They ran, following Kingsley and Ron that had the lead. Hermione was reminded of the final battle, when Harry, Ron and she had run to the whomping willow in search of Voldemort. She felt the same dread as she had back then, but a lot more determination.
Today she knew exactly what she was capable of, and the Lestranges didn't scare her. What did were the anticipation and the unknown parameter to such mission.

Kingsley stopped abruptly, they were too close to keep running, they risked being heard or seen. Set as a clock they all did what they were supposed to do. Put themselves in formation, Dean and Ron on front, Kingsley and Lee in the middle, Neville and Hermione at the back, then disillusion themselves, then silencio, and finally follow the lead.

Lavender and Harry's presence was missed, like they'd be outnumbered without them, but Hermione kept going anyway, ignoring her gut feeling.

She was able to feel the wards before they even reached them. This was definitely the place. She saw the dirt move to the side as the others stepped away to let her pass. She did and then, lifted her wand.

Draco's nervousness was at the worst it had ever been. He'd given up the swirling of his wand in his hands, afraid to break it, to wring his fingers together instead. Blaise had woken up and was pacing along the aisles, his eyes stuck to his coin.

The oddest was that now, Potter was calm. He sat, his face peaceful, his eyes closed, his wand firmly clenched in his hand. Brown arboured the exact same composure, but she sat right on the floor, leaning against a bookshelf.

What was wrong with them? Now that they'd clearly established that something was surely going to happen that night, they'd calmed down. Draco and Blaise were the exact opposite. Maybe the Gryffindors fed on bravery after all. Maybe the upcoming action was something they were attracted to. The natural behaviour in such a situation was to panic though. But Draco's pride didn't allow him to panic when the two bloody Gryffindors were so composed.

He was supposed to stay calm and show a mask of blankness. He was a bloody Malfoy. But as his left foot started tapping the floor on its own volition, he stood and resolved to pacing with Blaise.

"Calm down." Said Brown, not even opening her eyes.

"Shut up." He snapped.

"Seriously Malfoy, if you start panicking you'll loose your way when it comes." Draco cocked an eyebrow at her babbling. Then the words hit him and he understood. They were getting psychologically ready for the worst.

"How?"

"Call Blaise first and come sit with me I'll show you." She said.

He did as bid and had to drag Blaise by the sleeve to have him sit on the floor in front of the blonde wolf.

"Close your eyes." She said and they reluctantly obliged. Blaise sighed to show how stupid he felt.

"From where could they enter the manor?"

"The front doors." Draco answered.

"What would you do then?"

"Wait in the drawing room, side of the chimney. "

"You'd manage?"

"Yes."

"Where else?"

"The garden lounge."

"Where would you be?"

"In the tea room, behind the grand painting."

"Would you manage?"

"Yes."

"See what I'm doing?"

"Yes."

"Keep doing it."

And he did. He felt Blaise relax considerably next to him a few minutes after and knew that he was doing it too.

Reviewing every possibility, every case scenario, every spell, hex, curse he could use, everything.

Time was flying away, slipping from her fingers as water would. It was already four in the morning when Hermione finally broke the wards entirely. She mirrored them at the same time Neville was checking how many people were in there. It was obvious that they were a lot and they could check on the wards anytime. They needed to be fooled, at least until they decided how to proceed.

Once the first deed done, she stepped back and Lee took her spot.

While he did she took in the house that had just appeared before her, far enough that she could only decipher yellow squares instead of windows. Only two were lit.

The house itself wasn't that big, two storey, stoned façade, surrounded by trees. She could see a man at the front door, and two rounding at the back.

She felt a brush at her shoulder and started backing away. A hand gripped hers and she walked backwards, watching their back, wand ready.

Once they were far enough not to be heard, they ran back to the shack.

"Fifteen." Said Neville. Shit, way more than them.

"Bet we're surprisingly lucky and there's a meeting." Suspected Ron.

"Surely. They never regroup that many people without purpose. They must be preparing another attack. A big one." Added Dean.

"We're just on time then." Ron's eyes flashed with something a bit too close to sadism to Hermione's taste.

"Jordan?" Asked Kingsley.

"Parchment's there."

"Meeting for sure then. All right, last time we speak." Kingsley took a deep breath, probably to clear his thoughts and continued: "So, we tell the others to put the bait out. Then, we check how many of them goes out there. Depending on that I'll decide with Harry who stays, who goes. If you go, you stay at the outskirts of the Manor, and wait for all of them to enter. Only then do you go in to close them in. If you stay, I'll go for the stone, presuming they don't take it with them, while you cover my back. Then we incapacitate and arrest as much of those sons of bitches as possible. Which means we arrest them all. Everyone all right?"

Hermione would have answered a fuck no but she felt like it might anger Kingsley. It was how she felt though. Fucking not all right.

Draco heard Potter shuffle on his armchair, and half a second later he said:

"Guys." All stood the instant and closed the space between them and Potter. He was tapping his coin, his eyes pleated, his mouth a thin line.

"Malfoy, do your job. Zabini, yours." Potter was back to being the boss and Draco obeyed without even questioning it in his mind. He turned his back to the others and concentrated. He lifted his wand, slowly, twisting it twice to the left, once to the right and muttered the incantation. He couldn't risk unvoiced magic. He didn't release the spell with the last flick needed though, but instead opened his eyes and waited for Blaise to finish sending his patronus.

I wish to join. It's taken longer than I had anticipated but I've defeated Malfoy to prove my loyalty. The manor is yours.

He'd spoken in an icy and proud voice, as if he was doing them a favour. Draco recognised that tone, he'd heard Blaise use it all through their Hogwarts years and he realised he didn't like it at all. Felt all too real. But then Blaise turned a worried and stressed gaze to him and it was with trust that Draco flicked his wand.

Here, they finally moved. The lights were turning on on both floors, and it was now lit with a total of eight yellow squares from where Hermione stood. The guard on front and the two at the back went in.

Now, they waited for them to go. Hermione supposed it would take a while, and she kept her gaze adverted on the house. But it only took fifteen minutes and now the back door was open and hooded figures were coming out in line. Hermione swallowed, they were ten. If they all went to the manor some of them would have to go too.

The figures walked slowly, still in a lined formation, to the edge of the fake wards, at the end of the backyard. At least they didn't know they were there. But Hermione couldn't see them any longer. She heard a shushing sound and knew she had to follow. A noise resounded at her left and she started that way, scanning the floor for the other's footsteps. She caught one and kept going. It stopped abruptly where the trees went thinner, and fewer.

Now she could see them again, what remained of them. They were only five left. She heard the shuffle, and even the coin tapping, her ears on the lookout for any suspect noise.

Then there was a sweep of air to her right and a tiny yellow light. An almost inaudible murmur followed:

"Parchment's gone." She heard the coin tapping again. But her coin remained still and she knew that she was staying. All men were gone and after two minutes of heavy silence, only broken by the forest's sounds and the wind blowing softly, there was a pop that clacked and resounded at her back. She turned around but realised that some of them had just left to the Manor.

They waited quietly to see if they'd been heard but nothing happened. Then Kingsley's murmur brushed her ear.

"Granger, Thomas you cover for me. Stay unseen." So she was left there with only Dean and Kingsley. There were still five men inside the house. They'd manage if they played it smart. Stay unseen indeed.

"They're coming. Ten of them. Malfoy can you still tell where they are?"

"I'll only be able if they stay out of the house. I had to permit their entrance."

"All right so we'll know where they'll be. Ron, Lee and Neville are coming for back up. They'll stay out until they're all in."

"We know Potter."

Scarhead gave him a glare but said nothing and they waited. Draco knew that they were probably already outside the Malfoy land, planning their entrance. So he kept wary and pricked his ears, even though it was useless. Then, he felt it. In his wand arm, the ward was warning him he had guests. The ward had no idea those were not guests but scumbags that would regret setting foot there.

"They entered. Three at the garden door, seven front door."

"Lavender, Zabini and I front door. Will you manage alone Malfoy? They can't see you're alive."

Draco nodded and they all ran out the library to take their positions. He reached the tea room just when he knew the front door had opened. He hid behind the grand painting and reviewed all he'd thought about earlier. Three men. He'll manage, if he played it smart.

After a few minutes of intense staring at the door from the shadows, stress was about to take him when the door was blasted off its hinges with a big flash of red light and a loud crash.

He kept still and silent, eyes darting the entrance, waiting. Nothing happened for a moment and he thought they might be waiting to see if someone was there. As he didn't dare breathe and was starting to feel dizzy, three hooded figures entered slowly.

"Malfoy's always been stupid. One spell and the door's off." The voice was mocking and slightly familiar as Draco thought that they were the stupid morons. He'd lowered his wards, usually no one but him and his mother could enter this door.

"Let's find Zabini and bring his sorry arse back there. I bet the coward is pissing his pants right now."

"If he's even hidden, the idiot may think we really wanted him in."

"Like we'd take cowards and blood traitors into our ranks." An icy laugh followed and Draco felt a sudden bout of anger flash his eyes.

"Speaking of which I bet Lucius is drooling all over his cell knowing that someone finally killed his unworthy son."

It was the last words Draco could hear, as they had slowly left the tea room. He waited until he thought they were at the end of the corridor and got out of his hiding. He followed them as quietly as possible and caught a glance at their back as they stopped upon a big painting of his great grand father.

"Err … All fucking blonds."

Wrinkling his nose in anger at the inattentive men, Draco attacked.

"Stupefix!" The response was expected and careless.

"Crucio!"

Hermione came at an abrupt stop at the last tree before the house. Three figures were arguing at the back door.

"You leave now. There's no time!"

"Come on dear we're not even supposed to be here!"

"I don't care! Father! He said Zabini was coming! I have a right to see my future fiancé!" What a stupid bint. Pansy's father had a firm hold of her daughter's fore-arm and the last was fighting fiercely to get off his grip. Her mother stood next to her and grabbed her hand as she managed to free herself from her father.

"Pansy this is enough! You do as I say or I'll have to take measures! Darlene you take her now!"

"But if Rabastan hears he's going to …" The mother cut herself, shooting a worried glance at her husband, that drifted to her daughter as her eyes grew wide.

"He won't. He's busy right now. And he's not the dark lord dear I can handle him."

"What … Mother what are you talking about?"

Mr Parkinson sighed.

"There is no marriage Pansy. Now you go." The tone he'd employed was icy and left no place for argument. Pansy seemed to realise what was happening and her face discomposed around her pug like nose.

"Fa … Father?" She got no answer as her father nodded to Mrs Parkinson and went back in the house, closing the door after him.

"Mother?"

"Come Pansy." The unsurprisingly pugged faced woman tugged at her daughter's hand forcefully and they both ran to the edge of the now broken wards. They disapparated only a few seconds after.

So they were down to only three men. One of them was Rabastan Lestrange, the other Mr Parkinson, that claimed being able to outdo Lestrange, and the third was unknown.

Kingsley came into sight briefly, well hidden behind a large tree. He signed for her and Dean, whom she couldn't see, to follow him. If Rabastan was there, there was a chance that the stone was there too.

Kinglsey disappeared again and Hermione followed where he'd pointed his finger. The second window to the door. No light was lit on the ground floor and peeking inside all she could see was a traditional lounge that looked quite like Mrs Malfoy's. She lifted her wand and checked it. Nothing, her ward breaking had been effective even on the house. She vanished the glass and jumped on the windowsill, to let herself in.

Then, she checked the room while hearing shuffle behind her and she knew the others had jumped in too.

Kingsley came into view again, Dean followed and finally Hermione did too. The head of their department nodded and took the lead. Dean and Hermione followed him, glancing behind their shoulders as they quietly stepped out the lounge.

When they finally reached a grand marbled staircase, Hermione realised the house had been magically extended to the size of a small manor. It was nothing compared in size to Malfoy Manor, but it probably reached half of it anyhow.
They hadn't been able to check every room and risked being attacked at their back if they went up. After all there was still one man they knew nothing about. Kingsley was hesitating but he finally came to a decision and retrieved Harry's invisibility cloak from his pocket. Extended too apparently.

"Check, then join me." He murmured. "I'll tap if needed." Hermione trusted him to manage both Parkinson and Lestrange but she was still not too keen on leaving him alone when they didn't know who was the third person. Dean seemed to think likewise.

They obeyed anyway. Dean took the lead and walked to the corridor they hadn't checked, Hermione followed. There was nothing in the ball room, nothing in the dining room, nothing in the back kitchen. Dean bit his lower lip once they reached the last lounge.

"No one, you'd manage to stay down?" He whispered.

"Can go up." Hermione had never imagined Dean could feel this torn. He shook his head.

"If they see Potter's muggleborn, they'll know he's at the manor." Of course. She couldn't be seen, she was known among them. If Kingsley and Dean were beaten, they'd probably just think aurors had found their hiding. They wouldn't necessarily guess there was a trap at the Manor. She had to remain unseen. She managed a silent sigh and nodded. Dean didn't look very pleased with leaving her alone, never leave an auror alone was the golden rule. As every rule Kingsley had ever installed, it was going to be broken, again.

"If anyone comes back, hide, tap." She nodded again, and grabbed his hand to give him a small quick squeeze. He smiled and then he was gone.

Hermione warily went out the lounge a minute after, she would remain unseen, but she would patrol, they could have missed something. The stone for instance.

Draco ducked the awful unforgivable and fired an expelliarmus their way. One wand flew to him and he pocketed it, running in the first room he found. They followed. What a bunch of idiots.

He found himself in his father's old office and hid at the back of the door. Predictable, but the best position. What ensued was unexpected. The three men entered and they all had wands. He still had one in his pocket though.

The next few minutes were the longest of his life, as he had to fight three men alone. The first to fall had been hit with a nasty reducto, the second a stupefix, and the last didn't fall, he ran after him in the corridor, shooting nasty curses everywhere.

Draco ran to the get closer to the others, by now the would be fighting too. They were outnumbered, severely outnumbered and he didn't have time to tap his coin. So he kept running, ducking the portraits that were blown away around him, up until he turned a corner and bumped into another hooded figure. The man had no mask and Draco had never seen him, but obviously the hooded idiot recognised him.

"MALFOY!" He yelled and started firing hexes as Draco ran past him and started in the lounge. He had almost reached the back door when he heard shouting and saw blue air pass his ear.

He turned around from the middle of the room and started hexing, shouting like a madman, and managed to hit the man he'd knocked himself into just before.

The other caught with him though, just as he passed the back door. Draco ran down the flack of stairs that leaded to the kitchen, there he could go up and he'd be close enough to the lounge to reassemble the battle.

Hermione was pacing around the large ground floor warily, her heart pounding furiously. She reopened the ball room door, and entered it when a large thud and a strong scream resounded. She'd only taken a quick step when a voice came way too close to her ears.

"Where do you think you're going pretty thing?" She snapped around and fired.

"Petrificus totalus!" The man had obviously not expected that. Hermione waited for him to fall down and then got closer to see his face. She pulled his hood back. Familiar. The paralysed man's death glare morphed as recognition hit his eyes. She thought of shooting a body-bind jinx but her eyes fell on the door he'd came from and she forgot to try and remember who he was.
That door had definitely not been there before. Pricking her ears to catch what was happening upstairs she realised there was no noise.

Either they'd been caught, and she needed to leave, or they were searching for the stone and she had a minute.

But what she felt once she touched the door made up her mind. A ward. A really strong ward. Something was kept in there. She tested it, three times. And then her mind started racing.

Draco managed to be out the kitchen and in the stairs that led up to the ground floor before the other man, he had kept quite the seeker's stamina apparently. He still had a large distance to run but he could manage to run close to the drawing room and get the others within earshot. As he heard the man start up the stairs he was already at the last step. But when the large corridor displayed before him he could see yet another hooded figure about ten steps away. The man turned around and paused a second before recognition hit his eyes. Draco couldn't believe his lack of luck. The first man he'd stupefixed had managed to recover.

"Sectusempra!" Oh no, not again.

"Protego! Reducto!" The man fell to his side but the other had caught up with him so Draco turned around. No more running away. The man's face twisted in an insufferable smirk as he lifted his wand very slowly.

Duelling he wanted, duelling he would get.

Seventeen minutes of brain wrecking and spells and charms and the small wooden door was open. Not an easy one, but a logically broken one. Hermione gave a quick glance to check that the man was still incapacitated before lighting her wand and stepping in the room.

The smell. Horror. Death. She froze, for how long, she had no idea.
The scene before her was like nothing she'd even seen in her life. Bodies, broken bodies, dead people were laying on the blood-coloured floor. It was a butchery.
Hermione's heart was racing, trying to escape her ribcage as she felt tears wet her cheeks. But she couldn't panic. Not now. She took a scared step in, trying to see just bodies.

She counted seven. Two men probably dead by avada after a large amount of beating up, three others, a woman and two men, had a gigantic hole in their chest, very much alike Mrs Zabini had had.

One was a child, a tiny raven haired boy, beaten. Probably starved to death. Hermione's heart stopped at once when she involuntarily caught a glimpse a his broken face, his dirty cheeks had been stained by tears. Next to him was a blond woman, curled up on her side against the wall, her back to Hermione.

As she approached she heard a silent pleading moan. She was alive. The woman was alive. Hermione ran the three steps that kept her away from her and reached for her shoulder. The poor woman flinched away and whimpered weakly.

"I'm here to help you. Miss I'm here to help. Look at me." The woman startled at her voice and snapped her face up in fear and surprise. Hermione lifted her lighting wand to her face.

"Do you recognise me?" The woman's shaky breath only intensified and Hermione got no response as she started shaking. She didn't.

"I'm Hermione Granger. I'm here to help. Can you stand?" The woman pleated her eyes, still shaking from head to toe, but eventually nodded. Hermione crouched to help her when she tried to weakly lift herself from the floor.

"What's your name?"

"Cl … rissa F..."

"Flint? Clarissa Flint?" The woman nodded and her shaking lowered slightly.

"I'll get you out of here." Hermione took hold of the poor woman and retrieved the sock that was her usual personal Portkey. She'd just tap the coin for Dean or Kingsley to wait for her, or disapparate.

"You'll land in my office at the ministry. Next door is the head's office. Creevey should come there in about an hour. Tell him, he'll take care of you." The woman hesitated briefly but she seemed to be so desperate to get out of this hell that once Hermione had charmed the Portkey and handled it to her, she took it right away.
Thirty seconds later she was gone. Hermione released a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding and slowly made her way out. Then she got a coined message. Kingsley had left. She reached the door, and realised they must think her gone because of her Portkey being activated. So she quickly lifted her wand to tap her coin for Dean.

Then, there was a loud blow and a flash of purple light.

Her wand hand received the shock. She heard them crack. Every bone in it. She screamed and missed her next target. The hex she'd sent dejected to the floor at the man's right and set the carpets on fire. She fired a protego as he lifted his wand again but her broken hand seemed to alter her moves and it vanished instantly. The sadistic smirk that took the man's features was a very bad sign. She ducked. Shit. She got blasted on her side against the wall full force. Dizzy, she still managed to stand right back up as the inhuman piece of crap laughed.

"Does it hurt mudblood?" So he'd recognised her, how come she hadn't before? Marcus Flint!

"Flipendo!" Still dizzy from the shock she missed her target again.

"That's all you got?" She couldn't see as blood had started dropping from her eyebrow but she fired anyway, her wand feeling the threat. She was no longer responsible for the damages she would cause.

"Incendio!" She heard the flames. But a roar and a flash later and she felt herself fall as a slashing pain seized her left thigh.

The next second she was on the floor panting, unable to scream, blinded by pain. Dizziness and fear assaulted her in waves and she couldn't move. She could feel the blood pouring out of her leg without even touching it. The smell of smoke was all she could decipher, she couldn't hear him any longer, and she realised the pain hadn't blinded her, blood had. After a moment, which length she couldn't say, she realised her left hand was wet. Blood had dripped all around her. She gripped what felt to be a gigantic wound tightly, trying to apply pressure. The pain was unbearable and she almost blacked out. She managed to rub her left eye clean with her sleeve. What she saw made her gag.

She'd lost too much blood. And it wasn't the regular crimson blood as from a simple cut. No, this one was thick and a dark shade too close to black. He'd cut through an artery. And she couldn't perform healing magic on herself for it would drain all the remaining fragile strength she had. Shit. She was doomed. The others were gone and she'd just bleed to death there, on that damned marbled floor. At least she'd stained the carpet with her supposedly muddy blood.

The heat from the burning fire was unbearable and only accentuated the swelling of her broken fingers. Her wand finally fell from her loose grip. Her right hand was so swollen that she couldn't grab it again, and her left was pointlessly pressing her wound. Blood dripped from her right eyebrow too and obstructed her view. She was defenceless. She couldn't see. She was ready to loose consciousness. She was already dead.

Draco felt hot on the thigh, thinking he got scuffed by a spell, he ignored it and fired an incendio on the scumbag. He hit unexpectedly and the man finally fell to the floor, screaming his lungs out, as the magical flames took his clothes and the smoke engulfed him in a giant cloud of grey. But the now burning sensation only intensified and Draco was hit with a sudden bout of panic. His parchment. Shit he didn't have time for Granger's informations. But it burnt so hard he had to at least retrieve it. Maybe her informations were vital. But the man's screams had alerted the others and he heard them run to the corridor from the drawing room.

Draco ran to the corner of the corridor, sending stupefixes and random hexes over his shoulder, and finally found an alcove where he could hide for a few seconds. He retrieved the damn thing and froze. It was covered in blood. But the worst was that, once seen, the parchment kept its horrific dark red colour. It didn't fade. Blood had not stained it, it was flowing on it. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Everything after that became blurry, as Draco realised Granger was hurt. Badly hurt. Keeping the parchment in hands a little longer didn't make the blood vanish from it. He had to do something. Unfortunately he'd waited too long and a tall dark haired wizard found him.

But all he could think about was Granger. She'd die. She was supposed to be safe, they were here, she was supposed to be safe. They'd only been five of them back there. Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Avada Kedavra!" Draco ducked an inch enough for the curse to miss. He fired incendios and stupefixes everywhere, and jumped out the alcove like a madman. He had to find her. He had to find Jordan. He needed Jordan.

Running around in circles wouldn't help, firing hexes and curses and now Unforgivables behind his shoulder, he ran to the lounge where the others had gone earlier. He didn't give a shit who he might hit, he didn't give a shit about anything else. Granger.

Stumbling and slipping on a pool of blood he managed to enter the drawing room, having only been shot in the shoulder. He hadn't even felt the burn, just that it was now harder to move his arm. He didn't care. Jordan was there, duelling a masked figure. Draco plunged in and fired a reducto right to the man's head. The result was nasty and Jordan stood now frozen, watching who had saved his arse by exploding a head.

"Jordan track Granger's parchment!"

"What? Malfoy? Careful flipendo!"

"Shit, move." He grabbed him by the elbow and threw the parchment at him, leading him to outside the room by the back door.

"She's hurt track her parchment!" Jordan's face discomposed but he didn't move.

"We need to get back in there Malfoy!"

"NO, Track that parchment!"

"Malfoy the protocol …"

"FUCK PROTOCOL TRACK IT!"

And then all Draco could see was red. Jordan didn't want to help. Granger would probably die. The man kept shaking his head at Draco, and refused to lift his bloody wand. Draco yelled incoherently, Granger! Granger would die if he didn't hurry. Waving the parchment at Jordan's face didn't make him move, the man kept looking at the drawing room behind Draco's shoulder, the only time he lifted his wand was to cast a protego. Draco realised he didn't give a shit. Jordan didn't care about Granger. She would die. She would fucking die. Why wouldn't he track the parchment? It would only take two minutes.

"Malfoy we need you in there, we need to go back!"

"I DON'T CARE, TRACK IT!" A devastating and burning anger was running through him and since Jordan didn't want to save her, Draco would make him. That's when he knew he had nothing to loose but her. Hermione Granger. Dying. She was dying. And he was shaking Jordan by the shoulders, yelling incoherent orders, his eyes burning with tears and anger, his shoulder aching.

"MALFOY!" Brown's roar stopped him and she tried to grab him by the elbow to take him away from Jordan, but he wouldn't let her, Granger would die.

"SHE'S DYING AND HE WON'T HELP!"

"Shit. Shit."

"Protocol …"

"FUCK PROTOCOL YOU BLOODY FUCKING KILLER!" The next words that escaped Brown's and Jordan's mouth were incoherent babbles that only made him loose time.

"FUCKING TRACK IT NOW OR I'LL MAKE YOU!"

"I'll keep them there, track it Lee." Here, one reasonable person. Draco let go of Jordan's shoulders, ready to hex the shit out of him if he didn't do as told. The idiot looked shocked but it didn't matter. He lifted his wand after an eternity where Draco had decided to punch him right in the mouth. He tracked it and it took way too long. Draco was pushed by adrenaline and his whole body was trembling when the wanker finally opened his mouth again.

"Take it and apparate." He said. Draco took the parchment back and disapparated right on the spot. Leaving the monstrous murderer of Hermione Granger there.

He landed in what he guessed to be a ballroom, which was on fire. A metallic smell took his nose right away. Blood. He could smell it above the smoke and it was out of sight. Said smoke was so thick it started to coat his throat in a thin layer of ash and he found himself out of breath devastatingly too quickly. After two useless repellent charms he realised he'd have to take measures or he'll asphyxiate and die on the spot. Unable to see past his feet he stopped and coughed several times before being able to gather his thoughts. With his wand he cut both sleeves from his cloak, threw the now useless piece of clothing on the floor and used aguamenti to moist the loose sleeves. He'd learnt every possible trick after the fiendfyre, even muggle ones, just in case. Knotting one around his mouth and nose, he carried the other close to his chest, taking again quick steps forward, his vision blurry and darkened by tears and smoke.

He was never going to find her. She was probably already dead. She was dead and he was going to die too. She was dead. Draco kept going anyway, his head bowed, back arched as much as he could to avoid the smoke, unable to follow the smell of blood any more, panic creeping through his core, anguish along his veins. She couldn't be dead. She just couldn't. His heart constricted furiously, his eyes watered even more and his hands started to shake but he kept going. He would probably die trying, but he'd find her. He had to. He couldn't live if he didn't.

He slipped on something and at that moment, died a bit inside. There was a pond of thick dark blood on the marbled floor that shone morbidly through the heavy smoke. His breath quickened and as he took one more step his heart stopped at the horror of the scene before him.

Hermione was half-sitting half-laying against the wall, in an pool of her own blood, a hand loosely settled atop a hollow wound on her left thigh, her right hand clenched and inhumanly swollen had let go of her wand and Draco gulped before lifting his gaze to her face. She was deadly ashen. So white, he couldn't discern her lips from her face any more, the only thing that now stood out in a furious and unnatural way, were her freckles.

She was dead. Someone had beaten her to death, her left eye was marred in black bruises and streams of blood had stained her face and dried out to leave a thin brown scab down to her lips and she didn't breathe. Horror struck him as death itself would, and Draco fell to his knees. He heard the snatching sound of a horrific scream of pain bounce then fade in the smoke and realised it was his own. He'd never thought he could feel so much pain. His chest was so tight, he couldn't draw a breath. She was dead. He was too late. Hermione Granger was dead.

Absurd. No, she couldn't be dead. She just couldn't be. She'd told him she would catch them. She'd said so herself and she was always right. She'd never said she'd die! She didn't die! Grabbing her cold shoulders with both hands in the burning ambient heat, he shook her vehemently.

"Granger ! No ! Hermione ! Wake up !" She didn't. He grabbed her around the neck then and squeezed her cheeks, touched her face in frantic and disoriented moves, stroke her hair and screamed her name. Her maiden name. Hermione. A name he'd never said aloud, and now he was, too late, she would never hear it.

A blow. Wait, he'd felt a blow. Yes! She was breathing. A shallow and irregular breath but it was there! Trembling from head to toe and covered in blood Draco managed to finally loosely cover her mouth with the wet sleeve to protect her from the smoke, then he pointed his wand at the wound and cast the strongest healing spell he knew. The damage was morbid and the spell useless. Taking off the sleeve that didn't cover his face any more, he tied it tightly around her thigh. Feeling the heat of the fire coming closer, he managed to control his nerves enough to think of getting her out of there. She was light. Too light. And limp in his arms as he lifted her behind her back and knees. She was dying in his arms and he'd kill himself if she didn't make it. He ran.