Not Quite Dark Magic

Bad Kidnapping

After an uproarious argument had broken out— headed by Draco, who was too weak to get out of bed properly but not too knackered to place a sticking charm on Hermione— she was irritated and short tempered.

"Draco, release this right now!"

"Not until you stop talking crazy and reckless," he insisted. His brow had broken out into a sweat and his eyes were fever bright. Hermione could feel his instability through their bind, both mental and physical. Draco was bound to break if he didn't allow himself a chance to cool down. Maybe she should have placed the sticking charm on him.

"I'm not talking crazy, Malfoy. I have it all planned out."

And she did. It didn't mean that her plan wasn't met with a chorus of objections or pleas for her to reconsider.

None of that mattered. Maybe in a way that she wasn't able to accept yet, brought to her in the form of Draco's desperation and Harry's sad eyes that made her feel rotten and selfish. They weren't wrong— Hermione was putting her life at risk for someone she didn't know. Perhaps it was a bit dangerous, but she balked at the word reckless. Being reckless assumed it was poorly thought out and not well executed.

Hermione Granger fell into neither of those categories.

When she had snatched her wand out of Draco's hand and unstuck herself, she pushed past the angry mob surrounding his bed and stormed straight to the War Room. Moody would be there. He always was.

"Moody," she began, but he waved her off, eyes not lifting from the parchment he was reading.

"It's approved already, Granger."

"How'd you know?" It was a silly question, of course. Moody always knew. Eyes in the back of his head and all that.

"I'll want to hear the final plan before you make any moves."

"Of course," she confirmed.

"And you'll be sure to gather any intel you can while you're gone."

"As always."

Moody lifted his eyes. Hermione wasn't leaving. "Well?"

"You said you wanted to hear the plan?"

Moody leant back and gestured to the chair on the other side of the table.

---

"Mione."

Hermione looked up from her vanity where she was applying lipstick and met Ron's eyes in the mirror.

"Ronald," she greeted, turning back to complete her makeup. "Are you the last stitch effort to try and talk me out of this?"

Ron shrugged. "Something like that. I wanted to come anyway." He moved to sit on her bed. Hermione ran a brush through her hair.

"Ron, what is it? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah of course. Just with you going off like this it reminded me that I don't get to see you much anymore."

"Things are crazy these days. I don't take it personally."

"Right, no of course not. I just wished I would have made an effort earlier on." His eyes were averted, hands crossed over his chest.

Hermione dropped the tendrils of hair she was wrapping using bobby pins and turned to look at him.

He looked so giant, sitting on her small bed in her narrow room. Ron never looked small, he was too tall and his presence too large. Not in the same ways as Draco's— arrogant and demanding— but with his own style. Friendly, warm and loving. Ron was approachable despite his size while Draco was left best standing in a corner, leant against a wall and glaring at anyone that glanced his way.