Draco didn't like this at all. Nope, not even a little.

He wasn't surprised Granger had been right. Her logic was sound. Mac had wanted to do something special for Raquel. The family made sense. But Rosier was certain Patil was alive and that didn't make sense.

He reached out through the golden thread and they had their sort of 'conversation'. No, they hadn't found her. No, she hadn't shown back up at the Manor. The O'Learys were dead but Patil wasn't. Why not?

Granger was smart enough for this. Rosier was padding through the house again, sniffing the air, and Draco knew it wouldn't go anywhere else. He could smell Patil too, of course, but not as keenly as Rosier could. Their best bet now might be going door to door, as ridiculous as that seemed. Follow their noses - or more specifically, follow Rosier's nose.

Rosier was exiting the house, now, and Draco and Zabini followed. He began trotting back down the little lane and it seemed like he'd had the same idea Draco had.

Gods, this could take all night.

He prodded at Granger again. Still fine. But the ants were beginning to crawl.

ooo

Parvati breathed in and out slowly. She'd been quiet for too many minutes. She had to get Mac talking again.

He was back to peering out the little window. Parvati swallowed, the headache continuing to recede, and asked, "What happened to the owners of this flat?"

Over his shoulder, Mac shot her a flat look. She knew. She wasn't thick.

Alright, then. She hated that he'd killed more people, but if anything, that could help James find her. She thought Mac was probably underestimating James's sense of smell. Even with all the time he'd spent around the tenebris seminio, she didn't think it would be top of mind. Not right now.

But he was watching out for James, waiting for him. He'd said he'd be gone by the time James got here, and Parvati had assumed that meant she'd be dead. If so, why the delay? She had to rework her assumptions. He wasn't minding her stalling.

He knew James would come but didn't seem to care. James probably wasn't coming alone. Parvati would bet money Blaise was coming, too. But Mac was drawing this out. He'd moved away from the O'Learys to extend things. He wanted this to take a long time.

Parvati began to put things together. "Mac?"

He turned to face her, annoyed.

"Why do you need this to take so long?"

He did nothing but smirk at her again.

"Who else are you working with?"

That provoked an irritated twitch of his shoulders. He was working with someone else but he didn't want to be. Parvati wished she could think more clearly, but there was one thing she knew for sure - he was doing this for Raquel.

"You think if you do something big enough, make a grand enough gesture… she'll want you? So you kill her family, the family she hated."

Mac didn't dignify this with a confirmation but she knew she was on the right track. Big gift of love and adoration for his beloved and… then what? What had he said a few moments ago? He knew James would come for her but didn't want him to find them too soon? The delay, the delay. Why?

Suddenly, as if he'd hit her over the head again, it clicked together.

"You're attacking the Manor, aren't you?" she breathed in horror. "This is the feint. People are going in after her, aren't they?"

"You're usually quicker than this," Mac sniffed, and she wished she could hit him over the head.

"So you got me out of the way knowing they'd come for me. But you know there are still dozens of tenebris ones there, and the Auror detail. It can't possibly work."

At last, her - former - photographer looked at her squarely. "I helped the odds."

Parvati had to laugh. "Sure. Sure you did. A little. And of the various people moving to break her out right now, you think she's going to pick you when all of this is over?"

It was probably unwise to goad him, she realised belatedly, but he was already running with it.

"I killed the ones who rejected her. Drawing out a few more from the attack is just a little extra to help. And who knows? Maybe he'll bring loads of help to look for you. Maybe the Manor will be half-empty by now. And I'll be helping there, too."

He turned and stalked over to her. Parvati refused to flinch, even though her head gave another proactive stab of warning. He was going to kill her now, she thought. Why keep her alive anymore? He'd set the trap. She figured at least two were coming for her, and maybe more - if James had enlisted his pack. There was a decent chance of that.

Mac had something in his hand but she couldn't tell what it was from the angle he stood. He raised his arm over his head and brought it down.

Everything went dark.

ooo

This was taking too long. Draco felt it and knew Zabini did, too. He didn't know if Zabini's anxiety grew as his separation from his own mate lengthened, but Draco's nerves were increasingly on edge. The three of them had split up, taking various little side streets and cobblestone paths, using their senses of smell. But everything was odd about this.

Rosier was convinced she was close by. Draco couldn't figure how, exactly, or more importantly - why? Why would Mac keep Patil near here? If he'd Apparated away with her, they could be halfway across the world. They'd never find her. Maybe that was Rosier's determination: she was here because she had to be.

As his skin crawled with anxiety at his distance from Granger, Draco tried to focus. If his place and Rosier's were reversed, he'd want the wolf to do anything to help. And so Draco would. But this was taking too long.

They were moving towards Galway and out of Oranmore. Most of the homes around here were Muggle, which actually helped cut through the sensory overload. He moved along swiftly. But then -

Draco stopped.

"Zabini," he hissed, knowing in the quiet that the vampire would hear him. He was closest, and in seconds he was next to Draco, sniffing the air. "You smell it, too?"

With a nod, Zabini called for Rosier. Draco wasn't sure he was able to smell Patil herself, not yet. Close enough, he'd be able to smell sweat mixed with fear, maybe anger. But from here, all he smelled was dark magic. Very dark magic. It stood out distinctly in this largely-Muggle area.

Fresh desperation drove them to a new speed following the residues of dark magic.

They deferred to Rosier, taking the lead. He moved rapidly, sniffing here and there as he padded along on all fours. Rosier took a much more direct heading to a small nondescript house, tucked between two almost identical to it. Draco knew he was spot-on. The house reeked like the O'Learys' had done and he knew what they were about to find.

Death by dark magic. Likely Avada Kedavra, which appeared to have been the case at the O'Leary home. Draco dreaded it. If Patil was dead in there…

Rosier took the door down in one fell sweep of a paw, splintering it to the ground. He shouldered past what remained, some of the shards catching in his wiry fur. Draco didn't think he noticed.

The wolf raced through the house, nose in the air. He was hoping to discern the scent of death from that of his mate. Draco wondered how it worked for Rosier, the mate scent. He could tell Granger from anything around, even dead bodies. He was certain. But their bond was a Veela bond. He'd know she was dead long before scent ever came into it and he shuddered away from the idea instinctively.

He wondered how Zabini's would work, but not enough to ask just now. They had bigger priorities.

Rosier had found Patil, slumped down in a chair she was restrained to. She was held in two ways, an incarcerous hex and physical bonds that took no time for Rosier to bite through. She was alive though, and that was the important bit. She collapsed to the ground, limp but bound, and Zabini lifted the hex.

Rosier was having trouble transforming back to human, too agitated to manage it. Draco knelt over the Patil sister and moved her dark hair off her face. She didn't have visible injuries and Zabini wasn't reacting as if he could smell blood. Draco wished he knew some decent diagnostic spells, but if he were being honest, he hadn't seen the point. He knew if Granger was injured or worse - what else was useful?

He never cared about anyone but her.

But now, thinking if his place were reversed with someone else's, he'd want them to know. He was seeing now, with his own eyes, the value in it. Fuck. He couldn't do anything else. Patil was breathing, but what now?

She was unconscious, but they couldn't Apparate her unconscious without knowing her injuries. They could make things worse. They were stuck carrying her, which Rosier could do with help. They couldn't well strap her to his back. Transporting her would involve Zabini, more than likely, holding her while Rosier ran on all fours.

The debate commenced. Rosier had finally managed to transform back to human form and was arguing valiantly, but Draco knew Patil could not be Apparated right now. He was just getting restless enough to reach out through the thread and check on Granger, at the very least to let her know they now had Patil with them and alive, when it lit up.

He'd never felt anything like it. Confusion first. Concern. Bewilderment.

Then, suddenly, she was terrified. Every nerve ending in his body came to life. It felt like someone was lighting him on fire.

Fear. Indecision. Adrenaline.

Draco could practically feel her gasping for breath. What was happening? Something. Granger didn't know. Heart rate up, breathing fast, terror. Uncertainty. Fear.

Terror.

ooo

Hermione had just laid down eights and was waiting for Rose to play her hand. Padma was in the loo, still tense. Still far too preoccupied despite Hermione's and Rose's best efforts. Hermione couldn't blame her. The most recent she'd gotten from Draco was 'not at the O'Learys, looking now.' The O'Learys were dead and Parvati had been there, but wasn't any longer. She'd been taken for some reason. Draco wanted Hermione's guess as to why.

Hermione didn't have much to offer. She was similarly split in her attention, trying to keep Padma busy in a believable way.

Padma's obvious distress kept this goal top of mind. For all Hermione knew, Padma had been taking a few moments to herself in the loo, only needing silence and the ability to think for a few minutes alone without the rest of them warily watching her.

All Hermione had told her friend was that they'd checked the O'Learys and Parvati hadn't been there. They were looking elsewhere, tracking scent. All three were determined to find her.

Even though Hermione had decided not to say that the O'Learys had all been dead, Padma couldn't still believe her twin was on her way with nothing amiss. She'd have arrived long ago if that were the case. So Hermione didn't bother lying outright. She just didn't detail more than she felt was necessary - more than was helpful. Padma was frantic enough.

She'd laid down eights, Rose had responded, and they were waiting for Padma to come back from the loo. She'd probably just wanted some time alone, but that was in direct opposition to Hermione's goal of keeping her busy. She and Rose exchanged a worried look. She hoped Padma was taking some moments to collect herself, rather than fall apart in there alone.

Ronan was standing against the far wall near the only door, leaning back onto it. His arms were crossed just like his ankles, but his face couldn't be mistaken for boredom. His black eyes were steadily fixed onto Rose.

It made Hermione miss Draco.

She was just about to reach out for some sort of update, anything, really, when all hell broke loose outside.

ooo

Ronan heard it first, his body going rigid against the wall. He was at Rose's side in an instant, enveloping her in his black wings.

"What is it?" Hermione gasped, startled. Listening, all she could make out were shouts in the distance, growing closer. Fast. Ronan threw Rose into the bathroom, a room with one door in and out, and returned for Hermione.

"What are you -" she yelped in surprise as Ronan flung her in there, too.

"You're important to my mate," he snapped, and slammed the door on all three witches.

Hermione felt Padma's and Rose's shock mirroring her own. "What's happening?"

Rose, whose hearing was the most acute of the three, cocked her head. Her eyes were wide and frightened. "They've breached the wards," she said, barely above a whisper. "They're coming."

"Who?"

"I don't know, I don't know, I can't -"

Hermione knew it could be two different groups: the protestors had finally broken through and were storming in, or… someone had come for O'Leary. Either seemed perfectly plausible but the sheer timing of the attack hinted at the second option.

Padma was peering out the tiny window near the sink. "Hermione…"

Something in her voice made Hermione's blood run cold. "What is it?"

"They're carrying torches."

Rose was plainly communicating with Ronan, her eyes far away.

"How many, Padma?" She tried to shoulder in next to her friend, but the window was too small to get a better angle.

"They're spreading out," the nurse replied quietly. "I think they're surrounding the Manor. We have to get out of here."

They already had, Hermione realised in a dawning horror. She could smell smoke. And if she could smell it -

Ronan ripped the door from its hinges and threw it to the side. His plan to barricade and defend was gone, and he yanked Rose to him. "Wait!" the blonde shrieked, trying to free her wrist from his grasp. "Wait! Ronan, we can't leave them!"

Her struggle was futile. "I can't carry all three of you," Ronan hissed in fury, "and I won't leave you somewhere to come back for them."

He cast Hermione and Padma a regretful look, but Hermione was fairly sure it was because this was upsetting Rose.

"It's okay, Rose. Go," Hermione rushed. "We need to get everyone else out. Come on, Padma."

She wouldn't waste time arguing with the Veela. She understood his singular drive to get his mate away. Nothing else would register. She darted through the doorway with Padma hot on her heels. Their hands cupped around their mouths, the two Healers started to scream, "Fire!"

When she turned a corner to head up the stairs, Hermione was surprised to see Rose and Ronan following. Ronan evidently hadn't wanted to exit the Manor right into the group they saw out the window. Rose was taking the opportunity to warn people, too, but there weren't as many people around as Hermione had expected.

Maybe most of them were already outside. She hoped so. There'd been a big gathering around Raquel's cabin, but Hermione knew they'd be moving back towards the Manor once they noticed the fire.

And surely they had by now. Her relief from a moment ago faded, replaced by mounting dread. They'd end up with one giant mass of people between the Manor and the cabins, like sitting ducks.

Draco was screaming at her through the thread but she couldn't focus on the details of that just now. There was nothing he could do from where he was.

Harry. Ron. Both had been at the outbuilding with O'Leary, among other Aurors. They'd be fighting back. Hermione chanted this like a refrain to calm herself. They were not alone here at the Manor. They had help.

The Manor was, indeed, surrounded. Flames were flickering up everywhere.

Ronan kicked out a large bay window on the second floor, sending glass shards falling like rain. He looked out as the shouts from the ground grew louder. Hermione knew it was now or never, unless he wanted to make his escape with Rose while fielding attacks. He wrapped her in her arms and launched into the air.

Rose was shrieking at him all the way but Hermione was relieved that at least Rose would be safe.

Meanwhile, she and Padma needed out, too.

Suddenly, she felt a yank around her midsection strong enough to make her breath catch in her throat. She flew into the air with a yelp and hurtled towards the grass.

Harry caught her as Ron deflected a curse. Hermione sat down hard on the ground, her heart pounding. Harry's wand whirled through the air again and Padma landed next to her with a thud.

"It's a trap," she wheezed when she was able. Padma's head was tucked between her knees. She looked like she might be sick. "They're here for Raquel. They're drawing our attention here, to the fire, but -"

Ron bolted back to the cabins without a word. Harry deflected another curse and cast the strongest shield charm Hermione had ever seen.

Their attackers were still fighting with fire and Hermione heard an animalistic squeal of pain, followed by several howls. The wolves were fighting as wolves.

Tears pricked her eyes. She knew every single resident at this Manor. How many would die tonight?

"How -" she struggled, forcing herself to focus. "How many Aurors do we have here?"

"Six," panted Harry. "Two on Duncan and Jackson, two more on O'Leary, and Ron and me. Are you alright?"

Hermione knew this question was two-fold. He was worried about her, yes, but he also needed her help. Every wand on Manor property could be helpful right now, and that was something else positive compared to the last time they'd been attacked here - the wolves may not be using them, but every resident once again had full command of magic.

Six Aurors, a Healer and a nurse, and countless tenebris seminio. More than there had been yesterday, that was for sure, and Hermione cringed. Every one could make the difference in this attack, but that was one more person who should have been safely away from here.

Raquel had drawn them all in, one way or another.

ooo

All three of them knew it was a trap. Well, not a trap, precisely, but the real fight was back home. James felt it through the pack. Blaise felt it from Padma, the same sort of fear Draco was fielding from Granger. And Draco's brain couldn't stop the doubling over, the duplicate emotions racing back and forth between himself and Granger.

Even through all of this, he still hesitated long enough to scratch out a plan with the others. Their original thought had been for Draco or Zabini - or both - to go fetch Granger and Padma. Parvati needed a diagnostic and probably some kind of treatment, but that had been shot to hell now. They couldn't ignore what was happening at the Manor; even if Draco and Zabini had been inclined to just remove their mates and flee to safety, James had the dual concern of his pack in danger.

But the immediate concern was still Parvati. That left Zabini carrying her to St Mungo's while Rosier ran alongside… from Ireland back to London.

In a heroically selfless moment Draco couldn't believe had come out of his mouth, he had offered to fly her to hospital. He was practically quivering with the desire to return to the Manor but if their places were reversed, he knew he'd at least have wanted the offer. And St Mungo's was close to the Manor - a lot closer than they were right now. He'd be heading the right way.

Regardless, James wouldn't be separated from his mate. It fell to Draco to fly straight back to the Manor. Zabini hated this but agreed there didn't seem to be a better option than carrying Parvati himself. And Padma would want Blaise to take care of her twin.

Draco swore to protect both witches but once he left the others behind, they'd have no way to communicate.

It couldn't be helped.

After this hasty conferral, Draco propelled himself skyward. His last glimpse was of the two wizards streaking off along the ground, a dark-haired journalist limp in Zabini's arms.

He didn't think he'd ever flown so fast. He'd never had reason to test it, not like this. Even when he flew for fun without Granger, it was more about thrill-seeking than true purpose. This felt different, down in the core of his bones.

Granger felt slightly calmer. Not calm; not alright. But not panicked. Draco sensed heightened concern, worry, fear. Yes, all of those things. But anger, too, and a healthy dose of defiance. That worried him more. Of course she wouldn't take cover from whatever it was.

And what was it? She wasn't broadcasting clearly, too distracted by whatever was happening at the Manor. But Draco got sharp flashes, visuals of fire.

He had time to dwell on it in the air, on Granger defending herself from… fire. He pushed himself faster, rocketing through the night. She was more than capable. He knew that. Rationally, he knew it. But she shouldn't have to. He should be there.

Even the thought of the Aurors there didn't help. Draco didn't trust the Aurors, aside from Potter and Weasley. That left several wildcards onsite. How many had there been? A half dozen, maybe? And two trustworthy?

Draco gritted his teeth as he planned his inevitable battle with Granger. She was leaving that Manor and she wasn't going to want to. She would not be happy about it, about leaving people behind. But Draco couldn't not remove her from the fight. He didn't know if the Veela part of him could even allow it - to leave her in danger, even if they were fighting together. Even if he was there defending her.

The instinct to take her away from it altogether was overwhelming. She could not stay in danger if he could help it.

For the first time since he'd almost died, unable to drink Granger's blood himself, Draco felt the true loss of his autonomy. For the first time since then, the Veela part of himself was hampering him, impeding his ability to weigh two sides of a situation and make a decision.

The Veela had one drive only: protect his mate. He'd have always put Granger's life above his own but the Veela was demanding it. She had to be flown out.

ooo

He was nearly there. Draco smelled the smoke ages ago and could see the flames licking the night sky. He found an extra burst of speed he didn't know was still in him.

A similar black rocket was streaking towards the Manor and Draco had to squint against the smoke billowing up. Was that… Ronan?

His confusion led him to follow the other Veela to a landing spot on the embattled grounds. Ronan chose a spot near the cabins where the prisoners were held and impacted hard enough to send several people flying. Having not had the opportunity to see who those people were, Draco hoped fervently they were the ones lighting fires.

"Where's Rose?" was the first thing out of his mouth. Ronan leaving his mate was incomprehensible to Draco.

"Out," the Veela said brusquely. "Rose thinks they're here for O'Leary. They won't get her."

Ah. His motivation was taking shape. No, Ronan would not let them lose O'Leary, not now. Not after all of this. The black-haired Veela blasted another attacker back with his wings and Draco turned to leave him to it.

Someone shot a curse at him from the woods, one he deflected with a wing. What the hell? That had been an Auror. Draco could see the colour of the man's robes clearly. So he'd been right after all - not all of them were on the same side.

Or maybe these were new arrivals to the battle, with questionable motivations of their own. There were far more people here than he'd expected. They couldn't all be Aurors. Maybe some of them were even part of the hateful protests, who didn't even know about O'Leary but saw the wards come down.

From the corner of his eye, he saw two wolves take down the Auror who'd fired on him. Their night vision was going to be a huge asset tonight. The hearing, too. The speed.

Draco felt they could have this wrapped up reasonably well, in fact. Ronan had been bouncing on the toes of his feet like a fighter in the ring. He forsook the wings and landed a square punch on the next man, shattering his nose. Draco, a fan of the physical contact himself, approved. But on second glance, he remembered the other Veela didn't have a wand of his own any longer. He was reliant on his wings and his hands, whether by fists or claws.

Oh, well. Ronan didn't seem fussed by it. Draco had begun to enjoy teaming up with the other man and thought once he found and removed Granger - maybe to wherever Ronan had deposited Rose - he wouldn't mind coming back to do a little defence here himself. They were easily the two most physically powerful on the grounds. This shouldn't take too long. Aurors or not, their attackers would be outmatched by speed, sensory abilities, and sheer motivation.

But no, he reminded himself. He was responsible for the other Patil twin, too. He had duties to fulfil here. He'd left Granger in Zabini's care countless times. He would return the favour now.

He and Ronan exchanged a curt nod and Draco sped off, leaving the Veela managing the isolation of the cabins. Draco didn't think the man cared much for the first two prisoners any longer. O'Leary's cabin, though - hers was a different matter. He wouldn't let anyone get close.

Draco wondered idly if Ronan would burn both cabins himself rather than risk their escape. Probably so. He found he didn't care one way or the other, so long as the night didn't end with Raquel O'Leary back free.

For someone who'd been somewhat indifferent to the justice side of things, Draco was beginning to care very much. It was more about Granger than the labs; he was desperate to move on from here and she was ready. She was ready. He would not allow anything to backslide now. If that meant he did return here to help after getting her out, he'd do it happily.

Also, Raquel O'Leary had offended her. Insulted her. Granger had been very preoccupied with being tricked by that stupid woman. She'd taken it personally, as if it were something to be embarrassed by. She held herself to a higher standard than others and Draco wouldn't let O'Leary's gleeful mind games affect Granger's pride, her self-esteem or self-concept.

So even though the injury hadn't been physical, Draco wouldn't let it stand. She would have to pay for it. He'd burn the cabin if he had to.

ooo

Draco's nose wasn't leading him wrong, exactly, but it was overwhelmed. So many scents. The smoke was pungent and it was everywhere he tried to breathe. But Granger could only be so many places.

He knew she was still here. She was outside the Manor. She could see it burning. But her vision was so poor compared to his own that he couldn't discern what part of the Manor she was in front of. The contrast between the darkness of the night and the flames was searing her retinas, rendering details useless.

Her heart rate spiked as a section of the Manor came down and that gave him what he needed. That was the southeast corner, a covered porch. It had collapsed in on itself.

Patil shrieked with the impact and Draco could hear it. He didn't need the thread with Granger now. He rounded the corner and saw the two witches standing with Potter, back to back and wands raised.

Around them was an alarming assortment of prone bodies. Draco counted five.

"Malfoy," Potter shouted, his eyes not leaving something in the distance. "Get them out of here. People keep coming for them. I don't know why."

"I do," Granger panted in irritation. "I told you. They drew as many out as they could by kidnapping Parvati. They think if they kill us, our mates will die. We're easier to target than our mates are, and it'll take out two more. They're taking the lazy way out to reduce the numbers."

Draco didn't know about this but wasn't going to take the chance on it. It was possible; they all knew it would take several days to kill a male Veela by depriving him of his sustenance, but it wasn't common knowledge. And he had no idea how fast a vampire would die without his mate.

He had learned that Granger was nearly always right. When she made an educated guess, she was usually spot on. But he wasn't going to find out. He reached for Granger and Potter shook his head. "Take Padma first. Hermione's a better fighter."

Patil shot him a dirty look and Draco didn't care one way or the other. No way.

"Mine first," he hissed at the Auror. "Why isn't Weasley helping you?"

"He went to defend the outbuildings. Get one of them out of here."

Now Granger backed up. "I'm not going anywhere," she protested hotly. "If you take me away, Draco, I swear to Merlin I will Apparate right back here."