T R A I N E D T O S I N | dramione

Twenty four

Tw: injury/knives/blood

Hermione slept better than night. Possibly from fatigue. She knew it wasn't the everlasting knot of dread that had taken permanent residence in her stomach, but she also hadn't realised just how exhausted she had been.

The bed began to shake. No, she began to shake and it took her a few reluctant seconds to finally open her eyes. Draco was kneeled beside the bed, expression stern.

"We have to go," he said, rising quickly to his feet and chucking a pile of black fabric onto her lap.

She gazed out the window to where the sun was only just rising. It was shame that the first decent sleep she had gotten had been cut so short, and the knot in her stomach tightened when she realised why.

"Hurry up, Granger," Draco said, obviously irritated. He was already turned around.

Hermione quickly stripped, attempting to hide under the bed covers even though he was turned around. She soon gave up on that plan and rose from her bed, changing there, a few feet away from Draco's back.

"Are we leaving now?" she asked, doing up the final buttons of her blouse at her waist. Draco didn't wait for approval when he turned around, taking her—his cloak and draping it over her shoulders.

"We should have left half an hour ago."

Hermione only frowned back at him as he fumbled with the clasp on her cloak. The crease between his eyebrows deepened, and so Hermione took the fabric from his fingers, resisting the urge to stiffen at the contact of his skin, and secured the cloak. Draco was already sliding the mask over her face along with his own, and before she could even take another breath, he grabbed her hand.

Draco slid his lengthy fingers between Hermione's, completely swallowing her hand under his. His finger tips pressed into the back of her hand and it would've been painful had she not already felt the tug of the portkey as Draco clasped a pendent tight into his free hand.

It was quicker this time. The world fell apart in shards instead of slowly melting away into a murky smudge of colour. Part of her was grateful for speeding up the stomach-turning transition, but the other part of her wanted nothing more than to prolong the effects of the portkey. She would rather endure it than go through the torture that awaited her.

As soon as their feet hit the dappled grass, he let go of her hand, filling the absence of his palm against hers with the wand Hermione had grown so much to hate.

"Protect yourself," was all he said, and then the field exploded into chaos.

The air around Hermione began to spark and it wasn't until she felt the heat in front of her face that she realised a spell was feet away from hitting her.

Protect yourself.

Her arm flew up, wand clutched so tightly in her hand it turned her knuckles sallow and fingers, numb. She deflected the spell easily, like she hardly had to try.

Draco stood at her side, gaze catching hers for a split second before both their attention was dragged back to the spell racing towards them. Only then did Hermione see the group of people standing beyond the row of Death Eaters.

They didn't wear a uniform, some wore muggle clothes, and they were falling. Dropping like flies as the people in black casted countless spells at them. All the sinister colour of green.