Year 5 - Stockholm

Chapter 7

Amusements on Patrol

Hermione ran down the staircase double time. She was late. For Prefect patrol.

After finding an enchanted cat on her bed, a present from Malfoy, whom she named Drogon, she spent the rest of her time moving the cat into the dorm with a long outline of the rules. She guessed that there was some base line for what the cat could understand.

At first, she had been on time. The first time she left Gryffindor Tower.

But, Drogon somehow managed to escape the confines of the dormitory and the common room and snuck out into the halls after her. She noticed a white tail curled against a statue and had to turn around to deliver the cat back where it belonged.

She hated to admit it, but she loved the little thing. It was so intelligent. It just responded in ways that were human-like. However, when she'd let her stress overpower her in a moment of weakness, Drogon curled against her chest and purred loud enough to vibrate her heart. It was so adorable she couldn't return him.

Not after the way he shook his head 'no' once and she nearly peed her pants in excitement.

The fourth-floor Prefects bathroom came into view as she rounded a corner. Her pace slowed. Apology on her tongue, she discovered a troubling fact that frayed her nerves: Padma was not around. She looked down both corridors and all around. There was no sign of the Ravenclaw witch.

It was not like a Ravenclaw to be late. Especially not a prefect.

She tapped her foot impatiently, checking the time again. They should be on their rounds by now.

The castle turned dark when curfew came. Prefects and hall monitors required wands to see. It was not easy to check every nook and cranny in an ancient, huge castle in the pitch black, but they did what they could. Plenty were caught after hours.

Hermione had deducted points students for the infraction before. Even taken some from her own house! It was Fred and George who were out late, no doubt up to their mischief. She'd been embarrassed to find them yet again in trouble for something a first year understood perfectly well: stay in after curfew.

She readied herself for patrol alone when a shuffle caught her ear. It came from a blackened hall behind her.

"Lumos."

Wand at the ready, she walked toward the noise ready to reprimand anyone out after hours.

It was high, thrill, pure adrenaline. Hermione found that brilliant feeling intoxicating when it came to patrol. Some many emotions of hers were heightened. The disadvantage of some senses, mainly her sight, gave way to the strength of others which, in her mind, made her into a witchy, female version of Daredevil.

Her magic was coiled. At any moment was it ready to strike.

Just as she passed a balcony, her body was roughly grabbed and pulled into night air. Fingers clamped across her mouth. She was pinned against a body, unable to swing her arm to cast a spell. They scuffled around as she tried to rip her body out of the hold, but the person was much larger than her. Their long limbs had her beat.

Thrill and fear shot through her all at once. Everything was on high. Her will to live, her will to fight, that pounding, mind numbing, disorienting yet sharpening way her thoughts twisted in a panicked brain. It kept the fight alive. She was not done. A Muggle did not stop when they were disarmed. They just got creative.

One arm held her head steady, mouth clamped shut so shouts for help would be unheard. Smart. The other long arm reached across her chest and both her arms. It locked her in a rigid position. They were strong. Air in her lungs deflated a little from such force. The discomfort from it was momentarily distracting, the pain against her ribs a frustrating sensation to forget about, that the attacker and her were pressed together taut.