Ride or Die

A Quake From a Tremble

a/n: An elevated level of physical violence in this chapter.

. . . . . . . .

Chapter 18: A Quake From a Tremble

There was a moment when Hermione looked around the room and couldn't remember how she'd gotten there. She took in the sight of Tom Riddle with his gun to Theo Nott's forehead and suddenly flashed back to what felt like nothing, what seemed like a blur; just a normal day, and then one man's gun to another man's head, as though she'd simply been turned to stone as the scene mechanized around her. She caught the blood dripping from Draco's nose onto Harry's arms and forced herself to focus, to calm the buzzing of her thoughts, to return to the hesitant half-smile Draco had given her when he'd entered; to recall the secret in the space between them that she'd wanted to curl her fingers around and hold close, only to discover that it had risen up to choke her.

"I apologize for the violence," Tom said evenly, not taking his eyes from Theo's face. The portly police chief behind him looked about as frozen as Hermione felt and Draco's eyes flashed as he watched, sweat mixing in with blood.

Hermione blinked, registering fear.

Then Tom looked up, and time restarted.

. . . . . . . .

Seventeen Hours Earlier

"Ah, marvelous," Dean declared. "You've returned!"

"I have," Hermione said neutrally, nudging him away as he smacked his lips against her cheek. Dean grinned, leaning back to throw an arm around her shoulders.

"Patil," he barked, turning to Padma. "Rosmerta's tonight to celebrate Dr Granger's return to the land of the living?"

"Oh, I don't know," Hermione hastily demurred, thinking of the blond man she'd rather hoped to have in her bed two nights in a row. "I'm not sure if I'm up for - "

"Absolutely," Padma cut in instantly, leaning over to look at Hermione. "And you're going," she warned, jabbing a finger at her across Dean's chest. "I won't take no for an answer."

Hermione sighed. "You never do," she muttered, sparing a glare for each of them. "Aren't you two supposed to be my friends?"

"We are," Dean said firmly. "Which is why, my angel, we are so very desperate to celebrate your life."

"Oh, my life, is it?" Hermione asked, making a face. "Because it really seems more like the two of you just want me dead."

"Oh, we do," Padma assured her smugly. "But since you happen to still be alive - " she shrugged. "L'chaim, I say."

Dean batted his lashes coquettishly at her, and she groaned.

"Fine," Hermione muttered, giving in. "But just one drink, okay?"

"Two," Padma countered.

"Four," Dean suggested.

"Twenty four," they said in unison, grinning, and Hermione threw her hands in the air.

"This is not a negotiation," she informed them. "One drink, and then I'm going home - got it?"

"Oh my god, Dr Granger, was it?" Dean drawled, making a face. "Or was it Dr Fun-Suck?"

"Paging Dr Buzzkill," Padma sang, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You know, what's amazing is that you're both brilliant medical professionals," she commented, "and yet here I am, consistently underwhelmed by your combined wit."