I own nothing but the plot. Maybe.


"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will, which I now exert to leave you."

Jane Eyre-Charlotte Bronte


Chapter 34: Flight


For as much as she tried; sleep that night was unachievable.

The library felt like a more adequate place to sleep in; she had barely spent two minutes in the bedroom before she felt she would vomit with fear, expecting Draco to lurch out of the shadows and attack her again. The room was closing in on her; the stained glass window glowed strangely with the light from the other side and she could not bear to even look at the bed.

She was going to be free, and would never sleep on it again if it killed her.

So to the library she went, and trembling with excitement and fear, she huddled on the most comfortable armchair trying to calm herself down enough to get rest. The shadows loomed large and the pop of the fire in the hearth sounded like gunshots, reverberating around the room. Anticipation for morning kept her restless and cold though the fire burned away merrily, almost mocking her uneasiness.

Long ago Hermione might have taken comfort in the calming presence of the books around her but tonight she felt forsaken by them. Once she might have fallen asleep comfortably, imagining she could hear them whispering their stories sweetly to her, but that was in the past and the books were silent now.

It had taken effort and time, but she had managed to persuade Bogg to bring her a pair of jeans. She had expected the poor Elf to confess 'Master Malfoy' had not stocked any denim jeans for her, but she was pleasantly surprised when the creature appeared with the bounty in his small hands. She had been of a mind to ask for a top as well, but Bogg was already giving her a queer look. It took Hermione a second to remember it was nearly midnight-he was probably wondering what she wanted them for. Not wanting to arouse his suspicions further, Hermione thanked him profusely and sidled away to revel in her success. She pilfered a pair of Draco's socks and tugged them on though they were much too large and then pulled the jeans on, nearly crying at how good it felt to wear trousers again. They fit her like a glove; Hermione never thought she'd miss something so much. All she needed was a pair of shoes…Draco's were out of the question, and she couldn't find any for herself that weren't ridiculous heels-she supposed she would have to ask Blaise to transfigure something into shoes for her, if he could do it.

Now left with only her top half to cover, Hermione had snatched the first jumper she found out of one of Draco's drawers; a large black knitted affair that went past her hands and hips and threatened to slip off one shoulder or the other at any given time. It made her skin crawl to wear it but she forced herself to ignore her own disgust. It covered her and kept her warm, which was all she cared about. Once the deal was done she would burn it.

There was no clock in the library-Draco's doing, of course-so she had no way to tell what the time was. Either Bogg or Draco had shut the drapes on all the windows, so except for the orange glow of the fire, she was awash in total darkness.

Blaise had nearly pitched a fit when she'd told him where she wanted to go.

"Are you off your rocker?" he'd hissed in disbelief. "That's the last place you want to go!"

"Why?" she'd asked, nervously. "What's happening?"

"Nothing, yet," he said, "but there are spies and informants for the Dark Lord all over Hogwarts now, Granger. One screw up and you'll end up back here faster than you can blink."

"Never mind that!" she rolled her eyes. "There's something I need to do."

"What- find Potter?" Blaise said with a hint of derision. "Or Longbottom, before Draco gets to him?"

"He won't get Neville," Hermione said hotly. "He won't."

Blaise had let out a huff of annoyance, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Gods. Was she always this annoying?

"Please understand, Granger. I'm doing this for your safety."

"I don't give a troll's hairy left foot about safety!"

Blaise had to raise a brow at that. That was a first. "Keep in mind, darling; Draco did appoint me the task of looking after you."

She'd given a brittle laugh. "Yes, my self proclaimed husband flatters himself I need protection. I don't particularly care what he thinks. Will you take me to Hogwarts or not?"

There was something so decided in the crease of her brow, the glare in her eyes, that Blaise had no choice but to sigh and nod. He was certain if he'd said no, she would have found a way, with him willing or not, to get to the castle.

There was a quick movement nearby, and Hermione startled awake just in time to choke back a scream when Blaise covered her mouth with his hand.

Her heart had leapt up into her throat, pounding wildly. Hermione cleared it and opened her mouth to chastise him but he cut her off by pressing something into her hand.

It took a moment to register what it was, even as she felt the magic coursing through her, relaxing her limbs and forcing her eyes shut at its strength. She did not need to look twice to confirm it was her wand; the weight, the carved vine pattern on it was all there, and the magic was hers. It was a bit of a shock to have it in her hand again-she had long ago accepted the fact Malfoy had destroyed it or would never give it back.

"Thank you," she said earnestly. "Where did you get it?"

Blaise shrugged. "He'd left it with me at Hogwarts because he didn't want to destroy it. I guess he knew if he left it here he would have broken it a long time ago, so he told me to keep it somewhere safe. Draco's always been shit at hiding things." His voice had trailed off and they both knew what he had meant to say next.

Until he got you.

Hermione shrugged it off, and stood, stretching her stiff legs. Upon seeing her feet still bare (save for the socks) she raised her wand, pointing it at two cushions, muttered an incantation.

Please, please let this work…

Seconds later, there before her was a handsome pair of boots.

Hermione smiled, and pulled them on, lacing them tightly. Another quick spell and she had a hair tie in her hand, which she used to pull her hair into a high ponytail, making sure to keep any hair out of her face.

Once she was ready, she pocketed her wand and approached Blaise.

"How will we get there?"

"Portkey," Blaise said, pulling a bit of cloth out of his pocket, and unfolding it to reveal a train ticket for the Hogwarts Express. "After I was let back into Hogwarts, Draco had Snape give me this to get from the school to here. It'll take us directly into one of those funny little alcoves by the Great Hall."
Hermione had listened raptly to his words, but was still caught on one thing, and crestfallen, she said, "You mean you don't know where we are now."

Blaise shook his head. "Sorry. That's what I meant earlier. Only he knows where this place is. Never answers when I ask. For all we know we could be on the other side of the Forbidden Forest-if it has one, that is."

"Why have they given you so much freedom, to come and go as you choose?" she asked him.

"Snape's headmaster now. He knows I'm the only one to have frequent contact with Draco, and the Dark Lord ordered it anyhow. Look," he held up his hands, "I know you've got more questions, but he could be back anytime and it's for the best we be gone by then. If there's time we can talk more later, but first things first." He held out the ticket, which emitted a pale blue light, still half unwrapped in his palm, and looked at her intently. "Stay close no matter what happens."

Hermione nodded, and together, they grabbed one end of the ticket.

They landed on their feet, pressed close together by the limited space of the alcove. There was a roaring in her ears that she thought pertained to the rush of the travel by Portkey, and shook it off. Hermione managed to push herself away quickly, and stepped into chaos.

Broken. Everything was broken. Doors were blasted apart, shards of glass littered the floor, bodies lay crumpled every few feet.

There was a faint, acrid stench of smoke in the back of her throat but Hermione saw no fire.

The air itself felt raw-Hermione understood at once the protective enchantments around the school were either failing, if not already fallen.

No, no no.

Blaise had reached her and surveyed the damage with equal parts shock and dread.

"Shit. Shit." His hand gripped Hermione's upper arm and instantly let her go when her back arched and she hissed loudly in pain. "Sorry. But we're leaving. Now."

Hermione wrenched away. "No. You can go if you like, but I have to find something."

"Don't be stupid, Hermione!" he snarled, and in the clarity of her anger Hermione realized the roaring in her ears was no after effects of the Portkey. It was screams. Screams and crashes and God knew what else. Her legs turned to jelly and she almost swayed on her feet before righting herself hastily.

It's happening.

Blaise made a grab for her arm again but she dodged it.

"Thank you for everything," she said thickly. "I'm extremely grateful. Now come with me, or go before he finds out what's happened. Please," she insisted at seeing his outraged expression. "I don't want him to kill you."

There was an explosion on the floor above them, causing rubble and dust to rain down on them, and the ground itself shook underneath them. Blaise conjured a shield to protect himself from the debris, and looked around wildly for the witch, whose safety had been entrusted into his hands.

"GET BACK HERE!"

She had fled. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

"GRANGER!

He heard her footsteps then. She was running towards the battle! Blaise swore violently and ran after her, doing his best to avoid bodies of the fallen on the ground. Most of them were Death Eaters, he noticed.

She was up ahead, racing up the stairs and throwing pleading, frightened glances back at him, like a child at a playground aware of its anxious mother. The raw fear in her eyes suggested to him she was thinking of a different chase, in which he knew he had not been part of.

He was right. As she ran, highly aware of the fact that she was being chased, Hermione could not help the sense of terror that overtook her upon hearing Blaise's rapid footfalls behind her. She knew it was Blaise and not Draco behind her, but every time she glanced back it was the enraged, silver-haired wizard who was in pursuit of her. It was all a trick of her mind, she knew that, and forced herself not to give in to the threatening hysterics. She would blink hard and turn back to face front and run faster, because if there was one thing she wanted above anything else it was not to be caught again. Even by Blaise, who meant her no harm. He had saved her, taken her out of her cage, and she would be forever indebted to him for it, but he was sorely mistaken if he thought he could stop her from doing what had to be done.

He nearly caught her at the top, but he managed to get his foot caught on a step, and by the time he was free, she had gone.


Draco arrived at the Manor, tired but somewhat content. The battle had begun. The Dark Lord had gone off to Hogwarts with all his faithful except he, who had been ordered to stay out of the battle in order to prepare.

Draco was a little put out at the idea of not being able to enjoy taking part in the battle. He would have relished some duels-spill some blood perhaps, grab the chance to snuff out a few pestilent lives, but in the end he was more tempted by the happy thought of his wife waiting for him in bed upstairs, so with a light step he made his way there.

He shrugged off his robes once reaching the darkened room, and crept over to the bed, searching for her in the midst of all the sheets.

Only, the bed was perfectly made and not a single soul inhabited it.

Draco was not entirely disturbed by this. Perhaps she was using the loo. But upon further inspection, she was not there, either.

The library, then. He was a little annoyed now, but went to check for his witch. Again, the search proved fruitless, and this time he called for Bogg.

"Where is she?" he asked. "Has she gone outside?"

The poor, miserable creature trembled. "Bogg has not seen Missus Malfoy since she came here, Master."

Draco looked at the Elf sharply. "She spoke to you? What did she say?"

"Missus asked for clothes-jeans, she wanted, and Bogg gives them to her, he did."

"And after?" he barked the question, and the Elf began to wring his worn little hands.

"The Missus comes in here to sleep, Master, and Bogg sees her no more."

Draco didn't need any more explanation. There was a great sense of loss inside him and his ring seemed to pulse angrily on his finger-that was enough for him to know she was not there.

Filled with wrath, Draco slashed out with his wand and the green light flashed brightly in the poor Elf's eyes as he fell to the floor, lifeless.

Draco ran a hand through his hair and stood still, thinking hard. His limbs did not shake. He was not short of breath. No scowl twisted his lips or bent his brow. But the cold fury that had sparked in his eyes fanned into a ruthless flame.

None of the alarms had gone off. No outsider had taken her, then.

That simply made it worse. There was only one person who could have done it, and if this was true then it meant he had been betrayed.

Draco wanted to scream out his anger but his lips stayed shut and no sound escaped him. The room shook; all around the great library books tumbled out of their places and slammed onto the floor, the bookcases themselves tottered in the wake of his fury and the windows shattered, creating a cacophony that would have been too much for the senses.

Draco didn't care. He heard none of it save for the blood roaring through his veins; rushing, bubbling into a frenzy.

His first instinct was to go after her, for he knew there was only one place she could have gone, and indeed, the power of the spells on the ring he'd given her confirmed it. It was like a shouted headline, repeated over and over in his head, where she was. It tugged at him, leading him to her.

If it was Blaise who had betrayed him he could be sure she had gotten her wand back.

I should have destroyed the damned thing the moment I got her.

Turning on his heel, Draco stalked upstairs towards his study.

The little bitch thinks she can leave so easily. Well sweetheart, you've got another think coming. I'll break your wings for this, he vowed.

The door had flown open before he even reached it, and he stormed inside, heading straight for the other door on the far side of the room. This one would not open so easily. He pressed his palm flat against the dark wood and watched as it flashed red before swinging open, granting entry.

The closet was small and stuffy; shelves lined each wall, boasting numerous odd artifacts he didn't care to have others see, or simply items that needed safekeeping. Draco found what he was after, and tucked it away in his pocket with great care before leaving both rooms.

He made sure he had his wand before he left. Merlin knew he didn't need it-the brunt of the magic he did now was done wandlessly, but it always helped to have his wand nearby. The pounding of his heart grounded him, even as the tracking charm pulled at him more and more vigorously, stoking the urge to recapture her. Still, he'd gotten his wish-he yearned for blood, for claiming what was his, for destruction, and he would have it now. Once he brought her back he might thank her, if things went well.

The Dark Lord was going to be furious, but he wouldn't be around much longer to know what had happened, of that Draco was sure. The only drawback was that with him going to retrieve his traitorous wife he was taking time away from preparing for what really mattered.

But she mattered too. Oh Salazar, she mattered.

Fly as fast as you can, sweet little bird, he thought, pulling on his hood, but remember that dragons fly faster.

Swiftly, he turned on the spot and disappeared into the darkness.


A/N:

(I've been waiting to use the rest of that Jane Eyre quote since Chapter 27.)