Into The Lion's Den| Hermione poly fic| Book 1

Chapter Eleven

Sorry for the sad chapters. Swearing and vulgar language
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Ron

The world was cold. Rain fell in opaque sheets, crashing hard against the tin roof of the shed. He shivered, twisting the thin jacket around his abdomen.

"Where did you come from," the little girl asked, taking a step into the garden shed. She seemed completely unaware of the fact that it was raining. Her hair wasn't wet, and her school uniform was completely dry. "Oh Ronald! You're completely soaked!"

The vision simmered, magic popping around it. It was Hermione. But not really, only a fever dream of her.

Grimacing he stood, putting up his hood. The door to the abandoned house had been locked, and when he had found the house at the end of the street he hadn't the energy to break in. After an hour of listening to the rain pelt against the roof he was done.

He reached out to grab the vision, choke it out of his mind somehow. His hand collapsed through it and he nearly fell to the mud. A roar ripped through the air and at first Ron thought it was the thunder.

He knew it was him when a light in one of the upper windows across the street clicked.

He dashed like a mad man across the yard, praying that his feet wouldn't sink. Slamming into the door with his shoulder, he heard the lock rip out of the frame. He landed on the tile of the kitchen, an ache of hotness shooting through him.  He grabbed the nearest counter to haul himself up.

He began to search the drawers for a weapon. That was when he realized that the house was fully furnished and completely inhabited. He pulled the largest knife he could from the block.

"Who are you? What do you want," he backed up so quickly that he crashed into the sink. Two women stood, wild eyed, holding base ball bats. Ronald tossed the knife up, catching it and brandishing it, slicing the air in front of him.

The brunette woman gripped the other's arm, "I told you I heard something outside."

He stepped around the counter, backing out towards the door. Once out the threshold he sprinted, vaulting himself over their fence. Leaving two very confused and frightened women in his wake.

He ran through the woods until his entire body was screaming. He slipped on a mossy branch, the knife flying out onto the ground . He didn't even try to get up this time. He just lay where he fell, like a tree, and he wept.

He coughed and blood filled his mouth. 'Thank god, I'm dying,' he thought, ' finally'.

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Draco

It wasn't his idea. To take Hermione with him on his mandatory visit with his father. She had begged. The giant and his godfather were out on a chase because of a tip about Ron. It had nearly been a month since Hermione had testified. There had been sightings of Ron all over the UK. He was running.

Draco had tried his best to get out of the visit to help find the bastard, but they had insisted that he should stay with Hermione. And she had convinced him to let her come with him.

Anxiety curled around his lungs, forcing the air out of them. Hermione looked up at him reassuringly, patting his arm softly.

"Mr. Malfoy, your father is waiting," the guard said lazily, barely glancing up from his Wizard's Weekly. The front page showed a moving picture of Ron be dragged along by two Auroas.

Lucius sneered at the arrival of them. "Draco, dear boy, you've grown your hair."

"Yes father," he sat in the chair, and Lucius studied him through the thick metal bars.

"And you've brought the little Granger girl."

"Yes father," he waited for Hermione to sit next to him but she didn't. She took off her coat, folded it and placed it on the floor maybe four feet away from the cell.

The elder Malfoy scratched his jaw and pulled back from the light.  "Age has been kind, little mudblood," when she flinched slightly he smiled a wicked smile, "So it still hurts. Have you seen Draco's. His skin is so easily marred. He is covered in scars."

"I couldn't say the same for you, Lucius,"  Hermione stated bravely, "I'm afraid age has been terribly cruel to you."

His spider like fingers twisted around the bars, his face pressing between them. "How does it feel Draco, to see your father in a cage? To hear your Fuck Doll taunt me so," he hissed, reaching for Hermione, his arm wasn't long enough, luckily, "You willingly sullied your blood by burying your cock in that filth."

"Don't speak about her that way," Draco snapped, pulled Hermione up. He dusted off her coat and folded it over his arm.

"Draco talked about you all the time. One would think he fancied you," said Lucius, cackling, "And one would be right. Tried to whip it out of him, but you know how kids are."

He shrugged like he had said something completely normal. Hermione was quick to defend Draco.

"Lucius, you are a waste of air, and time," her voice was low. Her words seemed to cut into Lucius because he threw himself at the bars and screamed out at her.

"Filthy mudblood whore! I will fucking kill you," Draco just lead her out.

After aparting to an alley Draco hugged her. "I'm sorry for what he said."

"No, Draco," she whispered to him, kissing his cheek gently, "I'm sorry."

Draco couldn't help but hug her just a little tighter, "How about neither of us are sorry?"

Then he heard her laugh lightheartedly, "Of course."

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Sorry for the shit writing.