The Secret's In The Telling ENG DRARRY

Chapter 12: Accidents Happen

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Hermione's scream rose up inside her, trapped, unheard by anyone but herself as she watched, entranced, as Harry was struck by Malfoy's curse. He went down without a sound, bleeding. God, so much blood!

And then Ron was gabbing her about the waist, pulling her roughly backwards. She tripped and fell against him. Where she had been standing only seconds before, the black snake of Malfoy's was coiled, hissing and spitting. No longer charmed by Harry's Parseltongue, it returned to its original task of attacking Ron.

Again it reared back, fangs glistening, prepared to lunge. She drew her wand, mind rapidly going through a list of spells that might work on a conjured creature.

But before she could do anything, the thing disappeared in another puff of smoke. She looked up, to find Malfoy pointing at it, his wand shaking in unsteady hands. He looked shocked and faintly ill, but she had no time for him.

Darting forward, she threw herself down next to Harry's prone figure. She slid slightly in the pools of sticky crimson that were forming on the tiled floor. Refusing to acknowledge the clawing panic growing inside of her, she lay her hands on her friend's chest, trying to find the source of the bleeding. The robes and T-shirt he was wearing were ripped, she saw, and parted the shredded articles of clothing.

A gasp escaped her just as Ron dropped to his knees next to her. Together they stared in horror at the slash across Harry's chest which gushed blood.

"Episkey!" she tried desperately, the only healing spell she knew. The gash seemed to tighten slightly, but nowhere near closing.

"We have to get him to Pomfrey," Ron was saying lowly in her ear, already moving to cast a Levicorpus spell.

Suddenly, Hermione felt herself shoved gracelessly aside, and a third presence was snapping out, "Move, Granger."

Half blinded by her own panic, she simply had to see the flash of white-blond and her control snapped. "You BASTARD! You stay away from him! Petrificus Tot–"

Malfoy's hand shot out and hit her wand, sending it spiralling across the room. "I said move, Granger!" The aristocratic, disdainful voice she was used to had vanished, to be replaced by a growl that wasn't recognisable as the Slytherin's trademark drawl.

He was down on his own knees with them then, ignoring the blood that swiftly smeared the tailored robes. Hawthorn wand in hand, he waved it in some intricate gesture, muttering something she couldn't make out over the rushing in her ears, and the raised voices of everyone else in the room.

She didn't know if he finished, only that Ron had suddenly grasped the smaller boy and tossed him backwards with little effort. Malfoy fell awkwardly, his wand clattering away from him, and then Ron was upon him, roaring incoherently, fists flying. She could hear Malfoy yelling something, trying to be heard, but the redheaded boy only seemed interested in destroying him.

But then, taking her by surprise, Ron was suddenly hurtled a good several feet across the room. He skidded to a stop, landing on his backside, looking just as shocked as her that Malfoy had used that kind of strength.

"Look at him, Weasley!" the blond was shouting, gesturing wildly. "Fucking look at him before you kill me!"

She spun away from the fighting pair, throwing herself down to examine Harry again. She lifted his shirt, and though sticky redness still stained every inch of his skin and clothing, she could find no gash.

"Ron!"

He was by her in a second. "What? Is he okay? Is he –"

"He's..." She trailed off, waving her hand helplessly at the lack of an injury. Her eyes turned slowly back towards Malfoy, who had been left panting on the floor, his harsh breathing quickly becoming the only sound in the near silent room.