three little words ; 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞

20. Too Little Too Late

Draco's POV

Draco had been in the common room, studying. It was his hour off, and the assigned essay in Charms was beginning to worry him.

Dropping his quill on the paper in anger, he swore as he watched ink drip from the tip onto the words, leaving a splotch of black on his essay. He crumpled the failed attempt and tossed it to the side.

Then he heard it.

A voice. One he never wanted to hear again.

Bellatrix.

He leaped out of his chair at his desk and, not bothering to put on his robes, he raced out of the dormitory, wand in hand.

As Draco continued his pursuit to the Great Hall, he stopped dead just before the doors.

On the ground, without blood or injuries, were three fifth years. Killed.

He choked back the first sob in a long time and stepped over the lost lives. The tables were pushed aside, and a circle of students, wands also at the ready, were surrounding his aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange.

And across from her stood Hermione, eyes as cold as ice.

His heart skipped a beat. She was going to get hurt, there was no way that she would survive a fight with Bellatrix. He had to protect her, get her out of here. Hermione, I forgive you, I swear! His desperate thoughts could not be brought to his lips.

Before he could even speak, Hermione's eyes met his. For only a moment, they reflected his fear, and then turned stormy and scary when she looked back at Bellatrix.

"What do you want?" Her voice was fierce.

Bellatrix sounded bored. "Oh, nothing," she sneered, picking at her cuticles, "just Harry over here." She pointed at Potter, standing directly behind Hermione. "Come on," she coaxed in a motherly voice Draco had never heard from her before, "don't be scared."

"Is Voldemort back?" Harry's voice did not quaver.

"Excuse me?" Bellatrix said, her face twisted in confusion.

"I said, 'Is he back?' Did he send his little puppet to come and fetch me?"

She scowled. "Now, listen here, you little-"

"Bellatrix." Draco's voice was hard and he glared at her when she turned around slowly.

"Draco!" She exclaimed, and beamed cruelly when she saw his wand. "Have you come to Auntie's rescue?"

"No," he spat. Stiffly, he stepped through the crowd of kids and across to stand next to Hermione, Harry, and Ron.

That little weasel will get an earful of me after all this is over, he assured himself, trying to keep calm. He could only worry about one thing at a time.

Her face made him squirm. She looked both shocked to see him and nervous at the same time. He tried to give her a look, a look that said, I'm going to help you. You don't need to worry. He wasn't sure it worked, though; she turned back to face their enemy.

Bellatrix cackled. "You're going to help the mudblood and her precious celebrity friend? Oh, what would your mother say about this, Draco? What would your father?"

His throat clenched up. Where was his father? He hadn't seen him in a long time. Was he here?

"I don't give a damn what they think, Bellatrix," he snapped, "now get out."

She smirked even more maliciously. "Well, I don't really feel like that right now, so..."

She reached out and grabbed Harry, slipping between Hermione and Ron. He said the first spell that came to mind and yelled it.

"Sectumsempra!"

His curse hit his aunt's side, and she screamed out in agony, but continued her mission. Hermione let out a sound of pain, and Draco's heart squeezed. Snatching a furious Harry, Bellatrix said, "Hold on, darling. This is going to be a bumpy ride."

Without another breath, they were gone.

Ron was the first to freak out. "Harry!" he yelled. "Harry, where'd she take you?"

"Shut up," Hermione snapped, tears welling in her eyes, "He's not here, you daft dimbo."

But, still looking worried, he ran off, rounding up a search party of about twenty kids, all bent on revenge.

Hermione turned to him. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize that I was upsetting you. I was so stupid-"

"It's fine," Draco said quickly, "I forgive you. We need to find Harry. I'll help you."

The look in her eyes was one that he was sure he'd never forget. She nodded and began to hurry out the Great Hall when she was stopped by yet another person he never wanted to see.

His father.

"Here you are," he sneered sneakily, not beating around the bush, "Let's take a little trip, shall we?"

It was then that he saw his son. Draco swallowed the bile in throat and stepped forward. "Where are you going?" He tried desperately to keep his voice from shaking, to convince his father he was against Hermione. This had to work.

"Hold on and you'll find out, Draco," was his answer.

With trembling hands, in front of the remaining students, he held to Mr. Malfoy's strong forearm and watched in growing hate as his father squeezed Hermione's wrist, twisting it until she let out a sound of pain.

With a cruel laugh, his father curled his lip and said in a low voice, "Too bad the little mudblood couldn't say goodbye."

The last thing he saw was her face, full of hurt, tears spilling over from her large brown eyes.

And then everything went away.