Fragments of the Sea

Siren Symphonies

"What are you doing? Why aren't you restraining her?"

Ron fought against Hermione's strong grip. Red half-moons formed on his wrists from her nails cutting into his skin. While both Draco and Hermione had seemed as surprised, they snapped out of it quickly and leapt at both Harry and Ron, pinning their arms in a position up by their heads.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ron spotted Malfoy shoving Harry away and kicking him to the ground in one swift movement. Simultaneously, he pushed a forceful spell from his ferally curled lips. "Petrificus Totalus!" he growled, silvery-grey eyes reflecting the wild, raging flames of his fury. 

Ron truly loathed to admit being scared of the pompous jerk he'd known as the amazing bouncing ferret for several years. But he was. Even he knew that denying fear and the potential others had to hurt was only going to lead to his demise, which, while inevitable, is still not something he wanted to experience sooner than he had to, especially after so many brushes with death in his years of knowing Harry.

"Sectumsempra!" Ron screamed, desperately grasping for another spell to use on Malfoy. He'd never been good at magic without his wand, but it was at least grasped in his hand, and there was certainly emotion put behind it. He actually believed that to be the problem him and Hermione had had during their relationship; he did everything with a passion(and usually a lot of excess anger), whereas she did everything by the book.

Her mind was logical and efficient, like a well-oiled machine, and his was scattered and simple, with no complex plans and only a care for what suited him in the moment. But that was good, right? He cared about himself, and if he didn't want to get hurt, and didn't want to hurt her, he should end it before he ends up leading her on even further.

He'd hoped that she would just forgive and forget, like before. She'd yell and scold him, then go to the library and come back ranting about some conspiracy theory. Not about how the granddaughter of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named is a good person. He'd copy her homework, and have her write most of his Charms essays. Not fight and break down every time he tried to talk to her again. 

And what was with Malfoy? They absolutely hated each other. And now she was defending him, standing at his side and glaring down at Harry and Ron? But Ron knew that Hermione was too strong willed to let Malfoy control her, even if he used the Imperius curse on her. She could've been blackmailed, perhaps to protect them, but if so, how could she stand to work with him against them to do it?

Ron realized that there was no more force constricting his wrist. A warm limb whacked against his leg. When he looked down, however, he realized that Malfoy was already dragging the form over to the couch. He completely ignored both the boys and the bright blood smearing his robes and the dark shirt he wore under them. 

The other girl rushed over to the figure's side, and knelt down beside them with such concern and determination on her face that Ron nearly forgot she was of the Dark Lord's bloodline. The Riddle bloodline. Ron felt a sense of dread well up in his gut as he cautiously drew nearer to the body. 'Hermione.'

His already pale skin drained of any remaining blood. What had he done? Ron stared down, aghast, at the suddenly ominous 14 inches of willow loosely held in his shaking fingertips. The girl clad in yellow and black pressed her hand to Hermione's forehead. "Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur," she chanted, green eyes glowing like beacons in the darkness of the room since the candles had been blown out. Her expression held no humor, and the rhythmic dripping of the water from a chalice that had been knocked over(but it still seemed as thought the water was too far from the cup for it to be an 'accident') only added to the depressing atmosphere.

Ron watched on in awe as Malfoy knelt beside Hermione with the sincerest expression he'd ever seen on the ferret's face being worn and expressing care and compassion no less! What really caught his attention, however, was the fact that the Hufflepuff beside Malfoy was using wandless magic. It should have been expected that she be powerful, being the granddaughter of Voldemort, but he couldn't really believe that a Hufflepuff could contain so much magical potential until he saw it.

To be completely honest, Ron hadn't believed that the Riddle bloodline could ever produce a sweet, kind Hufflepuff, but she'd said that there was something else to her story, or at least hinted at it, hadn't she? A loud string of coughs had the blood draining from Ron's face once again.

The girl's arm shot out and her hand pressed against Hermione's forehead, and she brought up her other arm to trace soothing circles into the latter's back. After a minute of hushed silence on Ron's part, and a series of violent, strangled choking noises, Hermione's breathing evened out and her strangled gasps for air became less desperate.

The Hufflepuff tilted her chin in Ron's direction, but her luminescent eyes never wandered from Hermione's face. "Hey, Draco? How 'bout you sit with me and the fainting princess over here? Ronald...No, you prefer to be called 'Ron', don't you? Well, regardless, you should take your friend over there, to the other couch. I doubt that he'll put up much of a fight- he's too curious for his own good, and he has next to no restrain- certainly not enough to counteract his want for knowledge.

"Besides, if he tries anything, I'll just have him...incapacitated. And no, as Draco so benevolently put earlier, 'that is not a threat, but a promise.'" She wasn't giving him any options. Draco sat down next to Hermione in his usual cautious and deliberate manner, the same description that could be applied to almost anything he did, but the snobbish and snarky air had greatly diminished, if not disappeared completely.

Ron grunted as he focused on slinging Harry's arm around his shoulders. His friend's viridescent green eyes tracked Ron's blue ones, disgust building up in them, but there was a glossy glare that made the hint of betrayal obvious. But betrayal for what? 'Siding with the enemy,' the emeralds whispered to him, somehow making the accusations sound like they were shouting in Ron's mind. 'Helping Voldemort's granddaughter to restrain me. Hurting Hermione instead of Malfoy.'

"Now," the girl- Perci, Ron's mind remembered- started, "let us begin." A wolfish grin stretched across her face.