Chapter 48 – On the Brink

The day after the conclusion of the Death Eater trials dawned bright and cheery, with the warmth of the sun brightening the landscape and not a breath of wind to chill the Scottish landscape. It was still early April, after all, and though the morning was rather fine, it would not take much movement of air to render the morning cooler than it actually was. It was just the kind of Saturday morning which hinted at the delights of spring and the approaching summer, while the fact that it was a weekend allowed all and sundry to enjoy it without the normal concerns of classes and schedules. Even the approaching exams seemed far away and, somehow, less important.

As it was a weekend morning, the group of Gryffindor friends left the tower later than was they normally would, making their way toward the Great Hall for breakfast before beginning their day. As they walked, there was one for whom OWLs were not "less than important" and as they made their way down the stairs, she considered the matter. Though her closest friends tended to be somewhat lackadaisical about such things—though she had to admit that both Harry and Ron had been much improved this year—the fact was that OWLs were now only two months away. Hermione had already built some revising schedules for the fifth years of the company, as she was never one to leave such things to chance. Their OWL grades were, after all, very important and would determine which classes they would be able to take at NEWT level.

"Thinking about OWLs again?"

Hermione started at the voice close by her side and turned to see Harry regarding her with a knowing grin.

"When's she not thinking about OWLs?" Ron stated from where he walked ahead of them.

A round of snickers met his response, but rather than be put off by them—as she would have been as a child, when the jibe would have been meant to injure—Hermione simply smiled cheekily at one of her two oldest friends.

"Be glad you have someone to think of these things, Ronald," was her prim reply.

"Yeah, well you think about them enough for all of us."

"Oh come now—I'm not that bad." A variety of skeptical expressions met her gaze and Hermione grinned. "I suppose I can be that bad. But I haven't been that bad—that's the point. I just want to be prepared, you know."

"Being prepared is good," one of the twins noted sagely.

"And we've never known you to not be prepared," agreed the other. "But OWLs aren't really that important in the grand scheme of things."

Hermione sputtered to respond to that statement, ignoring the amusement from the rest of the group. "How can you say that?" she demanded. "Our OWL grades not only shape what we can take at NEWT level, but they also determine our employment opportunities in the future."

"Only partially true," Fleur broke in, while the twins nodded. "Yes, your grades determine whether you can move to NEWT level, but beyond that, whether you score an 'Exceeds Expectations' or an 'Outstanding on your potions OWL is largely of no significance."

"The fact of the matter," one of the twins continued, "is that employers will often require minimum standards in NEWT scores, but they rarely, if ever, look at your OWLs."

"So you could conceivably scrape by with 'Acceptable' in all your courses in you OWL year, but if you got 'Outstanding' on all of your NEWTs you could be employed just about anywhere."

Now that was something Hermione did not know about the magical world, but she supposed it did make sense. After all, when did an employer in the Muggle world look at high school scores? It was always about what a person did in university. And while that was not completely analogous to the magical world, it was close enough.

"Well, I still like to be prepared," Hermione muttered. "I hardly think that a person who only got the bare minimum to pass would change their study habits enough to get top marks in only two years."

"And that's what we love about our Hermione," Harry stated, while wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and possibly preempting further teasing from the rest of the group. "She's always there to keep us grounded and focused."

A range of grins met Harry's statement and Hermione's slightly flushed face. Though no one as of yet had called them out for it, it was certainly no secret that she and Harry were now "an item." Her friends seemed to be happy for her, though it was true that she had been the recipient of a certain level of veiled displeasure from those who harbored hopes of their own for Harry. Hope still springs eternal, however, and Hermione was well aware of the fact that some of the girls in Hogwarts were thinking that if Harry could have two wives, he could certainly have three. Not that Harry would ever consider any of them. And they would all know that of him if they thought about it for a moment.

"Some one has to," she mumbled, putting thoughts of Harry and any other wives from her mind.

Harry grinned but allowed the conversation topic to drop, choosing instead to join an ongoing conversation between Ron and the twins—with a few comments thrown in by the Gryffindor chasers—about the prospects of a Hufflepuff win in the Slytherin/Hufflepuff Quidditch match which was rapidly approaching. Hermione, not truly caring about Quidditch and knowing that the boys could talk about it forever if allowed, allowed herself to slip back into her thoughts.

The other large time consumer she had been focused on lately, other than the approaching OWLs, was the research she had undertaken for Dumbledore. Thus far she had been diligent—she owed Harry no less, after all—but the information was maddeningly sparse, and she had managed to make little progress. The books the Headmaster had given her had turned out largely to be dark in nature, but she had not found any traps or anything else within their pages. It appeared the Headmaster had been very thorough in vetting the books before allowing her to take them. Unfortunately, she had also found little in the way of useful information. At most there were tantalizing hints, but no true knowledge to be found about horcruxes, and when she had subsequently returned those and obtained more from the Headmaster, they had contained nothing better.

It was a fight to avoid becoming discouraged, and Hermione almost felt that she was letting Harry down, for all that she knew intellectually that such was not the case. The information not existing was not her fault, after all. Yet so much depended on this—if a way could not be found to remove the horcrux… The thought was painful and one on which she did not wish to dwell.

Such thoughts occupied Hermione's attention until a few moments later when they arrived at the Great Hall. The bulk of their friends entered and proceeded toward some empty seats along the Gryffindor table and, as Hermione was about to follow them, a younger Hufflepuff girl—likely a second or third year, Hermione thought, approached her.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione smiled at the girl and greeted her.

"The Deputy Headmistress would like to see you in her office."

"Did she say why?" Hermione asked, her expression changing to a frown.

"No, but she said she needed you right away."

"All right. Thank you."

The girl smiled and scampered off into the Great Hall to join her friends.

"Well, let's go then," Harry said from her side.

"It's okay, Harry," Hermione replied affectionately. "I'll go see what she wants and be back in a few minutes."

Harry shook his head. "I don't feel comfortable with you walking around by yourself the way Malfoy's been acting."

"I can take care of myself," Hermione insisted. "Besides, Malfoy's here."

Following her pointed finger, Harry looked toward the Slytherin table. There, seemingly lost in his own his own thoughts, appearing petulant and angry—though that was normally the way he looked, especially given recent events—sat Malfoy. Even his friends were giving him a wide berth, leading Hermione to speculate that he had chased them away so that he could brood in silence. He was probably thinking of the injustice of his criminally insane father being sentenced for all the atrocities he had committed. Or perhaps he was simply planning his own atrocities. Hermione shuddered at the very thought. The ferret was not even remotely Slytherin-like and was actually a bit of a coward, but his face lately had betrayed his dark thoughts. He was well on the path to turning out just like his father, and all it would take was a little push for him to be every bit as dangerous—or perhaps not quite. Lucius had been cunning and devious, and had possessed the necessary skills to pull off his nefarious deeds—Draco was rather ineffectual, and was only skilled in his own opinion.

Harry regarded her dubiously. "I still don't like it. What if he leaves?"

"Then I'll teach him something new if he comes after me," Hermione said with a laugh.

When Harry still did not desist, Hermione grasped his hand affectionately. "Honestly, Harry, remember what Daphne said about being able to protect herself? I can handle myself too." She reached up and ran her fingers along his cheek. "If it makes you feel any better, follow him if he leaves. Then you'll know he won't have a chance to try anything."

Reluctantly, Harry nodded his head. "All right. But if you're not back in fifteen minutes, I'll be looking for you. Remember," he continued, holding up the Marauders' Map, "I've got the map and I can find you anywhere."

Hermione shot him a sultry smile. "Hmm… Maybe I'll have to take you up on your offer."

The intense gaze he leveled upon her caused butterflies to start fluttering in her stomach. "I'd have no complaint with that," he replied huskily.

"Oh go and have some breakfast," Hermione stated a little breathlessly. "I need to have some myself before we get into any of that."

"I could bring you something," Harry replied, reaching out to grasp her hand.

"Just a bit of toast and some fruit, please," she replied. "Give me about fifteen minutes."

Smiling, Harry leaned over and kissed her, the merest brushing of his lips against hers. The butterflies in her innards became more agitated, until it seemed like she now had a whole flock of birds writhing within her. Not very steadily, she smiled at him and pulled away, though it was the last thing she wanted to do. The sooner she could get whatever McGonagall wanted out of the way, the sooner Harry would find her. She shivered a little in delighted anticipation, before she resolutely turned and began walking toward the exit from the entrance hall which led to the transfiguration corridor and, beyond it, the defense against the dark arts tower, but not before she turned and blew Harry a kiss. He stood in front of the Great Hall doors watching her until she disappeared from his sight.

The castle was not a small one—to get all the way to the DADA tower Hermione knew that it would take her more than five minutes, but as she was eager to make her promised rendezvous with Harry, she hurried along, wondering what McGonagall wanted with her. It was not uncommon for the Gryffindor head of house to request one of her students to meet with her in her office, but Hermione did not know why McGonagall would want to speak with her at that particular moment. She was also not certain why she had used a Hufflepuff girl as a messenger, but chalked that up to the fact that the Hufflepuff quarters were nearby and, if she had something which had come up suddenly, she would merely ask a student who was close by to deliver the message. Hermione did not know what could be so urgent—she hoped that McGonagall did not have some bad news to impart. It could not be anything about her parents, as any letter from them would come with Hedwig, who had been delivering letters at least once per week since the previous year.

She had just about reached the Transfiguration mistress's office, when she sensed movement behind her, though she had not seen anyone as she walked. She tensed to take action, but before she was able to move, she felt the impact of a spell and slumped down unconscious.

In the Great Hall, Harry sat with his friends, rather impatiently if the truth were to be told. His tête-à-tête with Hermione as they had arrived was foremost on his mind and he could not wait for the appointed time to go and find his love—the delights promised by their upcoming encounter filled him with anticipation and no small amount of desire.

By his side Fleur smirked as she ate her breakfast, clearly suspecting that something had happened, though she made no comment. After their own enjoyable liaison from a few days earlier, Harry thought she was likely feeling content herself in their relationship, and certain other instances in the intervening time had left them both satisfied with the progress they were making. Such encounters had become more and more frequent the more comfortable the three became with their unusual situation, and though it was not uncommon for him to spend time with both girls together—both companionably, and more romantically—they had recently each begun to desire one on one time with him with much greater regularity. Harry was, of course, quite happy to oblige.

In truth, Harry was more than a little surprised. Thus far there had been no jealousy between the girls, and though Harry certainly did not have much experience in the realm of relationships, for one brought up in the Muggle world, he would have thought that each girl would be pushing for their own time with him, while showing some pique when he was with the other. Neither, however, showed any inclination whatsoever toward any sort of jealousy. They merely smirked and teased whenever he returned from a session with the other, mostly at his dreamy expression and unfocused eyes. And the times he had been with both of them, they had each waited patiently for their turn. They had not as of yet wandered beyond some simple kissing and his hands had not strayed to any inappropriate areas—nor had theirs!—but what they had done thus far had been immensely satisfying.

He wondered if it had something to do with magic. Was their magic recognizing the situation and easing such feelings between them? Or were Fleur's Veela characteristics somehow helping them to be more accepting of each other and thus suppressing feelings of resentment? He had not brought up the subject with them because it truly did not matter, but he rather suspected that it was nothing more than the fact that the two girls were determined to make their relationship work which had allowed them to be so easy in their combined relationships.

"Looks like there's trouble in paradise."

It was a comment from Ron which pulled Harry from his thoughts. The redhead jerked his head toward the Slytherin table where Malfoy still sat apart from his normal confederates. Parkinson had risen and was saying something to Malfoy, but he just sneered and waved her off. Parkinson, for her part, shot a glare at him, and then turned and flounced away, leaving the Great Hall in a snit. A moment later the two gorillas also got up from their seats, but at a curt word from Malfoy, they also left without their leader, which was in itself an oddity, as the blond Slytherin was rarely to be found without his bookends. Of his normal crew, only Nott remained—appearing to be brooding much as Malfoy himself was—and Bulstrode, who had been ignoring the rest of them, from what Harry could see, the entire time they had been there.

"Looks like he's unhappy," Harry replied with a smirk. "If I was a little more Malfoy-esque I'd go over and suggest that Parkinson wasn't putting out. Of course considering the fact that she falls over him all the time, it might be that it's Malfoy who's not putting out."

Ron grinned, obviously remembering Malfoy's remark from early in the school year when he had been—remarkably—called out and reprimanded for it by Snape. "It's a mark in Malfoy's disfavor that he's mad when the pug won't put out."

"Because he can't get her to put out or because he can't get anyone who looks less like a dog to fawn all over him?"

Making a great show of thinking it over, accompanied by the snickers of those around them, Ron put his hand out and waggled it from side to side. "Perhaps a bit of column A, a bit of column B."

Harry let out a guffaw, and the rest of their friends joined in the laughter. Harry glanced over at the Slytherin table to see if Malfoy noticed their merriment, but for once the ferret appeared to be oblivious to their presence. He seemed to be seriously thinking for perhaps the first time in his life. Harry had no reason to wish the boy anything good—too much had passed between them, and Malfoy had made his opinion of Harry and his friends far too clear for that—but he almost hoped that the execution of his father had opened the ponce's eyes. Not that he expected such an epiphany; Malfoy was nothing if not predictable, and if the looks he had given Hermione over the past few days were any indication, the rehabilitation of his character was all but impossible. Still, it would be nice to not have to look over his shoulder every few minutes to see if the ferret would try to bite him.

"Now Harry," Fleur said with mock disapproval, "the 'leetle boy' has just lost his father, you know. We should try to be charitable."

Laughing at Fleur's reference to the opening night of the tournament the previous year, Harry shook his head. "Good riddance to bad rubbish, I'd say."

"And I'd have to agree," Fleur said. "But perhaps we shouldn't mock him to his face. You might push him into something."

"Something I'll finish if he starts it," Harry replied.

Fleur just smiled, nodded and returned to her meal, while Harry looked down at his watch. More than ten minutes had passed since Hermione had left for McGonagall's office, so it was just about time for him to go and find her.

"Hot date planned?" Fleur whispered in his ear.

"I thought I'd find Hermione with a little breakfast," Harry replied while looking at Fleur to see what her reaction would be.

"Have fun," Fleur replied with a mischievous wink. She then turned and began conversing with Angelina, leaving Harry to prepare for his departure.

Knowing in general what Hermione's preferences were, Harry gathered up two pieces of toast, an apple, a banana, and several types of berries, and bundled them all up. He was just about to leave when Luna arrived at the Gryffindor table and plopped herself down beside Neville, reaching up to bestow a quick kiss on his cheek. To Neville's credit, the only change to his countenance was a slightly goofy smile. The other boy had come along quite a ways in the past year, much as Harry had himself, he thought with some amusement. Neville could accept kisses from his cute girlfriend in the Great Hall, and Harry felt himself able to endure the light teasing of his friends over the attentions of his own beautiful girlfriends. All seemed right in the world.

"Good morning, everyone," Luna said, while spooning herself some porridge from a nearby container.

At everyone's murmured greetings, Harry thought about Luna, who had also changed considerably in the previous year, though Harry could not claim that he had known her at all before. But compared to the beginning of the summer, this Luna was almost normal. She was still a little spacey and still talked of the creatures she insisted were real, but her behavior was a lot less "out there," leading Harry to believe that the way she had acted previously had perhaps been a way for her to separate herself from others with whom she had no desire to associate. It seemed that months of dating and having friends had given her a new level of confidence that she had not had before. It also helped that now that she was known as Harry's friend, the teasing she had endured in the Ravenclaw dorm had ended. Harry—or Neville, for that matter—had never even had to say a word; the fact that he was well known for sticking up for his friends had been enough to induce those responsible to simply stop doing what they had been doing. If they had found out before the hazing had ceased—Luna had been incredibly reticent and had only admitted it once Padma had made a chance remark—Ravenclaw might have had a seriously irate Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom on their hands.

"Where was Hermione going?" Luna asked. "I saw her walking down the Transfiguration corridor, but she was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't even hear me calling her."

"She had to go to McGonagall's office," Harry replied. "I was just about to go and meet her."

Luna turned and regarded Harry seriously. "Why did she need to go there?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. A Hufflepuff told her that McGonagall wanted to see her."

"Are you sure she wasn't affected by wrackspurts? McGonagall's not in her office."

Surprised, Harry stared at Luna. "What do you mean?"

"I just saw Professor McGonagall in Professor Flitwick's office. Harry, McGonagall isn't anywhere near the Defense Tower."

Harry's mind was awhirl. The Hufflepuff had specified that Hermione was to go to McGonagall's office, but why would she do that if McGonagall was not there? Had the Deputy Headmistress been called away to Flitwick's office in the meantime? Or had she sent the Hufflepuff off to find Hermione from Flitwick's office?

Frowning, Harry turned toward the Hufflepuff table, but not before first noting that Malfoy was still seated in his customary position at the Slytherin table, though, of course, the gorillas and Parkinson were now absent. They were not the true threat, though—Malfoy was. The ponce was looking at Harry and his friends, but he did not make any response other than scowling and turning his head in another direction. Harry looked up and down the Hufflepuff table, but he was not certain who it was that had given the message—he did not know her and he had not really paid any attention in the brief time Hermione had been speaking to the girl.

"I think…" Harry paused, his concern over the mystery now being replaced by worry for his friend. "I think we need to check the map."

By this time the conversation had garnered the attention of the entire group, and as Harry took the map out from his books and spread it out on the table, his friends crowded around him to see what was happening.

Touching his wand to the map, Harry whispered the words, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," under his breath. It would not do to let everyone within hearing distance in on the secret of the map.

As the eldritch lines spread across the front of the parchment, Harry ignored the Marauders' greeting and opened the map, beginning to scan the precious artifact. First, he confirmed that McGonagall was in Flitwick's office and that Hermione was nowhere near the area. He then began scanning the map for any hint of Hermione's name, beginning at the Defense Tower, and then expanding out from there to other areas along her path—the Transfiguration Corridor; the path from the Great Hall; any conceivable detour Hermione could have taken on the way to the Deputy Headmistress's office. All contained no sign whatsoever of the missing Gryffindor.

"Harry," Ron said in a hesitant voice after starting suddenly. His hand extended somewhat shakily as he reached out and pointed at a section of the map which led off to the edges of the map. "Look."

Following Ron's finger, Harry looked up and noted the secret passage behind the one-eyed witch leading out toward Honeydukes in Hogsmeade. There, perhaps a fifth of the way from the entrance to the edge of the map—which corresponded with the edge of Hogwarts' boundaries—Harry saw two dots, one which was labeled as "Hermione Granger," and the other which said, "Draco Malfoy."

Eyes widening, Harry's head shot up and he peered across the Great Hall, where he saw that Draco Malfoy was sitting at the Slytherin table, still seemingly brooding over the unfairness of life. Harry looked back down at the Slytherin table on the map, but Draco Malfoy's name was missing amongst the myriad of students whose names appeared in the Great Hall.

"Polyjuice," Harry breathed as the epiphany rolled over him and his mind whirled over the implications. At the moment Harry was not certain as to how he had managed it, but it was clear that the Hufflepuff drawing Hermione away from the Great Hall had been a set up. All to allow Draco Malfoy to get his hands on Hermione…

"If he gets beyond the ward boundaries he can do just about anything," Harry breathed. But how would he get her through the sweet shop and away from Hogsmeade. And that was when the memory of the previous year hit him.

"Portkey!" Harry yelled, while jumping to his feet. "Someone get Dumbledore!" he exclaimed before turning on his heel and rushing from the hall. He felt, rather than saw, that several of his friends had followed him, but he ignored all other considerations in favor of the most pressing need: get to Hermione before Malfoy got her to the edge of the wards!

The first thing that hit Hermione's senses as consciousness returned was the sensation of weightlessness. No, perhaps it wasn't quite weightlessness, as she could feel the pull of gravity. It was more like she was propped up on something soft as the clouds. She groaned and moved her head, attempting to stretch, wondering where she was, but for some reason she could not make her arms move. For that matter, she could not move her legs either, and though she could not feel any bindings preventing her from moving, she was stuck nonetheless.

Sudden memory invaded her mind and her eyes snapped open. She gazed about wildly trying to figure out where she was and what was happening to her. Above her she could see the rough hewn stone of a dim tunnel, the walls folding around her like a cocoon. Hermione had never been afraid of enclosed spaces, but at the moment she felt as though she was imprisoned in the small cell, where the walls closed in on her as she struggled to escape.

"I see you're awake," a hated voice intruded, a mocking quality unmistakable in its tone.

Hermione's eyes darted up and she took in the smirking visage of a certain blond Slytherin. Malfoy had his wand pointed at her, while with the other he held a luminous ball, lighting the passageway and providing an even more eerie cast to the situation, though it could just as easily be the predicament in which Hermione now found herself. He appeared to have her in a body bind and he was levitating her down the passage, to where she was not certain. Due to her proximity to the Defense Tower when he had ambushed her, and the location of the passage entrance which led to Honeydukes, it seemed that the most logical conclusion was that they were in the passage itself. What he intended, Hermione did not even which to speculate on.
"What, you don't have anything to say, Mudblood?" Malfoy jibed after a moment. "Kneazle got your tongue? Or maybe you're just finally seeing how I'm superior to you after all. You're usually vocal about just about anything which catches your attention."

"Release me and we'll see whose superior," Hermione snapped, fighting as she was to keep her composure.

"Now why would I do that? I've got you trussed up and on your way to the Dark Lord, where you can serve him in the only way your kind is useful. He's most desirous of meeting you, I assure you."

The dark gleam in Draco's eyes bothered her every bit as much as his insinuation, and for a moment Hermione had to fight the rising panic. The thought that Harry had the map and would be actively looking for her entered her mind and she forced herself to remain calm. She just needed to give him a little time, and he would come for her. He must!

"What are you talking about?" Hermione demanded, keeping her voice modulated with some effort. "You had better let me go before Harry finds out what you're up to."

"Potter doesn't know," Malfoy sneered. "How would he? As far as he's aware, you went to meet McGonagall. By the time he finds you missing, you'll be entertaining the Dark Lord's followers, and I will have completely covered my tracks. No one will know what's happened to you until the Dark Lord decides to break Potter with the knowledge. Maybe he'll send Potter your head."

"But how did you get ahead of me?" Hermione asked, grasping for straws rather than truly wondering how he had managed it.

Malfoy chuckled. "You know, for all your supposed intelligence you're really rather shortsighted and stupid sometimes, Granger. It's amazing what an Imperius curse or two and a little Polyjuice will do."

Understanding blossomed in Hermione's mind. Malfoy had never actually been present in the Great Hall—it had been nothing more than a ruse to get her away from Harry and alone where he could make his move. But now what did he plan to do with her?

"You know," Malfoy said with some introspection, "it's really your fault I focused on you."

"Like it was Deborah Grantley's fault that your father committed his filthy acts on her and her family?"

Pain exploded in Hermione's face as Malfoy casually backhanded her. "I'd suggest you keep your comments to yourself, Mudblood. The Dark Lord commanded me to bring you to him, but he didn't say that you have to be unharmed. A few bruises, or perhaps a few broken bones would mean nothing to him."

He glared at her for a few moments and then began walking again, directing her along with his wand.

"Anyway, as I was saying, I could have gone after the creature instead. But you won my attention with your annoying ways, your defiance, and the fact that you raised your wand against my father."

His eyes gleamed coldly in the light given from his wand, and Hermione shuddered at the sight. She imagined that this look in his eyes mirrored what had been in his father's when the elder Malfoy had attacked the Grantleys. It was that look, even more than the fact that he had successfully planned this abduction, which told Hermione that for all that Malfoy had always been an ineffectual little boy, he had apparently managed to grow a set of fangs. He might never be intelligent enough to be the Slytherin that his father had been, but it was clear that he could be every bit as vicious.

"You know, that idiot Potter will probably give himself up as a ransom for you—he's stupidly noble that way. But I promise you that you'll never see the light of day again. You'll be dead before Potter even gets there to 'save' you, and then he'll be forced to accept the fact that he gave himself up for nothing."

"Do you actually think Dumbledore will allow him to give himself up?" Hermione scoffed.

"I'm counting on Potter's noble streak and his little heart being broken when he finds out you're gone. I imagine he'll do just about anything to get you back. Sickening, actually, when you consider that as a Mudblood you're good for just one thing. The creature could serve him just as well for that.

Malfoy looked away and appear thoughtful for a few moments before he turned back to her with a sly, yet contemptuous look. "Do you know what Death Eaters do with scum like you? They strip them of their dignity—if something as filthy as you even has any. They do it slowly and with great deliberation, first destroying any sense of modesty, then your sense of self-worth, and then finally tearing down the very pillars of your mind. I've heard some of the tactics they use. I think you might find them enlightening. At the very least, it will make a dull journey a little more interesting. You see, Granger, they start—"

"You don't have to do this!" Hermione exclaimed, interrupting him before he could begin revealing the vile acts those animals would perpetrate on her if she was not able to escape. The panic was bubbling up within her, and though she tried to fight it down, the closer they came to the ward boundaries, the more hysterical Hermione was becoming. It would be better if she died before she fell into Voldemort's hands she was certain.

"Of course I have to!" Malfoy responded with a snort. "The Dark Lord has commanded it, and I have obeyed.

"It's too bad I have to send you on by yourself," he mused. "I would have loved to be part of your… education." He leered at her and took her form from head to toe. "You're not bad looking after all, and I bet you're hiding some interesting secrets under those robes. It's too bad the Dark Lord wants me to make sure there is nothing Dumbledore can pin on me."

He smiled at her rather unpleasantly. "Maybe I'll be able to participate when we finally get the creature. She's really something to look at, though she is subhuman. Trust Potter to hook up with the dregs of society."

"Coming from someone whose father raped and killed little girls," Hermione snapped.

Once again Malfoy backhanded her, this time with a little more force. "Keep on talking, Mudblood," he jeered. "I've got plenty more I can do to you before I send you on to the Dark Lord. Of course, you never could shut up, could you?"

Feeling the panic begin to well up within her, Hermione began struggling, putting every ounce of strength, both magical and physical, into an attempt to break free. What she could do with no wand and an almost insane Draco Malfoy watching her even if she did manage to escape his spells she could not say. But she needed to try something—anything!—to escape from his clutches.

But no matter how hard she fought, it was in vain. Magic held her tightly in its control and without her wand she could not exert sufficient focus to command her magic to obey. She tried a wandless finite, she tried to summon his wand from his hand, she even tried to trip him up with jinxes, but nothing worked. There appeared to be no escape, unless someone else was to come to her rescue.

"You can't do this!" Her voice sounded shrill to even her own ears. "You'll be found out and you'll end up the same as your father. Then your precious—"

Draco flicked his wand and though she continued to speak for a few moments, she could not hear the sound of her own voice. Knowing it was useless to reason with him, even if she could make herself heard, she redoubled her efforts to somehow affect her escape.

"I would consider it an honor to end up like my father," Malfoy snapped. "He was a great man and it is only because of scum like you that he was captured. You will pay! You will all pay! The Dark Lord will make sure of it! And I will be by his side, his most trusted lieutenant and his right-hand man.

"Enjoy your last few moments of your innocence, Mudblood. Your time has now come!"

He continued to drone on about this and that, his father's "misfortune" and his plans to get even with Harry, but Hermione did not pay him any heed. Her attention was focused on trying desperately, somehow, to escape from the mad boy's clutches.

"Come on, Harry, look at the map," she pleaded, willing her boyfriend to hurry and rescue her. There was only a matter of minutes left before she would be beyond his ability to save and into the Dark Lord's clutches forever. "Help me!" she screamed in the confines of her mind.

Consumed with the need to find Hermione before Malfoy could do anything to her, Harry raced out into the entrance hall. He was through it in a moment, sprinting through the corridors intent upon reaching the entrance to the passage and saving Hermione before she could be spirited from the castle. He raced on through the Transfiguration corridor, dodging around the few students who were not in the Great Hall, and using the shortest route to the Defense Tower he could think of. For a moment he almost wished that he had not run off without the map, but he knew that he would have no time whatsoever to consult it as to the best path, so he ignored the thought.

He was through the Transfiguration corridor and was sprinting the final distance to the Defense tower when he saw a spell speeding toward him from the corner of his eye. Dodging, Harry lost his balance. He went down and rolled back to his feet, his wand up and already trained in the direction from where the spell had originated, only to see the twin gorillas looming over him with expressions of hate on their stupid faces.

"Potter!" Crabbe spat as he approached with his wand held out. "It's your fault that my father's dead!"

"And mine," Goyle's belligerent voice joined him. "It's time for some payback."

Harry darted to one side, his wand already spitting out hexes. The two gorillas paled at his aggressive attack and dodged his opening spells, while they struggled to follow his movements. Perhaps Harry would not have expected to be able to best two opponents at once—even the slow and stupid followers of Draco Malfoy—but in his desperation to reach Hermione and with the adrenaline surging through his veins, the fight was over almost before it was begun.

As the two Slytherins trained their wands on him and began yelling curses, Harry pirouetted, and almost simultaneously spit off four spells in a row. The two idiots had not even bothered to cast shield spells on themselves, and were immediately hit by Harry's responding fire—a bludgeoning curse and a stunner for Goyle, and a disarming hex and banishing charm for Crabbe. Goyle dropped to the floor, unconscious, and Crabbe hit the wall behind him with some force, and then fell and did not move again. Harry did not even bother to catch the boy's wand as it sailed through the air toward him. Only a few seconds after the confrontation had begun, Harry was up and running for the passage, only peripherally noting that several of his friends had entered the far end of the corridor as he was leaving it.

After a run of a few moments, Harry spotted the statue of the one-eyed witch at the base of the tower staircase.

"Dissendium!" he cried as he approached, and he watched as the witch's hump moved away, revealing the darkness of the tunnel beyond.

Sliding down the short ramp to the floor of the passage, Harry sped on into the gloom of the passage, only thinking to light the tip of his wand as the light from the corridor faded.

By this time, Harry was beginning to develop a bit of a stitch in his side, but he ignored the pain and pressed on grimly, trying to figure out how much time he had. He was uncertain just how far down the passage the school's wards extended. It was difficult to determine, as the map only covered the grounds and did not extend to Hogsmeade. He thought that they probably went at least to the midpoint of the tunnel, and considering how far along Malfoy had been when Harry had left the Great Hall, it was likely he had only a matter of moments before the Slytherin was able to spirit Hermione away forever.

It seemed like he had run for hours when Harry thought he could see the flickering of a light ahead of him. Redoubling his efforts, he ran faster, urging his flagging strength to take him the rest of the way to his love's side.

Within moments, he could make out the indistinct shape of Hogwarts robes, and the shock of blond hair on the head of his hated enemy, and he could see that the boy was levitating someone by his side. But by this time he had attracted the attention of those in front of him and he saw Malfoy turn and regard him, his face reflecting an incredulous shock.

"Let her go, Malfoy!" Harry yelled as he sprinted toward them.

"Not on your life, Potter!" Malfoy snarled.

He lay something on Hermione's chest and put his wand on the item yelling, "Mudblood!" when he had touched it with his wand. But nothing happened—he was still within the wards. Harry almost wept with relief.

Then, the vindictive boy did something which Harry would return in his nightmares until the end of his days. Growling, Malfoy stepped back from Hermione and with an expression of utter hate etched upon his features yelled, "Sectumsempra!" while moving his wand in a slashing motion several times. Where his wand pointed, slashes appeared in Hermione's robes and rents appeared in her skin, and in an instant, blood boiled up from the slashes on Hermione's chest. Her face contorted in a mask of pain and Harry expected to hear her screams, only to realize that Malfoy must have silenced her.

Incensed, Harry leveled his wand at the evil boy and shouted, "Reducto!"

His spell caught Malfoy on the shoulder and it flung him to the side of the passage where he impacted heavily with the wall. His wand went flying from his grasp and he went down in an unmoving heap.

Harry paid no attention to the Slytherin. He charged up to Hermione and yelled, "Finite!" as he approached, catching her and cradling her in his arms as she fell from the now-cancelled levitation spell. As her silencing spell was cancelled at the same time, he could now hear her whimpering and panting with the pain of her injuries.

Easing her to the ground, Harry stood and pulled his robes over his head, and then kneeled down and pressed them to Hermione's wounds in a vain attempt to staunch the flow of blood. As he pressed the garment in, he caught sight of the slashes, noting the slightly darkened skin about the edges. He realized that this was likely a dark curse—no normal spell would make such deep and angry gashes.

Jumping to his feet, Harry brandished his wand and yelled, "Expecto Patronum!"

His stag Patronus sprang forth from his wand and stood stock still, looking at him with expectation. The idle thought penetrated his mind, even while he was desperate to save Hermione, that the Patronus was behaving in a much different manner than it usually would at being summoned; normally, it would gambol about looking for potential enemies, or frolic here and there as though it was elated to finally be freed from the confines of his wand. In this instance, it seemed to understand that it was being summoned for the direst of circumstances, and so stood awaiting instructions.

"Go to Dumbledore! Hermione has been injured by a dark cutting curse. We are in the passage to Honeydukes!"

The Patronus bounded off to relay the message and Harry once again knelt by the form of his love and pressed his robe against her wounds. "Don't worry, Hermione," he tried to reassure her, even as tears were streaming down his face, "Dumbledore will be here soon. He'll know what to do."

But despite his bravado, Harry knew that Hermione inching closer to death, could feel her life's blood leaking from her wounds and pooling under her. Choking back a sob, Harry wracked his brain for anything which would help staunch the bleeding and allow his friend to hold onto life long enough for help to arrive.

He was startled from his concentration on his task by a light touch on his arm. He looked down to see Hermione's hand touching his arm, as lightly as a feather, though her strength seemed to fail her, and her hand fell limply once again by her side. Her eyes were full of pain, but they were clear—the dark brown eyes that he had grown to love so dearly. She appeared to be trying to speak, but Harry, wanting her to conserve her energy as much as possible, shook his head.

"Don't speak. Help is on the way."

But Hermione would not be denied. With what appeared to be an extreme force of willpower, she grasped his arms and pulled him down until his ear was only inches from her own. And then she whispered words which both elated him, and filled him with despair.

As the pain from the curse washed over her, Hermione felt Harry catch her and lower her to the floor. He had found her.

She was vaguely aware of his actions as he summoned his Patronus and sent it off with a message, before returning to her and cradling her to him, pressing his hands to her wounds. It was curious, she decided, that as he did so, the pain of her wounds began to lessen, and she felt herself beginning to drift upon the waves of consciousness.

Hermione knew in that instant that she would die. But much as the thought made her immensely sad at the thought of the life with Harry which had been stolen from her, Hermione felt a sort of acceptance course through her. A violent death at the hands of the despicable boy who had tormented her since she had entered the magical world was not a death she would have chosen. But at least Harry was here. He would hold her and comfort her as she passed from the confines of this world, ushering her forth into the next life where she would await his coming.

Regrets! She had many. Among them the fact that she would not be able to say goodbye to her parents, and that she would leave her friends behind in the time when they needed her most. But she was also sorry to be leaving Harry behind to face the monster on his own, when she had sworn to always be by his side. Fleur would have to take up the mantle of his protection now, and Hermione could not think of anyone better than the French witch to protect him. Fleur would see Harry through his sorrow.

But Hermione could not leave without telling Harry what she felt for him—the very thought was inconceivable. And for this reason, she forced her eyes open, and reached up to touch his arm, gazing at him, almost crying at the unfairness of it all when his amazing green eyes focused upon hers. She attempted to speak, but found it almost impossible to force the words from her lips.

"Don't speak," Harry said, though his words almost seemed like they were spoken from a great distance. Or perhaps he was speaking through a mask which was muffling his voice. It did not matter—nothing mattered any more. "Help is on the way."

Shaking her head as much as her failing strength allowed, Hermione forced her arms up, though they felt like they were encased in solid rock, and she grasped his own, pulling him down with a grip which would not be denied. Reluctantly, Harry allowed himself to be brought near to her lips.

"Always remember, Harry," she rasped, "that I love you more than anything in the world."

Her strength spent, Hermione allowed her arms to collapse next to her. She gazed once more into the depths of his emerald eyes before she sighed once and her eyes fluttered closed.

Updated 05/30/2014