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Hermione pounded on the door, her knuckles quickly reddening, attempting in vain to slow her rapidly beating heart.
Please be here… she thought desperately. Snape was her last hope— Draco's only hope.
She heard the iron latch grate against the other side of the door before it swung open, the professor on the other side clearly agitated with her insistence.
"What is the meaning of—" Snape demanded, his brow furrowed in annoyance. He paused mid-sentence at the sight of her. "Miss Granger—"
"I need your help—" she interrupted between breaths; she'd practically sprinted to Snape's dungeon office from Gryffindor Tower. "With Draco, he— he needs your help. Now."
Snape grasped the doorframe, his gaze sweeping left then right, as if to ensure they had not been overheard.
"Quickly," he said impatiently, stepping aside to allow her entry.
Hermione hurried inside and he closed the door behind her.
"It seems sense has struck at last," Snape said, his dark eyes scrutinizing her atop his long hooked nose.
"Not that it matters, but I'm not sure what makes sense any more," she replied, more to herself than to Snape. "I'm coming to you now because… because Dumbledore insists he trusts you…"
Even though it seems he knows about your Unbreakable Vow… even after knowing all along you had a hand in the death of Harry's mum and dad…
Before he'd left with Dumbledore earlier that afternoon, Harry had explained everything; what he'd learned about Snape and his parents from Trelawney, that he'd argued with the Headmaster, that Dumbledore continued to be firm in his trust of Snape…
"Explain. Immediately," Snape commanded, his sharp tone leaving no room for argument.
So Hermione explained, the fear constricting her chest growing with each passing minute.
As quickly as she could, she started with the day she, Harry, and Ron had spied on Malfoy at Borgin and Burke's— and the object of his interest, the Vanishing Cabinet. She explained how, since Christmas, she'd been helping Malfoy repair the cabinet's twin in the Room of Requirement, which was also the Room of Hidden Things; she described what she believed Draco was trying to accomplish, and why, and for whom, even though she realized Snape had already figured the why and for whom; she described the answers Dumbledore himself had knowingly given her in the form of the book, which she had freely given Draco. At last she came to describe Ginny and Neville's current post outside the Room of Requirement, and Ron and Luna's mission with McGonagall.
Somehow, through it all, she managed to successfully evade any detail that might've implicated Theo, any implication of their strange and tentative friendship, and certainly all mention of the unanticipated connection, the bond she could no longer deny— that was there, clear as day between the lines— that had sparked between her and Draco… the bond that continued to burn unabated.
When Hermione finished, Snape's dark gaze bore into hers, and she thought she could feel the slow but purposeful power of his Legilimency in her mind, like tendrils of fog rolling unencumbered across a wide grassy field.
She thought she sensed anger, frustration, even fear, but she couldn't be sure if these feelings were Snape's or her own. There was no hint of surprise, however, and more shocking than all that, she was sure she sensed a strange sort of sympathy. Hermione looked away, unable to bear it, and all at once, the link was gone.
Snape spoke at last.
"Does Potter—"
"No," she answered. "He suspects, but I— I didn't tell him anything."
"And Mister Nott?"
"What about him?" Hermione asked, but she could tell Snape saw right through her lie.
"This is not the time to be obtuse, Miss Granger. I will ask only once. Where is he?"
"I don't know," she replied flatly, hoping to hide her surprise at the question.
Why does Snape want to know where Theo is?
"You—don't—know?" Snape asked, each word stressed equally.
"No, I— I can't find him," she admitted quietly, looking away. "It's like he's disappeared."
Snape was silent for a moment, as if considering something.
"I believe I may know Mister Nott's current whereabouts. Perhaps it's for the best he is outside the castle walls… but the question remains, Miss Granger, the answer to which I cannot fathom…"
Hermione waited in silence, her mind frantic. Outside the castle walls? Why is he wasting time? Her eyes flicked to the door and back again.
"Why did you decide to help Draco? And why do you insist on helping him, even now? I do hope your decision was not out of pity, nor some silly desire to save him… or perhaps your Gryffindor pride and your time with Potter makes you think you can outsmart the Dark Lord?"
"I could ask you the same question," she replied, crossing her arms firmly over her chest. "I know you made an Unbreakable Vow."
If he was surprised at this information, his expression showed no sign of it.
"So you understand I must act quickly," Snape replied, and had Hermione not been looking, she would've missed the subtle twitch of his hand by his side.
She didn't hesitate.
"Protego!" She exclaimed just before the flash of Snape's silent spell reached her. The power of her shielding charm rebounded his spell and knocked him backwards, giving her just enough time to run from the room.
Another flash of light from Snape's wand whizzed past her ear as she sprinted away, down the damp corridor; she pointed her wand over her shoulder, focusing her thoughts as best she could on a slew of protection charms. She had to get away, but she couldn't stun Snape; she had to be sure the power of the Unbreakable Vow he'd made could get to Draco too.
Her feet pounding on the stone floor, Snape's hurried footsteps faded away. Hermione rounded a corner and promptly slammed into a group of Slytherin students descending the stairwell toward the dungeons; she was knocked backwards as she crashed into Pansy Parkinson.
"Watch where you're going Mudblood!" Pansy shrieked as the harried Slytherin struggled to pick herself up from the floor.
Hermione had somehow managed to remain upright, and she tried to ignore the pain in her shoulder from the impact as she motioned to maneuver around the group, but Marcus Flint had been sure to center himself on the stairwell to block her path. Blaise Zabini and Astoria Greengrass flanked either side of him; they all looked down at her scathingly.
"Not so fast, Mudblood," Marcus Flint drawled, drawing himself up and puffing out his chest.
Flipendo.
There was a deafening bang and a cacophony of screams as all three Slytherins were knocked backwards by Hermione's silent spell. Without looking back, she hurried up the stairwell, past the commotion she'd created.
She'd interpreted the Slytherins' leisurely pace toward their dorm as a sign that the fighting hadn't started yet, but as she sprinted into the entrance hall— chaotic with the commanding shouts of Aurors and the scrambling of students being ushered back to their respective dormitories— it was clear she had been wrong.
I hope I'm not too late…
With all the energy and agility she could gather, Hermione shoved past the throng of Aurors, students, and professors toward the seventh floor, toward Draco. No one tried to stop her.
She rushed past the bathroom that had not so long ago been soaked in Draco's blood, past the storeroom she and Theo had brewed Felix Felicis.
Hermione rounded another corner and bounded up another set of stairs only to hurtle headfirst into a cloud of opaque blackness resonant with the gut-wrenching sound of a battle already in motion.
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Seems not every Weasley is useless, Draco mused, feeling oddly numb. Bloody darkness powder works too well.
He fumbled through the cloud of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, doing his utmost to dodge each sudden and blinding flash from the spell of an Auror, Death Eater, professor, or— he assumed— student, determined to get to the Astronomy Tower, and quickly; Draco knew the sooner it was all over, the fewer lives would be in danger, Hermione's most of all.
"MALFOY—!" Greyback's gravelly shout of rage resounded through the chaos.
Draco had been sure to give the beast the slip as soon as he'd been able. From the moment Greyback stepped through the Vanishing Cabinet, he'd made it abundantly clear he was keen to stay on Draco's heels, eager to murder Dumbledore himself, to take the glory… to earn the praise Draco knew Voldemort would never bestow upon a mutt, a beast. Draco knew that even if Greyback somehow succeeded in killing Dumbledore— Voldemort would never see him as anything more than a wild animal who'd somehow managed to learn a few magic tricks.
But Draco was determined not to test Voldemort's willingness to give praise to Greyback— Dumbledore deserved better than to die at the hands of that monster.
A grey-robed Auror smashed headfirst into his chest, and Draco lunged back into the darkness before the wizard could catch his bearings.
He managed to hold his wand aloft again, but it was useless, the light at its tip nothing more than a feeble prick in the darkness.
Draco cringed at the sudden burn in his left forearm; a reminder that Voldemort was expectant, a reminder of the narrow thread of hope he could keep his mother alive.
I need to get out of here.
Shouts and flashes all around him, hoping none of them were Hermione's, his eyes darted for a moment to his forearm, only to be caught by surprise at the sight of his platinum ring. Not only was it glowing, as if from within itself, it was pulsating— as if to guide him; toward what, Draco couldn't be sure, but he hoped it would lead him out of the darkness.
"You bloody rat— I'll find you!" Greyback's snarl reached Draco's ears through the calamity. "Dumbledore's mine!"
Draco followed the ring's guiding pulses, away from the sound of the werewolf's threats, ducking his head, dodging the sparks of errant spells. Suddenly, he found the darkness fading and the hallway reappearing before him.
Emboldened, a fire blazed inside his chest. Draco tore into a sprint toward the Astronomy Tower. He tried not to look into the faces of those he passed— nor the faces of those he Stupefied or disarmed. He didn't want to hurt anyone.
Not anymore than I've already done.
He was gasping for breath by the time he reached the top of the tower's stairwell, but he slowed his pace as he crossed the room toward the ramparts and the wide open sky above.
Draco looked up into the clear, star-filled sky, allowing the cool night air to fill his lungs. He wondered where Hermione and Theo were at that moment, but the images of their faces were too painful; he shook the thought from his mind.
He suddenly wished he'd brought his broom. He imagined himself mounting it now, soaring into the evening's vastness… to escape… to be free from this pain, from this life.
The vision of Hermione's face, her brown eyes clear, her chin turned up to face him, reappeared in his mind.
Taking another deep breath, he aimed his wand upward and whispered, "Morsmordre."
The stars disappeared from view as the Dark Mark illuminated the sky— its vile, grotesque light casting greenish shadows across Draco's upturned face.
He failed to notice his platinum ring was still glowing.
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A/N: Thank you so much for reading!