Save Tonight by streetscribbles [Rated PG-13]
Celebrate the Season fic request for Yami/a_white_rain
Title: Save Tonight
Author: streetscribbles
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: So, this is what I say to myself every day: Harry Potter isn't mine. And neither is Draco Malfoy.
Author's Notes: I hope this meets your requirements, a_white_rain :) And that you don't mind the little twist I did with what you didn't want. ;) Thank you to two amazing people, Leila and Jenny, for the quick betas. <3
Summary: Hermione and Ron are kidnapped. Draco Malfoy is involved. And in times of War, we learn that not everything is what it seems to be.
When you want to destroy someone, you have to get rid of their defenses.
When you want to destroy Harry Potter, you have to get rid of Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.
“Don’t touch me!” Hermione yelled as a burly figure all in black tossed her down onto the floor.
“Malfoy, you little shit, wait ‘til everyone else finds out about what you’ve done to us!” Ron snarled as Draco Malfoy loosened his grip on Ron’s arm before leaving the room, the two husky figures following him out the room.
The door locked magically with a crisp click.
And so came the closing of step one: kidnap the Mudblood and Weasley. Check.
*
“Hermione, they’ve taken our wands!”
“Well, obviously!” Hermione snapped.
“I just thought I’d let you know…” Ron paused. Hermione looked at him. “…That this way, we can’t do magic anymore,” Ron finished lamely.
Meanwhile, in another room:
“Has it been done?”
“Yes, it’s all being played out just as planned. Using Weasley to lure the Mudblood into it was a brilliant touch, I might add.”
“Well, of course. My son came up with it. He’s going to join us soon, you know.”
“Very good, very good.”
There was a venomous smirk, a cold nod and a satisfying shut of a window. The room darkened and the door closed for the night.
Step two: make sure your victims are without their wands and any type of protection. You may allow a sink or a locked window in the room in efforts to distract from too much insanity, but that is all. Check.
*
“I just remembered!” Hermione cried out, getting up from her spot in the room to pace, yet again.
She had been pacing for a very, very long time, Ron noticed. It seemed that when Hermione’s mind was not at work, churning away at some brilliant solution, she found that she had to find some other way to channel her thinking. She had to think of something or she would not rest.
“What?” Ron asked dryly, poking at the hard cement floors with the toe of his shoe. The leather was worn and looked tired. Oh, the words Draco Malfoy would have for just that one damn part of his shoe, it was amazing how much venom leaked from the tip of that boy’s tongue. He was out to devastate Potter, to destroy him, and didn’t care if anyone else was hurt along the way.
Ron Weasley had suffered a lot of backlash, in this case from Draco Malfoy, from being Harry Potter’s friend. And he was overlooked so much of the time. He was not the good looking female Weasley, the infamous pair of mischievous, brilliant twins, or the snobby but also brilliant, uptight, Weasley. Nor was Ron the cool, confident older brother with the trendy hair. And, that left the handsome, dragon slaying Weasley. No, that also was not Ron.
Ron was the Weasley that had stood by Harry Potter since day one, and that in itself was so, so much more than the rest. But still, he was so overlooked.
“How could I be so stupid?” Hermione interrupted Ron’s drowsy want of taking off his shoe and chucking it to the wall. It was such an old shoe, passed down from Fred. It’s just a pair of shoes; he thought bitterly, why can’t one pair of shoes even be afforded in the damn family?
“What?” Ron repeated again.
“I forgot to hand in my final project for Charms!” Hermione cried out. “It was supposed to be due right before Dumbledore’s funeral. And yes, obviously everyone was distracted with grief and I’m sure Professor Flitwick will excuse me, but the whole principle of being late, oh I just hate that.”
“Are you off your bloody rocker?” Ron snapped. “We’ve been kidnapped, Hermione! We’re probably going to die and all you care about at this point is a crap of an assignment? Where are your priorities, Mudblood?”
Her mouth formed a tiny ‘O’ and her eyes widened. “Ronald Weasley! Why would you call me that?” she demanded angrily, tears erupting in her eyes.
“Mudblood, Mudblood, Mudblood!” Ron yelled, alarming Hermione so much that she recoiled, taking two steps back. “Bloody fucking hell, Hermione! Remember that dirty, disgusting word you hate? What Draco Malfoy taunts you as almost every time we run into him? You’re strong, I’ve always known that. Be strong! Remember that, Hermione! Because right now, fighting to not let that word hurt you so much is what’s important!”
She bit her lower lip and with stiff nod, moved toward the sink that was wedged into the wall at the back of the cold, grimy cell.
Hermione Granger was Harry Potter’s other best friend. And though she was not as brave-hearted as Ron Weasley, she was just as loyal. She possessed not a special talent for academic excellence, but the determined sort of faith that could be found in no one else. It was a fierce, passionate, lip biting, knuckle clenching type of faith that she had in Harry. She worried for Harry and nursed him like a mother hen, and like any other mother, she believed there was no one better.
Draco Malfoy probably would not have cared that Hermione Granger was a Muggleborn, had she not been Harry Potter best friend. And so she was his other target.
Ron sighed. “Now what are you doing?”
“They touched me everywhere. Draco and… his cronies. Crabbe and Goyle, I suppose. I don’t know. All I could see was Draco that grabbed us from our walk after the funeral. Oh, Ron! I don’t want to blame you but why did you have to insist upon us taking a walk right after the procession? Didn’t you think Harry needed us?”
Ron didn’t answer for a long time. Hermione bent over the sink and pulled up the bottom of her cloak, dipping it under the soft running water and scrubbed her arm.
“What are you doing?” Ron repeated.
“They touched me!” Hermione yelled, her voice shrill as she turned around, tears now streaming down her face fast. “I feel so… violated! ...Mudblood!” she yelled, this time alarming Ron, who had his eyes fixated on Hermione and backed away a little.
“Mudblood Granger! She’s so dirty, isn’t she? Ron,” Hermione whispered, crying as she continued scrubbing away at her arms, her light skin easing into a painful shade of pink. She kept wiping away harshly, rhythmically. “How can they call me dirty? They’re dirty and disgusting and vile and foul. They’re the ones that have hurt me so much. They’re the ones that aren’t human.”
She was crying now, crying hard as she dipped her cloak under the water again.
Ron paused for a moment, a glimmer of hesitation in his eyes. But he finally moved forward and dabbed his fingers under the prickly cold water and took Hermione’s hands in one of his, and with the other hand, he ran his fingers over her skin, rubbing away at all the violent jerks and touches that Draco Malfoy had spread upon her.
She stopped sobbing so loudly and eased her breathing back to normal, wiping away at her eyes with the back of her hands now that Ron had let her go. He pulled a piece of his cloak and wiped her arms for her then released them, not meeting her eyes.
“You’re not dirty,” he said quietly.
She would remember those words.
Step three: have the Mudblood and Weasley grow closer. Their time will run out soon, anyway. Check.
*
It had been days. Ron had been silent for a lot of it, but when he did speak, he spoke a lot.
“Isn’t it weird?” Ron’s voice was slightly husky. “I’m really happy like this, Hermione. Like, we’ve been kidnapped, but I’m with you finally, you know?”
Hermione didn’t know. Hermione could not think straight. She knew she had feelings for Ron for awhile. She knew that she would have loved to be with him at some point in her life. But she was also letting logic and thought and reason fumble and take over her mind.
“I know… Ron, but…”
“But?”
“We have to get out of here soon before Malfoy kills us both.”
“He’s not going to kill either of us.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do. Look, Hermione. He doesn’t have the guts to. He’s just another guy trying to live up to his dad’s standards. All he really wants is probably to live life happy like the rest of us.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you think that Malfoy was dangerous just a few days ago?”
There was a long pause. “I did? Well. I’ve changed my mind. I’m stupid like that.”
She jabbed him. “I never thought you were stupid, Ron, you know that. But I guess you’re right. I never really thought Malfoy was all that evil.”
Ron paused.
“Right, you didn’t. Do you suppose he’s just misunderstood?”
“I know he’s misunderstood. I don’t know him that well, but I mean… you know when people are evil and when they’re not, and Draco Malfoy is just another snobby little prat that goes to our school to me. Nevermind who his dad is.”
“I suppose,” Ron said thoughtfully, and this was when Hermione knew Ron was not himself - he was not dishing out more dirty insults toward Malfoy.
“He’s gone a long way this year though, hasn’t he?” Hermione said, almost smiling. “I mean, for the first five years of school, all Malfoy was… was really nothing. He was just something you wanted to flick away when you saw him. Now when you see him, you want to flinch.”
“I’ve always wanted to flick him away and flinch, actually,” Ron said.
Hermione ignored him. “A part of me is scared now because of that. All that Malfoy has proven this past year... I think he’s brilliant.”
“Wh---”
“He is, Ron. Draco is brilliant,” Hermione looked down and swept her hair from her face. “He’s smart. But he’s also scared like the rest of us, which is why I’m not so scared… I think Malfoy has proven not only to be smart, but I’m so sure that he’s just scared like the rest of us.”
She paused. Her voice grew quieter as she seemed to be musing thoughtfully, almost peacefully. You think you don’t know a guy, but you really do, you know? We practically grew up with him.”
“Okay, do you need some water? Sink’s right over there. Or naybe fresh air? I’ll see what I can do in terms of cracking that really tiny window over there.”
“Ron, Draco----”
And ironically enough, this was when Draco Malfoy appeared at the entrance of the cell.
“Oh, why, hello there!” he called out, waving and squinting, peering through the bars as if he were viewing an attraction. “Fancy seeing you two here.”
“Malfoy,” Ron growled low and lunged at Draco.
“Ron, be careful! You don’t have your wand!” Hermione shrieked from the corner of the cell. And she could not hear but she could see clearly Ron and Draco exchanging a few brief words before Ron growled again and Draco proceeded to walk away.
“What did you do?” Hermione called to Ron, she got up and ran forward, pressing her body up against the bars, clenching them in her hands. Her knuckles were nearly white. “Malfoy, you foul little brat! Let us go. We’re not stupid, you’re never going to make it to the rankings of being a Death Eater and you should just deal with that! Why can’t you just realize that you’re not cut out to be evil? Look at you, you’re scared just like the rest of us.”
Ron looked at Hermione incredulously as she babbled on. He tried to hide his shaking hands.
“Is that so?” Draco asked coolly, meeting eyes with Hermione.
“Malfoy, please,” Hermione insisted. “Harry needs us.”
“Oh, that’s a great reason for him to set us free, Hermione,” Ron retorted helpfully from the side.
She glared at Ron. Draco laughed and began walking away. “By the way, you’re going to die… hm, I’d say some time tomorrow. Same place same time, okay? Don’t you two run off now.”
Hermione let out a loud cry, echoing far through the ends of the hall as she slumped down against the bars of the cell. Ron was hesitant, as he always seemed to be these past few days, but he bent down and smoothed the hair away from her forehead.
“It’ll be okay,” Ron promised.
“How do you know that?” she whispered, Her eyes closed in defeat.
He hesitated again but bent down and pulled her close to him, cradling her in his arms. She felt warm, and for a second she almost felt safe. It had never felt this way with Ron before. She didn’t feel like this was even Ron, but she was so tired that she merely just shut her eyes.
“It’ll be okay… I’ll make sure everything’s okay.”
She did not want to think anymore. So she simply believed him.
And as Hermione closed her eyes to rest, Ron looked up in panic past the cell bars and wondered when Malfoy was going to come back. He could feel it in his bones. Something was changing.
Step four: make sure Weasley is still doing his job. Check.
*
“What do you keep checking for?” Hermione asked curiously. “There’s no one coming, Ron.”
“Aren’t you worried?” Ron cried, taking over the role as the pacer of the cell. “Malfoy said today we’re going to die and you’re so calm---”
“Harry’s going to save us.” Hermione said insistently. “I just know it.”
“But Ma---”
“And Malfoy isn’t going to hurt us,” Hermione finally decided.
“How do you know that?!” Ron spat out.
Hermione looked at Ron hesitantly and moved forward, pulling him close to her by the collar of his shirt. She closed her eyes and leaned forward to kiss him, when Ron pulled back, jerking his neck so far back that he almost hit the wall.
“Fuck!” he cursed.
“Ron…” Hermione opened her eyes and they grew wider as she watched Ron’s red hair slowly smooth into a fine, pale blond shade. His freckles disappeared like merging oil spots into a smooth, ivory shade.
And his eyes, it was Ron’s eyes that made him seem so different all along. She noticed that his eyes stayed the same.
Hermione backed against the wall and Draco stood in front of her, staring aghast down at his hands. He promptly got up and punched a wall angrily.
“Is what who you were waiting for? Whoever was you by Polyjuice to bring you another flask of it?” Hermione asked quietly, her back still arched against the end wall.
Draco’s lips formed a perfect angled sneer. “Very good, Granger.”
“I knew you weren’t Ron, I know Ron, and I knew you weren’t him.”
“Another ten points for the Gryffindor, keep it up and you’ll have outdone yourself again!”
“And the other Draco, whoever he was… Crabbe, maybe---”
“It was Goyle.” Draco smirked.
“Goyle. I knew that wasn’t you. Your insults are usually much wittier, much better timed.”
“Okay, okay, I get it.” Draco took a comfortable seat down on the hard floor. “Impress me as much as you can in the next five minutes before Wormtail arrives with the final orders. By the way, I thought you should know.” Draco paused and lifted up a hand, mock buffing a fingernail with his other hand. “Weasley was, as usual, the expected idiot when we gagged him for the Polyjuice. And the Dark Lord should be especially happy to rid of you with his own hands. He has a specialty, have you heard?”
She couldn’t speak, there were too many tears falling down the already made salty etches on her cheeks.
“It’s killing Mudbloods like you,” Draco finished lowly. “And once you’re through, I’ll finally prove all you little fuckers wrong. I’ll be one of his followers and not even my father will be in the right mind to tell me that I couldn’t do it. Because I’m going to do it. And I have you to thank for that.”
Goyle had arrived in a hurry just then, he was still straightening out his cloak, which was a tad bit small for him. Draco stood up immediately and exchanged a few brief words with Goyle. Just a few days ago, Hermione had believed that a similar slice of interaction like this had been Ron inside the bars with her.
She had felt safe with him, then.
Draco turned to her and smiled maliciously. “Okay, Mudblood, let’s go. And… I’ll try not to touch you too much this time. I know you don’t like it.”
She walked past him and stopped when she reached the open door of the cell. Hermione turned to him, her face crackled with the traces of dried tears.
“You’re accepting orders from Wormtail,” she whispered. “That’s not even suitable for you, Malfoy.”
His smile disappeared as he clenched his arm around one of her elbows. “You think you know me?” he growled into her ear as he yanked her out with him.
She closed her eyes, clumsily falling into step, as he pulled her along. “You think you don’t know someone. But you really do,” she whispered.
Step five: Preparation has begun for the Mudblood to be presented to the Dark Lord. Check.
*
The night air was cool. She knew this, not because she could feel it, but because as hard as she tried to - the tears still fell, and the bitterness of the wind sweeping against her wet cheeks was harsh.
The rest of her was simply numb. But the wind, it was so strong. She was weary and tired but Hermione Granger had a plan.
Draco had his wand. But part of her didn’t want to go ahead with her plan. She kept waiting for Harry, as originally thought of with much bated breath.
Please, Harry. She thought.
Please, Draco.
“Do you know how much hell it was for me to be in Weasley’s clothes?” Draco muttered as he pulled her along. “I mean, good God, his shoes. They almost drove me to suicide.”
“This isn’t you,” she said quietly, her own shoes crackling down on the dry, dead winter leaves. The midnight blue rushed around them in a cold storm of dust and wind as she shivered.
Draco didn’t speak.
“Draco,” Hermione said. “I know this isn’t you.” She pulled up her sleeves and rubbed at the spot that he had touched her at just a few days before. She had thought he was Ron. But she had not fallen so much in two days for Ron. It hadn’t been Ron in the cell with her.
“Please,” she said, growing more desperate.
Death changes people. And Hermione was starting to realize, in that very moment, that she could be wrong. That Draco Malfoy was really evil. That Harry wasn’t going to save her. That she was really going to die after all.
It was getting colder. The Forbidden Forest was not forgiving tonight. Hermione hoped there would be at least one exception.
“Please, Draco, oh my goodness, please don’t do this.” She was crying freely now, pleading.
The grip he had on her arm loosened considerably as he jerked her to a stilt.
“Stop,” he said lowly, so quietly that the wind carried nearly all of his voice away. She fought to stop crying, but she couldn’t.
He pulled her close to him, so close that she felt the icy tip of his chin press against her forehead. And he was muttering something, something so quiet that it seemed he didn’t want the spies of the trees and the dirt and the wind to hear what he was saying.
“Hogwarts is in that direction.” He held her close and moved her so she was looking in the opposite direction of original intent. “Run,” he whispered, his breath warm as it glided through her ear.
She pulled away and looked at him. He stared at her intently and waited.
She promptly pulled him close and kissed him hard on the lips, her lips were numb and chapped and cold and his were chilled to ice and for a split second, she closed her eyes.
And then she tore away, running toward the castle.
Those directions didn’t come with rules, Draco though bitterly as he watched her disappear from his view. Rule one: don’t fall in love with the enemy.
Hermione didn’t stop until she reached the grounds of Hogwarts. And when she did, she promptly crashed down into the cold, wet grass and started crying.
*
They had found Hermione Granger’s body, passed out from exhaustion near the entrance of the Hogwarts grounds the next morning. When she woke up, warm and toasty and nestled in about fifty blankets charmed with heat in the Infirmary, it was the best Christmas gift she could have been given.
“I tried to get to you, I really did!” Harry blurted out, grabbing her by surprise and winding her up in a tight hug. “You can ask Ron! I had to get to him first, though. I found his body all mangled up and I thought he was dead! I knew you would be able to take care of yourself for some time so I had to save Ron first an----”
“Harry, it’s okay.”
Ron was behind Harry, smiling bashfully at her. He moved past Harry and gave Hermione a hug, one even tighter than Harry’s.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispered.
She smiled at him and was sad to find that that chemistry she had anticipated so much every time she was with him was gone. She felt hollow in the romance department for Ron.
But after being away like that, she had never loved two people more in her entire life.
Hermione promptly burst into tears.
Harry chuckled and Ron groaned. And it was a rude owl that had interrupted them all as it dropped a parchment on Hermione’s lap. She opened it up curiously and read the words.
Her tears stopped. But her heart still felt like it was on fire.
Take care of yourself. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.
And I think you’re brilliant, too.
End.
Three things you want your fic to include: top!hermione, her friendship with Ron and Harry not forgotten, the events of HBP not forgotten.
Three things you do not want your fic to include: too much Ron/Hermione, bashing of characters, or a suddenly nice Draco
Thank-you for Celebrating the Season with Draco and Hermione!
Title: Save Tonight
Author: streetscribbles
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: So, this is what I say to myself every day: Harry Potter isn't mine. And neither is Draco Malfoy.
Author's Notes: I hope this meets your requirements, a_white_rain :) And that you don't mind the little twist I did with what you didn't want. ;) Thank you to two amazing people, Leila and Jenny, for the quick betas. <3
Summary: Hermione and Ron are kidnapped. Draco Malfoy is involved. And in times of War, we learn that not everything is what it seems to be.
When you want to destroy someone, you have to get rid of their defenses.
When you want to destroy Harry Potter, you have to get rid of Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.
“Don’t touch me!” Hermione yelled as a burly figure all in black tossed her down onto the floor.
“Malfoy, you little shit, wait ‘til everyone else finds out about what you’ve done to us!” Ron snarled as Draco Malfoy loosened his grip on Ron’s arm before leaving the room, the two husky figures following him out the room.
The door locked magically with a crisp click.
And so came the closing of step one: kidnap the Mudblood and Weasley. Check.
*
“Hermione, they’ve taken our wands!”
“Well, obviously!” Hermione snapped.
“I just thought I’d let you know…” Ron paused. Hermione looked at him. “…That this way, we can’t do magic anymore,” Ron finished lamely.
Meanwhile, in another room:
“Has it been done?”
“Yes, it’s all being played out just as planned. Using Weasley to lure the Mudblood into it was a brilliant touch, I might add.”
“Well, of course. My son came up with it. He’s going to join us soon, you know.”
“Very good, very good.”
There was a venomous smirk, a cold nod and a satisfying shut of a window. The room darkened and the door closed for the night.
Step two: make sure your victims are without their wands and any type of protection. You may allow a sink or a locked window in the room in efforts to distract from too much insanity, but that is all. Check.
*
“I just remembered!” Hermione cried out, getting up from her spot in the room to pace, yet again.
She had been pacing for a very, very long time, Ron noticed. It seemed that when Hermione’s mind was not at work, churning away at some brilliant solution, she found that she had to find some other way to channel her thinking. She had to think of something or she would not rest.
“What?” Ron asked dryly, poking at the hard cement floors with the toe of his shoe. The leather was worn and looked tired. Oh, the words Draco Malfoy would have for just that one damn part of his shoe, it was amazing how much venom leaked from the tip of that boy’s tongue. He was out to devastate Potter, to destroy him, and didn’t care if anyone else was hurt along the way.
Ron Weasley had suffered a lot of backlash, in this case from Draco Malfoy, from being Harry Potter’s friend. And he was overlooked so much of the time. He was not the good looking female Weasley, the infamous pair of mischievous, brilliant twins, or the snobby but also brilliant, uptight, Weasley. Nor was Ron the cool, confident older brother with the trendy hair. And, that left the handsome, dragon slaying Weasley. No, that also was not Ron.
Ron was the Weasley that had stood by Harry Potter since day one, and that in itself was so, so much more than the rest. But still, he was so overlooked.
“How could I be so stupid?” Hermione interrupted Ron’s drowsy want of taking off his shoe and chucking it to the wall. It was such an old shoe, passed down from Fred. It’s just a pair of shoes; he thought bitterly, why can’t one pair of shoes even be afforded in the damn family?
“What?” Ron repeated again.
“I forgot to hand in my final project for Charms!” Hermione cried out. “It was supposed to be due right before Dumbledore’s funeral. And yes, obviously everyone was distracted with grief and I’m sure Professor Flitwick will excuse me, but the whole principle of being late, oh I just hate that.”
“Are you off your bloody rocker?” Ron snapped. “We’ve been kidnapped, Hermione! We’re probably going to die and all you care about at this point is a crap of an assignment? Where are your priorities, Mudblood?”
Her mouth formed a tiny ‘O’ and her eyes widened. “Ronald Weasley! Why would you call me that?” she demanded angrily, tears erupting in her eyes.
“Mudblood, Mudblood, Mudblood!” Ron yelled, alarming Hermione so much that she recoiled, taking two steps back. “Bloody fucking hell, Hermione! Remember that dirty, disgusting word you hate? What Draco Malfoy taunts you as almost every time we run into him? You’re strong, I’ve always known that. Be strong! Remember that, Hermione! Because right now, fighting to not let that word hurt you so much is what’s important!”
She bit her lower lip and with stiff nod, moved toward the sink that was wedged into the wall at the back of the cold, grimy cell.
Hermione Granger was Harry Potter’s other best friend. And though she was not as brave-hearted as Ron Weasley, she was just as loyal. She possessed not a special talent for academic excellence, but the determined sort of faith that could be found in no one else. It was a fierce, passionate, lip biting, knuckle clenching type of faith that she had in Harry. She worried for Harry and nursed him like a mother hen, and like any other mother, she believed there was no one better.
Draco Malfoy probably would not have cared that Hermione Granger was a Muggleborn, had she not been Harry Potter best friend. And so she was his other target.
Ron sighed. “Now what are you doing?”
“They touched me everywhere. Draco and… his cronies. Crabbe and Goyle, I suppose. I don’t know. All I could see was Draco that grabbed us from our walk after the funeral. Oh, Ron! I don’t want to blame you but why did you have to insist upon us taking a walk right after the procession? Didn’t you think Harry needed us?”
Ron didn’t answer for a long time. Hermione bent over the sink and pulled up the bottom of her cloak, dipping it under the soft running water and scrubbed her arm.
“What are you doing?” Ron repeated.
“They touched me!” Hermione yelled, her voice shrill as she turned around, tears now streaming down her face fast. “I feel so… violated! ...Mudblood!” she yelled, this time alarming Ron, who had his eyes fixated on Hermione and backed away a little.
“Mudblood Granger! She’s so dirty, isn’t she? Ron,” Hermione whispered, crying as she continued scrubbing away at her arms, her light skin easing into a painful shade of pink. She kept wiping away harshly, rhythmically. “How can they call me dirty? They’re dirty and disgusting and vile and foul. They’re the ones that have hurt me so much. They’re the ones that aren’t human.”
She was crying now, crying hard as she dipped her cloak under the water again.
Ron paused for a moment, a glimmer of hesitation in his eyes. But he finally moved forward and dabbed his fingers under the prickly cold water and took Hermione’s hands in one of his, and with the other hand, he ran his fingers over her skin, rubbing away at all the violent jerks and touches that Draco Malfoy had spread upon her.
She stopped sobbing so loudly and eased her breathing back to normal, wiping away at her eyes with the back of her hands now that Ron had let her go. He pulled a piece of his cloak and wiped her arms for her then released them, not meeting her eyes.
“You’re not dirty,” he said quietly.
She would remember those words.
Step three: have the Mudblood and Weasley grow closer. Their time will run out soon, anyway. Check.
*
It had been days. Ron had been silent for a lot of it, but when he did speak, he spoke a lot.
“Isn’t it weird?” Ron’s voice was slightly husky. “I’m really happy like this, Hermione. Like, we’ve been kidnapped, but I’m with you finally, you know?”
Hermione didn’t know. Hermione could not think straight. She knew she had feelings for Ron for awhile. She knew that she would have loved to be with him at some point in her life. But she was also letting logic and thought and reason fumble and take over her mind.
“I know… Ron, but…”
“But?”
“We have to get out of here soon before Malfoy kills us both.”
“He’s not going to kill either of us.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do. Look, Hermione. He doesn’t have the guts to. He’s just another guy trying to live up to his dad’s standards. All he really wants is probably to live life happy like the rest of us.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you think that Malfoy was dangerous just a few days ago?”
There was a long pause. “I did? Well. I’ve changed my mind. I’m stupid like that.”
She jabbed him. “I never thought you were stupid, Ron, you know that. But I guess you’re right. I never really thought Malfoy was all that evil.”
Ron paused.
“Right, you didn’t. Do you suppose he’s just misunderstood?”
“I know he’s misunderstood. I don’t know him that well, but I mean… you know when people are evil and when they’re not, and Draco Malfoy is just another snobby little prat that goes to our school to me. Nevermind who his dad is.”
“I suppose,” Ron said thoughtfully, and this was when Hermione knew Ron was not himself - he was not dishing out more dirty insults toward Malfoy.
“He’s gone a long way this year though, hasn’t he?” Hermione said, almost smiling. “I mean, for the first five years of school, all Malfoy was… was really nothing. He was just something you wanted to flick away when you saw him. Now when you see him, you want to flinch.”
“I’ve always wanted to flick him away and flinch, actually,” Ron said.
Hermione ignored him. “A part of me is scared now because of that. All that Malfoy has proven this past year... I think he’s brilliant.”
“Wh---”
“He is, Ron. Draco is brilliant,” Hermione looked down and swept her hair from her face. “He’s smart. But he’s also scared like the rest of us, which is why I’m not so scared… I think Malfoy has proven not only to be smart, but I’m so sure that he’s just scared like the rest of us.”
She paused. Her voice grew quieter as she seemed to be musing thoughtfully, almost peacefully. You think you don’t know a guy, but you really do, you know? We practically grew up with him.”
“Okay, do you need some water? Sink’s right over there. Or naybe fresh air? I’ll see what I can do in terms of cracking that really tiny window over there.”
“Ron, Draco----”
And ironically enough, this was when Draco Malfoy appeared at the entrance of the cell.
“Oh, why, hello there!” he called out, waving and squinting, peering through the bars as if he were viewing an attraction. “Fancy seeing you two here.”
“Malfoy,” Ron growled low and lunged at Draco.
“Ron, be careful! You don’t have your wand!” Hermione shrieked from the corner of the cell. And she could not hear but she could see clearly Ron and Draco exchanging a few brief words before Ron growled again and Draco proceeded to walk away.
“What did you do?” Hermione called to Ron, she got up and ran forward, pressing her body up against the bars, clenching them in her hands. Her knuckles were nearly white. “Malfoy, you foul little brat! Let us go. We’re not stupid, you’re never going to make it to the rankings of being a Death Eater and you should just deal with that! Why can’t you just realize that you’re not cut out to be evil? Look at you, you’re scared just like the rest of us.”
Ron looked at Hermione incredulously as she babbled on. He tried to hide his shaking hands.
“Is that so?” Draco asked coolly, meeting eyes with Hermione.
“Malfoy, please,” Hermione insisted. “Harry needs us.”
“Oh, that’s a great reason for him to set us free, Hermione,” Ron retorted helpfully from the side.
She glared at Ron. Draco laughed and began walking away. “By the way, you’re going to die… hm, I’d say some time tomorrow. Same place same time, okay? Don’t you two run off now.”
Hermione let out a loud cry, echoing far through the ends of the hall as she slumped down against the bars of the cell. Ron was hesitant, as he always seemed to be these past few days, but he bent down and smoothed the hair away from her forehead.
“It’ll be okay,” Ron promised.
“How do you know that?” she whispered, Her eyes closed in defeat.
He hesitated again but bent down and pulled her close to him, cradling her in his arms. She felt warm, and for a second she almost felt safe. It had never felt this way with Ron before. She didn’t feel like this was even Ron, but she was so tired that she merely just shut her eyes.
“It’ll be okay… I’ll make sure everything’s okay.”
She did not want to think anymore. So she simply believed him.
And as Hermione closed her eyes to rest, Ron looked up in panic past the cell bars and wondered when Malfoy was going to come back. He could feel it in his bones. Something was changing.
Step four: make sure Weasley is still doing his job. Check.
*
“What do you keep checking for?” Hermione asked curiously. “There’s no one coming, Ron.”
“Aren’t you worried?” Ron cried, taking over the role as the pacer of the cell. “Malfoy said today we’re going to die and you’re so calm---”
“Harry’s going to save us.” Hermione said insistently. “I just know it.”
“But Ma---”
“And Malfoy isn’t going to hurt us,” Hermione finally decided.
“How do you know that?!” Ron spat out.
Hermione looked at Ron hesitantly and moved forward, pulling him close to her by the collar of his shirt. She closed her eyes and leaned forward to kiss him, when Ron pulled back, jerking his neck so far back that he almost hit the wall.
“Fuck!” he cursed.
“Ron…” Hermione opened her eyes and they grew wider as she watched Ron’s red hair slowly smooth into a fine, pale blond shade. His freckles disappeared like merging oil spots into a smooth, ivory shade.
And his eyes, it was Ron’s eyes that made him seem so different all along. She noticed that his eyes stayed the same.
Hermione backed against the wall and Draco stood in front of her, staring aghast down at his hands. He promptly got up and punched a wall angrily.
“Is what who you were waiting for? Whoever was you by Polyjuice to bring you another flask of it?” Hermione asked quietly, her back still arched against the end wall.
Draco’s lips formed a perfect angled sneer. “Very good, Granger.”
“I knew you weren’t Ron, I know Ron, and I knew you weren’t him.”
“Another ten points for the Gryffindor, keep it up and you’ll have outdone yourself again!”
“And the other Draco, whoever he was… Crabbe, maybe---”
“It was Goyle.” Draco smirked.
“Goyle. I knew that wasn’t you. Your insults are usually much wittier, much better timed.”
“Okay, okay, I get it.” Draco took a comfortable seat down on the hard floor. “Impress me as much as you can in the next five minutes before Wormtail arrives with the final orders. By the way, I thought you should know.” Draco paused and lifted up a hand, mock buffing a fingernail with his other hand. “Weasley was, as usual, the expected idiot when we gagged him for the Polyjuice. And the Dark Lord should be especially happy to rid of you with his own hands. He has a specialty, have you heard?”
She couldn’t speak, there were too many tears falling down the already made salty etches on her cheeks.
“It’s killing Mudbloods like you,” Draco finished lowly. “And once you’re through, I’ll finally prove all you little fuckers wrong. I’ll be one of his followers and not even my father will be in the right mind to tell me that I couldn’t do it. Because I’m going to do it. And I have you to thank for that.”
Goyle had arrived in a hurry just then, he was still straightening out his cloak, which was a tad bit small for him. Draco stood up immediately and exchanged a few brief words with Goyle. Just a few days ago, Hermione had believed that a similar slice of interaction like this had been Ron inside the bars with her.
She had felt safe with him, then.
Draco turned to her and smiled maliciously. “Okay, Mudblood, let’s go. And… I’ll try not to touch you too much this time. I know you don’t like it.”
She walked past him and stopped when she reached the open door of the cell. Hermione turned to him, her face crackled with the traces of dried tears.
“You’re accepting orders from Wormtail,” she whispered. “That’s not even suitable for you, Malfoy.”
His smile disappeared as he clenched his arm around one of her elbows. “You think you know me?” he growled into her ear as he yanked her out with him.
She closed her eyes, clumsily falling into step, as he pulled her along. “You think you don’t know someone. But you really do,” she whispered.
Step five: Preparation has begun for the Mudblood to be presented to the Dark Lord. Check.
*
The night air was cool. She knew this, not because she could feel it, but because as hard as she tried to - the tears still fell, and the bitterness of the wind sweeping against her wet cheeks was harsh.
The rest of her was simply numb. But the wind, it was so strong. She was weary and tired but Hermione Granger had a plan.
Draco had his wand. But part of her didn’t want to go ahead with her plan. She kept waiting for Harry, as originally thought of with much bated breath.
Please, Harry. She thought.
Please, Draco.
“Do you know how much hell it was for me to be in Weasley’s clothes?” Draco muttered as he pulled her along. “I mean, good God, his shoes. They almost drove me to suicide.”
“This isn’t you,” she said quietly, her own shoes crackling down on the dry, dead winter leaves. The midnight blue rushed around them in a cold storm of dust and wind as she shivered.
Draco didn’t speak.
“Draco,” Hermione said. “I know this isn’t you.” She pulled up her sleeves and rubbed at the spot that he had touched her at just a few days before. She had thought he was Ron. But she had not fallen so much in two days for Ron. It hadn’t been Ron in the cell with her.
“Please,” she said, growing more desperate.
Death changes people. And Hermione was starting to realize, in that very moment, that she could be wrong. That Draco Malfoy was really evil. That Harry wasn’t going to save her. That she was really going to die after all.
It was getting colder. The Forbidden Forest was not forgiving tonight. Hermione hoped there would be at least one exception.
“Please, Draco, oh my goodness, please don’t do this.” She was crying freely now, pleading.
The grip he had on her arm loosened considerably as he jerked her to a stilt.
“Stop,” he said lowly, so quietly that the wind carried nearly all of his voice away. She fought to stop crying, but she couldn’t.
He pulled her close to him, so close that she felt the icy tip of his chin press against her forehead. And he was muttering something, something so quiet that it seemed he didn’t want the spies of the trees and the dirt and the wind to hear what he was saying.
“Hogwarts is in that direction.” He held her close and moved her so she was looking in the opposite direction of original intent. “Run,” he whispered, his breath warm as it glided through her ear.
She pulled away and looked at him. He stared at her intently and waited.
She promptly pulled him close and kissed him hard on the lips, her lips were numb and chapped and cold and his were chilled to ice and for a split second, she closed her eyes.
And then she tore away, running toward the castle.
Those directions didn’t come with rules, Draco though bitterly as he watched her disappear from his view. Rule one: don’t fall in love with the enemy.
Hermione didn’t stop until she reached the grounds of Hogwarts. And when she did, she promptly crashed down into the cold, wet grass and started crying.
*
They had found Hermione Granger’s body, passed out from exhaustion near the entrance of the Hogwarts grounds the next morning. When she woke up, warm and toasty and nestled in about fifty blankets charmed with heat in the Infirmary, it was the best Christmas gift she could have been given.
“I tried to get to you, I really did!” Harry blurted out, grabbing her by surprise and winding her up in a tight hug. “You can ask Ron! I had to get to him first, though. I found his body all mangled up and I thought he was dead! I knew you would be able to take care of yourself for some time so I had to save Ron first an----”
“Harry, it’s okay.”
Ron was behind Harry, smiling bashfully at her. He moved past Harry and gave Hermione a hug, one even tighter than Harry’s.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispered.
She smiled at him and was sad to find that that chemistry she had anticipated so much every time she was with him was gone. She felt hollow in the romance department for Ron.
But after being away like that, she had never loved two people more in her entire life.
Hermione promptly burst into tears.
Harry chuckled and Ron groaned. And it was a rude owl that had interrupted them all as it dropped a parchment on Hermione’s lap. She opened it up curiously and read the words.
Her tears stopped. But her heart still felt like it was on fire.
Take care of yourself. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.
And I think you’re brilliant, too.
End.
Three things you want your fic to include: top!hermione, her friendship with Ron and Harry not forgotten, the events of HBP not forgotten.
Three things you do not want your fic to include: too much Ron/Hermione, bashing of characters, or a suddenly nice Draco
Thank-you for Celebrating the Season with Draco and Hermione!