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Chapter Fifty Seven: The Final Stand
Draco kept them as close to the treeline of the Dark Forest as possible, weary of being too exposed. Hermione crept along behind him, her wand poised to attack or defend. Her enhanced hearing assessed every rustle of a leaf and every crack of a twig, knowing it could be the wind or it could be death lurking in the shadows. Keeping her free hand raised to brush her fingertips against the back of Draco's jacket, she followed his lead with full trust, knowing he would guide her straight. Never would she have imagined such a thing only six months previous; she would have cursed anyone who would have suggested as much too.
"We're going to have to cross to get to the bridge." Draco barely breathed the whisper, pausing to assess the random formation of stones. A memory tickled the back of his mind; another day, another year, another lifetime. A lifetime where his enemy was Potter and Hermione was the greatest threat with her outstanding grades and sharp right hand. An amused smirk twitted the corner of his lips, until he spotted two Death Eaters sprinting across the bridge towards them, "There's two Death Eaters heading towards us – Wait here."
"W-" Shoving Hermione behind a tree before she could strike up a protest, Draco ran out to the closest stone, grazing his hands against the rough, gray surface to stop himself slipping on the morning dew dampening the well trodden grass. Regaining his footing, he glanced back once at Granger. She remained behind the tree, unnoticeable but for her wand sticking out protectively, which could so easily have been mistaken for a branch. She was safe, relatively speaking, and so he turned to his new opponents shoving at each other to get down the steps first. Without taking a moment for a steadying breath, Draco turned and fired at the pair of stumbling, black cloaks emerging from the bridge's exit.
"Incarcerous! Diffindo! Stupify! Protego! Expelliarmus!" He yelled, his wand flicked this way and that between the Death Eaters, "Protego! Incarcerous! Petrificus Totalus! Protego! Impendimenta! Protego!"
Draco ducked back behind his stone. Both Death Eaters were still alive and riled for a fight. Shuffling to the other corner, he peered round, before throwing himself back behind the safety of the sturdy rock, as several spells were aimed in his direction. With a distracted dusting off of singed material from his sleeve, Draco calculated and dismissed several strategies. These Death Eaters had clearly more skill than any opponent he had ever faced and he couldn't think how to counteract both without briefly leaving his defence weak. He had to think of something unexpected and without too much thought or skill they could predict.
Shaking his head to himself, he acted upon an impulse he was sure only came from hanging around Gryffindors for too long. Casting a strong Protego, he ran out into the centre of the circle of stones and began hurling spells in the directions of attack. He could hear the patronising laughter from behind the stones, but it didn't sway him, it only spurred him on. Again and again, he spat spells and hurled hexes. He desperately defended and attacked, with the looming stones as a silent audience.
The chance of a victory looked more and more daunting by the second. Sweat beaded down his back. His mouth was dry from casting curses. Twitching arm muscles betrayed how strained it was becoming under his constant flicking and swishing. Duelling even one of these opponents would have been difficult, yet Draco managed by the skin of his teeth to oppose both; knowing that faltering would result in his death, and Hermione's. He couldn't give in to the impending headache and exhaustion, not with two lives at risk.
It crossed his mind that he should have long died at these Death Eaters' hands. Then, it dawned on him, as a green spell bounced away from him. Granger was defending him still, even from the shadows. Unaware of his customary smirk returning to his lips, he threw out offensive spells, no longer worried with defence. The Death Eaters seemed to take his new tactic by surprise, then changed their own. Slowly, they emerged from their defensive positions, united in a double faced front now. He could see them looking for a second person defending him, but Granger's position was well hidden. A small amount of pride swelled within him, finally their training had come to some use without disappointment. Draco threw himself back into battle with the ferocity of which may only be accessed by those in fear of death, though not of a selfish death but one to spare another's life.
A high pitched scream broke the night. Not that the night had not been filled with screams and wails and shouts. But this scream broke Draco's bubble of battle. It was an agonised wail he was intimately familiar with. The suddenness of it even made the Death Eaters pause.
"Draco!" Hermione shrieked from her hiding space, pain and tears layering her voice.
"Granger!" Her name foolishly left his mouth as a desperate question. Had there been a third Death Eater prowling in the shadows? Had Hermione's condition caught up with her? Had she fallen in her blinded state?
Fear for her safety shocked him, but didn't distract him wholly. He saw one Death Eaters wand twitch and a devious smile form on their shadowed face. Anger burst through him like New Years' Eve fireworks. The killing curse came out of his lips in a snarl of rage, throwing the Death Eater back in a shower of green sparks. But his furious blind sided him. He forgot his stance and his defence. In his enraged state, all else slipped his mind, leaving him open and vulnerable.
A jet of lightening magic struck his back, causing him to tumble to the ground. He could hear a low chuckle and knew death was waiting for him now. To claim his soul as he lay in the mud and dirt and filth. How the irony was poetic. As he closed his eyes in defeat, he felt pathetic relief, as a feminine voice cried his name.