They exchanged a look and then, simultaneously, made a dash for the door. Wands cam out in a nanosecond, in a sweeping, trained movement.

Havoc ruled what had, some seconds ago, been a party. The guests were spread out along the walls, clearly attempting to go through them, huddling in groups and clinging to each other. Fear was evident in the faces of every single one of them.

In the middle of the hall were six cloaked and hooded people, tall, black shapes that stood back-to-back in a circle. Deatheaters.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, mind cool and concentrated. He'd been trained for this. He could – he had to had to – handle this.

He raised his wand, waiting for the Deatheaters to move. For a moment, everyone was just frozen, and the electricity in the air was almost palpable.

'Malfoy,' one Deatheater said, in a low, dry voice, 'where is he?'

No-one answered.

Oh, shit, Malfoy thought, desperately, not here, not now. This could not be happening. Not after -

Harry moved to place himself before Draco, shielding him, wand still poised in the confident hand.

'I thought they put you in Azkaban, Browne,' Harry spoke calmly.

'Ah,' the Deatheater who had spoken turned towards Harry, 'Saint Potter, himself, is it not? And no, some money exchanged hands and I got out. Just, you can say, to do this -'

He moved to the right, and 'Avada Kedavra' left his lips in the shortest time possible.

Harry saw the green flash as it left Browne's wand. It would have killed him if it hadn't been for the Quidditch-trained reflexes. Harry lunged aside, pulling Malfoy with him as he went. They fell, Draco on top of Harry, and Harry pulled Draco's head down just in time. The curse flew an inch away from the blond hair, making impact with a table and incinerating it.

If it had not been for the urgency of the situation, Harry would have been embarrassed of his currently spread out under Malfoy, holding his head down to his shoulder. As it was, he simply pushed the blond off himself and jumped to his feet.

Hermione and Viktor had moved forward. Both had the professional, grim expressions of Aurors on their faces. As they neared the Deatheaters, Hermione bent to tear her dress, making a hip-high slit that would allow her freer movements.

'We know he's here,' a Deatheater shouted. Harry, with his peripheral vision, saw Draco retreating into the shadows.

'And what would you want with him?' Hermione asked, voice oozing confidence. Harry could not help but admire his best friend. Beautiful as brilliant as she was.

'Personal matters,' came a curt reply. 'Give us to him and we will hurt no-one.'

'Really?' Viktor sneered, 'why don't I just believe you? Expelliarmus!' he barked the spell, and it joined with those of Harry and Hermione.

The Aurors' aim had been poor, and the spell missed the circle of Deatheaters, simply making them stagger as it flew by and crashed into a wall. What it did do, though, was trigger the Deatheaters.

Harry managed to deflect a Cruciatus Curse and tackled the Deatheater who had cast it, and they crashed to the floor. Harry, momentarily blinded by rage, forgot about the wand. His fist made impact with the Deatheater's head, and the hood was thrown off. He saw the high-cheek boned, tight-lipped face of Augustus Browne.

'How -' Harry said, with each word administering a blow to the Deatheaters head, 'many – times – do I - have to – put - you - in – jail!'

'Harry, goddamit, get down here!' Hermione's voice brought him back to his senses. Harry left the unconscious enemy and ran to Hermione.

She indicated two Deatheaters, who clearly were meaning to attack the cowering Patil twins. Padma screamed. Parvati clasped her had tighter over her mouth.

'No you don't,' Harry said through gritted teeth. He uttered a spell that caught one Deatheater in his head, and the second just started to turn around when Harry concussed him with his personal favourite curse.

Viktor was dealing splendidly with his own Deatheater, dodging Cruciatuses and Avada-Kedavras, sporting only a few scratches. Then he feinted left and moved right, sending an Expelliarmus. The Deatheater went flying aside and greeted a wall.

Harry looked around. Hermione was standing triumphantly over a bleeding Deatheater of her own, arms crossed.

'Viktor, Hermi, wheres the last one!' Harry yelled, looking around, 'there were six!'

Hermione looked around.

'I – I don't know -' she began.

'That would be the one who tried to take me,' said a silky, self-satisfied voice.

Harry spun on his heels to see a grinning Draco Malfoy, whose booted foot was on the chest of a cloaked figure, a pool of blood spreading from under the head of the latter.

Harry exhaled in relief. Viktor grabbed Hermione in a rib-crushing embrace.

'Now,' Harry said, looking hardly at Malfoy, 'you will answer some very serious questions.'