Yours in Mayhem |Dramione

34 yours in uncertainty|| pt. 2

Leaving Weasley hallucinating with a brain twitching at his side, Draco seek out to find Hermione and the rest of the Death Squad or Dumb Alliance or whatever the fools call themselves. They are going to get killed! Who do they think they are? Student wizards and witches, not even of age yet, going against seasoned Death Eaters.

He'd like to see one of them dodge an Unforgivable. Idiots!

"Hand over the prophecy, Mister Potter, and none of your little friends get hurt!"

An undeniable coldness stopped Draco right in his tracks as he approached walls of glowing orbs. Prophecies. Each and and everyone of them a destiny foretold. His father's voice was cold and deep. He didn't hear the reply but he imagined Harry Potter's voice to be small but determined.

And he might just be correct as someone yelled 'REDUCTO!' and thousands of prophecies came crashing down. He ran around them trying to find the source of the voices. Closer now. Closer. The shelves are toppling over themselves, a demented chain reaction.

There was a whip of brown hair and wild eyes that caught his vision, "Hermione!" He shouted.

She looked his way in shock. There was something in her eyes that said 'Stop' but it was all too fast.

A Death Eater was in front of them. "Well, well. If it isn't Lucius' eldest. Care to get this party started, sonny boy?"

He can hear the chain reaction coming their way. It won't be long now. It won't be long now.

Draco drew his want toward the Death Eater. He was shaking from head to foot. Scared to death. If he could close his eyes, he could. He's terrified of death. He knows that he might die, but it's him before her. She can't die. Nothing will make sense if she did. Everything will be for nothing. She's everything.

"Want to dance?" He said with a cool smirk.

"Blood traitor!" The man behind the mask growled. "All for this ugly, filthy little mud--"

"ZEEPIRO!"

Soap sods and a sponge flew towards the Death Eater's face and started scrubbing his disgusting mouth. Draco took this as their chance to run. "Go, go, go!" He urged Hermione forward while the Death Eater is distracted.

Hermione took his hand so he can run beside her, "Don't fall behind."

He should be panicking himself to death but why does he feel so light? Like he's doing something good.

They dodged hexes and jinxes as glass orbs fell all around them. Dark storey high shelves collapsed and blocked their way. Why must it be that he only feels complete when they are together but everything around them just crumbles?

"Draco!"

The voice stopped both of them in the tracks. They looked back and saw Lucius Malfoy, mask removed, pointing his wand at both of them. "What insolence is this?"

Draco felt his blood run cold. The words are not forming in his head and that is just as well because his tongue felt like unmolded clay. He can't feel anything but Hermione's pulse in her wrist. She let go of his hand and stood between Draco and Lucius, her hands on either side of her trying to cover him. "I'll hold him off, Draco. Run!"

Instinct and everything else said that self preservation should win. But it didn't that particular afternoon. All he could remember was his father shouting insults at Hermione, her eyes looking unfazed and determined to let him leave-- live, and the sting of the curse that he took for her as he pushed her out of the way.

Everything was pandemonium but as she held him, crying and calling out his name, under an umbrella of Protego under falling orbs of light everything was static. He felt calm and he could just...