Out of Time

Chapter 51

To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"—
If one, settling a pillow by her head
Should say: "That is not what I meant at all;
That is not it, at all."

- The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, T.S. Eliot

He lands with complete disorientation, the only discernible sensation being the sound of the sea crashing against far-away rocks. At least, they sound far away. There's a strange ringing in his ears.

A house elf lets go of his wrist, but he doesn't let go of Hermione's. Where the hell are they?

"Master Draco?"

Looking down, he's stunned to see that it's Dobby, his family's former elf. "Hey... ah, hey, Dobby. Where did you bring us? Why?"

"Master Draco is at Shell Cottage. Harry Potter told Dobby to bring him somewhere safe."

Dobby gulps precipitously, looking down at Hermione with his ears limply tucked against his head. Draco hoists her into his arms and begins to walk towards a small cottage he can see against the cliffs, trying not to jostle her and still hurry at the same time.

The name of the place did not answer his question, but he is relieved to see Potter sprinting towards them. He has one hand pressed to his forehead in pain, but he's running full tilt. "Hermione!"

Three more figures follow, at longer intervals. Draco can spot two heads of red hair glinting in the sun and groans inwardly. But if they can help, he'll welcome it.

The taller redhead outpaces the other, and Draco sees that he has a ponytail and a gnarly earring that might be a dragon tooth. His face is scarred with a healed-over series of vertical slashes. One look at Draco's face shows that he won't be taking over carrying Hermione, but he falls into step, speaking rapidly.

"Bring her to the house -"

As if Draco's headed anywhere different.

"- Fleur will do whatever she can. We all will. We have Ollivander and the goblin situated for now, and we can put Hermione on the sofa while we have a look. What all happened to her?"

Draco shakes his head, feeling ill. He's overwhelmed and trying to sort through too much information. "Nasty cuts to her arm. My aunt - and I saw a lot of tremors, so I would bet the cruciatus, too. Maybe a lot of it. She was... she was screaming for a long time. And then she wasn't."

His throat is too constricted to say any more. Blinking back tears, he passes a beautiful woman (she has a touch of familiarity but Draco can't place her) with silvery-blonde hair not unlike his own, and steps across the threshold. Her hand is pressed to her mouth, pale as a sheet, but she scoots by Draco to yank some blankets off a kitchen table and gesture him into a living room.

The fourth person present is none other than Ron Weasley, somebody Draco could do without. But even so, if Weasley can help somehow, Draco won't stop him.

Weasley hasn't said a word. He just looks on in mute confusion and horror, and Potter claps him on the shoulder. Well, it's half-clap and half-shove as Potter brushes past him, and Draco wonders for the thousandth time what exactly happened in that tent all those months ago.

He gently lays Hermione down, kneeling on the floor next to her and clasping her hand tightly between his own. He hasn't even had time to dwell on the final seconds at the manor, when his father had lunged between him and his aunt. His father had fallen to the floor and it produces a maelstrom of conflicted emotions that Draco just doesn't have space for yet.