Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Twisted	By : BB_Rosie & ArielKidd Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 31731 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I don't make any money from this story. I own nothing.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
A.N: New chapter, partly written by myself and partly by BB_Rosie
Hermione lay on her side in the mud. A gentle murmur woke her. Her eyelids struggled to part - they were too heavy, made of iron. A whisper of a groan flittered from her lips. Eventually, she opened her eyes and was met with the twinkles of the stars. She was still on the quidditch pitch. Her gaze lowered to a picnic blanket, snacks and drinks, and shiny black shoes. She looked up, seeing Draco Malfoy. But his attention was not on her. His back faced her, and he murmured softly spoken words.
Draco’s sleeves were rolled up, but Hermione could see the splatters of mud staining his shirt. Clumps of it coated him, yet he seemed not to care. His finger was pressed against the dark mark on his forearm. That’s all she could make out through the blinding pain and darkness. He was communicating with someone through the dark mark.
Hermione blinked away the cloudiness in her eyes. Her gaze moved—to the bag on the picnic blanket. Through the mouth of the bag, she could see a shimmer. It was the cloak and it winked at her. She looked up at Draco once more to check that he still had his back to her. He did, and her wand lay at his feet. It was too risky to go for the wand.
Hermione stifled a groan as she crawled to the bag. She moved slowly. Her hand grasped onto the velvet cloak and pulled it out carefully. It drew closer to her. Closer. Until she stopped tugging and let it rest in front of her on the mud. Hermione got her knees and draped the cloak over her body. She held her breath, her eyes on Draco the whole time. He whispered murmurs to the mark slithering on his forearm. She couldn’t make out what he was saying, and she didn’t want to get closer to hear him – that could give her away.
Once the cloak was fastened around her body, and she disappeared, Hermione climbed to her feet. Her head spun, her brain pounded against her skull. There was a lump growing on her head, she was sure of it – he had a hell of a punch in him. And Hermione would get him back for that, she made the promised to herself.
Hermione stepped backwards. Her eyes stayed on Draco. He lowered his arm, and stopped whispering. His body twisted, turning around to face her – he stopped. His eyes flashed through the darkness and rested where she had been a few seconds ago. But she was gone, now, he realised.
Hermione didn’t wait for his reaction. She tugged the cloak around her body and crept by him. But, he whipped out his wand and aimed it – fired curses in every direction, some he spoke, others he didn’t. Glasses and plates shattered from the hexes, and Draco swore so loudly that his voice carried out into the sky.
Climbing around him, Hermione ducked out of the of his flailing arm. She almost made it around him completely – until she kicked over a pitcher of pumpkin juice. She froze. She couldn’t move. He whirled around, and they were face to face. He raised his wand, and the tip touched her nose.
Hermione gasped as he shouted a disgusting word – crucio!.
“It’s Hermione we’re talking about,” said the speckled git.
Blaise almost rolled his eyes. Of course, he was above such gestures. Too refined.
“She’ll be fine,” added the chosen-one.
Blaise saw it now. His opportunity to make himself known. He emerged from the shadows with Theodore at his side, aimed his wand at the boy-who-had-too-many-clichés-as-a-name, and said, “Not for long.”
They were too predictable. Drunk on adrenaline and bravery, the two lion-fools whipped around and aimed their wands at the snakes in the shadows. But, Blaise and Theodore had expected that. Before either Potter or Weasley could shout their over-used stupifies and expelliarmuses, Blaise had cast his spell, and Theodore, his.
‘Imperio,’ said Blaise with such tedium, he could’ve been mistaken for answering a question about the weather.
Potter stilled immediately. Weasley, too, by his side. They stood there, swaying, mere puppets.
“Come,” ordered Blaise. His bored gaze regarded the pair for a moment before he and Theodore approached the stairs. As they descended, neither checked to see if the Gryffindor duo were following. Their heavy, clomping footsteps were enough of an indication.
Blaise checked his platinum watch as they reached the bottom of the stairs. He only had ten minutes. He placed his hands in his pockets and briskly walked down the corridor. Theodore assessed him silently, and the other two stumbled behind them.
“Got an appointment?” jested Theo lightly. But Blaise sensed that he was prying. “You seem a little on edge.”
“Do I?” asked Blaise calmly. “And here I thought I was merely completing a task assigned to me.”
“You’re a decent multitasker.”
Before they turned onto the corridor, three Slytherin fifth-years came up the stairs. They gave a stiff nod to Blaise and Theo, then disappeared ahead. They had emerged to collect their prizes of war, noted Blaise.
Blaise and Theodore led the imperiused boys deep into the quiet corridor. The portraits were sound asleep, and the torches low. Theodore opened a door to an empty classroom.
“Get in,” said Blaise. Potter and Weasley staggered inside and stood, swaying, in the middle of the vacant room. More Slytherins slinked by, and all gave a stiff nod as they passed.
Theodore and Blaise went into the room and closed the door. They aimed their wands and conjured chairs.
“Sit.” Blaise’s voice was as tedious as his blank eyes. The Gryffindors sat on the wooden chairs. Theodore waved his wand and ropes wound around the boys. Once they were fastened to the chairs, Blaise added, “Don’t leave or go anywhere or even move until I return.”
They both nodded. Blaise and Theodore turned and left. As Theodore locked the door, Blaise said, “We have a few minutes to spare. Do you wish to hunt your prize?”
“I don’t have one,” he said.
Blaise glanced up and down the corridor, watching cloaked figures run around. They were here. “You don’t want one, you mean.”
Theodore shrugged.
Blaise checked his watch. “You can’t mourn her forever, you know.”
Theodore’s eyes swerved to the side just as uneven footsteps echoed. He ignored Blaise’s comment, and watched Luna Lovegood skip toward them.
“You’re late,” said Blaise. He tapped his watch for good measure.
“Am I?” she said dreamily.
Blaise smiled and held out his hand. She took it.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked. Her eyes were guarded, he noticed, even beneath the lingering sparkles of love potions in her system. But there was still enough in her for him to do what needed to be done.
“Some place wonderful,” he said with a smile.
Suddenly, the stone wobbled around them. The castle shook and the portraits rattled. Some even fell of the walls and crashed onto the floor. Luna’s hand on Blaise’s tightened. He tugged her closer to him, and shared a look with Theodore. Theo nodded once before he turned and walked the other way. He had duties to perform.
“What’s happening?” Luna’s voice shook, like the castle. “Blaise?” Her eyes found his and Blaise seized the moment – whispered a spell, the same one he placed on Potter, and watched her muscles unwind.
“We,” he said, “are going to meet Draco and Granger on the Quidditch Pitch. You will stay with me the whole way, and you won’t fight. Do you understand, Luna?” She nodded, a smile on her face. He returned the smile and added, “When we get to the pitch, you will come with me and Granger. I will take you both somewhere safe – like I said, somewhere wonderful. You must trust me, Luna. Do you?”
Her brows creased for a moment – but he noticed. Then, the skin smoothed out and she said, “I trust you, Blaise.”
Blaise held her hand firmly and led her through the castle. Nothing fazed her as they went – not the Death Eaters running through the halls, smothering the staircases, lashing their wands around; she didn’t flinch as Professor McGonagall fell from the levels above and smacked onto the ground with a crunch.
They reached the second floor. Blaise shoved Luna out of the way just as a green jet of light soared by them. He turned to shout at the Death Eater who let the curse go stray. But the words died on his lips when he realised that it had been aimed at him, and the curser was Ginerva Weasley. Her eyes glowed from the foyer as she looked up at him, the staircase separating them. Her gaze moved from Blaise to Luna – who climbed to her feet – and her wand shook in her hand. She wasn’t afraid, they weren’t trembles of terror – it was the rush of the fight, the adrenaline, that powered her.
Blaise pointed his wand at her. He was ready to issue a hex – not a killing curse – but then an army of Death Eaters rushed by him. Ginerva Weasley was quickly distracted. A battle broke out on the foyer, more and more joining as they came from every doorway. But Blaise couldn’t join – he had a mission.
Luna swayed beside him, and he grabbed her waist. He hauled her over his shoulder and carried her down the stairs. He wouldn’t let another curse almost hit her. His free hand aimed his wand ahead, ready to strike anyone who separated from the battle. But he made it to the doors without a fight, and slipped out onto the grounds of Hogwarts.
Blaise ran over the grass, away from the paths, toward the Quidditch Pitch. It was dark, so he couldn’t see Draco or Granger – or any signs of them – until he neared the stands. Then, he stumbled to a stop and lowered Luna to the mud. She held onto his arm as he looked around, his lips parting in surprise.
“Are we having a picnic?” asked Luna.
Blaise shook his head. His eyes moved from shattered glass to broken pitchers, from an abandoned wand, to a trickle of blood on the blanket. Something had happened here, he thought, and whatever it was interfered with his mission. Because, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy were nowhere to be seen.
Blaise didn’t have time to wait. He checked his watch and sighed. He had to get Luna out of there.
“Follow me!” Blaise barked his orders and ran across the Quidditch Pitch. Luna jogged behind him, her eyes drinking in the quiet of the grounds. From that far out, the shouts and blasts from inside the castle were muffled – almost inaudible.
They reached the staff stands. Blaise jumped over the wooden barrier and turned. His hands reached out for Luna, and he helped her climb over the barrier. She stumbled as she landed on the other side, but he didn’t give her a second to right herself. His hand snatched her robes and he hauled her up the stairs to the top benches. Luna stumbled behind him, looking back at the castle.
From the distance, it looked normal. It looked like it always did. It reached high up into the sky, and the windows glinted with magic. But it wasn’t magic. It was curse after curse firing through the corridors. Luna halted.
Blaise turned to see what stopped her. She frowned at the top window of the Ravenclaw common room – a body fell out of a window, spinning all the way to the grounds. The other stands of the pitch stopped them from seeing it land onto the grass. But Luna flinched regardless.
Blaise aimed his wand at her – he could feel it slipping with his panic, his fading concentration. The curse was leaving her.
“Stupify,” he said. She went rigid, and fell back. He caught her in his arms before she could hit the wood.
Blaise dragged her backwards, to the far end of the benches. A shoe was tucked underneath the bleachers. He kicked it out, bent down and grabbed it in his hand. Luna lay limp in his hold as the shoe glowed and pulsed against his fingers – then, Hogwarts vanished from around them, and they were pulled through space until they landed on the path that led to Malfoy Manor.
Blaise looked around, then up at the Manor. Narcissa raced toward them, but he knew then, with a plunging gut, that something was wrong.
Draco hadn’t arrived with Hermione…
- 7
- 8
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Twisted