Lies Laid Bare pt. 2
But then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flicker of movement.
Narcissa.
She was edging closer, her face tight and pale, her gaze fixed intently on her son. Hermione's heart leapt. Narcissa was—she was trying to help them. Trying to—
"Draco," Narcissa's voice was barely a whisper, but it cut through the chaos like a knife. "Listen to me."
Bellatrix turned, her eyes narrowing. "What are you—"
"Expelliarmus!" Narcissa's wand moved so fast Hermione barely saw it.
Bellatrix's wand flew from her hand, clattering against the stone floor. She froze, her eyes widening in shock, and for a split second, there was nothing but silence. Hermione stared, her heart pounding wildly, disbelief coursing through her veins.
"Narcissa, what are you—"
"Run," Narcissa breathed, her voice low and urgent. "Both of you.Now."
Bellatrix's scream of rage shattered the stillness. She spun toward Narcissa, her face contorted with fury, but Narcissa didn't flinch. She just stood there, her wand raised, her expression fierce and unyielding.
"Youtraitorous—"
"Stupefy!" Hermione shouted, hurling the spell at Bellatrix with every ounce of strength she had left.
The curse hit Bellatrix square in the chest, knocking her backward. She staggered, her eyes wide with shock, and then crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
"Go!" Narcissa shouted, her gaze snapping to Hermione. "Take him andgo!"
Hermione didn't need to be told twice. She grabbed Draco's arm, pulling him to his feet. "Come on," she gasped, her voice shaking. "Draco, we have to—"
But Draco wasn't moving. He was staring at his mother, his face pale and stricken. "Mother, what are you—"
"Doyou want to get us all killed?" Narcissa snapped, her eyes flashing. "Get her out of here, Draco.Now."
Hermione tightened her grip on his arm, her heart pounding. "Draco, please," she whispered. "We have to go."
For a moment, he just stood there, staring at his mother as if he couldn't comprehend what was happening. But then, slowly, he nodded. His hand closed around Hermione's, his fingers trembling, and he turned, pulling her toward the stairs.
"Hermione—" His voice was low, ragged, filled with something raw and broken. "Stay close."
They stumbled up the stairs, their footsteps echoing loudly in the empty corridor. Hermione's pulse was racing, her mind whirling with panic and adrenaline. Behind them, she could hear Narcissa's voice, low and fierce, as she tried to rouse Bellatrix.
"We can't—Draco, where—"
"The back entrance," Draco muttered, his grip on her tightening. "There's a hidden passage near the library. We—"
He broke off abruptly as the sound of shouting echoed down the hall. Hermione's heart leapt into her throat. Footsteps. Voices. The other Death Eaters—they'd heard the commotion. They were coming.
"Run!" Draco hissed, his eyes wide and wild.
They sprinted down the corridor, Hermione's heart hammering in her chest. The pain from her injuries throbbed dully in the background, but she forced herself to push it aside, focusing only on Draco's hand in hers. If they could just make it to the passage, if they could just—
"There!" A harsh voice rang out behind them.
Hermione's breath caught. She glanced over her shoulder, her stomach clenching in fear. Two Death Eaters were charging toward them, their wands raised, dark curses already forming on their lips.
"Protego!" Draco shouted, whipping around, his wand flashing.
A shimmering shield erupted between them, the curses ricocheting off it in a spray of sparks. Hermione skidded to a halt beside him, her wand trembling in her hand. They were trapped—pinned down in the narrow corridor, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide—
"Getback!" Draco snarled, his voice laced with desperation.
The Death Eaters sneered, their faces twisted with malice. One of them—a tall, thin man with a cruel smile—stepped forward, his wand aimed directly at Hermione's chest.
"Going somewhere, mudblood?"
Hermione's grip tightened on her wand. She could feel Draco tensing beside her, his body coiled like a spring, ready to snap.
"Stupefy!" she yelled, throwing herself to the side.
The spell streaked toward the Death Eater, but he deflected it effortlessly, his smile widening. "Oh, this is going to befun," he purred, raising his wand again.
But before he could cast another spell, a flash of white light erupted from the end of Draco's wand, slamming into the man's chest. He staggered, his eyes widening in shock, and then crumpled to the ground.
"Now!" Draco shouted, grabbing Hermione's arm again. "Go, go—go!"
They ran. Down the corridor, around the corner, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Hermione's legs felt like lead, every step sending jolts of pain through her body. But she didn't stop. She couldn't. Draco's hand was still gripping hers, pulling her forward, and as long as he was moving, she would move, too.
"Here," he gasped, skidding to a stop in front of a blank stretch of wall.
Hermione blinked, confusion washing over her. "But—"
"Just—trust me," he muttered, his wand moving in a complex pattern.
The wall shimmered, rippling like water, and then a narrow doorway appeared, a spiral staircase winding down into darkness.
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Hermione's heart was still racing by the time she and Draco stumbled up the stone steps leading to Muriel's cramped but fiercely guarded front door. She felt like she couldn't breathe, her lungs burning as if the air itself was fighting her. They had barely made it out of the Manor alive—Bellatrix's curses still echoed in her ears, a symphony of rage and cruelty.
Now, standing in the shadows outside the Order's newest safe house, Hermione felt her body begin to tremble violently, the adrenaline giving way to exhaustion and pain. Draco's hand was still clasped in hers, both of them clinging to each other as if letting go would mean losing everything. And maybe it would.
"Are you sure about this?" Draco whispered, his voice strained.
Hermione looked up at him, his pale face illuminated by the faint moonlight. His gray eyes were stormy and uncertain, darting around as if he expected an attack at any moment. His body was taut, every muscle coiled and ready for a fight. But there was something else, too. Fear.
"For now, this is the safest place we have," Hermione murmured, tightening her grip on his hand. "For both of us."
Draco swallowed hard, but he nodded. Together, they stepped forward, Hermione raising her free hand to knock sharply on the wooden door.
There was a moment of silence. Then, a rustling sound, and the door creaked open just enough for a wand to poke through the crack, its tip glowing faintly.
"Identify yourselves," a low voice commanded.
"It's us," Hermione whispered. "Hermione Granger and… Draco Malfoy."
The wand withdrew abruptly, and the door was yanked open. Hermione barely had time to process the blur of movement before someone grabbed her, pulling her inside. She stumbled, Draco's grip slipping from hers, but then familiar hands were on her shoulders, steadying her.
"Hermione!" Harry's voice was a breathless exclamation, filled with relief and worry. "Are you—"
But it wasn't Harry. It was—Hermione's heart twisted painfully. No, it was George, his expression stricken, his eyes scanning her face, searching for some sign that she was okay.
"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded, his voice shaking. "We thought—"
"It's a long story," Hermione murmured, glancing past him.
Harry was there—lying on a narrow cot against the far wall, his face ashen, his chest rising and falling in shallow, ragged breaths. He was wrapped in blankets, his brow slick with sweat, and Mrs. Weasley was kneeling beside him, her wand moving steadily as she whispered incantations under her breath.
Hermione's heart plummeted. "Oh, God—Harry—"
"He'll be all right," George said softly, following her gaze. "But it was close. The curse—you shouldn't have gone after Voldemort, Hermione, you—"
"Ihadto," she whispered, her voice breaking. "You don't understand—if I hadn't—"
"If you hadn't, you'd still bealive," Theo's cold voice cut through the room like a knife.
Hermione stiffened, turning slowly. Theo was standing in the corner, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his face pale and drawn. His gaze shifted to Draco, narrowing with fury.
"And you," he spat. "What are you doing here?"
Draco flinched, his jaw clenching. But before he could respond, Hermione stepped forward, placing herself between the two of them.
"We were caught," she said quietly. "Bellatrix—she found us, and Draco—he—" Her voice faltered, the memory of that horrible, agonizing torture still too fresh. "He saved me. He risked everything to help me escape."
Theo's eyes blazed. "So what?" he snapped. "You think that excuses—"
"Stop it!" Draco shouted suddenly, stepping forward. His face was twisted with anger and pain, his hands shaking. "You don't get it, Theo! She—she didn't have to come for me, all right? Sheshouldn'thave come for me, becauseyou—"
"What?" Theo snarled, his gaze locking onto Draco's. "What are you saying?"
Draco's chest was heaving, his eyes wild. "I'm saying if you hadn't pushed her away—if you'd just let her in—she wouldn't have felt like she had to—" His voice cracked, and he took a shuddering breath. "She wouldn't have gone charging into Voldemort's stronghold like some—someidiotGryffindor trying to get herself killed!"
"Draco—" Hermione whispered, reaching for him. But he jerked away, his gaze still fixed on Theo.
"You were supposed toprotecther," he choked out. "You were supposed to be her friend, to—"
"Iwas supposed to protect her?" Theo's voice was a low, dangerous growl. "What aboutyou,Malfoy? What wereyousupposed to be doing?"
"I love her!" Draco shouted, his face contorted with anguish. "I love her, and I—" He broke off, his shoulders trembling. "I can't—if she dies, Theo, I—"
There was a stunned silence. Hermione's heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. Theo was staring at Draco, his mouth slightly open, shock and disbelief warring in his expression.
And then, slowly, Theo's gaze shifted to her.
Hermione closed her eyes, tears burning at the corners. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I—Theo, I'm so sorry—"
"Don't," he said hoarsely. "Don't say that. Don't—"
But his voice broke, and he turned away, his shoulders slumping. Draco took a step toward him, his expression desperate.
"Please," he whispered. "Theo, just—justforgiveher. Please. I—I need—"
"Forgive her?" Theo's voice was hollow. He turned back to face them, his eyes bleak and empty. "For what?"
Draco flinched. "For—for killing Blaise," he whispered.
Theo's face crumpled, a choked sound escaping his throat. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at Draco, his expression raw and shattered.
And then, slowly, he shook his head.
"I can't," he whispered. "I—I can't."
Draco took a shuddering breath, his gaze pleading. "Theo—"
"Get out," Theo said quietly, his voice trembling. "Both of you. Just—justget out."
Draco hesitated, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. But then, slowly, he nodded. He turned to Hermione, his eyes filled with pain.
"Come on," he murmured, his voice rough. "Let's—let's go."
But Hermione didn't move. She couldn't. All she could do was stare at Theo, the guilt and grief twisting inside her like a knife.
"I'm sorry," she whispered again, her voice breaking.
But Theo just shook his head.
"Just—go," he repeated, his voice barely audible.
And with one last, aching look, Hermione turned and followed Draco out of the room.
The moment they stepped out of the room, Hermione's legs gave out beneath her, and she collapsed. Pain shot through her body, her vision blurring as the world tilted violently around her. She felt herself falling, the sharp, icy floor rushing up to meet her—
But then Draco's arms were around her, catching her just before she hit the ground.
"Hermione!" His voice was high and frantic, filled with a terror she had never heard before. She tried to respond, to tell him she was okay, but her throat tightened, and she could only manage a weak gasp. She was so cold, her limbs trembling uncontrollably, the pain in her arm and ribs flaring white-hot with every breath.
"God—no, no, no,Hermione,stay with me," Draco pleaded, his grip tightening as he lifted her into his arms. "Please,please—don't do this, not now—"
Hermione's head lolled against his chest, her vision swimming. She could hear his voice—hear the fear and desperation in it—but it was distant, muffled, like she was underwater. The edges of her vision darkened, and she fought to stay awake, to keep her eyes open.
"Draco—" she whispered weakly, but her voice was barely more than a breath.
"Shh, don't talk," he begged, his face hovering above hers, his features blurred and indistinct. "You're going to be fine, okay? Just—justhold on,Hermione, I'm taking you to the healers.Please—"
But Hermione's body was shutting down, her strength draining away faster than she could grasp it. The world spun violently, and she felt herself sinking deeper, the darkness pressing in—
"No, no, no—Hermione—HERMIONE!"
Draco's panicked scream was the last thing she heard before everything went black.