Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Blood on the Ground	By : pepperdoc Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 15292 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter Universe, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
The silence of winter was broken by the coming war arriving at their peaceful area. Late April’s greenery was just showing between patches of snow when they were finally discovered by the Dark.

The sunset had recently ended the daily training sessions between the boys. Harry and Draco were entering the parlor from the woods, both sweaty and stinking to high heaven. Hermione, meanwhile, was carefully transfiguring the magic mirror to be hidden more effectively among the odd assortment of ancient possessions littered in the cottage. She was just raising her head to greet them and had a quip on her tongue about their smell when an explosion rolled through the clearing in front of the cottage.

Harry dropped the cloak over his arm and spin toward the door. Draco positioned himself in front of Hermione, flattened against the door jamb to make himself into a smaller target should he be spotted by the intruders from the window. Hermione found herself sitting peacefully at the chair in the sitting room, not concerned.

A maniacal laugh echoed through the opened windows, one high pitched twitter which could only mean Draco's terrifying and utterly insane aunt had arrived on the scene.

“Drakie...” Her mad crooning voice fluttered through the curtains and Draco paled visibly. “Drakie, come out to play, dearest nephew.”

Harry shot a frown toward Draco, as though he were reminding him of his duties to protect the bushy-haired witch idly sitting in the room. Draco gave him a nod in return and breathed slowly through his nose.

Hermione stood gracefully from her chair, seemingly unperturbed at the terror from both men flanking her. “No Drakie here, you harpy.” She called as she took steps toward the door. Her lover and her brother watched her with wide, terrified eyes, both shaking their heads in negation of her actions. “But I'll come to play.” She stepped next to Draco, as though intending to walk to the front door behind him.

He roughly grabbed her arm and looked at her sternly, not speaking.

She looked up at him with confidence written across her features. “We are not in the bedroom now, love,” She whispered, using his term of endearment.

He frowned dangerously and looked as though he would speak. His aunt cut him off, “Is that a little Mudblood I hear? Or the blood traitor who fucks the scar head?”

Hermione whispered, “Fuck,” In irritation at the correct guess made by the madwoman.

“Come out of the house little girl, I just want to talk!” The voice was quickly dissolving into her madness, the tones were unevenly shifting between a benevolent croon and a crazed shriek.

Hermione wrenched her arm from Draco's hand and stepped to the door with her wand in hand. She placed her small hand on the knob and a familiar growl came from the clearing, causing her to pause.

A pained yelp was followed by a muffled thump and Bellatrix screaming, “You fucking little mutt! Keep your trap shut as ordered!” Her voice became a croon once more. “I seem to have forgotten your friend's leash. Or is it your brother?” Her mad tittering came again through the cottage. “I won't know until you open the door,” She sang.

Hermione clenched her wand tighter and turned the knob.

As the moonlight illuminated the scene before her, she knew true terror for the first time. A semi-circle of Death Eaters stood solemnly, their identities hidden by their silver masks, shining in the moonlight. Each of them had a werewolf at their side and two giants hunkered in the tree line. There were darting figures in the trees which may have been vampires, awaiting a chance to strike.

They were outnumbered by a lot. Hermione's face gave nothing away.

“What shall we play, then?” Hermione asked the unmasked and wild haired figure before her. “Pin the tail on the Death Eater?”

Bellatrix tittered, “I'm sure we would all love to have a riddling contest. I'll start, shall I? Where is my nephew?”

“That's no riddle,” Hermione answered with no small amount of an impudent tone.

“Not a riddle? What would a filthy Mudblood know about riddling?” Her scream ended with a nonverbal spell, its bright blue light rocketed toward Hermione. She made no move, but the light hit an invisible shield inches from her face.

Hermione took a graceful stride downward and flattened her foot on the lower step of the stoop. Her hands were gently clasped over her waist, her wand held between them. “A Mudblood, am I?” Her voice mirroring the condescension of her movements. She stood on the grass with a serene look around. “And yet you come to me for information.” She tsk-ed at them as though disappointed. Another spell flew from her right, and again was deflected inches from her seemingly unprotected body.

Bellatrix hissed and pointed her wand at the offending Death Eater who had cast the Imperio at the small woman in Muggle jeans and a jumper. A burst of glowing purple daggers left her wand and the Death Eater robes were left tattered and slightly bloody as the blades passed through. A slight whimper of pain came from under the mask and the person below it crumpled to the ground and lay still.

“You see what your filth causes me to do? Your impudence!” A flurry of spells were suddenly attacking her shield, all were deflected, absorbed into the spell protecting her. “Take down your shield and take your punishment!”

“Punishment?” Hermione asked, feigning confusion. “I thought we were going to play?”

Another flurry of spells and she began panting at the effort to keep her shield up. “This is playing you slime!” The crazed woman screamed. “Sic her!” She ordered the wolves.

With a harsh growl the pack rushed forward as a well-trained group. Hermione raised her wand and began shooting spells in a practiced order. The first wolf landed in the snow under the trees with a yelp and a freshly broken paw. The next was rendered motionless by a ring of fire surrounding him, too high and hot for him to jump over. Two were bound together by white hot chains and howled in agony as their flesh was singed with their movements. A huge wolf lunged to bite her and his jaw was suddenly unable to close, she had locked it open it its snarl. She turned and faced the last two remaining without letting the Death Eaters who patiently watched the battle with no change in posture out of her sight. Their masks expressions would never change.

With a quick flick of her wand the smaller wolf was in a cage and his whimpers silenced. She turned to the last of the attackers- the red-haired wolf who used to be her boyfriend. The object of her brother’s hatred. Hermione’s face showed no hatred for the boy trapped in a wolf’s body.

She watched as the red-haired wolf bore down on her. She whispered “I'm sorry,” As she sliced off an ear and threw spikes attached to ropes at him. He was pinned to a tree behind him, bound similarly to when he had first attacked them months before.

Bellatrix screamed in her rage, “Where is Draco?” and another spell flew through the air. Once more the light dissipated inches from Hermione's face.

“Alive and well. I will not tell you where he is.” she responded serenely.

The wild haired woman threw herself at Hermione so suddenly, Hermione had no time to react. Bellatrix pinned her to the ground and conjured a knife from the air. Clutching it and grinning wildly, she whispered to Hermione, “You've forgotten your place, Mudblood,” she stretched out Hermione's arm and held it under her knee.

Hermione was fighting, but the older witch was supernaturally strong in comparison to her. She spit in the madwoman's face and bucked her hips trying to get freed from her grasp. “Let me go!” she screamed as the older woman tightened her grip.

A titter from above her now tear stained face was followed by a white hot searing pain in the outstretched arm, and Hermione screamed. Four more lines and a bloody M marred her pale skin.

“Tell me!” Bellatrix demanded, opening Hermione's arm in the shape of a U.

“No!” Hermione screamed again, shutting her eyes tightly.

Hermione's struggling made the D lopsided and she began sobbing in anguish.

The beginnings of a B formed and suddenly Harry's voice rang through the clearing, “Let her go.”

“Harry! Go back!” Hermione screamed, she would have continued but Bellatrix silenced her with a resounding fist to her jaw. With her face forced upward from the punch, she could see the stoop, and nearly wished she had never looked.

Standing shoulder-to-shoulder were Harry and Draco, both of their wands at the ready, both looking angrier than Hermione had ever seen them.

Bellatrix answered in a calculating voice, “Give me Draco and I will let her go.”

Draco stepped down, eyeing the crowd around them. “Why the sudden interest, Dear Aunt?” His practiced cocky tone was clear in the stillness.

“You have much to answer for, Nephew. Even this,” she stuck her jaw in the direction of Hermione. “I can smell your stink all over this trash, is she your latest cumbox?”

Draco growled and raised his wand.

“Careful Draco,” Hermione's strangled whisper floated on the breeze. The knife Bellatrix had coated with her blood as she carved was pressed into Hermione's throat.

Draco froze. “Get up. I'll come with you.”

Hermione and Harry said simultaneously, “No!” But Draco took another step forward. Bellatrix ordered a faceless Death Eater to restrain him with a flick of her chin.

Before he was Apparated away, Hermione's eyes were filled with tears. In the half second before he disappeared, he whispered, “All for you.”

They all left at once. The clearing was empty and silent until a wail of anguish came from the small witch wearing Muggle jeans and lying in her own blood.

“We have to get him back!” Hermione sobbed, struggling to sit up while cradling her injured arm.

Harry rushed to her side and hauled her up unceremoniously. “I know. We need the Order. You need to stop the blood.” He shook her shoulders as she tried to run to the cottage. “Hermione! We can't go right after him! Think! They'll be waiting for that.” A growl echoed through the clearing and they saw Ron still tied to the tree. Hermione broke free from Harry's strong hands and began hitting her former friend while she screamed, “It’s all your fault! You selfish little shit! I would ki-” Harry pulled her back from her assault and had accidentally gripped her new injury, stopping her rant and causing her to scream out in agony.

He lifted her around the waist and carried her inside with a grim expression. “You know the ward's will kick us out soon- get the plan started!” he told her sternly.

Sobbing, she looked at him pitifully, “Harry we need to get him back!”

“Hermione, would he want you to weep or get your head together?”

She looked hurt and then forced her tears to stop with a deep breath. She ran all over the cottage and gathered their things into her beaded bag. The mirror was shoved into his back pocket and they stepped outside just as the house groaned in protest at their presence.

“Let’s make some miles before sunrise,” Harry said, flinging his arm around her shoulders in an attempt to comfort the small witch. A small spell and her arm was bandaged.

“When will we call, Harry?” She asked him plaintively, her tears still falling in the moonlight.

“When we hit the area we talked about.” He looked pointedly at the trees, “We may not be alone.” He reminded her. “He's stronger than even you think, 'Mione,” He used a term of endearment he rarely used.

A sweaty hour passed as they pushed through the underbrush. Even though it was still cold enough for the snow to remain unmelted, the work they had to perform to get to the planned location was hard.

Finally, at the top of a hill, they pulled out the mirror and called upon Molly. They explained what happened as calmly as they could. Molly told them the port key would be activated within an hour and they sat, weary in the moonlight, both listening for any noise which might signal an attack coming their way.

The port key flashed through the dark and they touched it together.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

The room at the Leaky Cauldron was cold. No one in the room was left untouched by the frigidness. The top members were present, all had been roused from their secret beds and had been transported by either port key or Knight Bus to the middle of London for the meeting in progress.

“Look, we all understand the sense of urgency. He's in a great deal of danger.” Kingsley said, his inner politician showing as he spoke diplomatically. “However, we have to understand the danger we would all face by attempting a rescue. We don't know where he is specifically. We don't have any intel until Professor Snape arrives. Until then, Miss Granger, we cannot plan for anything. We must be prepared for the worst.” He seemed very upset to have to quell the fears of the small witch.

Hermione's eyes flashed in anger, “Mr. Shacklebolt, I understand that, and thank you for your input. However, I believe if we have options before we hear from Professor Snape, we have a better chance of succeeding in a rescue.”

Harry interjected, “Let us take a break and allow tempers to cool before continuing, shall we?”

It was agreed and Harry pulled Hermione into the loo with him.

“Hermione. Kingsley is right. Planning is pointless until we have more information. Snape is probably present for whatever's happening. I don't think.... We just need you to be coolheaded.”

She exploded, “Coolheaded?! The love of my life is in chains and probably being tortured and you tell me to be coolheaded?” She began sharply jabbing her finger his chest and continued, “If it were Ginny, you would stop at nothing to get her back, how can you expect me to not react in the same way?!”

Harry looked unabashed at her outburst. “You love him that much?” He asked quietly.

She folder her arms over her chest and stood straight again, gazing at him with slitted eyes. “Yes. I do,” She answered simply.

“Then I have an idea,” He answered. “I'll announce it shortly.” With that he turned and exited the room.

Hermione collapsed against the wall and allowed the sobs to wrack her body. She ran out of tears long before she ran out of sorrow to shed.

She stood and rubbed the bandage over her injury. She ran water in the sink and splashed it over her face. Looking in the mirror with her face still wet she whispered, “I will get him back. I don't care who I have to kill for that to happen.” She opened the door and walked out.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

There was a brief knock at the door as Hermione sat back on her chair. The room was sparsely furnished, as expected. In her exhausted state, and despite her protests, she was forced into the chair as soon as she and Harry had arrived. Now, she seemed to be thankful to be able to sit.

The knock at the door made everyone jump, but Kingsley answered the knock. He cracked the door with his wand behind the door, prepared to fling hexes if the person was not on their side. “Password?” He hissed once he had seen the newcomer.

Professor Snape’s unmistakable drawl replied, “Lily Hammer,” With no hesitation. The door was opened and Snape’s weary face was revealed to the room.

Hermione stood and rushed to him as soon as the door was closed. She grasped his robes and looked at him pleadingly, “Is Draco alright? Please, Professor, please, is he alright?” She begged.

He looked down at her with a surprising look of empathy and gently wrapped his cold hands around hers, removing them from his robes and replied, “He is being tortured. He has said nothing.”

She would have collapsed to the ground, but Snape squeezed her hands, hard and she looked back to his face. “His Occulmency is holding up. He has the image of you in his mind as a wall, and it is a strong wall. You must be strong as well, girl.”

She took a deep breath of his earthy aroma, and felt some measure of comfort from his words.

Harry was standing behind her and put a gentle hand on her back. She turned and he guided her back to her chair with an arm wrapped around her waist. All eyes were staring. Tonks looked like she might cry, Molly was weeping into her handkerchief. Both women were heavily empathizing with the small witch’s predicament.

Harry knelt before Hermione and she wiped her face again. She nodded to him and he stood once more. His stance was one of defiance, his fists were clenched at his sides. “What can you tell us, Professor Snape?” He asked, an unusual tone of authority in his voice.

Snape raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “They have him in the Malfoy Manor’s Dungeons. The Manor itself is arguing against it. They have tortured him incessantly since he arrived. He has said nothing. I wonder if he is working on the wards, but I have no evidence of what is going on in his mind at present. His mental defenses are stronger than even mine. His mother is a constant concern, they want to know where she is. The only reason they allowed me in was to observe his torture, as punishment for allowing him to stray from his alliance with the Dark.”

“How long can he last, Professor?” Tonks asked, her voice wavering in emotion.

“Days. Maybe weeks.”

Hermione took a shaky breath, audible in the silent room as everyone thought about the ethics of leaving one of their own to be tortured for –potentially- weeks by their enemy.

“What can we do?” Came the small voice of Molly Weasley. Her normally cheerful voice was quiet and subdued tonight.

“Nothing. Yet.” Kingsley answered in an equally quiet voice.

Hermione stood. “There is always something that can be done in the face of evil. I promised Draco when he first came here that we would protect him. So did all of you by voting to allow him into our ranks.” She took a step forward, her normal confidence coming back as she spoke. “I love him. If you lot won’t help me get him back, then I will go in by myself.”

Harry murmured her name and touched her shoulder, but she shook his comfort away.

“If it were any of you, Draco would not hesitate to come after you. There would be no such thing as the question ‘How long will they last?’ Never would that question even occur to him.” Fire was in her eyes once more. “I can and will storm the Manor. I will get him back. Who will join me?”

“Miss Granger,” Professor Snape drawled, “You have no idea the fight you will be entering into. However, if a fight is what you want, then I might be able to guarantee one on more appealing grounds than to fight through the wards of Malfoy Manor.”

Hermione froze, staring into the face of her former Potions Professor. Harry spoke behind her, “What do you mean, Professor?”

“Hogwarts is taken over. Let us allow Harry into it and let the fight come to us.” Snape answered simply, sounding bored.

“They wouldn’t bring Draco with them, surely.” Tonks said breathlessly.

Snape smiled thinly, “That’s the point. Abeille.” He snapped his fingers and the little elf appeared. “Can you still get into Malfoy Manor to see your master?”

“Yes.” She squeaked.

“How long will the location you take someone remain in the wards?”

“One hour.” She answered.

“Stay here, Abeille. You need to hear the rest of this plan.” Snape said.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

The plan was glaringly simple one Snape had outlined it. Harry was the most impressed at the cunning involved. They would allow Harry to be captured at Hogwarts. Voldemort would want a major battle and so would come directly there. There were a great many defensive spells on the castle, and with the teachers’ help, the war would take most of the night. Draco would be taken by Abeille to St. Mungo’s and healed.

Hermione had to stop herself from saying she wanted to be with Draco when he got to St. Mungo’s. The war was much more important than her love. She had been preparing for so long, it would have all been a waste if she was not present at the battle of Hogwarts.

Finally, with the plan outlined, they decided it should take place the following week to give their side as much time to prepare for the ambush.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Half crazed thoughts were running through his mind after he was left in the darkness of his own Manor. I’ll rid myself of this whole house once I get out of here, Being the most frequently repeated. He was finally alone. His muscles were still struggling to remember how to relax. He was bleeding from what would be a few more scars to not explain to Hermione. The darkness surrounding him was cold comfort. At least he wouldn’t have to see the blood around him. The decomposing bodies which were the only thing that would explain the smell.

He was trying to allow himself to sleep. He had no idea how long he had been down here. In the dark. In the smell of rot. In the cold. He didn’t care for time any longer. Each second was as painful as the last. He pictured his beautiful witch again, allowing her to comfort him in his torment. When he got out of here, he might even allow her to comfort him. She may need it as much as he.

He thought again of the family heirloom hidden in his mother’s armoire. He knew where it was. He knew Hermione’s face would light up at the sight of it. It would be all she was allowed to wear on their wedding night.

He knew she would say yes. She had never told him she loved him, but he knew it to be the case. There it was in that light in her eyes as they kissed under the snow laden trees. Not the spark of lust. It was in the way she touched his arm when she laughed. He seized on it in this bleak hour, needing it to be true. He needed to give her the sapphire ring hidden upstairs. He needed to believe she would accept with a glowing smile and fervent kisses of happiness. He needed to believe that she would whisper in his ear for the rest of their lives those sweet little words he had never heard from her lips.

He contained his sanity in these thoughts. He’d known they wouldn’t rescue him for a while. They had to make plans. No one had expected for him to be caught. He was to protect Harry and Hermione. As much as one could protect those two hard-headed Gryffindors.

Time lost meaning while he was alone. When his tormentors were there, it was the only thing that mattered. How long could he withstand their tortures? He thought it had been a week. Could he last another?

A pop came through the dark. “Master?” A whispered voice echoed through the dark. Imagining voices, now. He began to think he was finally losing his mind, when the voice came again, “Light.” It squeaked. The light came and Draco winced his bruised face away from it.

“Finally a torture that might work,” Draco said, his voice rusty from long alternating cycles of disuse and helpless screaming.

“Master!” The squeaky voice sounded like his precious elf, the first one he had freed. Little Abeille with her purple hat. He smiled and cracked his eyes open, thinking he must be dreaming.

Her warm hands touched his bare chest and he looked up at her from the floor. She was knelt at his side and had tears in her eyes, “Master, we have to go.” She squeaked, her voice emotional.

“Ok, Abeille. It must be my time to go.” He sighed and tears he thought had run dry leaked out of his eyes. “I wish I could have seen Hermione one more time.”

“Master, we are going to St. Mungo’s. You’s will see Miss Granger after the battle.” Her tinny voice was confused.

“Ok, Abeille. Whatever you say.” He sighed and lost consciousness.

Tiny little Abeille took Draco’s massive hand into hers with reverence. She snapped her fingers and they arrived at St. Mungo’s. The ward was mostly empty, but for a few nurses. “Help!” She squeaked, startling all three of the aproned women.

They came rushing over and lifted Draco’s unconscious form to the bed next to him and began speaking quickly to one another as they made note of his many injuries. One leaned down to Abeille and asked her, “What happened? Is this man your owner?” Her face looked very confused as she looked at the little elf wearing her mismatched clothes.

“Master was tortured. Abeille wants to stay with him. Can she? Can Abeille stay?”

The mediwitch patted Abeille on her tiny shoulder and smiled comfortingly. A strangled gasp came from one of the other mediwitches who was looking over Draco. The one kneeling next to Abeille looked up sharply. “What is it?” She demanded in a harsh voice.

The startled witch pointed to Draco’s left arm and covered her mouth in shock.

“So what if he is, his treatment will not change because of a tattoo, Penelope. Heal him then we call the Aurors, you know the routine.”

Abeille squeaked, “Master is not a Death Eater, Miss. He turned to the light.”

The mediwitch examined Abeille closely. “It doesn’t matter. We have procedures to follow. What is your master’s name?”

Abeille hesitated, she had not been told what to do in the event someone asked for his name. “Draco, Miss. Draco Malfoy.” She answered finally.

The mediwitch stood and treatment began. Abeille refused to let Draco out of her sight. She held his hand as much as possible.

The treatments were finished around eleven that night. His wounds were healed, except for the ones which were cursed. Those were bandaged and he was left with a mediwitch in the ward keeping an eye on him for a while. Abeille watched over him, holding his hand while he remained unconscious.

When the mediwitch slipped out to use the loo, Draco cracked an eye open and looked at his faithful little elf. “Abeille.” He croaked.

Abeille’s face lit up in happiness. She did not say anything, knowing her voice would carry.

“We have to leave. They’ll turn me in to the Auror’s and I will go to prison. We have to go to Hermione.”

Abeille nodded and glanced at his body with a question in her eyes.

“Yes, get me clothes. Hurry.”

She disappeared and reappeared quickly holding a suit. She snapped her fingers and he was dressed. She took his hand and they left with a crack echoing in the room just as the mediwitch returned.

The mediwich’s eyes were opened wide in shock and she quickly raised her wand to sound the alarm.

A/N: Ok, this week has been absolute hell for me. I’m sorry that I couldn’t update this sooner. Most of this was written while waiting to go into work and emailed to myself. So much shit is going on in the real world that this has now officially become an escape from it. Also, I just realized in the first chapter, Draco says parlor and here when Bellatrix is carving into Hermione it’s in the grass… can we just ignore that? Or maybe I’ll go back and edit it. I don’t know…

This should have been in Draco’s POV, but the plot demanded an Observers POV. The next chapter will be Hermione’s again, I think. Maybe an intermingled chapter. We’ll see what my muse orders me to do. Sigh…. Can’t I just live in a world full of magic so life can be easier?

Thanks to my reviewers (What? Plural?!?) margiere and Vicky! You guys are so sweet! Little bits of sunshine in my otherwise dreary week! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!! You guys rock!

Wanna help my pissy week?? Leave me a review! I can always use some encouragement!! Even a rating would be amazing!! Thanks for reading!
- 14
- 15
- 16
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Blood on the Ground