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Breaking the Chain	By : RynStar15 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 42452 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, that belongs to the glorious J.K Rowling. I don't make any money off of this writing, I simply twist her world for my own pleasure.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
Hermione's arms burned and her hands were like icicles glued to the handles of the oars. She had been rowing for hours, the stars fading into the pale periwinkle of the first signs of dawn. She had wept softly for a long time, the turmoil of what had happened in that alley tearing at her soul. She couldn't get the image of those men touching her out of her head. She could feel their hands on her, their teeth, heard the insults they had hurled at her. She'd never let another person other than Draco touch her like that and now three depraved men had seen her, touched parts of her she'd only ever given to one soul. She felt dirty, used, defiled. It felt as though those men had destroyed the beauty of what she and Draco had shared only hours before, turning it into something grotesque and vile.
Her logical mind knew she shouldn't associate the two. What Draco had given her had been beyond words; he had cherished her, shown her a whole new depth of love. What they'd shared had been beautiful and pure. It was nothing like what those men had done to her.
In the back of her mind she berated herself for letting her emotions corrupt her judgment. Her logical mind believed what she'd told Draco: they had been vulgar, vile, and disgusting, but they hadn't really hurt her. A couple of slaps, a couple of bites were nothing to Draco nearly having the life choked out of him. She swallowed back bile at the image of him dying right before her eyes. It had been worth it to save him, the bruises blossoming on his neck a dire reminder of what could have happened. They had put their hands on her body, but they couldn't touch her where it really mattered.
And now they were dead. They could never hurt her again, could never make another woman feel the way she did. She should be grateful for the way things had turned out. Draco's life was worth her few minutes of humiliation.
But try as she might, she couldn't stop hating Draco for not being able to stop it.
She had told him she didn't blame him, and she didn't, not really. He had fought to get to her, she knew, she'd seen it in his initial struggle and later in his eyes as he lay frozen on the ground. He would have saved her if he could. There was a small part in her, however, that hated him for watching and not doing anything. It was stupid, and she loathed herself for the way she felt. When he'd been free he'd been like a madman, it had been terrifying to watch. He'd come unleashed, brutally murdering the men who had hurt her and she'd seen for the first time since the battle at Malfoy Manor as the Death Eater which still raged inside.
But secretly, she'd been grateful. She had wanted those men tortured as they had tortured her. And now, thanks to Draco, they were dead. They could never hurt her or anyone else again. So she allowed the memory of Draco wrenching her from the lifeless grasp of that worthless Tracker, holding her close as he killed the last one, to replace the image of his eyes on her while other men touched her where only he belonged.
She turned her morbid thoughts instead to the throbbing in her left side. It burned and stung. She wanted to put her hand there to see how much blood she had lost but she continued rowing, ignoring the pain. She hadn't told Draco yet, but whatever that Tracker had cursed her with had left a gaping wound in her side. She didn't know how to fix it; she had tried several times while Draco had dealt with the man. It was a spell she'd never seen before.
She'd been grateful for Dorshire's grip around her stomach which had concealed her wound from the prying eyes of the others. She'd been terrified the men would see the laceration and open it more or that Draco would see it and be worried. They didn't have time to find a doctor to sew the skin together; they had to keep moving. So she'd wrapped her cloak tightly around herself to block it from view. They had to make it to Alvida in time. It was the 27th; they had four days until the night she died. Dies, she reminded herself. She's not dead yet.
Hermione had thought countless times about saving her, but she knew she couldn't. Something that severe would have consequences, major ones. But she also knew she couldn't just stand by and watch her be burned alive while she did nothing. When the time came, what would she do?
Hermione hissed in pain yet again as the motion of her rowing ripped at the gash on her side. She kept her eye on Draco, hoping he wouldn't wake up anytime soon. She longed to be able to just Scorgify the blood away but was afraid of the Trackers returning. So she watched as Draco slept fitfully, knowing he was haunted by his dreams and likely highly uncomfortable with his neck at that angle...How was he even sleeping like that? She shook her head in astonishment.
Day fully broke and the sun peaked weakly through the clouds that still mostly covered the sky. A cold breeze brought goosebumps to her skin and she snuggled further into her cloak. The water was smooth at least, for which she was thankful, the current helping to pull them along. Her arms had never done this much work before but she grinned as she thought of the huge biceps she would have by the end of this trip.
"What are you smiling about?"
Hermione jumped at Draco's voice and tucked her elbows in to hide the gash, glancing down to make sure it was covered by the cloak.
"I-I was just thinking about showing off my hard earned muscles to the boys when we get home," she said honestly, stuttering with the fear of being caught hiding something from him. She knew she was a terrible liar. But he didn't say anything, merely chuckling at her admission, so she didn't think he'd noticed. His eyes were still at half-mast so he probably wasn't even fully awake yet as he'd obviously forgotten they were supposed to be fighting.
The sun shone upon Draco's platinum locks, making him glow ethereally. She wished he would open his eyes more so she could look into their stone grey depths. He had gorgeous eyes with dark gold eyelashes so thick any woman would be envious. He was so achingly beautiful; she wanted to remember him like this always. When she lay in bed at night, lonely and longing for his touch she would remember him like this. Lazily sprawled on a boat in thirteenth century garb on the River Thames. She laughed at how absurd it was.
"Now what?" he asked sitting up and stretching. She told him what she'd been thinking about and he grinned.
"Well, you can't blame a bloke for making a pair of hose look good, now can you?" he wiggled his eyebrows and she laughed again until a twinge of pain radiated throughout her body from her side. She fought to keep her face straight, but he noticed.
"What's wrong?" He sat forward and moved to come to her but she halted him crying, "No! Don't! You'll tip the boat!"
He stayed seated but kept his eyes locked on her face. "What's wrong? You're hurt, aren't you?"
"No, no it's nothing like that," she lied. "I just, erm, have to use the W.C." That was honest at least.
"Oh." He looked around. "Well, I guess I can steer this death trap while you go."
"It's not a death trap; millions of people have successfully used boats. Besides you don't know how to row."
"Then teach me. Wait, I have to go too. Teach me after." He scooted to the side and, scared of standing up and making the skiff rock again, he awkwardly pushed himself to the side and aimed over. Hermione snorted and looked away, leaning slightly to the right to balance his actions on the left side of the boat. When he finished she made him rinse his hands in the water before she would show him what to do.
She gave him a quick lesson on how to row then pulled the oars inside so they could float while Draco counter-balanced the boat so she could relieve herself. Hermione kept low so the skiff wouldn't rock and kept her left side facing away from Draco. She lifted her heavy skirts, mortified that she had to do this in front of him, and leaned her bum over the side of the boat. She insisted that he look away while she did her business and rinsed her hands then instructed him to move to the rower's seat while she took his. She kept her cloak tightly pulled around her, covering the wound, thankful for the thick black material which hid it from view.
"Cold?" he asked while he grabbed the oars and got them into position.
"A little," she said. He awkwardly set about trying to move the oars together while she handed out pointers to help him along.
"Don't put them in so deep, you only need to really skim the surface. Your right arm is going faster than your left, see how we're turning? Straighten it out now…there like that. No, see you over-corrected. Don't-"
"Enough!" he roared. "Give it a rest! I've got it, alright? See? We're moving. Stop nit-picking!"
Hermione huffed and looked away from him. He was such a prat! She was only trying to help! Fine, if he didn't want it, he could struggle. See if she cared.
They sat in silence for a long while until she couldn't take it anymore. She itched to take the oars from him and row properly. They did want to get somewhere at some point. The current was swift but they needed to move faster than that. He refused to let her retake her place, however, insisting she needed to rest. She watched him row awkwardly again for a long while until he quelled her fears.
"We're ahead of schedule, Hermione. We started last night as opposed to this morning. We'll be fine. Just get some sleep, you're too pale. I'm getting better at it already, see?"
Hermione wondered just how much of her being pale had to do with being tired and how much had to do with blood loss as she felt it trickling down her side. She finally gave in and went to the very end of the boat in front of the bench and curled into a ball. She lay on her left side, her right hand holding the wound so Draco wouldn't see, attempting to quell the flow. She could feel how much blood there was, her gown squishy from the accumulation. She felt sick. She refused to look at it, afraid she might regurgitate if she did. Instead, she closed her eyes and willed herself to get some rest.
She woke several times, often only for moments. It was hot, too hot. The sun beat down on her and she cursed it, wishing for the cold breeze to return. She would glance at Draco sometimes to see him adjusting to the rowing. Then she would drift back to sleep where it was fiery hot again.
They were moving too fast. She could tell just by the motion of the boat. The water was too rough, it shouldn't be this rough. At least the clouds were covering the sky and saving her from the evil sun.
Hermione sat up shakily. She looked around. Where were they? There shouldn't be any woods here; they were supposed to stop before the woods. She turned to Draco.
"Did we pass the big bend already?"
"Yeah, 'bout forty-five minutes ago. Why? How much longer do we have?"
"Draco! You should have woken me! We were supposed to stop at the bend!"
His eyebrows shot up. "What? Why didn't you tell me that?"
"It was on the map! Didn't you look at it when you stole it from the bag?" She felt lightheaded. They had gone too far! Now they would have to back track! It would take them forever!
"I didn't steal it! Besides, I didn't have time, I was-"
The boat lurched downward suddenly before straightening itself out, forcing Hermione to grip the side as she was unbalanced. Draco looked ahead and blanched.
"Oh, shit."
Hermione turned, her side searing at the movement, but she forgot all about it when she saw what Draco had seen.
Rapids. This was why they were supposed to stop at the bend. Oh, gods, their little skiff would never make it. The water roared in her ears as if someone had turned up a movie too loud. Her father used to do that, turn it up so loud it shook the house. This whole escapade was too much like a movie in her opinion.
"Draco, steer right, steer right! We have to get to the shore!"
"We'll never make it!" he yelled wildly as he struggled with the oars in the increasingly accelerated current. She knew, but they had to try. She wanted to take the oars from him but she couldn't risk leaving them unattended for even a second. Instead, she directed Draco. She'd rowed many times before, though never on rapids. Her heart leapt to her throat as they headed towards a huge boulder. She calculated both sides and decided right would be easier so she shouted back instructions to a tense Draco. Several times Hermione reached out of the front of the boat to push them away from rocks. Their tiny boat smashed into several, jarring them both and making nasty crunching sounds, but the skiff held strong.
The rapids increased, throwing them this way and that, dropping a meter and then two, tossing them off course and turning them sideways. Hermione looked back at Draco who was grunting with exertion, his blonde hair plastered to his forehead, drenched with sweat and river water. Hermione herself was soaking from the number of times they'd plunged into the water.
"Hold on!" she yelled as they dropped another few meters, water cascading into the front of the boat, submerging Hermione who clung to the sides for dear life, before bobbing to the surface, the bottom filled with water. Hermione turned to the puddle in the skiff, scooping it out with her hands, knowing it would only make it harder for Draco to row. Draco grunted through his teeth, tugging at the oars to keep them from crashing into the boulders that popped up like flowers in a field. Hermione scooped fiercely knowing that if the boat was too heavy Draco's steering would be for naught. She had to grab the side once to steady herself when the side of the skiff bounced wildly off a boulder. She scooped harder, frustrated at the water that flew in and refilled what she had displaced.
"Hermione!" Draco suddenly screamed. His face was horrified and she turned to see what was happening.
A fall, they were headed towards a fall.
She didn't have time, it was upon them. Draco reached out to her but she was out of range. She grappled for the side and caught it, but it wasn't enough.
She heard Draco scream her name again as the boat pitched forward suddenly, expelling her into the quickly churning water. She had been so surprised she hadn't been able to catch a breath and now the currents tugged her under and her lungs cried out. She used her arms to try to propel herself to the surface but it was no use, she no longer knew which way was up. She was flipped over and over, water rushing up her nose, her quickly frozen appendages like lead. Her skirt tangled and she was battered on all sides from rocks. She brushed briefly against the river bottom and scrambled to get her legs underneath her to push off on it but she was spun around, now heading down the river face forward.
Hermione panicked. Pressure built around her; her lungs were screaming, her ears were pounding, she needed air, she had to have air! She flailed uselessly, the merciless river beating her on all sides. She tried to grab a rock, grab anything to pull herself to the surface, but it was no use, the water was too swift and she was too weak. Her feet hit something hard, spinning her body as pain shot through her legs. She spun right into a boulder, her head smashing against it. All she could think as everything went black was how sorry she was she hadn't told Draco she loved him yet.
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Draco watched as Hermione was sucked under the fierce current seconds before the small boat he had been working so hard to keep on track hit a large rock and flipped, tossing him into the icy river with her.
Draco kicked for the surface, his mind on air, sweet, precious air. His body was thrown into a boulder and he grasped it with everything he had, wrapping his arms around it and anchoring himself. He put his feet on the large rock and pushed up. His head broke the surface and he gasped, water rushing into his open mouth, causing him to choke. He lost grip on the boulder and the current sucked him down the fall, pulling him under once more. He fought to stay upright knowing that if he got flipped around he would never make it back to the surface. His head bobbed above the water again and he breathed in the freezing air, filling his lungs in case he was yanked under again.
"Hermione!" he bellowed, looking everywhere for her in the water. He didn't see anything but the churning river that pulled him savagely along as if he were no more than a rag doll. The rocks were thinning out and he could see where the current slowed about 50 meters ahead. But he had to make it through the rapids first. He knew once he got to calmer water he could swim his way out, all those summers spent at the wizarding resort on the beach in Venice made him confident in his skills. He worried that Hermione might not know how to swim, or that she had been caught up in her dress, or that she got stuck somewhere or was hurt... Anything could have happened.
He was close to panic, battling between the rocks while he searched for Hermione, calling her name uselessly to a river who had decided to take her for its own. Water streamed into his nose and mouth as he called her name over and over, searching for any sign of her as rocks pummeled his body and he was pulled under yet again, struggling against the endless current. His limbs were tired from fighting the water; his lungs ached from the lack of air. His outstretched arm hit another rock and he clenched his fingers around a handhold. He pulled against the current, flipping his body so he could grab hold with both hands and he wrenched himself forward, finally able to wrap a numb arm around the rock and pull himself above the freezing water. He gulped in air and kept pulling until he could raise himself above the raging river for a better view.
"Hermione!" he screamed again, his voice hoarse from yelling. His eyes scanned the water, looking, searching. She had to be there, had to! He remembered the lesson Milo had given him, don't forget the details. He looked with a sharper eye, places he wouldn't have looked before. There! A glimpse of red made his heart sing. She wasn't moving, stuck on a rock. He couldn't tell from this distance if she was awake or not, his heart dropping as he realized she was face down, her long dark hair swirling in the current around her. No…
Taking a deep breath Draco plunged back into the icy river, swimming with the current towards where he had last seen her. "Hermione!" he screamed again, willing for her to look back and see him, but the roar of the river was too loud. As he closed in on her he started to panic, she hadn't moved at all. Please be alright…
Angling himself so that he would hit the rock she was caught on, he reached out and hit the rock with his arm first, tucking his legs beneath her body to anchor himself and prevent the current from slamming him into her. With one hand he held his body in place while he turned Hermione over with the other. The current rushed against his back, threatening to rip them both from the rock as he tried to roll an unconscious Hermione onto her back.
"Come on, come on!" he cried. He finally looked into her face. Her lips were blue, her eyes closed. His heart clenched in fear and he bent down to see if she was breathing. The small movement set him off balance and he slipped, his hold on the rock lost purchase and he fell sideways, swept up once more in the never ending battle, this time with Hermione tucked tightly under his left arm. Using his right, Draco spun himself so he was facing forward, not wanting to smash into anything. He was closer to the shore now and the current had ebbed slightly, he could make it.
Clenching Hermione to him he used the last of his strength to propel them towards land. He was so tired and his lungs burned with every rasping gasp. His arms and legs screamed in protest against the abuse they were receiving, his entire body numb with cold.
Then the rain came.
Bellowing against the unfairness of it all, he pushed harder and was greeted with an even less ruthless current. Tiring quickly, he switched Hermione to the other arm, making sure that her lifeless face stayed above the surface. Draco pushed and pulled, every few meters bringing his feet down to see if he could touch the bottom.
He nearly cried out in relief when they finally struck the rocky river bottom. He hefted Hermione into both of his arms and forced his legs through the water to the gravelly shore, stumbling with the exertion. He collapsed the moment he made land, not able to hold Hermione and her heavy sodden dress and cloak up any longer. He laid her down, panting, shoving the hair plastered on her face away with shaking hands. Even to him she felt cold.
"Wake up, wake up Hermione, come on!" he cried, his voice quivering in dread. He slapped her face and shook her shoulders but it was no use. Her lifeless form taunted him. Draco couldn't breathe, she was so still...
He bent down to see if she was taking in any air, but he felt nothing but her freezing lips against his cheek, her chest still beneath the folds of the cloak. He yelled in agony, bringing his fists down on the ground beside her as the pain that rushed through him made his head spin.
"Wake up Hermione! You can't do this!" he cried, panic and hysteria gripping him with icy hands. Pull yourself together, Malfoy, think! Why wasn't she breathing? Had she swallowed water? His mind raced as he thought of spells that might help. Then he remembered one Snape had taught him after Goyle had choked on a piece of cake. Placing his hands over her throat he screamed "Anapneo!"
Hermione heaved and Draco hurriedly rolled her onto her side as water rushed from her lungs and onto the forest floor. His euphoria was short lived, however, as she simply slumped in his arms after her body expelled the water.
"No, no, no," he moaned as he laid her back, still and lifeless as ever. She couldn't be gone, not after everything… Think, damn you! Save her!
But he knew almost nothing about healing. He didn't know how to save her.
You can't give up, think of everything she's done to save you. She found you in London, rescued you from the gallows, fought for your life, gave her body for you. You can't give up on her! Think, what does she need?
"Help me, Hermione," he begged, his hands raking over her face and chest. "What do I do, how can I save you?"
He thought of how Hermione would figure it out. He'd cleared her airway, she should be able to breathe, so why didn't she? Was there something wrong with her lungs? He placed his hands on her chest to see if they moved and it was then he realized what was wrong. Her chest was still, there was no heartbeat. No heartbeat…
His grandfather Cygnus had collapsed during a family dinner when he was eight. Everyone had flitted around, screaming and carrying on, except for his mother. She'd calmly knelt by him, placing both hands over his chest, small sparks shooting from her hands. He'd coughed and sat up, yelling for someone to get him a brandy…
He didn't know the spell, but that wouldn't stop him, not now. Closing his eyes he felt deep inside himself as Milo had instructed, feeling for the power that thrummed within him. He could see the electricity, feel its power, pushed it through him and to his hands, where he felt it simmering against his palm. With a strangled yell he forced the power from him into Hermione, felt the sizzle before the jolt, watched in awe as it struck her, her entire body heaving up, just as Cygnus had.
She fell back to the forest floor and with a shuddering gasp her eyes shot open, her hands flying up at her sides. Draco cried out in elation as she began coughing and he heaved her up to help her breathe, her body wracking with the effort.
When she finished she was shaking violently and Draco laid her on her back while his own trembling relief stole over him. He laughed, a smile breaking onto his face. He'd done it! Her eyes opened and she looked up at him.
"Draco?" she croaked, her expression confused.
He couldn't stop laughing. "I'm here, I'm right here. It's okay, you're alright." He lifted her back into his arms because he couldn't stand her being so far away. He held her tightly against him, reveling in the feel of her heart beating erratically against him, rocking her while his laughter turned to tears that he couldn't stop. Gods, what if he hadn't remembered? What if he'd been too late? He clutched her to him even after she went limp again, rocking back and forth, needing the comfort of her body near while the aftereffects of his adrenaline rush faded and he calmed. He kept one hand on her beating heart, assuring himself that she was still alive, feeling her soft breath against his cheek. Her eyes were closed and her lips still blue, but she was breathing, she was alive.
He knew he had to get them warm, he might have saved her from the water but if he didn't get her warm she could freeze to death. His mother had always told him he would do just that when, as a very young child, he would sneak out of the nursery when it was snowing and try to go swimming. His nanny-elf, Liddy, had always caught him before he could, however, and his mother would scold him something dreadful.
Still shaking from head to toe he lifted Hermione into his arms again and stumbled through the woods, trying to find a place dry enough to warm her, cursing the rain driving from above. He found a small shelter of trees and laid her down before casting a shield over them to protect them from the downpour.
Fire, he needed a fire. He Summoned sticks to him and dried them with a spell so intense they blew away and he had to retrieve them with another Summoning spell. When he finally managed to get the damn things in a pile he shouted "Incendio!" and a huge fire roared to life, lighting a tree above him which he had to douse with a curse.
He pulled Hermione close to it, using his hands to dry her dress as they had done a few days ago. A few days? Had it really only been a few days? It felt like a lifetime since they had gotten here, every day stretching on for years. So much had changed; none more so than his feelings for the very witch he'd been tasked to murder. He no longer cared what happened to him, so long as she was safe and far beyond the reach of the Dark Lord. After everything she'd shown him in the last several days, he knew he'd give his life gladly for hers.
As soon and she was as dry as he could get her he transfigured a few twigs and rocks into blankets, not caring that the amount of magic he was using would alert the Trackers. Getting Hermione warm was more important. Slowly, her lips returned to a normal shade as he tucked the blankets around her and one underneath her and he busied himself drying his own garments on his body. He couldn't reach his back but he didn't dwell on it, he could deal. The heat from the fire had already warmed him so much he had stopped shaking.
Thinking quickly, Draco used every protective spell he could remember to form a bubble around them, hoping it would be enough to hold the monsters off. He knew he was too tired to fight and he had to keep Hermione safe while she recovered.
Exhausted, Draco lay beside Hermione and wrapped his arms around her. Her body still felt cold to him but he laid his hand over her heart again and was content with the feel of it beating. She unconsciously snuggled into his warmth, sighing with contentment, and he smiled. She was safe.
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XOXO
RynStar15
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