The Girl Who Lived ☆ D. MALFOY

Chapter 48

A/N- hi guys! sorry i haven't updated in a while, i've been busy, and most days of the week i'm not allowed to have any electronics :(

buuuuut this chapter is here finally! theres probably a bunch of typos, seeing as i didn't really proof read it and i wrote the whole thing on my laptop, but i hope it doesn't bother you all too much. 

i'd love to hear from you, so please please please leave any feedback, suggestions, or requests here and i will get back to you on what i think of them. anyways, please enjoy!

Word Count: 1486

Once all seven Harry's were in matching clothes and we'd established who was traveling on what and with whom, the fourteen of us spread out into the front lawn and front driveway in preparation to take off. I was seated behind Fred on a broomstick with my arms wrapped securely around his waist while smirking at my brother who was squeezed into the sidecar of the giant, flying motorbike, and looked a good two feet shorter than everyone else mounted on brooms or thestrals. He merely glared back at me in response.

"Comfortable?" I called to him while trying to hold back a laugh. He pursed his lips with narrowed eyes before a grin slowly spread across his dimly lit features.

"I don't know, you look pretty cozy though." he said, gesturing to my hold on Fred. I scoffed, but Fred just laughed. Before either of us could say anything else to each other, Mad-Eye's booming voice echoed across the front of the house.

"Alright, everybody. I want us to leave at the exact same time or all hope of a diversion is lost." I nodded, tightening my slackened grip on Fred's waist and looking ahead with determination. "Good luck, everyone. See you all in about an hour at the Burrow." 

He counted to three, his magic eye swivelling in its socket to land on every one of us for a split second, then we took off with the roar of Hagrid's motorbike behind us. Riding a broom again was nice despite the fact that I wasn't the one flying and it was a high-risk trip that would undoubtedly end with someone injured even if everything went as planned.

We flew skyward, into the thick blanket of clouds not far above us. Sleet stung my face and wind whipped mercilessly at my hair and clothes as we shot through the thick mist of the grey clouds. My glasses were covered with a layer of condensation, and did little to prevent fat drops of rain from blurring my already horrid vision. We continued to climb in altitude, shielded from sight until we finally broke through the dense mist of the clouds, and I mistakenly allowed myself to think that had been the worst of it. My relief was cut short by the sight of flashing lights and the sound of distant screams clouding my senses. My right arm tightened around Fred's waist as I reached my left into the pocket of my jeans. At least thirty people dressed in all black, faces covered by hideously familiar masks, surrounded us on all sides, sending curses in every direction. Fred swerved to avoid a jet of green light just as I sent a curse in the direction of one of the masked attackers, successfully striking them in the chest hard enough to knock them off their broom. The Death Eaters, though I had no idea how they would have known we were moving tonight, were on top of us. Despite our valiant efforts to prevent an event like this, they were still somehow made aware of our plans, and seemingly exactly how to put an end to them.

Just when I was certain we were doomed, the group of Death Eaters, previously at attention and composed, broke apart and went in the direction of every Harry they saw. They clearly had no idea which was the real one, and were now a less intimidating flurry of bodies rather than their previously strong formation. We swung to the right as a Death Eater chasing Ron and Tonks rushed past us. I made the mistake of looking behind me.

Eight identically annoying Death Eaters were making a beeline towards me and Fred, and were now hardly five metres away.

"Fred," I called in his ear, but it was barely a whisper with the relentless wind carrying my voice in its currents. "Go!"

He didn't question my urgency, and instead, leaned forward to pick up speed, still only putting a temporary metre of distance between us and the approaching Death Eaters. I turned quickly back and forth to shoot jinxes at our pursuers, as well as trying to protect Fred from their not-so-large variety of curses. They weren't trying to kill him, which was good, except for the fact that they were trying to kill me instead. Fred swerved as much as he could without throwing the two of us off the broom, but I still had to duck out of the way of many Killing Curses, all while trying to send my own stunning ones to knock them off their brooms.

A curse in the colour purple that I didn't recognise whizzed through my shield charm and past my ear, carving a deep cut along my cheekbone and making me cry out in pain.

"Y/n!" Fred called, turning slightly in his seat, but I forced him back to face the front.

"Just get us out of here!" I shouted in response, hoping he heard me over the deafening wind and screams surrounding us.

We continued like this for far longer than I liked. And far too many times did I come close to having my life taken by a measly flash of colourful light.

Suddenly, our broom shot straight upwards, seemingly to avoid something in our path, but I was too busy trying not to fall to my death to notice what it was. My hand, previously wrapped securely around Fred's waist, was now gripping the end of the now vertical broom for dear life as my breath hitched uncontrollably in my throat. I hardly had time to register that I was now exposed and unable to dodge curses, for I made the mistake of letting my gaze drop to focus on what was immediately below. 

Which was nothing. 

It took everything in me to hold back a scream, and I struggled to force my eyes upward rather than looking at the blurry and far too far away streetlights below. Bile rose in my mouth, and I gasped for air while my frostbitten fingers slid down the condensation covered broom handle. 

Just when I thought I was about to have an up close and personal meeting with the asphalt, the broom straightened out, and with much difficulty, I managed to force myself back onto it. The sound of my laboured breathing was lost in the wind along with everything else as we sped off into the night. I turned around, ready to send more curses at oncoming Death Eaters, but the ones previously on our tail seemingly had another target. Only two remained, and they were more focused on staying on their brooms than sending curses our way. But even those two suddenly came to a halt, and the winds calmed around us as Fred slowed pace. Even in the dim light, I could see the gradual reddening of Fred's hair, and unbeknownst to him, his features were bubbling and turning back to his usual face. We landed a few metres away from a large, unfamiliar house, but Fred seemed to know what to do.

"We'll have missed our Portkey to the Burrow," he says as we approach the doorstep, "so we can wait here until it comes around next. Shouldn't be long."

I offer him a small, tight lipped smile in return to the lopsided grin he seemed to always have gracing his features. My hands, as well as the rest of my body, was still trembling slightly from my many near death experiences. I was never afraid of heights before. I was a Quidditch player for God's sake, I wasn't allowed to be afraid of heights, but I'd also never been that high off the ground. Our attempt at using the clouds for cover hadn't worked, so all we'd done was make a higher chance of falling to our deaths. It was also rare for me to fall off my broom, and I certainly had never dangled off the end, hundreds of feet above the ground, with curses flying around me on all sides, all of which having the possibility of taking my life.

"Hey, you alright?" Fred asks as he guides me through the now open door. I hear him inhale sharply when I don't respond. "Your face..."

I'd almost forgotten about the jagged cut across my cheekbone, and winced more violently than planned when I brushed my fingertips over the wound. I used my fist to wipe as much of the excess blood off of my chin and jaw, and used my other hand to wave him off.

"I'll be fine. Let's get to the Portkey." Much to my dismay, my voice cracks and wavers with fatigue, but I ignore it just as he does. He goes back to his usual constant jokes and grins while I respond with weak grins and worried glances, only thinking grimly of the possible state of our friends and family.