DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but this twisted so-called "plot".
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Streaks of light, bursts of colour, sparks flashing and whizzing hither and thither: a battle scene like a laser lighting display.
Hermione wielded her wand like a conductor's baton, throwing hexes towards the gaunt, vulture-like Death Eater she was locked in a duel with. She wasn't fully aware of the spells she was using, and yet they continued to stream out of her wand fiercely and judiciously – it was pure adrenaline-driven automatism. Some primal survival instinct was guiding her, momentarily suspending fear and hesitation.
"STUPIFY!" she roared, and the resulting spell was so forceful, her rival flew back at least ten feet.
She spun around, half-crouched and resolute... Neville was being brutally beaten down by a dumpy female Death Eater, injured as he was after attempting to charge through the mysterious, invisible barrier closing off access to the Astronomy Tower. She surged forward to help him and –
"HERMIONE! LOOK OUT!"
She dived just in time to avoid a jet of green light – the killing curse no doubt – and crashed onto the floor just adjacent to Bill Weasley's mangled body. A startled sob tore out of her throat, raw and guttural. She kicked her legs out as she sprung back onto her feet, accidentally but unremorsefully kicking a dead Death Eater in his dead dead dead face.
"Okay, Hermione?" Tonks hollered, even as she valiantly continued to restrain an enormous blond-haired Death Eater who was on a hyper rampage, shooting Avadas willy-nilly.
"Fine!" she called back, and aimed a body-binding curse towards the brute... which was deflected by one of his peers.
"Now that wasn't very nice of you, was it, little runt? A punishment is in order... Crucio!"
Hermione jumped to the side to dodge the curse, and immediately retaliated by shooting a torrent of arrows out of her wand.
The Death Eater deflected them with a sickening grin. "Tsk. Child's play. You're asking for trouble, little runt. Cruc –"
Thick flames from a scorching spell grazed by him, and he yelped and staggered back.
Suddenly, Theo was by Hermione's side. Smoke trailed out of his wand as he glared mutinously at the Death Eater.
"What's this?! Nott Jr.?!" the Death Eater thundered, appalled, "You... you treacherous... slimy... fuck. If only your father could see you now." Quick as a viper, he non-verbally disarmed Theo, "Avada –"
"Petrificus Totalus!" Hermione shouted, and finally the wretched sod was defeated. He fell back, stiff as a board and wide-eyed.
"Are you alright?" she asked Theo urgently.
"Yeah," he breathed, massaging his wrist... and then he abruptly pulled her down with him into a squat as yet another stray Adava sailed over their heads.
They scattered in opposite directions, Theo scrambling to retrieve his wand, and Hermione resuming her mission to help Neville.
He was sprawled on the floor, propped up by no more than an elbow, intrepidly but tiredly trying to stun the woman who was bearing down on him...
Hermione circled around them so she could get a clear shot... "Everte Statum!"... and the Death Eater made a pitchy squawk as she was thrown high into the air. Neville nodded gratefully, and collapsed onto his back panting.
Hermione skittered to her left, catching sight of a green streak of light just in time to narrowly avoid being hit.
"EVERYBODY, SHIELDS UP!"
It was Lupin's voice that tore through the chaos and calamity, all across the dark and narrow combat zone. Hermione leapt to Neville's side, and put up a powerful shield charm over both of them...
And that's when half the ceiling caved in – a shattering downpour of rock and rubble – and everything disappeared behind a thick cloud of dust.
It was jarring – unnervingly so – the absolute quiet that fell upon that weakly lit corridor as it filled with brume and puffs of fine grey powder.
Hermione slowly lowered her wand, and the shimmering blue dome encompassing her and Neville fizzled out. A low trembling breath left her lungs, and she heard it like it had fallen directly onto her ears through a loudspeaker. Every subsequent breath was similarly amplified.
She peered around through the haze in a state of total stupefaction... and watched it gradually clear. Little by little, silhouettes of other people stirring and unfurling became sketchily visible.
After coming to her feet, she offered a hand to Neville, helping him up. He kept his hand wrapped around hers, reflexively, and they waited in suspense for the dust to settle.
The dust always settled.
"Lacarnum Inflamarae!" – It was a feral, throaty intonation, following which, a giant blazing orb of fire tore down the length of the corridor like a comet, forcing everyone to leap towards the walls.
As if she hadn't ever been interrupted, vicious Lady Bellona staked her claim once more: the battle recommenced.
Having lost Neville during the fireball-ruckus, Hermione found herself facing two Death Eaters all on her own.
"Well, well," said one (a ragged, rangy looking fellow), "It's Potter's mudblood sidekick innit, Amycus?"
"It is," the other (stout, lumpy) one wheezed with a smirk, "Little mud-rat thinks she has the right to play around with magic. How about we cut her to size... Diffindo!"
Hermione deftly flicked her wand, causing his curse to go flying right back to him.
"OH! Oh," he panted after ducking to dodge the rebound, "You damn well think you're clever, don't you, you filthy little..."
"Confringo!" Hermione shouted, slicing her wand to include both Death Eaters in the resulting explosion.
They got their shields up in time.
"THAT'S IT," the rangy Death Eater growled, "Crucio!"
She scarcely managed to avoid being hit. "IMPEDIMENTA!" she cried, brandishing her wand like a blade.
Except, she wasn't the only one to cast the spell. From either side of her, Seamus and Ginny had thrown the exact same jinx at the exact same time. Seamus and hers hit the first Death Eater squarely in the solar plexus, and he was thrown back into a heap on the floor. The second, Amycus, chased after Ginny with a furious roar.
Before Hermione could so much as think about following, she was distracted by the sight of Snape and Malfoy, as they came charging out of the door leading to the Astronomy tower.
With his wand in one hand and the scruff of Malfoy's neck in the other, Snape adroitly navigated through the raging skirmish. He swept past Lupin, who was holding up a shield in front of Tonks... past Professor McGonagall who was energetically exchanging hexes with a Death Eater... past Dean, who cast a powerful Reducto on a pile of rubble, drawing out the Death Eater who'd hidden behind it... past her... and just as he reached the far end of the corridor, he paused.
"It's over," he called, "Time to go."
The moment he and Malfoy disappeared around the bend, the Death Eaters began detaching themselves from their various duels, and followed.
Hermione blinked. Once.
Amycus was still adamantly trying to annihilate Ginny... The big, blond Death Eater was still in the business of arbitrarily and insanely shooting spells...
He set off a series of golden yellow jets of light, and they went and crashed against walls, shattered windows... demolished a suit of armour just a few meters away from where Ron was locked in combat with a brick-like Death Eater...
Hermione leapt back into the fray, and aimed hex after hex at the blond menace, hitting him once in the knee, once on the shoulder. How this chap was still standing was beyond her. But her concerted attack seemed to strengthen Tonks' resolve. She redoubled her efforts, and between the two of them, ("Three... Two... Now, Hermione!") they finally took the savage down.
He fell on all fours, howling in pain and –
"Harry, where did you come from?"
At Ginny's shocked cry, Hermione spun around – bizarrely, gracefully, a fouetté, a pirouette – just in time to see him sprint by her.
"Harry," she whispered into the gust of wind he left behind in his wake.
From somewhere behind her, she heard McGonagall shout victoriously, "Take that!" and more Death Eaters broke away from the fracas. The big blond one, too, seemed to have recovered enough to make an escape.
Halfway across the corridor, Harry tripped over Neville's prone form, and lay winded on the ground. Seizing the opportunity, Hermione broke into a run... but alas, Harry was back on his feet no more than seconds later, and he resumed his chase.
Harry ran on, and Hermione followed. Not knowing where to... not knowing what for...
Harry ran, and Hermione followed.
Harry was a sportsman. He was built to seek, he had long legs, and he was accustomed to the hardships of quidditch training. It was no wonder that he had a good distance over Hermione as they raced down the Hogwarts castle. She was always at least a hundred steps behind.
On the third floor, she stopped, succumbing to the most excruciating side stitch. She stood before a large embroidered wall-hanging, gasping and clutching at her stomach.
And then she was brusquely, unceremoniously pulled into a dingy alcove behind the tapestry.
A strong, wiry arm wrapped around her midsection, pinning her against a hard form. Her shrieks were muted by a palm pressed firmly against her mouth.
Hermione fought madly. She kicked her leg back, but her captor wrapped one of his own around her ankles, locking them in place. She jerked wildly; she jolted and she juddered... she screamed and screamed in vain into the palm that was silencing her...
"Stop it. Granger. Stop."
Fear iced up her spine, and it froze her movements. That voice. She knew that voice.
A few fleeting moments after fear and recognition came determination. She intensified her thrashing, her desperate convulsing...
"STOP," Malfoy snarled, "Stop fucking fighting."
She could feel his breath against the shell of her ear. Even as she struggled, she became all too aware of him... of his presence, the physicality of it. His arm wrapped around her like a vice... his body, tense and unyielding, pressed against her back...
"I'm not going to hurt you," he rumbled into her ear, "Stop. Fighting."
Oh, not a chance in hell, Malfoy.
"...PLEASE."
She was immobilised once more, but this time in disbelief. It wasn't so much the word (one which he had never deigned to use in her presence before) rather the way he'd said it. It was desperate, rasping... and it was sincere. He was pleading with her. Draco Malfoy was pleading. With her.
In that dim alcove they stood, still entangled, learning to breathe at a regular pace again.
"Look," he muttered, "I'm unarmed, Granger. I just need to talk to you." And then he paused, as though waiting for her to fully internalise that declaration. "I'm... going to let go now."
He paused, once again, giving himself time to imagine her nodding her head, or saying, 'sure thing Malfoy', or what you will. Then slowly, he loosened his hold... just a fraction... just enough for her to wriggle free, twist around, and hurl an effective, non-verbal Incarcerous spell at him.
Bound tightly from his shoulders to his ankles, Malfoy stared at her, open-mouthed and seething.
"What the fuck... UNTIE ME, YOU TWAT," he fulminated, "Untie me AT ONCE."
Hermione, not quite able to form words owing to the awfully startling turn her night had taken, gave him a look, in the hope that the general sentiment behind the phrase, 'Ha, not happening, idiot,' was sufficiently conveyed.
"You despicable little bitch... UNTIE ME," he raged, "I fucking told you I wasn't going to hurt you! Let. Me. Go."
He looked more than a little worse for wear. In fact, he looked entirely drained (behind all that vehement rage of course) and it made Hermione desperate to know what exactly had happened up in the astronomy tower.
"What is wrong with you? Are you just going to stand there watching me like a total sodding moron–"
"I believe you said you wanted to talk," Hermione managed to rasp out at last. Her throat felt flayed from the inside after all her futile screaming.
"Untie me, Granger."
"Talk, Malfoy."
"First you untie – Oh Merlin's fucking shit-smeared pants. Is this a game to you, you stupid mu – girl? Think this is some jolly little diversion? Don't you realise that–"
"That what?" she snapped, incensed, "That you somehow brought Death Eaters into Hogwarts? Yeah, they were kind of hard to miss seeing how they've been trying their damnedest to kill me for the past hour or so–"
"– for fuck's sake–"
"– have been engaged in a full-on battle up there–"
"– not interested in explaining myself to you of all people, bleeding sanctimonious–"
"– and then, after unleashing absolute hell, you drag me into this hole and say you want to talk? What on earth do you–"
"SHUT UP," he thundered, so loudly, so fiercely that Hermione took a step back, "Just shut up! I don't care about your inane self-righteous bluster. You–"
"How dare you," she shrieked.
"Shut the fuck up–"
"– even realise what you've done?! You horrible, shitty excuse for a human being, you–"
"JUST PROMISE ME YOU'LL KEEP THEO SAFE, ALRIGHT?"
Her jaw snapped shut. She stared at Malfoy as he fumed and panted and glared back. It was strange that in a space so dark, where the only source of illumination were thin shafts of candlelight that had penetrated through the stitching of the tapestry, his eyes managed to glow, as though they carried their own in-built light. Like two pieces of backlit rock crystal, they shone turbulently.
"What...?" she breathed.
"Keep Theo safe, Granger. After all this... after tonight... they're going to be out for his blood. They're going to want revenge. His beast of a father is going to want revenge. Promise me you'll hide him away somewhere."
"I... what are you–"
"Gah, my sainted aunt, are you incapable of giving a simple answer to a simple question? The way you go on during lessons, one would think you'd be able to manage that at least!"
"Malfoy– "
"I don't have time to indulge your bullshit, you idiot! Just tell me you'll make sure–"
"Of course I'll make sure he's safe!" Hermione rushed out incredulously.
And yet again – again – they came to a standstill, staring each other down.
"Alright," Malfoy conceded eventually, "Now untie me, Granger. I've already wasted more time than I could've afforded."
Hermione wished she could bring herself to scoff. She wished she could've laughed scathingly, abrasively, and told him to go to hell. She wanted to be able to bring herself to parade him through the school, all trussed up and bound as he was, and deposit him right onto Dumbledore's lap.
And yet... all she could see in her mind's eye was Theo. Theo hunched over in anguish, bathed in moonlight... crying because he thought Harry had killed Malfoy.
Helpless against the pull of that memory, she waved her wand and let him loose. The cords fell away and after giving himself a light shake, he wasted no time in storming out of the nook... jostling her shoulder as he went.
Hermione allowed herself a minute or two to regain composure, with her head bent and her hand grasping a nearby wall for support.
Then she sighed deeply, nodded briskly to herself, and stepped back out into the hallway. It was completely deserted. She could hear the low hum of commotion emanating from somewhere below, but she ignored it, choosing instead to mount up the stairs and return to the scene of the battle. It got quieter and quieter as she climbed, and soon the only thing saving her from going mad from deathly silence were the sounds of her footsteps and her breathing.
The seventh floor was the absolute pinnacle of extravagant devastation.
The floor was strewn with chunks of rock, glass, and debris. Not a single painting or sculpture had survived. The fallen ceiling like a gaping wound revealed the first signs of dawn – pinky-purple and blossoming like a newborn rose. Hermione thought it was outrageous and appallingly inappropriate for the firmament to present such promise and prettiness when the scene below was so tragic.
In the dead centre of the corridor, Madam Pomfrey was helping Neville onto a stretcher. The rest of them – the battered soldiers of Dumbledore's Army – stood to the side, watching. Theo had his arms around Luna as she leant heavily against him. Her leg appeared to be bleeding profusely. Dean was perched on a stout boulder and had his hand pressed against a gash on the side of his head. Theo, Ron, Ginny, and Seamus appeared to be largely unhurt.
Hermione took a step towards them, and accidentally kicked a small chunk of concrete. It skittered raucously across the ground, bouncing off larger pieces of detritus. The noise alerted her comrades to her presence, and they all looked at her in dumbfounded relief.
"Where the hell have you been?" Theo demanded, exhaustion preventing him from suffusing his tone with the kind of fervour he'd been aiming for.
"I went after Harry," she answered in a low voice, "but he outran me." She came to a halt by Neville's stretcher, frowning down at her blood and dirt smeared friend. "You okay?" she asked tentatively.
Madam Pomfrey replied before he could – "Nothing I can't fix in a jiffy. Now you all please follow us down to the hospital wing. Professor McGonagall's orders."
With that, she levitated Neville's stretcher and steered it down the corridor.
With a low groan, Dean lifted himself onto his feet.
"Shall we?" he ventured, gesturing towards Pomfrey's back with his free hand.
"I'll go find Harry," Ginny murmured.
"Wait," Hermione requested, "What happened to... I mean... Bill..."
"He's alive," Ginny answered, but not without a tremor in her voice, "He's alive..." she paused, looking at Hermione through a thin film of tears, "Greyback messed him up really badly. But... he'll live."
She walked away before Hermione could offer any words of relief or consolation. And that was good, since she really couldn't think of any.
"Come on," Theo muttered. Keeping his hold on Luna, he led the way to the hospital wing.
Hermione lagged at the back of the group, examining the backs of the heads in front of her. It seemed as good a way as any to keep from thinking... she was too too too fucking tired to think. Tiredness was as real and material inside her as her blood, her bones, her muscles and sinews...
Luna's dark blond tresses where matted with filth; and yet, they caught the candlelight at strange moments, gleaming as though burnished. Theo's light brown mop looked uncharacteristically stiff – most likely caked in sweat and dust. Seamus' short sandy brown hair was tufty and clumpy. Dean's cropped jet black curls were soaked in blood.
Hermione turned to her right to look at Ron's fiery red locks; they were slicked back. Dirt and sweat worked as well as any hair gel or potion in the market. Ron looked back at her, and she hated the cloudy patina that sorrow and fatigue had lathered onto his usually brilliant blue eyes.
When she staggered slightly, he put a supporting arm around her waist.