Wow.
I'm sorry to say that I haven't really thought about this story in a while, and I've just recently started writing again. I'm very sorry. I promise I'll finish it; when, exactly, I can't say, but I hate to leave things unfinished.
Anyway, my hugest apologies to all those people who reviewed with wonderful comments and corrections for me. I'm sorry I've been so slow to reward you.
And now, on with the show.
Chapter 13
Lucius Malfoy smirked coyly from his position lounging in an armchair towards the back of the room, swirling his cognac in his glass. The strong liquid churned with intrigue, and Lucius felt himself slowly becoming intoxicated; the feeling, however, couldn't mask his absolute surprise and elation at his son's previous actions.
The boy won't disappoint me after all, he said with a small twitch of emotion on his lips, his eyes trailing over to his wife. She sat, happily surrounded with his fellow members, drinking in the attention and enjoying playing hostess for the inebriate men. Half of them were beyond the point of remembering any of their actions during the night, and he allowed himself to ponder the way her face lit up when she laughed. She stood, slowly making her way across the room towards him. Her eyes would sometimes linger on his for a small second, and then follow over to the man in front of her, whom she would whisper to and smile as she removed the wine glass from his hand. He would laugh, and she would continue on, making sure to reach the most intoxicated ones first. She was a beautiful prize, though her mind often left him feeling disappointed. She had a biting wit and a sharp tongue, but she had one weakness; pity. For her enemies, she was able to hide it. But when it came to Draco, she couldn't hold it back.
"Don't force him to make a decision at such a young age," she would beg him, "He doesn't know what he wants yet." Though she supported Lucius' membership, she feared for her son. She knew he wasn't as strong willed; she feared what the Dark Lord would do to him if he should fail. Not that she doubted his capabilities; she simply didn't want to see him suffer.
But it seems he is able to make his own decisions.
She finally made it over to him, and sat delicately on his leg, her satin dress shining even in the dim light of the room. Smoke filtered across her face, the candles around them slowly burning out. The party was slowly drawing to a close, and the men were beginning to shuffle out in small groups.
"Enjoying yourself, darling?"
She smiled lusciously, grinning white glimmering teeth. "Not half as much as I will later," she whispered, leaning in closer to him so that no one could hear.
It was his turn to grin, looking up to her, cocking his head. "Oh, really?" He enjoyed her playing games. He could tell he was slowly sinking into the alcohol as it warmed his blood. "What exactly did you have in mind?"
"I'm sure I could think of a couple things," she said, her hair creating a wave as it fell from her shoulder. She leaned in for a kiss.
He breathed in her sent, her sweet perfume. He noticed that at least half of the room had emptied, and now it was only a few groups left in little huddles. These were the hard-core Death Eaters, and could stay until the early morning. He wasn't sure if he wanted them to stay that long; his wife was surely more enticing than any conversation he could stir up with them.
Suddenly a something fluttered in the corner of his eye in the open doorway. He snapped his eyes open, realizing what it was. He turned quickly towards the door, his wife quickly sensing his unease and begging him to tell her.
"What, Lucius?" she asked, "What's wrong?"
He rose to his feet, his wife emitting a cry as she was forced to stand as well.
He glared at her sternly.
"Stay here."
Stiffly he marched towards the door, not caring who saw him. He felt his blood boil, quickly rising in temperature.
His son was going to have some intense explaining to do.
Draco sped down the hall, not entirely feeling secure. He was sure that someone was bound to have seen them.
"Come on, you two, I don't have all day!" he spat, winding down a flight of stairs, sensing that his professor and his student were slowly growing further and further away.
"We're trying, Draco!" Hermione whined, her voice rising to a cracking pitch. "He can't help it. He can't even see."
"Then be his eyes, dammit! We don't have time for this!"
"Don't have time for what, exactly?"
Draco froze. For a second, his mind refused to work, and his body complied and remained locked as Hermione dragged Snape up along side him. Draco felt himself swallow, tentatively keeping down the bile that was rising from his stomach. Hermione turned around slowly, but Draco didn't dare look at her. She gasped in surprise and immense fear. She whimpered, "Draco…"
He dared a glace over his shoulder. He released a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. He turned slowly to meet the owner of the phantom voice, and shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to the other. "Father."
His father's gaze was calm and collected, and he stood reclining against a statue that he hadn't even noticed they'd passed. His lips curled into an ironic smirk, but Draco could tell behind his eyes, he was furious. "So this is why you took such keen interest in the young girl today, my son." He stood and started walking slowly, languidly, towards them. Draco could tell his father was slightly intoxicated, though not to the point of drunkenness. Still, his father wasn't one known to hold his liquor well.
"Father, I- I can explain-"
"Explain what, pray tell? That you sneak past my guards, damage my home, lie to my face just to save these bastards!" His father was crimson in the face and spitting now. "You were always the one to be the hero, weren't you, Draco? Couldn't settle for anything but center stage!" He continued meandering towards them, his hand in the pocket of his cloak. "To think I trusted you! That you had finally come round and changed!"
"Please, father-"
His father was becoming dramatic in his smashed rage. He closed his eyes and swayed to the side, the back of his hand to his forehead. "Oh please, father, don't punish me! I was only trying to be good!" he whined, imitating his hyperventilating son. "Don't try and pull that with me, son!" He said, whipping out his wand. In the other hand, he held a knife.
Hermione let out a strangled cry and Draco took a frightened step back. "Run," he murmured, and turned around to face her and Snape. She looked at him with a bewildered look on her face. "Run!"
Hermione quickly tugged Snape's hand, which almost sent him flying onto the floor, but he understood her gestures and started sprinting, never letting go of her hand. Draco led the way, taking a daring left and hoping that no one was in the hallways. Hermione had trouble keeping up with him, especially with Snape dragging her down. "Draco, what do we do?" she whined.
"I'm thinking, I'm thinking…" His father was quickly gaining on him, and he'd lost the train of thought that he had had before. Where exactly had he planned to take them?
His father called down the hall to a few of his Death-Eater friends, and they now had at least three armed, fully grown men on their heels. There was little time before his father would begin hexing them into next year. Even if Draco was his own son.
Well, he was screwed now. Why not just make it worse?
He spun around, nearly knocking into Snape in the process. He brandished his wand, and held it out before him. He tried to remember the spells he had just recently learned. He never imagined he would have to use them on his father.
There was no turning back now. Both Hermione and Snape were unarmed, and there was little he could do, but he had to do something.
"I'm sorry, father."
"Stupefy!"
Draco was flung off of his feet, landing on his back with a sickening thud and a sigh of pain. Hermione shrieked and fell to her knees next to him, trying to get him to wake up. "Draco, Draco!"
She grabbed hold of his cloaked and yanked, feeling overwhelmingly helpless without her wand. Draco's lay to his side, with in arm's length of her. She reached out, but cried out in anguish as Malfoy jammed her hand with his heavy, leather boot. He turned his leg so that her skin twisted and pulled under his foot, and she gritted her teeth against the pain.
He grabbed her by the neck, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she could no longer breathe. She looked up at him, her eyes glazed over from lack of oxygen, and he sneered at her. He enjoyed the feeling of superior power over her, and deciding whether or not she lived or died.
"I'll teach you to brainwash my son, you dirty mudblood!"
He released her, but reached back and swung his hand back at full force, his palm connecting with her face with a nauseating crack. She recoiled away from him with a cry of pain, blood dripping from her fingertips as she tried to cover her face.
Draco stirred next to him, and he turned his attention to his son. Snape was still trying to find Hermione. He called her name, searching the floor with his hands.
"Ms. Granger!" he hissed, unaware that Malfoy could hear him anyway. "Please… Hermione-"
His cohorts moved in, watching Malfoy take out his opponents with ease.
He looked back to them, "Leave my son. You can do as you wish with the girl."
She started, glaring at him with no intention of trying to hide her hatred for him. It was written clearly on her face.
"I'll take care of Severus."
Hermione began to protest, but the men soon swept in on her.
"No!"
She screamed as one grabbed her under the arms and dragged her to her feet, Malfoy slowly advancing on the unsuspecting Snape. He couldn't have known; couldn't have saved himself.
Malfoy unsheathed his knife, slowly tracing the edge with his delicate fingertips. The blade glittered with malice, and Malfoy snickered. "Now, Severus, you'll finally get your true reward."
Snape was still reaching, stretching out his arms and brushing his hands along the carpet, trying to get a handle on his surroundings. He was slowly getting frustrated with his lack of advancement. "Hermione, where are you? Answer me!"
"She can't answer now," Malfoy whispered as a man clasped her mouth, another tearing her clothing as one more decided on the proper curse to use. Tears coursed down her cheeks. She watched, as Snape remained helpless, Malfoy moving in with deliberate slowness as he looked at his prey. Her heart jumped, panic gripping her like nothing before.
She bit at her captive's hand with vengeance. The man cursed and released her, but only for a second. She sobbed, but managed to shriek one word before she was once again silenced.
"DRACO!"
Somewhere, far off, he thought he heard someone scream his name.
It couldn't be, though. He was having such a nice nap.
He didn't remember every planning on having a nap, but it didn't matter. He was relaxed, with the rhythmic beating of drums pounding around him.
His consciousness began to grasp him again.
Wait… drums? Where on earth did they come from?
He tried to open his eyes, but his head hurt so much. He grimaced, peering over his eyelashes and finding blurry shapes moving above him, partially blocking out that obnoxiously bright light. He felt his lip begin to throb, and finally noticed the coppery flavor of blood on his tongue. He realized the drums were really the noise of the struggle, as three men started grasping at Hermione. One slapped her, and she gasped, her face already covered in maroon blood.
"Stop-"
His voice was only a hoarse whisper. He slowly raised himself up onto his elbows, rolling to the side. He began to remember. Hermione, Snape… His father…
Hermione began to sob as another man punched her in the stomach, hard. The wind obviously knocked out of her, she tried to fall to her knees, gasping. She couldn't, however, because she was roughly pulled up again.
"No…"
He stood and pushed himself along the wall, unnoticed by anyone else. Using this to his advantage, he leapt at Hermione's unsuspecting captor.
With a cry of rage, he slammed his shoulder into the ribcage of the man holding Hermione by the arms. He gave a cry of surprise, but flew in the opposite direction, releasing her. She fell to the floor in a heap of clothes and blood, as the man sailed into the statue they had seen before. Knocking his head against the hard marble edge of the base, he was out cold.
The other two men were already on to Draco. Leaving Hermione crumpled on the ground, the cronies advanced on him, one without a wand and the other holding his menacingly out in front of him. Unable to take both of them on, Draco slowly realized he was outnumbered and backed against the wall. "Oh, Merlin-"
On the floor, Hermione had other plans. Sweeping her hair out of her face and rolling onto her stomach, she reached out desperately for Draco's wand. But she couldn't reach.
She just barely brushed it with her fingertips.
Draco felt the first blow to the chest with feverous intensity. He doubled over, his mouth gaping like a fish out of water. Oh Circe, did it hurt…
He took a blow to the head. He was definitely going to have a mark tomorrow…
Hermione had to watch out for the feet right over her, but in one deft motion, she leapt for the wand.
"STUPEFY!"
The three men fell the floor, twitching. Her anger caused her magic to go haywire, and the fact that she was using another person's wand didn't help either. She wasn't exactly sure what she had really done to them, but the fact was Malfoy's bodyguards were incapacitated.
Draco dropped to Hermione's side. "Hermione, thank you, I-"
"Draco," she looked up at him with terror, "Your father… Snape."
Snape stumbled over his own cloak and feet, still trying to figure out where he was. God, he was so helpless.
He despised it. He abhorred feeling so alone, depending on other people. He needed to protect her, but how could he do that if he couldn't even see her?
His very heart and soul reached out for her, trying to find her. She was absolutely nowhere within arms reach. He could feel the floor vibrating with a struggle, but had no way of seeing where it was taking place or what was happening. He felt frustrated, lost, and, at the moment, very pissed off.
Suddenly, he felt a force pull him up by his cloak and yank him to his feet, and he stood, trying to regain his balance. The person refused to release him, though, and he grabbed the wrist that held him.
He regretted this however; he felt a hard thrust connect with his torso, and a huge burst of pain erupt through his shoulder. He fell to his knees, feeling himself slowly losing consciousness, as he tried to remember how to breathe. He felt the sky fall, and as he reached towards his wound, he felt his hands become slick and wet with, he supposed, his own blood.
He felt his attacker pull back, and he thought they would be leaving him alone.
He was pushed back against a wall as the pain now exploded in his stomach. His very intestines screamed in agony. Oh, God, he'd never experienced such intense pain from a wound before…
He held on to one thought only as he slipped from the world.
It felt like a knife.
There you go. I'm sorry that took so long to write. I hope you'll all forgive me.
This hasn't been beta-ed, and I wanted to post as soon as possible, so there are probably a lot of errors. I'm sorry.
I'm also sorry if you've noticed a change in my writing style. I'm not sure if there even has been a change, but this story has been at least two years in the making, and I wouldn't be surprised if I've changed some. Sorry.
Anyway, if you're still out there, R&R.