the stone wall. Draco's hand had a hold of Ron's arm - had, in fact, started to caress said arm. "Yeah, I'm okay." Ron shot a nervous look at Hermione and the girl quickly went back to studying her wings - only to look up again a second later; this time through her eyelashes.
Hermione understood now that Draco had saved Ron's life two years ago. And now he'd been through the second Macnair disaster with the redhead but...She didn't understand why. She couldn't quite comprehend the blonde Slytherin being a good guy. She didn't get why Draco had been chosen as the first Order member (first, because now she, Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Harvey were all official members). And now this. What was this?
"Are you okay?" Ron asked, his voice a little shaky.
Draco smiled his smart-ass smile. "Yeah," he said, and then he leaned down and kissed the redhead, briefly, on the lips.
Had Hermione been eating or drinking anything just then, she would've choked. Instead, her eyes nearly bugged out of her head and she crushed the translucent wings in her hands to an even more unrecognizable state.
Ron squeaked. "Draco!" he shouted. From under her eyelashes Hermione saw the Gryffindor shoot another nervous look her way. And then, seemingly convinced she hadn't seen anything, he coughed. "Malfoy, you prat, I don't care if you're okay or not!" Then, in a softer voice. "So, uh, we're finally okay?"
The blonde started laughing. He grabbed Ron's hips and pulled him close, so that their chests were nearly touching. "Dork," he said affectionately, before leaning down and devouring a protesting Ron's mouth. It was rather heated and...yes, that was tongue. And Draco's hands were moving very slowly, downwards, towards Ron's...
/Well/ Hermione did a very careful vanishing spell. The wings in her hands disappeared, and she made a show of patting at her dress. She very obviously was not looking at Malfoy's hand pawing at her best friend's ass, or listening to Ron's little moans, or...God.
So that's why Draco had helped Ron out. That's the thing that had happened to Ron in his fifth year that had changed him. He was...they were...Oh. Well, at least it made some sense now. Hermione wasn't happy about it - she had rather hoped she and Ron would end up together. But at least Ron was - another moan - happy. And her and Viktor had been getting pretty serious, before the whole Imperius thing. So maybe it was all - a suggestive slurping sound - for the best.
"What's taking you so long? Er..Uck."
/Oh thank God./
It was Harry. Hermione stood with a too-bright smile on her face. "Nothing, nothing." Ron was leaning with his back against Draco's chest - the blonde's arms were wrapped around his waist and the Slytherin's smile was akin to that of a cat who'd gotten his cream. Well, you know, if cat's smiled. Hermione sighed and wondered if her brain had been rattled by the Unforgivable that had been cast on her.
Ron looked, back and forth, between she and Harry. His look clearly said "I am so not gay. Don't you dare say I'm gay. You didn't see anything gay, Herm. Really."
"Let's go," she said, and waved her hands in a come on gesture. "To the friendship dinner." Harry nodded at her.
Ron pulled away from Draco and began walking down the corridor. Hermione followed. Harry turned and had sprinted to her side when he seemed to realize something. He stopped and turned back.
Draco was still lounging against the wall, looking unsure.
"Well," said Harry, "Mal...Uh, Draco. Are you coming or not?"
"Oh," said Draco, as if he'd known he was welcome all along. "Yeah, sure." He pushed away from the wall and hurried to Ron's side. The two disappeared around the corner.
Hermione smiled at Harry and linked her arm with his. "You okay?" he asked, giving her a searching look.
"Yeah," she answered. And she was. Her friends had saved her, and that Macnair jerk was off to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries for the rest of his life. The Trio was back together again. Even though, now, they weren't technically a trio. More like a sextet with Draco, Ginny, and Harvey added into the equation.
But that just made it that much more easy to, one day, go up against Voldemort. It made them stronger, and it made Hermione more optimistic.
Life was back to being how it was supposed to be. Things no longer seemed...broken.
And Hermione Granger was happy.