Chapter 3

Fight, Flight, Hide

"Visualize it, Harry. You're can't just decide you're stopping it. Visualize it coming to a stop," Hermione commanded softly. Harry hissed in pain. "Like the stone of the castle walls, Harry, close it up."

Her friend heaved a heavy sigh that Hermione would have taken for a indication of success if it were not for the fact that he was still pressing against his scar.

"Slowly, Harry, build the wall." She realized then that she had grabbed him by both of his forearms. She released her grip and stepped away slowly. She hadn't even realized she had left her spot beside Ron. The thought that Harry was sharing visions with Voldemort again terrified her. If they were permitted the time, she would work with him on his Occlumency. Now more than ever they needed security. It was only then, after a curse, an artificial and dead Dumbledore, and a mental attack on Harry did Hermione look around at 12 Grimmauld Place. It was dusty, Gloomy, teeming with prejudiced portraits, and it was one of the closest things to home her friend had ever had. She knew that coming here would be a good idea. At the very least, she hoped it would boost Harry's morale. "I don't think we should separate tonight. I think we should all sleep together out here in the sleeping bags I've packed," she suggested to the two boys who were her biggest concern at the moment.

They nodded in agreement and Harry excused himself to use the restroom.

Hermione was digging through her bag when Ron asked, "What're you looking for?"

"Something that may help Harry with his pain," she explained.

"Hermione..." Ron trailed off. His worried tone made Hermione glance up and stop searching. "Look, I'm not sure if it's just me, but I felt something coming from you. I've Apparated with others before, but I still feel this... buzzing in my skin."

The witch's mouth fell agape as she struggled to form words. She had been concerned that this would happen, but she hadn't anticipated it would be today.

Clearly reading the expression of confusion and dismay on Hermione's face, Ron shook his hands at her. "No, no, no, that's not... I didn't mean it... like... that!" His face rapidly changed to the shade of his hair. "What I meant was your magic! I... I feel this magical buzzing that I think came from you as we Apparated. It's wearing off now, but there was still this sensation of magic coursing through me," he explained. "And with what happened when we were getting our gifts from Dumbledore's will. It's just a bit strange, isn't it?"

She breathed a sigh of relief at the fact that Ron did not mean anything romantic with all his talk of buzzing. She recalled the interaction to which Ron was referring.

"You go too far!" Scrimgeour had shouted at Harry as he charged toward her friend wand-first. She watched Ron and Harry both go for their wands. There was a resounding boom as Scrimgeour was thrown back several paces. All eyes turned to Hermione and she noticed for the first time that her hair was whipping around her face and she was completely flushed. She didn't move. Finally Scrimgeour straightened himself out and moved to leave. "I promise you, Mr. Potter, if the Dark Lord had my cooperation, you'd all be dead."

She shrugged at her friend and turned back to her bag. "It was strange, that's for sure. But your 'buzzing' I'm sure is just adrenaline. We're all worked up, Ron." The truth was that Hermione had no clue what was happening and that thought terrified her.

Finally, Harry made his way back looking pale but in far less pain. Hermione finally found the medicine she had been looking for and handed it to Harry. "Just in case," she suggested.

Harry nodded and took a seat. "Thank you. And thank you for earlier," he said referring to her suggestion to visualize a wall. "Why did you think to do that?" Harry asked curiously.

She debated what to say. She finally came to the conclusion that the truth was a safe enough answer. "I used to practice with Draco."

She watched as Ron's eyes quickly found the floor and a slow frown graced his lips. Harry's eyes also darted away from her, but not from pity or empathy.

"What is it, Harry?" she asked anxiously.

"Malfoy... I just watched him... torture one of the Death Eaters from the cafe."

Hermione's stomach dropped. She said nothing, but rose and made her way to the kitchen. She was suddenly parched. Taking a deep drink of water, she closed her eyes and let the sensation of Draco's arms around her consume her memory.

"Would you like to hear an interesting fact?"

"Who do you think you're speaking to? I always want to hear interesting facts," she quipped as she leaned into his arm.

"Apparently, at one point, Muggle-born witches and wizards were revered. It was only logical for wizarding families to produce magical offspring, but Muggle-borns defied logic. To everyone, a Muggle-born was just as special - if not more - as a Pureblood. They were power enough to create that magic on their own, it was not something as trivial as being born into the right family."

"Where did you hear that?" Hermione asked wondrously.

"My grandfather."

"I never would have guessed that fact coming from you. Why do you bring it up?"

"I was just thinking that there is no other person as magical as you are."

Hermione sighed once more. Times were different now. Now they were at war. If Draco was torturing someone, it was for survival. They were living under "fight or flight" circumstances, and Draco's family made "flight" impossible. All she knew was that the man who she knew would not cause harm unless absolutely necessary. The Astronomy Tower proved that. The way he loved her proved that.

"More, Rowle, or shall we end it and feed you to Nagini?" The red-eyed creature threatened. "You called me back for this, to tell me Harry Potter has escaped again? Draco, give Rowle another taste of our displeasure."

Draco lifted his wand and released a curse with no hesitation. Draco was a mixture of fury and relief. He was relieved that Hermione was free, but thoroughly annoyed that the incident was apparently wiped away from Rowle's mind. The only thing Rowle could remember was spotting Hermione and her friends in the cafe, then he had no recollection. Draco wanted desperately to know if there had been an exchange. If Hermione was unharmed. Who he needed to kill if she had been hurt.

For the first time, Draco registered the howls of pain from the Death Eater writhing on the ground.

Draco lowered his wand. Voldemort placed a heavy pale hand on Draco's shoulder. "You've done very well, my dear boy. You're destined to rise through the ranks just like your dear Aunt Bellatrix. So much better than your father who cowers in my presence and hides to make himself smaller. You're a warrior, young Malfoy."

Voldemort lifted a hand from Draco's shoulder, leaving Draco alone with the man he had just been torturing.

The snake-like man was absolutely correct. Draco was a warrior. And Voldemort was on the wrong side of Draco's war.

A/N: So this chapter was a bit of a filler. Next one will be much better, promise! 3