Secrets and Masks

30. A Demon mask, a Mudblood, and a Psychopath walk into a bar

15th May;

"This is just what I needed today," Malfoy's voice was as sharp as the slicing hex he threw over his shoulder, cutting the head off a muggles neck in one clean motion. "To be stuck in the middle of fucking Bournemouth, pinned down by gunfire, with a Mudblood-"

Hermione felt him scowl at her through his mask.

"- and a psychopath."

Theo - who was knelt low on the other side of Hermione -started chuckling darkly. "That sounds like the beginning of a really funny joke."

The air swooshed suddenly as something flew over the top of the overturned tank they were hiding behind, and a wave of adrenaline shot through Hermione when she saw the grenade. Primed. Smoking. And laying at their feet.

Although Malfoy pointed his wand instantly, Theo reacted quicker. He magically picked up the bomb, before he sharply threw it back to where it had come from. And half a second later, it exploded, disintegrating the muggle soldiers that had thrown it in the first place.

Pleased with his display of violence, Nott did a little theatrical bow, and said, "And for my next act; a joke. A Demon Mask, a Mudblood, and a psychopath walk into a bar. The psychopath says to the Demon-"

"I dare you to finish that sentence, Theodore." Malfoy pointed his wand at his subordinates chest. A warning, clearly not in the mood for jokes and theatrics due to the dangerous predicament they were trapped in. "I really do."

"Alright, alright. Don't get your bloody wand in a knot." Theo threw his hands up in surrender. Despite still wearing his blood-covered Gold Mask, he pretended to wipe imaginary sweat from his forehead when Malfoy lowered his wand. "Someone's a bit cranky today."

"A bit fucking cranky?! In case you didn't notice, we're in the middle of a warzone, surrounded by some pathetic muggles with their pathetic muggle guns-"

"No, that's not it. You've been a right sour bastard for days."

"Oh, do you ever stop talking?!"

"I thought a joke might do you good. Raise team morale. Lighten the mood-"

"You know wordless magic, right, Theodore? You'd still be able to kill those soldiers if I cut your tongue out and shoved it up your arse, wouldn't you?"

"Granger certainly looked like she wanted to hear it. The murderous Gold Mask nudged her playfully with his elbow. "Didn't you, sweetheart?"

Hermione didn't answer. Even if she'd wanted to, she doubted she could have. She'd been under The Demon Hex for the longest period she ever had been before- around three hours - and the curse showed no signs of loosening its grip. Instead, it seemed to be threading itself deeper, digging its roots into her skin like the thorns of a rose vine and pulling her where it wanted her.

No, Hermione didn't answer Theo. Instead, she was listening, learning, analysing the pattern of the bullets as they pelted against the metal tank. Waiting for an opportunity.

The bullets stopped. There was a brief pause - presumably to reload - and Hermione started counting.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four -

The bullets started again. They clattered against the tank with such a force that it rattled the thick metal and rang in Hermione's ears. They were being fired from a heavy-duty machine gun, the type that was so large that it needed to be propped up on metal legs so that it could be aimed effectively. If any of the Death Eaters were to step into its path, they would be torn in half from the sheer force of the bullets.