Fallen Dynasty (Dramione)

Twenty Nine - The Widowmaker

Alis volat propriis.

She flies with her own wings.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

MATCH MADE IN HELL?

TERROR SPREADS AS A HEART ATTACK INDUCING WOMAN NOW KNOWN AS THE WIDOWMAKER JOINS THE DEATH EATERS. WITH STILL CLIMBING DEATH TOLL OF RATES OF 100+ CASUALTIES IN ONE BATTLE, WHAT DOES THIS DEADLY ALLIANCE WITH VOLDEMORT'S WELL KNOWN WAR GENERAL THE REAPER MEAN FOR THE COURSE OF THE WAR?
Turn to page 3 for anonymous claims on this subject.

Theo grimaces as Neville finishes reading the The Daily Prophet headline out loud. There was a look across his face that read I'm in deep shit and I better start digging my grave now.

Hermione groaned as her shoulders sagged, her head falling forward and her forehead landed against a comatose-like Draco's hand as he laid in his bed. He had been unconscious for about fifteen hours since the dramatic news had forced his memories forward, enough time for the news articles to start their own spin on things. The Daily Prophet desperately clung to anything nowadays.

"At least you have a cool nickname," Neville said, looking like he was fighting the urge to vomit. He and Theo had arrived a few hours ago, hoping Draco was calm enough to not viciously kill them the moment they arrived within sight, but with him being incapacitated, they knew it was only a matter of time before their expected doom.

"Yes," Blaise, taking a break from his nonstop pacing since Draco passed out, let out an uncharacteristic laugh with manic undertones as he threw up his hands. "At least she has a cool, fucking nickname in the midst of all this bullshit that you two— no, three of you caused!"

Theo shifted in his seat, a quizzical look on his face.

"I'm using my context clues... and I am sensing that you're angry," Theo motioned to Blaise's mannerisms as Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Oh my Merlin," Neville groaned as Blaise seemed to vibrate with fury.

"How about these fucking context clues, motherfucker," He careened back to throw a punch at Nott's perfect nose but came to a screeching halt when Hermione threw her hand up.

"Stop!" She gasped, lifting her head to look at Draco better. She squinted as she brushed back the delicate laying of his hair off his forehead. "I think he's moving!"

The four of them crowded the bed, pushing and shoving, looking down at the blonde with scrutiny.

Hermione reached up tentatively again, her fingers caressing his sharp cheekbones that were perfectly carved by centuries of pure bloodlines. "My love," she crooned hesitantly as an ever so subtle twitch of his eyebrows was seen. "Come back to me, my love."

"He moved. I saw it!" Theo whisper shouted, his now pointing finger centimeters away from Draco's nose. If he was awake, he would have wrenched back with a sneer.

"Shut up," Blaise elbowed Theo's stomach into submission. "I don't think your stupid ass voice is what he wants to hear the second he comes to."