His Girl by greenflowerpot

Chapter 14

- NOT MY STORY!! ALL CREDITS TO @greenflowerpot ON A03!!

Hermione was in a very strange place.

It looked to be an orchard of some kind—there were rows and rows of little trees and the pleasant aroma of apples and sunshine in the air. Colors seemed a little lighter or more pastel, like Hermione was in a watercolor painting, and everything had a hazy, dreamlike sort of quality.

Hermione sat on a little stone bench and felt peaceful. Before too long, two women dressed in white robes ambled up the path.

"Hello, sweetheart," one said warmly. "We're so happy you're here. In just a bit there will be a train coming through, and you'll be moving on."

"Oh," Hermione said. Then, she voiced her suspicion. "Did I die?"

"Yes," the woman answered gently.

Hermione thought carefully for a moment, then looked back up at the woman with a little smile.

"I think I'll stay a little longer, if that's alright."

The two women looked at each other, and one shrugged.

"If you like, dearie. But this is more of a... waiting room. It's much nicer where you're going."

"I'll only be here for a bit," said Hermione. "I think someone is coming to get me."

──⊱⊰──

Draco's blood loss was starting to get to him.

His eyes scanned the huge amphitheater that he and Potter now found themselves in, looking for any indication of where the Resurrection Stone might be and what deadly challenges awaited them. The stone doors had started closing as soon as they set foot in the room and both men were tense and wary.

Potter held Gryffindor's Sword at the ready and Draco left the King's Drum by the entrance, opting to use his good hand to wield his wand rather than carry the useless artifact.

They had been unable to close the wound in his hand and it bled steadily, soaking the bandage through and making it difficult for him to think clearly. He cast blood replenishing charms on himself but they were nowhere near as effective as they needed to be, and Draco knew he was on borrowed time.

"It's like some kind of... arena," Potter said.

Draco had surmised something similar. The dirt floors, the high walls, the bloodstains. It reminded him of the Colosseum, of gladiators fighting lions.

The room was eerily quiet until, moments later, the silence was shattered. A crisp, sharp thudding rang out from behind them and both men spun around to find the source. The sound continued, rhythmic, almost musical in its repetition.

"The drum," Draco whispered hoarsely.

The instrument was floating in midair, twin drumsticks pattering firmly at its surface as though being played by an invisible drummer boy. The arena was rumbling in response, the entire floor shaking mightily in time to each beat of the drum.

"What's it doing?" hissed Potter.

But Draco couldn't speak, could only watch as the King Drum summoned its legendary fighter right before his eyes.

Great ripples of dirt lurched this way and that, gathering itself into huge mounds. At first it seemed to be just mountains of clay, collecting more material from the ground as it pulsed, towering higher and higher. But then Draco saw a head and two arms, a great humanoid torso and a wide, blank face emerge from the dirt. The thing turned its head this way and that until its gaze dropped onto Draco and he could see the dark pits that formed its eyes.