"Damnit!" Brad shouted, unable to hear his own voice over the revving engine and wind whipping past his ears as they rocked along the asphalt. He angled his rifle back toward the fleeing SUV, his legs locked in an attempt to keep him from falling out of the window. They hit another bump in the road which threw his shot off, the impact jarring his spine.
By now, they had to be getting out of range of the Aurors anti-apparition charms. These dirtbags were not going to get away.
Brad tried to center the rifle again just in time to see a wooden fence explode as their target veered straight toward a tree. At the last second it swerved, too late to save it completely. The SUV jumped up and sideways, crashing hard and rolling several times.
Eric hit the brakes as he and Sara ducked back into their rig, ready to bolt as soon as it stopped. About time they caught a fucking break.
"Move!" Brad shouted, throwing his door open. "Kingpin, Reaper, target vehicle is down. We're investing-"
Several green streaks of light shot from the overturned SUV, straight at their position. All three of them ducked to the ground. When he looked back up, he saw three silhouettes running toward a fenced copse of trees further into the field.
With his night vision down over his eyes, he had to rely on the laser to target. Lining up the targeting reticle on his holographic sight with the optics was difficult at best, and often the light from the reticle made seeing your distant target impossible.
His laser was easy to spot, along with those of his teammates. The fleeing bastards were moving fast, though. Brad snapped off several shots, ducking after a Death Eater nearly caught him with a spell fired over the shoulder.
"Move up," Brad ordered. They couldn't afford to let up the pressure on these guys. Brad pushed himself back to his feet, hearing the screeching tires of Spriggan 3 behind them.
He ran forward as the three Death Eaters disappeared into the woods. Emboldened by their cover, spellfire picked up intensely. Brad was forced to dive to the ground a few dozen feet from the overturned SUV to avoid the spells. Behind him, he could hear Spriggan returning fire, tracers lancing into the woodline.
Brad glanced over at the SUV, realizing that in his haste to respond to the immediate threat, he hadn't checked to be sure the SUV was clear. He thought he could see movement on the other side of the vehicle, but was distracted as he registered the steady beat of rotors nearby.
"Reaper, this is Dagger 2, confirm target location."
Brad glanced up and could just make out the silhouette of a blacked-out AH-64, pulling itself into a hover over their vehicles on the road.
"Dagger, good to see you. I have three confirmed targets in the woods. Lasers are pointed, there are zero, repeat zero friendlies in those woods."
"Copy Reaper, no friendlies. Standby."
The silhouette of the AH-64 illuminated with the percussive thu-thu-thu-thu-thu-thump of its 30mm chaingun. Brad watched as the woods erupted, trees exploding into branches and splinters, geysers of dirt flinging into the air.
Thu-thu-thu-thu-thu-thu-thump. The AH-64 fired another burst, followed by a pair of Hydra rockets which lit up the night sky with a deep whu-whump.
As quickly as the cacophony started, it ended. Just the steady beat of rotor blades to disturb the peaceful night.
"Reaper, Dagger 2, I don't see anything alive in those woods."
"Reaper copies, thanks Dagger."
In those woods. Brad remembered the movement he saw on the other side of the SUV. By the time he'd pushed himself back to his feet, Sara and Eric were right there beside him. The three of them sliced their way around the vehicle, spotting three bodies on the ground.
Brad recognized one instantly. Hermione was laying on her back, another person beside her. She was moaning, holding a jacket to her abdomen, obviously bleeding.
He saw Eric and Sara approaching the other two bodies, and so he took the closest. A woman with a knife jammed into her sternum, not moving. It took Brad a moment to realize why he recognized her. She'd been the one that killed Neville.
He fired two security shots into her chest, making sure she never got up again, and yanked the knife out.
Sara was hailing the Spriggan teams, asking for medical as she looked over Hermione.
"Boss!" Eric shouted. Brad walked over and saw a face he'd almost lost hope of ever seeing again. He was battered, the left side of his face bleeding profusely. His nose was broken, he was cut and bruised and beaten, and there was no doubt in Brad's mind that it was Mike.
"Mike!" Brad cried out, grabbing his friend's hand. "Mike, buddy, talk to me!"
Eric stood up, radioing a demand for immediate medivac for the wounded and confirming that they'd recovered Mike.
Brad tore his shooting gloves off, pushing his fingers against Mike's neck. He felt a weak pulse. Blood bubbled from Mike's shattered nose with a strained breath, and Brad picked his limp hand back up. It was cold.
"Mike, buddy, you fucking stay with me, bro," Brad shouted into his face. He remembered his IFAK and yanked it free. He tore open a clotting bandage and pushed it against Mike's destroyed eye, hoping to slow the bleeding.
Several soft cracks around them announced the arrival of the Aurors from the Spriggan teams.
"What do we have?" one of them asked, kneeling by Mike while the other went to Hermione.
"They're friendlies, we need to get them help," Brad said, unhelpfully. He was a shooter, he didn't know any of this medical shit. Bleeding was bad, and Mikey was doing a lot of bleeding.
"Jeeze, they're messed up. Where's the hospital?" the one by Hermione asked. A third that Brad hadn't seen replied.
"Shit, I dunno. I've never been to England before."
"There's a fuckin' infirmary at the school, take them there!" Brad snapped, shoving the Auror next to Mike.
"You can't apparate to the school, dipshit!" the Auror replied indignantly. Brad balled up a fist, ready to push that motherfucker's teeth down his throat-
"The FOB, we can take Humvees to the school." Eric alone seemed to be keeping his cool. The Aurors nodded in agreement and each of them grabbed their wounded and disappeared with a snap.
"Come on," Brad gestured to the remaining Auror. "Let's go." Eric and Sara grouped around him while he continued to beckon for the remaining Auror to come over. "Asshole, let's go! We're going with them!"
"I should probably sta-" he started.
"LET'S GO!" Brad shouted. The Auror jumped. He eyed Brad with blatant dislike, but obeyed. The three operators grabbed his arm and they apparated to the FOB.
The scene there was chaotic as sentries ran to fetch medics and a pair of humvees to transport the wounded to the school. Brad pushed himself away from the Auror as soon as his feet felt like they were back on solid ground, and he crossed back over to Mike.
For agonizing seconds they stood there, waiting. Finally, a pair of humvees screeched to a stop beside them. Brad grabbed Mike's arms while the Auror got his legs and they unceremoniously stuffed him into the back bench, where it was flattest, and dove in alongside.
"GO!" Brad ordered. To his credit, the driver didn't hesitate. In front of them, the Humvee with Hermione kicked up dirt and sped down the bumpy path, and their driver was right on his ass.
The Auror was muttering spells and a medic that had been sitting in the front seat scooted himself back. He cut Mike's pants away from his leg and drilled a large needle into the bone. He started hooking a packet of blood to the line. Brad didn't have any idea what to do. He sat there, holding his friend's head in his lap and trying to keep the images of Jason and Neville at bay.
They sped past Hogsmeade, taking the path to the school at full speed until they reached the steps of the castle where they slid to a halt. Obviously, their arrival had been radioed ahead. A half dozen sentries were standing by, along with Madam Pomfrey and several medics.
Hermione was pushed out of her Humvee. She was hobbling with help at first, but a pair of sentires picked her up and set her down onto a stretcher while she groaned painfully. He could hear the medic from that Humvee briefing the receiving crew.
"Priority patient, significant laceration damage to the abdomen, suspected internal bleedin-"
Professor McGonagall levitated the stretcher and the her group rushed into the castle.
Brad helped pull Mike from the humvee and they got him onto a stretcher, just like he'd seen done with Hermione. Madam Pomfrey herself levitated this one as they rushed up the steps.
"He's urgent surgical, significant trauma to face, chest, and extremities. Extreme blood loss, I've got an IO started in the right leg-"
Their medic continued the medical gibberish as they rushed to the infirmary. It felt like it took forever, and still, before he knew it, the sentries were pushing infirmary doors open.
As the medics rushed in with Mike, sentires blocked Brad from getting through the door.
"Critical personnel only," the sentry stated, his face apologetic. "Sorry, sir."
Brad watched helplessly as the doors closed and he again lost sight of one of his best friends. Mike's broken, bloodied face appeared in his mind every time he blinked, Then Neville, limp and surprised, laying on the staircase. Jason, pale as medics worked vainly to revive him. Back to Mike.
He thought he could hear someone talking as he looked around. Sara and Eric were just reaching the hall outside the infirmary. They both stopped at the sight of him. He could see their mouths moving, but he didn't hear anything they said.
When he looked down at his hands, he saw they were covered in blood. He was covered in blood. It was dripping from his vest, his lap, his hands..getting all over the floor.
"I should probably get cleaned up," he heard himself say, his own voice sounding muffled. Sara replied, but he didn't hear her. He just started walking to the first floor showers.
When he turned the knob, steaming water sprayed his face, his clothes, his vest. He stood there for a moment and then looked down at his shaking hands. Small clean spots appeared randomly against his skin, where the water struck. At his feet, red streaks swirled into the drain, alongside bits of grass and dirt.
He closed his eyes, and through the sound of water splashing against his vest, he could still hear Hermione's moans. The sound of flesh and bone breaking as that girl smashed into the statue at the Ministry.
Without warning, he vomited. His chin quivered as the water dutifully rinsed bile down with the rest of the dirt and grime and blood.
He tried to grasp the side clips to his chest rig, but his fingers felt numb and he couldn't seem to grasp anything. His breathing started to get more difficult as the weight of the world pressed in on him and he finally sank to the floor, ignoring the stinging water against his face, which at least did the service of hiding his tears.
Fleur rushed up the steps, past the still running trucks that had skidded to a stop in front of the castle. The sound of them racing past her cottage woke her and she knew in her heart something must be wrong.
She'd been talking to Sara a lot. The girl was blunt, but sweet in her own way, and had kept Fleur from going insane, not knowing what was going on with Brad.
It still hurt that he wouldn't talk to her. Her father had said that he felt responsible for her...for her and for all of the people lost around him. She couldn't imagine the toll that would take.
She thought she'd had a hard time almost losing Gabby, but to have so many friends lost so close together...she didn't like to think about it, let alone consider living it.
Sara had told her they were going on a raid again tonight. Nothing specific, just that they were going out and then she promised to let Fleur know when they made it back safely. Just like she had every night. They seemed to go out every night.
Instead, she heard speeding trucks.
Outside of the infirmary, she saw Sara and Eric standing close, talking to each other. There was blood on them, more of it all over the floor, and there were unmistakable tear streaks through the dirt on their faces.
She checked again, seeing only them and the men standing guard outside of the hospital wing. A gasp leapt from her throat and she covered her mouth with her hands as the impact of that sight weighed on her.
She'd always known it was possible, that he could be hurt or killed, but it always seemed academic. It wouldn't...couldn't be him.
"Fleur!" Sara exclaimed, her brow knit with worry as silent tears streaked down Fleur's face. "No, he's okay, Brad's okay. We got Mike back."
It took Fleur a second to gather her thoughts. Sara came over and gave Fleur's arm a reassuring squeeze.
"He's okay?" she croaked.
"Well, Mike's in a bad way," Eric said, his own voice quivering. She knew that Eric had been just as close to Mike as Brad. "I don't know if he'll make it, but Brad is fine...physically."
He didn't need to say more than that. Fleur gave Sara a worried look.
"I think he went to the showers."
At first, Fleur wasn't sure she'd be able to find him. After all, the school was not small, nor as neatly uniform as Beauxbatons. In the hall, there was an easy trail of blood to follow. It was nauseatingly surreal, tracing blood to find him.
It led her to the sound of running water. When she rounded the corner, she found him sitting on the floor of the shower, in a cloud of steam. Bloodied fingers were twined into his hair as he rocked his body, forward and backward, his breathing hitched and uneven.
Her heart broke at the sight. She'd never seen him look so...vulnerable. She could feel the crushing weight around him and it took her breath away.
Doing her best to ignore the stinging water, she sat down beside him. If he was startled...if he noticed her, he didn't show it. He continued rocking for several long minutes, as though she wasn't there, and then finally looked over. His eyes were bloodshot and distant. They searched for comfort, for meaning.
"Fleur," he said thickly, "I'm trying so hard to keep everyone safe...Mike...we were so close, so close to getting him back." He swallowed hard and she didn't believe it was shower water she saw running down his cheeks. She felt another stab at her heart. "I think he's going to die and I don't know if I can take another one-"
She thought about what her father had told her, about how he'd had a similar time in his life. When he'd held onto the responsibility for every loss around him, blamed himself for everything that went wrong.
"It almost destroyed me," he'd said to her. She couldn't recall a time she'd seen his eyes so teary...so distant...so much like Brad's were now.
For Brad it was Mike, gone for months. Neville, Cho, Jason, his friends on the other team...her. All of it, crushing him, and he was alone...trapped by the responsibility for their fates.
She pulled him close and he buried his face into her neck, still shaking. She hummed him a lullaby maman used to sing to her when she was upset, and for the first time in a long time, as she started into the lyrics, she put as much of herself into her voice as she could.
She'd always thought of entrancing as wrong, but this seemed like the time. For the first time in her life, she was glad to be a siren.
The truth was, she didn't know what to say...what could she tell him? Nothing that would bring back the dead. Nothing that would guarantee his friend would survive. She had no idea what to say.
But, she could be here for him, and when he was ready, they could deal with whatever they needed to, together.
"Oh loup y'es tu pour moi
Tu fais la promesse
Et si je m'offre à toi
C'est en milliers baissers de tendresse."
As Fleur's voice tapered, stretching the last few notes of her song, Brad felt his mind begin to stir. As though a curtain had slowly drawn back from a window, he became aware of his surroundings. The weight of his gear pressing against his shoulders. Hot water spraying down against his clothing, seeping into his boots. She was sitting beside him and his face was pressed against her neck.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been there like that. He remembered getting here. Mike...the rest of his recent losses...it had all been too much. And then she'd appeared from nowhere, and like an angel, she'd made it better.
Not gone, but better. He still didn't know if Mike would live. He'd still lost too many friends to this fight...but he no longer felt like that would crush him.
Fleur leaned forward slightly, resting her chin atop his head and began to hum. It was the same soft tune she'd started her impromptu concert with. Perhaps something special to her. He didn't want it to end, but he wanted desperately to see her, so he leaned back slightly.
She sat up, ending her tune abruptly. He looked into large, dark blue eyes, lashes wet. Long silver-blonde hair clung to her cheeks and her brow was furrowed with worry.
"I'm sorry," Brad murmured, only just audible over the cascade of water. Looking into her eyes, he could see the truth. He could feel it. In her eyes, there wasn't even a glimmer of the blame, the loathing, the pity that he'd feared and expected.
He saw nothing but concern, and love, and understanding. He'd isolated himself and she'd been the one hurt by it. His team had, too. Henri was right. Fleur had missed him, had wanted him there.
"I'm so sorry, Fleur," he repeated, this time more firmly. He grasped her hand, fingers slippery with water. She held him tightly in return. "I was an idiot," he shook his head.
"You-" Fleur started, but Brad held up a finger. He wanted to get this out, needed to take responsibility.
"It was so much, so fast," Brad said. He tried to push the thoughts from his mind, but talking about it had a way of resurfacing them. Neville, Jason, that girl, Cho. Mike. A flash. An instant. "So many friends dead, and then to not be there for you when you needed it…"
Fleur began to shake her head, to try and reply, but Brad pressed on.
"No, I get it, now. Your dad talked to me, and he was right. At the time, I was so sure that you blamed me. I'm supposed to be there for you, and I wasn't. I still regret that, Fleur. I do, if I could rewind time, I'd have stopped at nothing to get down to that dungeon. I let duty come first. Maybe that was right, maybe it wasn't."
"You did what you needed to," Fleur said softly. Her fingers caressed his cheek and he leaned into it.
He did his job. She was right about that. He did it to the best of his ability, and it hadn't been enough to keep everyone safe. They'd given a good accounting of themselves, but dead was still dead in the end.
But, was it right? Was that what was important in life? He wasn't sure, anymore.
He hadn't realized her fingers were working their way behind his neck until he was being pulled toward her. Before his mind could catch up, he felt warm, soft lips pressed against his. His own response was immediate.
He wrapped his arms around her, careful not to pull her too tightly against him. His gear made it more awkward than he'd have liked, but that kiss melted all of the feelings of reservation from his mind.
When they finally broke apart to breathe, she rested her forehead against his.
"Should we go see how Mike is doing?" Fleur asked after a long moment.
"Yeah," Brad nodded, her head rocking gently with his movement. He wanted to stay here with her, but he needed to know if Mike was going to be okay.
Brad heaved himself up, his gear significantly heavier as the fibers retained shower water. He pulled Fleur up and turned off the shower. Immediately, the room fell silent. The air felt cold against him. He could only imagine how she felt, both of them still dripping.
"Here," Fleur said, producing her wand. She waved it silently, though clearly concentrating. Brad felt the strange sensation of water pulling itself away from him. It crawled out of his socks and boots, from his shirt, and pants, and plate carrier. Every drop of water crawled away and down the drain, leaving him feeling as though he'd just put on a fresh uniform.
Fleur smiled in satisfaction at her handiwork, now dry as well. She tucked her now dry hair behind her ear before beckoning him to follow her.
Brad felt her fingers lock with his and they started out of the bathroom, hand in hand. They were greeted by the sound of boots smacking the stone. Just outside, they were met by Eric. He was trying to catch his breath, tears unashamedly running down his cheeks as he grabbed his knees, working enough air into himself to talk.
Just like that, life crashed back in on him. Brad felt the world spinning like a quarter. Heads or tails, was Mike alive or dead?
"He's," Eric managed, before having to suck in another breath, "he's-" another breath.
Goddamnit!
"He's-gonna-be-okay." Eric managed to get it all out in one breath. Brad's shoulders relaxed and he hung his head back. Fleur squeezed his fingers and rubbed his arm. Finally, something was going their way.
Sara caught up. She hadn't run, simply walked. Fleur surprised Brad by letting go to give her a hug. They exchanged a few words and then Sara turned back to Brad.
"He's in the clear, Cap. Whatever else, he's not going to die."
"Thank God," Brad sighed.
"I talked to the Colonel," Sara continued. It made sense that the Colonel would show up. This wasn't an insignificant development. "He wants to see you. Let's stow your gear real quick. Eric and I will get it cleaned up and put away."
Brad opened his mouth to protest, but she held up a finger. "You take care of our gear all the time, we've got it."
"Alright," Brad agreed. They walked in silence to the nearest armory, where Brad doffed his gear. He was greeted outside by Fleur, and they walked together to the Infirmary Wing. The Colonel was outside, sitting.
"Captain," he greeted, standing up. There was something about his look, the tone of his voice...
"Colonel," Brad replied warily. The Colonel smirked at the response.
"Never one for B.S. I respect that. Captain, you and your team have done an excellent job. You got Sgt. Matthews back in one piece, and that's not a small thing. You've been kicking a lot of ass lately…"
Sumner considered his next words, and then met Brad's gaze. "Captain, I'm issuing a short-term deactivation of Reaper team."
Of all the things he expected the Colonel to say, that wasn't it. He felt his jaw go slack in surprise and snapped it shut immediately.
"This isn't punitive, but you guys have been shouldering a lot of the weight lately. You need a break, all of you. It isn't permanent, none of you are being reassigned elsewhere...just, get some R&R. There'll be plenty of ass to kick, of that you can be certain. I'll inform your team. Go, stay in Hogsmeade for a bit."
Sumner gave him a nod, evidently dismissing him. He felt numb. He wanted to protest the move, wanted to fight it. Wanted to tell the Colonel off for even suggesting that they shouldn't keep operating.
Still, another part of him felt relieved. He imagined that warm fire he saw, Fleur sitting on the couch with her legs tucked beneath her, sipping a warm drink. Peace and rest didn't sound all that bad right now.
"Sir," Brad saluted. He met Fleur at the door and let her lead him to Hogsmeade.
Iron grips around her wrists...Mike, staring at her indifferently with dead eyes...searing pain in her belly...sickening weightlessness...the deafening rending of metal.
Hermione jumped up from her bed with a brief scream. Bright light assailed eyes expecting the dark of night. She wasn't crumpled in a vehicle that had crashed, but sitting up in a bed. Instead of the wicked, unfriendly face of Bellatrix Lestrange beside her, trying to carve her open, she saw Madam Pomfrey, a hand over her chest as she breathed heavily from the sudden outburst.
The doors to the infirmary wing thumped open and a pair of sentries rushed in, no doubt in response to her shriek. Seeing her up and no other threat, they gave a friendly wave and stepped back to their posts.
"It's good to see you up, dear," Madam Pomfrey said, stepping closer and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"
Hermione met her gaze, still trying to catch up. She looked down at the sheets in her lap and pulled them away. Lifting her shirt, she saw a pink line that ran from her navel, down her abdomen, and back up in a haphazard swerve. She ran a finger along it painlessly.
"I was able to fix it up quite nicely for a first treatment," she said, giving a reassuring rub to Hermione's back. "Another one will no doubt remove the scar entirely. Lucky the blade wasn't magic-."
"Mike!" Hermione cried out, loudly and suddenly enough that Madam Pomfrey jumped again, this time looking irritated by the outburst.
She remembered him, he was there when they'd crashed.
"He's alive, girl," Madam Pomfrey announced in a harsh tone that brought Hermione back to the moment. There was nothing quite like the authoritative tone of a teacher to bring her around. "Had a rough go of things, mind you, but he's alive. Just beside you there."
Hermione turned so fast that it made her head spin. She didn't know how she could have missed him laying there, but he was, his bed pushed just inches from hers. His head and eye were covered in a clean, white bandage and his scrapes, cuts, and bruises were all cleaned. He looked battered but he was breathing.
"It'll take some time for him to wake up," she said, watching as Hermione laced her fingers into his. His were limp, they didn't return her tight squeeze, but they were warm and she felt that familiar electric buzz she got when they touched.
"How bad is he?" Hermione asked, satisfied that he was alive and out of imminent danger.
"He's not good," Madam Pomfrey said. Perhaps it was her intention to continue regardless, but after Hermione shot her a withering glare that said I already know that, she spoke on. "He's lost his left eye completely. We can grow it back, of course, but the bones surrounding it need to heal first and the process is rather unpleasant. His nose was broken," she gestured and Hermione saw that indeed, his nose was off center.
"I tried to fix that, good as new, but his friends insist that he will want to keep it that way. A soldier thing, apparently. His left shoulder, knee and pelvis all had fractures and he'd severed a small portion of his spinal column...along with various injuries to internal organs. Those were simple matters to fix and he'll have no long-term effect from any of it. I'm most concerned about his mind, after being around Death Eaters for so long."
Hermione squeezed his hand again, her heart heavy. There was so much injustice to it. But, he'd be okay. He was alive. There had to be plenty of books on how to deal with emotional trauma. She'd get a PhD in psychology if she needed to, but he'd get through this.
With her free hand, Hermione rubbed the swirling greens and blues of her ring, the crimson center deep and apparent. He was here, anything else was a detail.
The first thing Mike noticed was the sheets. They were silky, weighed down by a blanket that kept him comfortably warm. His pillow caressed his neck just right, and the way he sank into the bed was next to perfect. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this comfortable.
Still, there was something off about it. He realized the side of his head ached...a deep ache, as though something was trying to press his eye back into his skull. It stopped just short of being painful, but was very uncomfortable.
He tried to pick up his hand, but it stayed in place. At this point, he would normally chastise himself for forgetting that he didn't have control over his body any longer, but it felt different. His biceps and forearm and wrist all tensed in just the right way, and yet his hand stayed put.
There were fingers intertwined in his, which squeezed him tight when he moved. A sharp intake of breath beside him, close beside him.
"Mike?" The voice was tired...feminine...familiar.
Mike opened his eyes...eye? It was dark. He batted his right hand over his face to find what was messing with his sight and felt only a bulky bandage. Shit.
"Mike!" the voice squealed from beside him. Her voice. Mike turned his head, neck stiff, and saw Hermione's smiling, emotional face, lit by moonlight.
"Hey, beautiful," he rasped, surprised by how rough his voice sounded. When was the last time he'd spoken?
She threw herself around him, squeezing him tightly, as though he might slip away from her. He squeezed back, relishing in his ability to move in any capacity. Her coconut scented hair cascaded over his face and he couldn't help the grin that formed.
When she finally leaned back to look him, her face just inches from his, he couldn't help it. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and kissed her. She fell back on top of him, crushing him to the bed, the responding kiss ferocious, making up lost time.
After a few seconds...hours, perhaps, he wasn't truly sure, they broke apart. Hermione, having pulled herself the rest of the way over to his bed, lay beside him, her head on his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair, again reveling in the tactile sensation of being able to move.
It didn't take long before Hermione was lost to the rhythmic breathing that left Mike suspecting she was asleep. That said it to him, more than anything. That she could so easily relax like that with him. Goddamn, I missed that.
He closed his own eyes, planning to try and finish the night out asleep, but he wasn't tired. When he closed his eyes, he pictured Bellatrix with that knife...evidently, it hadn't slowed Hermione down much.
There was a lot to do. A lot that the Task Force needed to know. Eden was looking for the Deathly Hallows...though, admittedly, he wasn't really sure what any of that meant. It sounded important.
Hell, the fact that Eden was involved in the first place. He wasn't certain, but there had been a change in demeanor around those Death Eaters lately, too. Eden had been promoted or something, he commanded a lot of respect from others.
Hermione shifted, her head falling to the crook of his shoulder. He tried to look down at her, to see her face, but she was on the bandaged side. He settled for the relaxation of running his hand up and down her back.
He didn't think he'd fallen asleep, but time had definitely passed when he heard someone's shuffling footsteps in the room with them. He looked up in time to see Madam Pomfrey frowning as she walked up, sunlight just starting to peek through the windows.
"-heaven's sake," she was muttering.
Mike shot her a look that said do NOT ruin this for me. She huffed, but didn't disturb Hermione. Not directly, anyhow. She went to the door and spoke softly to the sentries outside. The one who looked through the door glanced over to Mike and shot him a "hang loose" before returning to his post, likely radioing that Mike was awake.