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Hermione stood before her own reflection, pinning curls to the top of her head. Feeling her pulse elevate with thrill and anxiety with each pin placed into her hair. She whispered words of encouragement, reassuring herself with the plan set into stone.
She reminded herself; that not a soul in Hogwarts tonight would recognize her or her counterpart. It was a masquerade after all. Each student would be wearing a mask enchanted to hide their identity. Almost as if she were entering a room of strangers, even if she was the brightest witch of her age.
Then again, the person she would be meeting would stand out to her like a phoenix in the sky. Charmed mask or not.
She looked at herself over a handful of times, attempting to will herself to simmer her perfectionist tendencies.
This will do , she thought to herself before abandoning her reflection as she entered her dorm. Her feet tapped their way across the chestnut panelling, towards the garment bag hung on display. Hermione placed a delicate hand on the zipper, pulling it to reveal a charmeuse bathed in a rich royal blue.
She was alone at this point, in the dorm, the other girls were overflowing with an eagerness she had not possessed. Her dressing robe was discarded and crumpled at her feet, and her arms bent in many obscure angles that would convince her to consider a career as a contortionist.
Hermione knew he would recognize her, as would she. He , after all, is the reason she had a dress to wear. Similarly, he would possess a garment on his person with a matching colour. A game he insisted on.
She passed the mirror for a final once-over to confirm her identity for the evening and rushed away with a crimson stamp of approval. Then swiped her hand to grasp the mask that sat on her bed.
With each step, she took in the direction of The Great Hall, her pulse stirred with anticipation. She couldn’t quite pinpoint which aspect had her stomach flipping the most. All she knew is that this would be the first time she and he would be able to be together and around their peers.
As she descended the last few steps to The Great Hall, her gaze fell upon an almost unfamiliar boy. Simple black dress robes with a faint slightly darker damask pattern hidden throughout the suit-jacket. The onyx face-covering emphasized his sharp features while also engulfing his identity. All but his lips and chin remained hidden. The only giveaway was a royal blue dahlia held delicately between his fingers.
When she approached the boy, she dipped her head while greeting, “I thought you mentioned the blue would be incorporated with your dress robes.”
“Where’s the fun in that, Granger?” The backs of his knuckles dragged across her collarbone and down her arm, setting her blood on fire. He moved his lips to the shell of her ear. “This is our first legitimate date, after all. You, my love, deserve a flower.”
She looked down between their bodies, as he tucked the dahlia into a concealed pocket within his robes. He pulled his lips away from her ear, before placing a kiss on her jaw and then another on her lips. “Is this the part where we get to dance now, Draco?” She teased.
Draco placed a hand on her lower back, beginning to guide them into the hall, “That is how these things go, Granger.” She felt his hand twitch with his breathy chuckle.
Much of the next hour was entertained by various ballroom dances that Hermione wished she knew the way Draco did Draco might as well have danced for the both of them. She blushed many times, due to her clumsiness towards the steps; which lead her to become quite embarrassed an hour into her night. Just as a pause in the music pinched the air of The Great Hall Hermione felt her legs pulse with exhaustion. She turned to her companion and informed him of the moment's rest she’d be taking, and he had offered to bring her a drink.
Hermione thought about the dance they had just shared, a variation of the waltz she had not known the entirety of. Then Draco did what Draco does best, supplying aid that drowned in prideful arrogance. Nonetheless, he wouldn’t have had to say a word for her to hear his encouragement, they locked eyes and never touched the key. Wordlessly communicating, as their bodies moved in sync, and their minds fell with ease on the first night they didn’t have to worry about being caught together. This was a night they could’ve only hoped for, and someone out in the universe answered their prayers.
“Ah, Miss. Granger,” a friendly voice sang. Hermione looked up to see her headmaster, “a pleasure to see you this evening.”
“The pleasure is mine, Professor.” She placed her hand into Dumbledore’s outstretched one. “How are you enjoying your evening?”
He placed his free hand on top of hers, sandwiching her hand between his, and at a quick glance, she noticed a dark pigment encompassing the skin on his hand. She didn’t want to be caught staring, so she averted her eyes to anywhere but the pigmented skin on the old man’s hand.
“I would say it is a fine event to be in attendance for.” He let out a breathy chuckle. “I must ask, and my deepest apologies for the potential intrusion, were you aware of whom you have been at mercy to all night?”
Hermione instinctively pulled her hands from his, then took a heavy, lung filling, breath. “Hmm, well I don’t mean to be blunt, Professor, but I do believe a masked event is intended to keep our identities hidden.”
Dumbledore’s head tipped up with his laugh, “Ah well, yes, of course, Miss. Granger. I suppose with my age and experience, these masks have acted more of a window for me, than drapes.” His beard bounced around with his smirk. “I was only slightly curious to the absurdity of the situation, and your awareness, but since you have no knowledge, I will leave you your night. Have a fine evening, Miss. Granger.” He bowed his head and floated away into the crowd.
The absurdity of the situation , She thought beyond it and supposed it wasn’t far fetched for Albus Dumbledore to have the ability to oversee the charms on the masks. While the sin being committed was already in full action, she supposed the Head Master wouldn’t spill the secret; whether he knew of its true intent or not. She thought beyond informing Draco of the interaction, it would only cause him unnecessary worries. Hermione continued to wonder what the elderly Head Master knew that she didn’t. Especially when it came to Draco Malfoy. For the next few minutes, she watched her palms while her mind raced with possibilities.
A cup entered Hermione’s distant gaze, “I had to wait in a line for you.” Malfoy said sounding less than enthused, as he sat down next to her, “I don’t wait in lines, Hermione.”
Her neck warmed at the sound of her given name, and she reached to take the cup from Malfoy’s grasp, “Thank you,” she said, then began wondering why he didn’t just conjure drinks like he usually did, “where’s your wand?”
His eyes rounded into the cup he was taking a drink from, and it took a great deal of effort for him to gulp it down. “Unintentionally left it back in the common room,” he cleared his throat as he spoke, “living the night as a muggle.”
“Ah yes, a ball full of witches and wizards, with enchanted masks, and enchanted everything for that matter.” She laughed throughout her response.
Hermione watched Malfoy as he laughed hesitantly with her. That caused suspicion in her mind, Maybe Dumbledore spoke to him too, she thought. There was something off with him, she just couldn’t place the root of it on her own, and she wouldn’t dare intrude on his mind. This was their first date, after all, she wanted to keep it special for the both of them. That meant no overstepping and definitely zero room for an argument.
“But I suppose I am grateful then,” she explained, “for waiting in a line for me.”
“That you should.” He reached into his jacket and pulled the royal blue dahlia, then tucked it into her updo. His knuckles grazed along her jawline before gently cupping her chin. “Can’t keep such a beauty hidden all night, especially when the beauty is wearing a flower.” He smiled before pressing a long and slow kiss on her forehead. “You truly look exquisite, tonight, Hermione.”
There it was again, her given name, and she of course blushed hearing it from him, but that was two times in one night, as opposed to four times in the past year. She wanted to question the change in mannerisms, but she feared if she addressed it, she’d lose it.
“Would you enjoy going somewhere,” she looked into his eyes, “just the two of us?”
Malfoy stood abruptly and held his hand out to her, “I think I’ve had enough of this public affair.”
And that is what they did. They exited the hall after spending a socially acceptable amount of time dancing and went on their merry way. Hermione and Malfoy were practically skipping with glee at the thought of alone time. After walking a labyrinth, they knew they were secluded to the point where no one would hear a cry for help. Their masks had been discarded many turns ago, and Malfoy found himself backing into a wall, pulling Hermione to himself. Hermione kissed him passionately as if she were dehydrated and the only way to quench her thirst was with him.
“I truly love and appreciate you, Hermione. Do you know that?” She felt his lips turn into a smile as he spoke against her mouth.
She ran her fingers through his hair, scraping her nails across his scalp. In return, Malfoy had shivers sent down his spine. Then she pressed her lips to his one final time before speaking her sorrows.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was sewn with mournful regret.
His eyebrows knit together as confusion overcame him. “What are you sorry-”
Hermione drove a blade into his abdomen, startling him and interrupting his sentence. It was at this moment that Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up his forehead, as he noticed the fog that glazed over Hermione’s irises. She didn’t know what she was doing.
A cry ripped its way through Malfoy’s throat, one that not a soul would hear but Hermione. A cry that would echo against her eardrums every night for the next however many years till she’d see him again. His hands pat all over himself with an urgency to either defend or aid the wound.
“ Hermione -” His weak voice choked. He was puzzled, searching for the pieces to understand what brought him to this moment. He dropped to his knees, pressing his hands to the gash, struggling to put a stop to the liquid pooling from his torso.
There was so much blood.
It began staining her dress and shoes. Her hands were coated in the scarlet liquid.
The blood splattered as he coughed, struggling to fill his lungs with air as he drowned in his own blood. He fell to his side as he grew weaker with the veins growing empty.
Hermione’s world came crashing down, along with the Imperius Curse . She blinked out of the trance and realized she was a puppet in the case of her lover’s execution.
“Draco-” She choked with the sobs of her realization. She dropped to her knees and scrambled to her wand with shaking hands. “I- I- I can fix this.” Her tears mixed with his puddling blood, causing an eerily beautiful abstract pattern, within the mixing fluids.
Malfoy coughed again, and the blood splattered on Hermione’s face. She began reciting every healing charm she had at her disposal but the blood refused. She shouted for someone she knew wouldn’t hear, then looked to his face and was met with an expression of fear, one that would paint her eyelids every time she blinked. That expression chilled every bone in her body. Making her joints ache and her chest tighten.
Her free hand ran along the side of his face. “I love you- I’m sorry- that wasn’t me-” She was met with defeat and that her last memory of him would be his slow painful death caused by her own hands.
She pressed a tear-filled kiss to his forehead, “I love you, Draco.” He was drowning in his own blood, he closed his eyes and tears forced their way down his cheeks. Her hand dragged down from his face as something poked from a concealed pocket in his robes. Just as she lifted the fabric of his robes, a wand fell from it.
Her hand shook more aggressively than before as the wand lifted to her view. This wasn’t Draco’s wand. Hermione recognized this wand, but she knew it to not be Draco’s. Her ears filled with the sound of one final shaky breath as the light bulb in her mind grew so bright it shattered. The body grew limp in her arms and began moulding itself back together.
Quick footfalls filled the corridor, and before she could process anything. Her eyes were met with Theodore Nott’s empty ones. A shriek came from Hermione’s throat, realizing that she hadn’t killed Draco, but killed her and her lover’s closest friend instead. She quickly went from mourning one to the other, and the bounce-back was brutal. She felt that she lost both of them in the span of five minutes.
The footfalls grew louder, and she couldn’t bother finding out whom they belonged to. All Hermione had the energy to do was mourn, scream, sob into Theo’s chest.
She’d killed him, whether it were against her will or not. She killed him, and she’d have to live with that for the rest of her life. May it be long or short, she’d hold onto this for the time being.
“Granger?” A shaky voice questioned.
Hermione looked up from the blood-soaked chest to see the real Draco. His expression shattered the remainder of her that was left to break. “I- I- I-” she began hyperventilating.
“What-” Draco began stuttering with the confusion that consumed him. “What happened?”
She started choking on the air in her throat, feeling as if every part of her body was being crushed. Draco fell to his knees beside her, splashing the pool of blood on his and her faces. He lifted her from Theo’s chest and she attempted to refuse, but she was too weak and broken to protest. Draco pulled her to him and held her as she sobbed into him.
“He used the Imperius Curse on me.” She spoke weakly. “ Dumbledore , he- he made me do this.”
Hermione felt Draco’s hold tighten on her as he rested his cheek on her head. “What do you want to do?”
“Revenge,” She said. Hermione would’ve said more, but that is all she could say with the strength she mustered together. She knew Draco would understand, and he did.
-
Hermione and Draco found themselves wandering down corridors late in the evening, stalking the steps of the Astronomy Tower . It was time, and they had waited many months to get to this point. Following Theo’s death, Hermione and Draco agreed to bring the Head Master the punishment he deserved. A punishment far greater than the weight Hermione lived with. Draco wanted this for her, and wanted his best mate to be avenged.
As they went into hiding, they kept in close contact with Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini, whom of which continued the work Draco was completing on the Vanishing Cabinet . Tonight was the night they’d caught wind of the necessary opportunity to follow through with their plan.
Not a soul would get in their way, and they’d be sure to keep it that way.
She heard the murmurs of Dumbledore and another she couldn’t quite make out. She chose to stay within the shadows close to Draco.
“...Snape.” She heard Dumbledore mumble from above.
Then hurried footsteps followed in response. Hermione pushed herself as far back as her body would allow, but she caught herself stretching her neck to catch a view of the person causing the floorboards to creak. Her eyes squinted in an attempt to adjust her pupils, to accommodate the dark of the room. A tuft of crazed black hair rushed down the steps, unaware of what lurked in the shadows. Draco wrapped his palm around Hermione’s mouth pulling her to his chest, ensuring they were undetected. Her pulse raised for only a moment before her eyebrows furrowed with determination and purpose.
The comeuppance she longed for was a floor away, and her fear was overcome with the image of Theo’s blood staining her limbs, months ago. She swiftly climbed the stairs, remembering who would be in attendance this evening. Knowing her lame excuse for a best friend, he would make his mission quick, in order to return eagerly to the elderly headmaster.
Her hand firmly gripped her wand as she stepped into the space Dumbledore resided. “Expelliarmus!” She hissed.
The Elder Wand shot from his hand and flew perfectly into Draco’s outstretched palm and handed it to Hermione. “You’ve made quite a mess, Professor. I wonder how much time out of your day it takes to whip the blood clean from your hands.” She twisted the textured wand around in her hand, feeling the magic buzz through her limbs. “Personally, there’s the blood of an innocent stained into my favourite blue dress. What are your secrets?”
“It seems I am unaware of your situation, Miss. Granger.” He stood tall as if he truly believed he held all the power in the room. “Please... enlighten me.”
“Draco Malfoy.” She spat with fury. “You wanted him dead, and you attempted to use me as your puppet. That’s why you asked about him the night of the ball, and how you knew I would get him alone without causing suspicion. Then Theo fell a victim. That blood is not only on my hands, but yours ” Her chest moved quickly with her rapid breathing. “You used an unforgivable and ruined my life.”
“As you may see it, Miss Granger, but the task Mister Malfoy, over here, was assigned -- how shall I put it -- forced me into an impossible scenario.” The Head Master spoke as if it were perfectly reasonable.
“You will not justify what you did,” Draco bellowed, and Hermione saw the fire rise in his eyes.
“You murdered him, and used me as your pawn,” Hermione said while stabbing The Elder Wand in the air with each word. She felt the blood in her veins run cold with the memory.
“I try not to dwell on the past.” The silver-haired man tilted his head and crossed his hands behind his back. “There’s no use in the past when the future is yet to come.”
His patronizing tone infuriated Hermione further. He wasn’t regretful of the student he had killed, he was seemingly as loveless as Voldemort. At least Voldemort admitted his sour agenda , she thought to herself.
“You don’t deserve a second longer, Professor.” She said, and she felt Draco move to stand behind her. She was the one calling the shots. Their revenge plot may be for the both of them, but even Draco knew Hermione deserved to punish Dumbledore her way.
“You aren’t a killer, Hermione.” Dumbledore pled.
“I wasn’t,” she deadpanned, “until you made me one.”
A door creaked from below, and footsteps followed. Hermione’s wand arm stiffened. “You’re not alone.” He wasn’t asking a question. “How?” Dumbledore’s face grew perplexed as his eyes widened with his raising brows.
“The Vanishing Cabinet in The Room of Requirement.” She breathed.
“I was mending it,” Draco clarified, “Parkinson completed the task. It forms a passage with the one in Borgin and Burke’s.”
“Ingenious. Draco, Hermione, years ago, I met a boy who made all the wrong choices. Let me help the two of you unwrite those.” He spoke so genuinely, but Hermione knew his tactics. She knew Dumbledore was telling her what she wanted to hear, so he could obtain his favoured move, but he had castled and her bishop had checkmate in sight.
“No. No! NO!” Her voice carried more force with each word. She felt her mind fill more psychotically unbearable with his talk of nonsense. Hermione tucked her own wand into her back pocket and placed The Elder Wand in her wand hand. “Cut the shit, Albus, or do you truly believe everything you do is justified.”
“I swear to you, Hermione, I speak only the-”
Hermione refused to allow him the privilege of another word. The killing curse slipped from her lips like a silky poem. She felt proud to say it, and the memory of Theo caused a green spark, larger than anything she has ever witnessed or read about, to leave the tip of her wand and hit Albus Dumbledore. He flew backwards from the tower, Hermione had never seen anything more angelic. The sight of her headmaster flying through the air reminded her of the time her parents took her to see The Nutcracker . Rhythmic and light, cutting through the air.
The footsteps, her ears ignored, grew louder as voices murmured around her. “Well, look what we have here. You’ve done well with her, Draco!” Her menacing giggle echoed between the pillars of the tower. “I almost forgot you were a Mudblood .”
“Yesss,” Greyback hissed. “This will be great news, for the dark lord. He may even promote you if you keep up on this track.” He taunted with a laugh.
Bellatrix danced over to the ledge the headmaster fell over, her laugh grew louder with glee. “Granger, come.” She demanded.
Hermione followed over to her lover’s aunt, bowing her head to her.
“Do the honours.” Bellatrix’s wand twisted around the loose strands of Hermione’s curls.
“ Morsmordre !” Hermione shouted, feeling the power from the revenge she solidified. Her trophy of a wand painted a skull and serpent in the night's sky. Branding the work she had fulfilled this evening. She didn’t have to turn to see it, she could feel the expression of pride painted on Draco’s face. His gaze burned into her back from behind.
-
Narcissa Malfoy’s hand slid under the table to Hermione’s, for Hermione’s comfort, as the plan for the evening was drawn. Narcissa sat on her left as Draco sat between his parents. After her night as an executioner, she was granted extended immunity and sanctuary by the Malfoys. She wondered what an alternate universe would do for her, if she and Draco were to grow a family in a wing of the manor, would Theo have been an uncle or even a godfather to their kids? Hermione pondered the possible lengths they might have gone for Theo, in the years to follow; but one thing she was sure of, was the lengths Theo would go for them.
What Draco and Hermione learned later on, following the death of Dumbledore, was the promise Theo made to Narcissa. Narcissa met with Theo at Nott Manor to discuss Draco’s task. Through the expanse of promises and conditions they’d come to agree on, Bellatrix had another on her plate. Bella forced an Unbreakable Vow on Theo and Narcissa, with one of the conditions being the endless protection of Draco. It took Draco many months to even grow the decency to even look at his mother after he learned of the vow. Hermione knew Draco was beginning to forgive, but he nonetheless held his resentments. She never imposed on Draco’s methods of healing towards his mother, all that mattered was: keeping each other alive and avenging Theo.
“...and as we all know, the goal is to have Harry Potter cold at my feet, from my wand.” The snake-like man smiled at the thought. “Granger, Malfoy,” he demanded, “my wand.”
Hermione and Draco rose from their seats and took their respected positions next to him. She slipped the Elder Wand from the sleeve of her robes and presented it to her lord.
“Granger will be at my left all night. If I find anyone trying to claim that spot but her, they will find themselves a similar fate to Harry Potter.” The Dark Lord threatened.
Hermione didn’t remember what brought her such authority; she questioned whether blood purity was even a priority for the newfound order of death eaters, but she was glad Draco held the same authority as her.
“You tier threes will ensure the safety of my left and right hand, once we pass the threshold of Hogwarts, besides the given, you all will do whatever it takes to guarantee the surrender of Potter.” The Dark Lord spoke with the voice of a snake.
“Burn the castle to the ground.” She straightened her back. “We want him dead .” She hissed, and the table of branded followers went absolutely feral with the request. They practically foamed at the mouth with the meer idea of the request.
“It is time!” The Dark Lord shouted and one by one each of his followers left in a puff of black smoked disapparation. Voldemort hooked his arm through hers and Draco’s, sweeping them into his disapparation.
She felt the ground materialize beneath the souls of her shoes. Voldemort’s piercing laugh echoed in her ears. “You know your task.” He blasted many wordless spells at the wards until the forcefield shattered. “Bring him to me.”
“As you wish my lord,” Draco and her said in unison, before storming towards the gates of the castle.
A newfound determination washed over Hermione. She hadn’t felt this in many months, and ironically, the source of it was the plausible death of her supposed best friend. The one who fell indifferent towards the death of their classmate. He knew all along what Dumbledore’s intentions were that night, and grew complicit. Whether or not he knew of Hermione and Draco’s relationship, didn’t change a thing in Hermione’s eyes. She could confidently say, Harry, would have let Draco die and not mourn a second. She was filling her year with revenge, who’s to say a little more wouldn’t hurt.
Her left arm spasmed with a phantom tickle, which urged her to yank at her sleeve until her nails could dig into the flesh. Hermione didn’t realize it at the time, but she had smirked the whole hike to the castle, thinking of all the possible scenarios and not one ended in their defeat. She knew him too well, she could almost guarantee the order of his moves.
Draco followed close behind her, scanning their surroundings for any and all forks in the road. If he were to spot any, Hermione knew he’d take care of it and not break a sweat. She stalked across the stone entrance of the school, which she hadn’t seen in almost a year. A bitter taste overcame her tongue at the sight of the yards. The foliage of the yards could’ve been considered ‘underkept’ about eight months ago, and the castle looked sad. Hermione wished Harry hadn’t let Dumbledore make the decisions he did.
Gasps filled the deafening silence of the yard, and her peripherals filled with a crowd of her former classmates emerging from the shadows. Many of them murmured her name questionably, the others stated it with relief until their eyes trailed down. Some were so entranced by her branding, that they didn’t even realize who was standing guard behind her.
“We thought you were dead.” The voice sounded almost offended. Her eyes turned to her former red-headed mate. “They hate your kind.” He spat defiantly as he emerged from the crowd.
Draco snapped his wand arm in Ron’s direction, huffing a growl under his breath.
“Why does he care?” Ron said to Hermione.
Hermione gave Draco a knowing look to which he slowly nodded in agreement.
Ron spat a spell in Hermione’s direction, which she avoided without much effort, and Draco hissed the Cruciatus Curse without a second to fail. Ron fell to the ground, seizing under the control of Draco’s wand. Hermione watched Draco grow warm with the pain he inflicted on him. A smirk she hadn’t seen in a while, grew wild across his face. She was pleased to see that smirk again.
“That is enough,” Hermione waved Draco off, and he complied. Dropping his wand, and breaking the curse. Hermione stepped over to Ron to look down at him. Before she even got a word around her tongue, Ron spat in her face.
Immediately she wiped the saliva from her skin and shot a dark look at Draco. Draco understood what she was saying from the simple look, and he hissed an Unforgivable . Ron’s body immediately ran limp and the yard filled with sounds of disbelief. Hermione had almost forgotten there was a crowd.
“Where is he?” She spat while rolling her sleeve closer to her elbow revealing the remainder of the dark mark. “Harry Potter! I need to speak a word or two to him.” Hermione was growing impatient; and if she was impatient, Draco was impatient.
She stormed away and into the castle knowing the few places Harry would be. According to her personal log, Harry only had two Horcruxes left to destroy. She knew what and where they were, and knew Harry didn’t.
Draco followed behind her, “Granger?” He called out.
Hermione never missed a step, and continued on her journey to find Harry, but did however look over her shoulder in his direction.
“Hermione, stop for a second,” Draco demanded, and she complied.
Draco turned her to face him and he held her face in his hands. His lips painted on that smile again, before placing a slow warm kiss on her lips. “Let’s kill the bastard,” Draco said against her lips, and they smiled together. He grabbed her hand and let her lead them into a run through the corridors.
“ The Room of Requirement ,” Hermione declared, “the diadem is in the room of hidden things and if he isn’t there already, he won’t be long behind us.” Draco didn’t say anything in response, but she hadn’t expected him to. It was more of an order than a blanket statement.
After running through a few corridors, the door to The Room of Requirement appeared before them. Hermione and Draco looked at each other with elated expressions. Then as they entered the room, she heard the faint murmurs of Harry talking to himself. She signalled Draco to stay hidden as she followed further into the room to find her target.
She could always feel Draco around her, no matter how far or how out of sight, she knew when he was near, and she knew Draco was following close behind in the shadows. Hermione peered around a tower of chairs to see Harry holding a box in one hand and the diadem in the other. He was unarmed, and she knew this was her opportunity. Hermione stepped out from beyond the rubbish to reveal herself to her old best friend, a reunion neither of them wanted.
“‘Mione?” He said after looking up from the diadem. “We thought you were dead.”
“Don’t appear that way, do I?” She deadpanned.
“What are’you doing here?” He dropped his hands to his sides, still holding the same objects in both hands.
“What do you plan on doing with the diadem?” Hermione asked as she pointed her wand indicating the diadem.
“You’re smarter than that, ‘Mione.” He deadpanned. “You already know.”
Hermoine sighed deeply as she stepped closer to him, but Harry slowly leaned to drop the box to the ground. Then he reached for his wand in his back pocket. Just as Harry’s hand brushed the back of his pocket, Draco shot a spell in Harry’s direction. Before he had a chance to react, chains coiled their way around his body, like an angry python in muggle cartoons.
Harry groaned as he hit the ground, the sheer force and weight of the chains knocked him off his feet.
“Time to go see Tom,” Draco said in a tone of an adult talking to a child. He used his wand to levitate Harry’s body for easy transportation.
As Hermione and Draco exited the castle unbothered and unscathed, on their way to bring Harry to The Dark Lord, she noticed the miniature battles happening around them. All of which were unaware of their quest to bring the captured Harry Potter to their master.
“Hey!” A voice called from behind, and both Hermione and Draco turned to see Lavender Brown, with her wand drawn, running after them. Then once Lavender came to realize who was chained up and floating, she began spitting spells. All of which Hermione counteracted successfully, without moving from her stance or breaking a sweat.
“Are you serious, Lavender?” Hermione yelled out while still dodging Lavender’s spells.
“Turn him over!” She shouted while still throwing spells at them.
Hermione groaned, then found an opening to stun Lavender. They watched as her body turned stiff and fall to the stone floor of the corridor. Hermione heard Draco roll his fingers around his tongue in his mouth, whistling for Greyback, which he knew was near.
Greyback emerged from the shadows, cocking his head searching for a purpose as to why he was called.
“Deal with her,” Hermione said, pointing to an unconscious Lavender Brown sprawled on the ground.
“She’s still alive,” Draco added, “change that.”
A wicked smile formed on Greyback’s face, and then he reached down to grab Lavender’s ankle and drag her away. Hermione and Draco made their break to the forest where the Dark Lord would be, and sure enough, they found him almost immediately. They slowly approached the clearing in the Forbidden Forest, and Voldemort grew pleased with his right and left hands.
“He is conscious, my lord,” Hermione announced to him and the rest of the group.
Cheers filled the forest as the Dark Lord and his disciples were to witness a monumental moment they’d waited for, for almost two decades. Draco dropped Harry to Voldemort’s feet and removed the chains. He immediately grabbed Hermione’s hand after doing so, to drag her to stand with his mother, his father being who knows where.
“Stand Potter,” Voldemort spat.
Harry took his time standing but he did, and kept his lips together the entire time he stood there.
“Harry Potter,” Voldemort began to say, “ The Boy Who Lived , come to die.”
Hermione watched as Harry closed his eyes and dropped his head to hang low, she knew that look. She knew he was forcing himself to become content. Hermione had seen that look many times on Harry, but for once, she was thrilled to see it.
Without a moment to spare, the Dark Lord hissed the Killing Curse; which catapulted Harry across the clearing. He laid in the mixture of moss and mulch and Voldemort signalled for Hermione and Draco to go over to the body. They knew they were intended to see if the deed was done, and when Draco leaned down to check, he looked back up to Hermione. Confusion and worry fell over his face as he looked at Hermione, and he mouthed to her, alive .
Hermione felt her eyes widen and her eyebrows furrow. Fury pulsated through her, she withdrew a dagger from a sheath on her thigh and dug it into Harry’s heart. The same dagger that was once in Theo’s.
They did it. She did it.
All for you, Theo.