Hermione woke up the morning after her first mission with Draco feeling good about the day before. It had been what the Order considered a highly successful mission. It had almost been too easy. She had bad feeling about today, however.
Her bad feeling seemed to be confirmed when she went downstairs an hour later to find Kingsley sitting on the table looking grave.
“Hermione,” the man said, his deep voice less reassuring with usual. “I’m sorry to make you leave again so soon, but there’s trouble in the south. We want you and Draco to head down their immediately.”
He looked sincerely sorry about the affair. “Everyone else is either on leave or busy. We’re truly sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Hermione said. “Where’s Draco?”
“Right here,” Draco said, joining them in the kitchen. “What’s going on?”
“We need you to go south and nab two Death Eaters convening there,” Kingsley said. Before any more could be said, John Summers entered the kitchen.
“Oh good, they’re here. Have you briefed them?” he asked.
“Almost,” Kingsley said. “Just the brief overview.”
“Well, I shall expand,” John said. “There’s two of them. Gibbon and Nott. They’re among the last few left, but we consider them to be the most dangerous of those still abroad. They’re hiding out in the south. They’ll put up a fight, if we know them like we think we do. But we think you two will be more than up to it.”
Draco nodded. “I’m sure we will be.”
“You won’t be able to sneak up on them,” John continued. “So you’ll have to take them on in direct combat, but that’s why we picked you for this.”
And after a half an hour’s packing and another Portkey, Draco and Hermione were near Leeds. They came upon the Death Eaters hide-out, and Hermione saw Gibbon and Nott talking in low voices.
“Who’s all left?” Gibbon hissed.
“The Order of the Phoenix has been arresting everybody,” Nott said angrily. “We’re some of the only ones left.”
“They got that right,” Draco murmured to Hermione, who offered a small smile.
“On three,” Hermione whispered. Draco nodded. She held up three fingers. Wands out. Two fingers. One.
The two casually stepped out from behind the bushes they were hiding behind. The two Death Eaters jumped, and soon there were four wizards with wand pointing at each other.
“You know who we are,” Draco said calmly. “And you know why we’re here. Are you going to cooperate?”
“Look at the little boy,” Gibbon sneered. “He thinks he’s all grown up and playing with the big boys. You tried that, remember Draco? As I recall, it didn’t work out so well.”
Hermione saw Draco’s cheeks flush slightly with the memories of his failed stint with the Death Eaters.
“What makes you think you can defeat us?” Nott snarled. “You’re two teenagers far away from home. What makes you so special?”
“Not much,” Hermione admitted. “But we have something worth fighting for.” She remembered one of the last things Tria had said to Voldemort before she died, and a smile played across her face. “We also have noses, unlike your master.”
Gibbon laughed nastily. “Oh, I remember that one. You’re tiny friend…the blonde one. What’s-her-face. Her last jibe, wasn’t it. I remember when she died. She screamed. Pitifully, like the little girl she was. She never was much. If only I could remember her name…”
“Tria,” Draco snarled and sent a stunner straight at Gibbon, and Hermione could see how angry he was. Gibbon jumped aside and screamed something unintelligible, pointing his wand at Hermione. She tried to jump aside, but wasn’t quick enough. She felt the curse hit her side like a punch, and then everything was black.
When Gibbon’s curse hit Hermione, Draco had a strange sensation. It was as though he was no longer standing by Hermione while she fell, but was back in the Battle of Hogwarts, watching from a distance as Tria fell....
Harry had just revealed himself to be alive. The whole Hall was reeling, but no one was more shocked than Voldemort. Draco saw him cast his eyes around the room, desperately in search of something that would disorient the boy, throw him off his guard.
Draco saw him lock eyes with his next target.
It was ideal, really. She was a close friend of Potter’s and was dueling him already. All it would take was a spin and a curse. Draco seemed to know what was going to happen before it did, and the next thing he knew, Voldemort had spun to face Tria and screamed, “Avada Kedavra!”
He watched her fall, that last look of courageous defiance still etched on her face. The next thing he heard were her friends’ screams.
“Tria! No!”
“Rosie!”
He saw her mother being held back by the Weasleys; she was desperately squirming to fight back, to avenge Voldemort what he had taken from her.
And yet he kept focused on Tria. She was just as beautiful in death as she had been in life. He was a mere three feet from the body when someone pulled him back.
Her father. John.
“No,” he said. “We’ll mourn her later. Wait.” His voice was hard, almost breaking with concealed sadness. Draco felt no sadness, not yet. Only a cold numbness as he tried to process what had happened. But he couldn’t.
And Draco was left no option but to watch as Potter avenged the love of his life’s death for him.
Her bad feeling seemed to be confirmed when she went downstairs an hour later to find Kingsley sitting on the table looking grave.
“Hermione,” the man said, his deep voice less reassuring with usual. “I’m sorry to make you leave again so soon, but there’s trouble in the south. We want you and Draco to head down their immediately.”
He looked sincerely sorry about the affair. “Everyone else is either on leave or busy. We’re truly sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Hermione said. “Where’s Draco?”
“Right here,” Draco said, joining them in the kitchen. “What’s going on?”
“We need you to go south and nab two Death Eaters convening there,” Kingsley said. Before any more could be said, John Summers entered the kitchen.
“Oh good, they’re here. Have you briefed them?” he asked.
“Almost,” Kingsley said. “Just the brief overview.”
“Well, I shall expand,” John said. “There’s two of them. Gibbon and Nott. They’re among the last few left, but we consider them to be the most dangerous of those still abroad. They’re hiding out in the south. They’ll put up a fight, if we know them like we think we do. But we think you two will be more than up to it.”
Draco nodded. “I’m sure we will be.”
“You won’t be able to sneak up on them,” John continued. “So you’ll have to take them on in direct combat, but that’s why we picked you for this.”
And after a half an hour’s packing and another Portkey, Draco and Hermione were near Leeds. They came upon the Death Eaters hide-out, and Hermione saw Gibbon and Nott talking in low voices.
“Who’s all left?” Gibbon hissed.
“The Order of the Phoenix has been arresting everybody,” Nott said angrily. “We’re some of the only ones left.”
“They got that right,” Draco murmured to Hermione, who offered a small smile.
“On three,” Hermione whispered. Draco nodded. She held up three fingers. Wands out. Two fingers. One.
The two casually stepped out from behind the bushes they were hiding behind. The two Death Eaters jumped, and soon there were four wizards with wand pointing at each other.
“You know who we are,” Draco said calmly. “And you know why we’re here. Are you going to cooperate?”
“Look at the little boy,” Gibbon sneered. “He thinks he’s all grown up and playing with the big boys. You tried that, remember Draco? As I recall, it didn’t work out so well.”
Hermione saw Draco’s cheeks flush slightly with the memories of his failed stint with the Death Eaters.
“What makes you think you can defeat us?” Nott snarled. “You’re two teenagers far away from home. What makes you so special?”
“Not much,” Hermione admitted. “But we have something worth fighting for.” She remembered one of the last things Tria had said to Voldemort before she died, and a smile played across her face. “We also have noses, unlike your master.”
Gibbon laughed nastily. “Oh, I remember that one. You’re tiny friend…the blonde one. What’s-her-face. Her last jibe, wasn’t it. I remember when she died. She screamed. Pitifully, like the little girl she was. She never was much. If only I could remember her name…”
“Tria,” Draco snarled and sent a stunner straight at Gibbon, and Hermione could see how angry he was. Gibbon jumped aside and screamed something unintelligible, pointing his wand at Hermione. She tried to jump aside, but wasn’t quick enough. She felt the curse hit her side like a punch, and then everything was black.
When Gibbon’s curse hit Hermione, Draco had a strange sensation. It was as though he was no longer standing by Hermione while she fell, but was back in the Battle of Hogwarts, watching from a distance as Tria fell....
Harry had just revealed himself to be alive. The whole Hall was reeling, but no one was more shocked than Voldemort. Draco saw him cast his eyes around the room, desperately in search of something that would disorient the boy, throw him off his guard.
Draco saw him lock eyes with his next target.
It was ideal, really. She was a close friend of Potter’s and was dueling him already. All it would take was a spin and a curse. Draco seemed to know what was going to happen before it did, and the next thing he knew, Voldemort had spun to face Tria and screamed, “Avada Kedavra!”
He watched her fall, that last look of courageous defiance still etched on her face. The next thing he heard were her friends’ screams.
“Tria! No!”
“Rosie!”
He saw her mother being held back by the Weasleys; she was desperately squirming to fight back, to avenge Voldemort what he had taken from her.
And yet he kept focused on Tria. She was just as beautiful in death as she had been in life. He was a mere three feet from the body when someone pulled him back.
Her father. John.
“No,” he said. “We’ll mourn her later. Wait.” His voice was hard, almost breaking with concealed sadness. Draco felt no sadness, not yet. Only a cold numbness as he tried to process what had happened. But he couldn’t.
And Draco was left no option but to watch as Potter avenged the love of his life’s death for him.