That's An Order

When Voldemort had murdered the Boy Who Lived at the Battle of Hogwarts, it had all been over.

Students and teachers had been rounded up by the Death Eaters. The castle had been transformed into the Dark Lord's personal fortress. The wizarding world had been flipped upside down within what had felt like a matter of seconds.

For Hermione Granger, the following days—weeks—months—after the battle had all blurred before her eyes—except for one moment.

When she'd made an Unbreakable Vow with Draco Malfoy.

It hadn't been a choice. Voldemort had commanded for most of the Order members to each be assigned to a Death Eater—for what, nobody really knew. Entertainment? Perhaps.

Another much more specific reason? Most likely. Hermione hadn't thought that it was a coincidence that each Order member had been assigned to a Death Eater of the opposite gender.

When she'd found out that she was to be bound to Draco Malfoy, she'd tried to fight out of it Muggle-style—with fists and all. After all, her wand had been confiscated long before.

Unfortunately, the burly Death Eater who'd relayed the information to her and had been ordered to bring her out of her dungeon cell had only needed to Imperio her for her to obediently follow him to the Great Hall.

The Imperio had lasted throughout the entirety of it all. When she'd stepped foot into the hall that had once hosted grand meals for lively students. When she'd glanced around, forced to take in its new look—bare, crumbling walls, Death Eaters stationed around its perimeter, the Heads' table replaced with a throne of bone-white yew. When she'd fixed her stare on who occupied that throne. When Voldemort's red eyes had gleamed down at her, and he'd beckoned with one long finger for a lone Death Eater who'd been standing in the shadows to come to his side.

When Draco Malfoy had stepped forward, his pale hair glinting and his expression blank.

She'd Vowed to always obey him. Always. And she'd felt tears streaming down her face as she'd watched the stream of fire wound around their hands, sealing the Vow—and her fate.

She could never go back.

—

They fell in love.

The feeling had sneaked up on them. It was a feeling that Hermione hadn't ever believed she'd ever experience again—love. But it was there, and it was fact: She was truly and irrevocably in love with Draco Malfoy.

And, as with all things, it came crashing down.

It had been a nice day—Hermione snuggling in Draco's lap as he read out loud from a book, the both of them comfortable on a sofa by the large windows of the Malfoy Library. The sky had been bright, and owls had occasionally flown by outside. It had been a rare day of relaxation.

Until Dolohov had charged into the Manor with a cohort of Death Eaters, the mass of them nearly catching Hermione and Draco had Draco not Apparated them out at the last second.

Spying owls. Who would've thought. They'd been discovered—Draco had been branded a traitor, and Hermione much less nicer terms. Voldemort wanted them both dead.

So they'd gone on the run. And that had been fifteen days ago, and now they were about to get caught.

—

"Granger, run!" Hermione forced her legs to propel herself forward. Draco was shooting spell after spell over his shoulder at their pursuers, the hollows of his cheeks much more pronounced in the moonlight from above.

They were somewhere in the mountains of Northern Europe. A remote enough location, Hermione had thought—so she didn't understand how Voldemort had found them. But he had, and he'd sent his Death Eaters after them, and now they were running for their lives.

Hermione's hair whipped her face as she ran. She kept her gaze straight ahead, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, trying to block out the sounds of blasted spells and yelling behind her. What mattered now was surviving.

"Draco—" Her breaths came out uneven. "Draco—what do we do—" She turned to look at him.

He wasn't next to her.

Hermione spun around, legs failing her as she realized that she was by herself.

Then she saw him, and she felt her mind go blank.

Draco was standing in a small clearing far behind her. His back was to her. He had his wand drawn in a defensive stance, and he was clearly limping.

Hermione's mind numbly flashed back to the moment when an unknown, stray spell had hit his left leg earlier. They both hadn't given it a second thought.

"DRACO!" she screamed. She ran towards him, ignoring the fact that she didn't have a wand. The Death Eaters were closing in on him—she could see them just beyond the ridge, their masks glinting in the night.

"GRANGER, RUN!" Draco roared, turning around towards her. Even from a distance, she could make out the expression of firm resolve on his face. It was the look of a man who'd accepted his fate. "LEAVE ME AND GO!"

"NO!" she screamed, her eyes welling up with tears as she raced to reach him.

"DON'T LOOK BACK! RUN!" Then a phrase that broke her heart: "THAT'S AN ORDER!"

She couldn't help it—she ran. The wind pushed against her face, and even its force couldn't stop her from sobbing as her feet carried her away from the man she loved. She didn't look back. She saw a flash of green in the corners of her eyes.

Then, nothing.