Chapter 19: Grimmauld Place
Everything inside and around Draco was spinning. Like his mind and his body were both being swallowed in the chaos he had just created. Blue lights exploded like tiny little stars and a river of ghostly whispers engulfed them, hundreds, thousands, of fates unwritten by a swift flick of his wand and dozens of letters. Those letters had changed everything.
Draco was going to be grounded for the rest of his life. What was he thinking? Father was going to kill him.
But that didn't matter. Hermione did. And she needed out of there before the Noseless Wonder used one of his well-practiced avada kedavras on his favorite target: a muggle-born.
Draco couldn't move. His mind was too full of a combination fear and reckless bravery to think about running, but he had to get Hermione out of there. Draco raced toward her, weaving and ducking around the cascade of prophecies. There was a loud squeal. Draco looked up. One of the towering shelves was teetering. Draco leapt to his right but a rush of wind blew past him and heavy sharp metal smacked against his head as the shelf came crashing to the ground.
Blackness leaked into his vision. Draco fought to keep it out, to stay awake, to get to Hermione, but the darkness was too strong. It overtook him.
The darkness peeled away, slowly revealing the dim world. There were candles and lamps on the coffee table and hanging on the wall. The light, bitter scent of tea. Where was he?
Draco blinked, trying to get his blurry eyes to focus. As his vision cleared, bright eyes and wavy hair came into view. Hermione was sitting on the floor, scribbling on a slightly curled piece of parchment.
He coughed a view times. Hermione shot straight up, almost knocking the candles off the table.
"Draco, you're awake." Her voice moved over him like a river. She glided over to his side, her mouth opened slightly.
"Where am I?" he asked.
"The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix."
Draco slowly tried to sit up. A rush of pain shot to his head.
"Slow down," said Hermione. She reached down and grabbed a bag of ice and placed it on Draco's head. "We've done a few healing spells but no one here is really good at them."
"What's the Order of the Phoenix?"
"It's a group of people dedicated to fighting Voldemort."
"Did you and Potter create-"
"No. Dumbledore did during the last war."
Draco let out a long breath. "People are okay with me being here?"
Hermione grabbed a rag and wiped away some of the water that was dripping from the bag of ice and wiped Draco's brow. He shivered at the touch. Not because it was cold, but because Hermione had never touched him like that. So gentle, so caring. "No, they're not," she finally replied. "But you helped us and where else would you go?"
She was right. He had no where else to go. Voldemort surely wanted him dead. His father probably even more so.
Draco stared at Hermione, his vision finally at full capacity. Her eyes were glassy, red.
"Have you been crying?" asked Draco.
Hermione turned her head away from Draco. He gently rested his fingers on her chin and pulled her head to him. "Yeah," she whispered.
"What happened?" Draco's heart started pounding.
"Sirius Black." Hermione whimpered then pulled herself back together.
