Saving the Enemy

Chapter 10

Draco

    “Draco!” a woman screams frantically. Draco looks around, trying to locate the source, but all he can see is blackness. “Help me, please!”

    Draco runs around, this deeps urge to protect the owner of that voice, of the one calling for him. He can’t let them down. Draco runs, unsure where he is going but he assumes he is in a hallway. The walls are close beside him as they don’t open into any other rooms as he runs, arms outstretched.

    The lights flicker at the end, beckoning him closer. Draco inches forward, becoming quite unsettled. The woman has stopped screaming, but he knows she is here. The reason for her terror has not left since he hasn’t seen anything pass him by. Draco looks around as he enters a larger room. The walls are grey, lifeless. The lights dimmed so he can barely make anything out.

    “Draco,” the woman rasps, bringing his attention to the body on the floor. She is curled up into a lump, looking so pale and lifeless that Draco is scared for a moment that she really is dead, that her heart gave out. Draco slowly walks forward, hesitant due to the fact that there seems to be no reason for her terrified cries. As he gets closer, he notices her hair is brown with slight highlights to accentuate her frizzy locks. She is shaking as if she is crying, still in shock from whatever had her begging for him.

    “Hermione,” Draco gasps, the pieces finally clicking for him. He rushes over to her, abandoning any previous precautions. His heart is beating frantically, the adrenaline coursing through him. He collapses beside her body, turning her so her eyes fall upon him. Her face looks so lifeless, black circles surrounding her eyes. She looks at him in fear, her wide eyes locking onto his. He holds her close, feeling how cold she is becoming.

    “No, stay with me. I need you, I love you,” he cries, cupping her face as hot tears escape down his cheeks. Hermione becomes blurry as Draco sobs at the thought that she is dying, right in his arms. And Draco can do nothing to prevent it.

    “I love you too, Draco,” Hermione rasps. Draco leans down to place a sloppy kiss upon her lips, wanting his lips, this energy between them to jolt her awake forever, make her never leave. She pulls back though, looking at something behind him. “Run.”

    “What?” Draco asks, unable to comprehend what is going on anymore.

    “The mudblood said ‘Run’ Draco. Don’t you have ears or has she taken that along with your common sense?” Draco freezes at the sound of that voice. Her voice. Draco slowly turns to face his ‘Dear Auntie Bella.’ She is clad in her signature black dress, her black crazy hair pulled to one side. She holds her wand to the side, her arms open wide, acting like she doesn’t have a care in the world. A permanent crazed smirk etched on her face, her eyes looking wild as always.

Draco hates her for everything she did, especially for torturing the woman he loves so dearly right in front of him. Her screams of that night in the Manor will haunt him forever. But she is supposed to be dead. The bloody awful witch was killed by Molly.

    “You’re dead,” Draco states plainly, sure the dumbfound expression he bares is what makes her laugh that awful laugh, the one that makes her sound like she came straight from a mental hospital. Maybe she should have visited one, make her feel right at home.

    “Oh, Draco. If I was dead would I be able to do that to you little mudblood? Don't think you can get rid of me that easily,” she laughs, mocking him. Draco sneers at her, sending the most hateful glare he can muster, his breathing becoming heavier in anger instead of shallower in fear like he would have done before. Draco is so close to seeing red that she dared to touch his Hermione.