Round seven, Ravenclaw, Drabble, "What would it take to make you listen to me?", WC: 316

AU slightly. A possible 'what if', I think.

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Sky draped in velvet black clouds, misty with the trailing of Death Eaters coursing through the breeze. It's nearly impossible to see any number of metres ahead in the forest, the only light coming from the glowing moon. In the dim quietness, senses are heightened. My breath is a cool cloud of white in front of me, crystallising in the air. Hands reaching for the soil ground, stretched out as we dodge the trees. Draco touches my shoulder lightly, holding me back. I pause, glaring at him.

He points ahead of him. Dark figures pass between the shadows. He presses a finger to his lips. I roll my eyes.

Three signals. Wait here, I'll go ahead to check it out, I'll come back.

I nod.

Draco brushes my arm in a so long, crawling between the thicket towards the noises creeping up in volume. I wait, quite literally in the dark. But he's gone too long. The silence and the blackness stretches on wider and darker than before. It's suffocating, pushing in against me, constricting my airways. Suddenly, I'm moving towards the soundlessness; moving towards where Draco was lost in the pitch black of the night.

Everything is colour, noise, and the rough scent of burning. Yellow, red, and cruel orange burst before my eyes, an explosion of sense. An actual explosion. I try to protect myself, soaring behind flaming trees, and cursing at the falling of fiery branches. The heat is too much, and Draco is gone. There is nothing but fire.

"Why don't you listen to me!" he shouts from the cacophony, body singed and raw. "What would it take to make you listen to me?"

"I wanted to see if you were okay, you prick!" I yell back, shouting out at the pain of my blazing skin.

"Hermione -!"

The world burns bright white, and then black.

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Thanks all!