Penance

When Hermione awoke she was alone, a single rose lying on the bed next to her. She smiled, deliriously happy and picked the small offering up, smelling it’s deep, rich scent. She wondered vaguely where Draco had made off to but knew he had things to do, just as she did. So she pulled on her clothes and made her way down to the library, her spirit light, her heart content. She swung into the room and stopped suddenly when she ran into Ginny and Luna, talking lowly. They looked up when she entered and grinned.

“So, how did your ‘talk’ go?” Ginny asked.

Hermione blushed to the roots of her hair. “Fine…”

The girls laughed uproariously. “It’s alright Hermione; we knew this was going to happen. It was only a matter of time.”

“Yes, yes,” she accepted. “Do you know where he is?”

The two turned sober. “What?” Hermione asked. “Do you know?”

“We know…” Luna relented.

“So? Where?”

“He’s out,” Ginny said. “On a hunt.”

“A hunt? He didn’t say anything…”

“Well, we didn’t know until today. Carl found some information which led us to this guy we’ve been searching for. It’s taken us a long time, Draco’s been going mad over this guy,” Ginny explained.

“What’s so different about this guy than any others?”

“Fargo?” Ginny said. “He’s the most notorious muggle-born tracker they have! No one he’s tried to kill has gotten away…except for you.”

“What? Me?” Hermione asked.

Luna nodded and explained. “It seems you were next on his list, but you disappeared. He tried to find you and when Draco found out…”

“He’s been looking for Fargo ever since. Every time we think we get a lead on this guy, he vanishes. He’s always one step ahead. Draco never stopped, though.”

She nodded. What was she supposed to say? Why would he take so much interest in one man over any others? Numerous Death Eater’s had tried to kill her and he’d never worried overly before, why now? What had changed in just one night? What happened at the Battle to make him see her so differently?

“Hermione, there’s something else, something I think you should know,” Ginny said, reluctantly.

“Yes?”

“This guy, Fargo, he’s…bad. Really bad. He doesn’t just kill muggle-borns, he mutilates them. He’s sick…and powerful. He’s one of the strongest Lucius holds. No one’s ever come out against him alive.”

Hermione felt ill. No one? What was this guy, a maniac? And why would Draco try to take him on?

“Ginny, where is he? Where were they going to find him?”

“Hermione you can’t possibly-,”

“Just tell me! Ginny, I have to know, tell me,” she pled.

“Hermione, I can’t. I can’t let you go out there-,”

“Damn it, Ginny! If you don’t tell me then I’ll find someone else who will! Where?”

“He’s at the dock,” Luna spoke up as Ginny shushed her. Luna shook the red-head off. “I’ll give you directions, if you want. There’s an aparition point close to it…”

“Directions will be fine,” Hermione said. She didn’t care if she had her powers back or not, she would not let Draco take the fall for this guy alone.

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Draco drew the edges of his cloak closer to his body and stared out at the murky water below him, the mist shrouding his vision. Stokes had moved into position as the others had. There were seven of them total, two following the mass-murderer from the dirty bar he used for his meetings, two hiding in the vacant building across from the seldom used dock, one above, invisible, ready to go for help should the need arise. Stokes was stationed behind the boat house, wand at the ready. Draco himself was bait. They had already taken out the lay-man who was supposed to meet Fargo here in precisely two minutes and twenty-six seconds. Draco’s stomach twisted, with nerves, with excitement. He had been waiting on this day for over two years. This was it; this was the end of that sick bastard’s life.

Draco cracked his neck, the sound echoing dully in the freezing night air. He shifted his weight from his heel to his toe, listening to the crunch of the snow beneath his feet. He hated waiting; he just wanted to get this over and done with, for better or worse.

Soon enough he could sense more than hear or see him approaching. Draco kept his hood up, hoping to stall long enough to take him out. Fargo’s boot hit the edge of the dock, the sound muffled by the coating of snow. Draco watched as his figure appeared, strutting. Draco wanted to smash the arsehole’s face in just for the simple movement.

“MacLeod. It’s been a while,” the Death Eater greeted.

“You have no idea,” Draco sneered then shot a quick stunner. There was a reason this guy had not been caught yet, he was fast, too fast. He deflected the spell and Draco had to duck away from the flash of red. By the time Draco was standing again the jerkoff had shot another spell and Draco dodged, throwing a Stinging Curse and catching Fargo in the side. He grunted and sashayed his wand, emitting blue flames which curled around Draco before he could fight it off. The burning pain caused him to cry out. He was dropped and he rolled, snow clinging to his black robes, his hood falling over his face. Ripping at the material he could see Stokes and Fargo engaged in battle. Draco quickly threw a shield in front of Carl, blocking him as he stumbled from a spell. Fargo turn on him and shouted “Confrigo!”.

Draco launched himself out of the way as a large portion of the dock exploded from the force of the spell and caught fire. He rolled to his feet and sent another Stunner in way of the Death Eater. He blocked it easily and Draco knew he would have to work with his silent hexes so Fargo would not hear him. Placing a quick block on his mind while throwing up a shield, Draco focused all his strength on his curses, deflecting with ease, but using far too much energy on the attacks. Stokes, he saw from the corner of his eye, ambled to his feet and caught Fargo with the Impediment Curse. Fargo stumbled, casting a spell at the same time. It hit the boat house instead of Stokes and the shed exploded, throwing Draco onto his face as he skated across the ground, forcing himself to a stop. His ears rang, his head pounded. Something sharp was digging into his back and he cried out as he reached back and found a large piece of wood embedded in his skin. He wrenched it out with a grunt and turned to where Stokes had been. A pile of flaming wood stood in its place. He crawled to his feet and limped for his friend until he was flat on his face again, his feet and hands bound. He was flipped over and he watched as Fargo ginned then lifted his wand, shooting the Killing Curse into the sky. Harrison, fell, his invisibility cloak slipping off his lifeless body, his broom dropping to the water below.

“Where are your other friends, little Draco? Are they hiding?” Fargo taunted. He threw his head back and laughed as the building where Tibbits and Sasha had been stationed imploded, caving in on itself, the dust curling upward towards the dark sky.

“No!” Draco croaked, realizing for the first time he didn’t have his wand, it had been knocked out of his hand during the explosion. He saw it out of the corner of his eye, resting among wood on the snow tewnty feet away, closer to Fargo than himself. He would never get to it. He struggled, wondering where in the hell Glisan and Montoya were.

“If you’re wondering about your little friends who followed me, you needn’t wonder anymore,” Fargo sneered, flicking his wand as two bodies dropped in front of him. Draco’s heart twisted as he thought of Glisan’s wife, Montoya’s two little girls.

“Now it’s just you and me, you sick fuck,” Draco shouted with some difficulty. He felt a sharp piece of metal digging into his forearm and nearly sighed in relief. The muggle way it was. He clasped the piece of metal, probably from a hinge on the boathouse and worked the ropes with it, his fingers catching on the sharp edge and slicing, coating the blade with blood until it was nearly too slippery to hold. “You think killing muggle-borns is fun? Think again, you messed with the wrong guy.”

“And what are you going to do, my wee little hellion? You’ve lost the advantage; you are now in my mercy.”

“Like hell I am!” Stall him, his mind kept telling him. He had to keep his talking. He kept his arms taut as the rope began to fray. “The only way you get ahead is by taking out those weaker than you. Take on a man face to face and see where it gets you.”

Fargo laughed, his wand still trained on Draco. “Say your goodbye’s, Draco, and be assured your father will reward me most dearly when I bring him the body of his biggest disappointment.”

“Avada-”

“No! Stupefy!” a familiar voice screamed. Fargo went flying, hitting the dock with unbelievable force. Draco turned towards the voice and his eyes widened. Hermione stood there, her eyes crazed, staring at her wand. She’d done magic. She seemed to snap out of her reverie and skid to a halt on her knees beside him.

“Oh Gods, Draco, you’re hurt!” she cried, cupping his face gently.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he yelled, angrier than he had ever been in his life. “Get out, get out of here!”

“No, I’m not leaving you. Finite Incatatum,” she muttered breathlessly and Draco wrenched his hands and feet apart.

“You bitch!” Fargo yelled. Draco moved to get in front of Hermione but the stabbing pain in his back overtook him, freezing his muscles and causing him to cry out. His vision went black momentarily, long enough to hear Fargo yell something and Hermione scream. He shook his head fiercely to clear it and dove for his wand. It was kicked out of the way and he was hit with the Cruciatus Curse. His body jerked under the pain and his eyes rolled. He swore he was on fire and would have beat it out if his arms hadn’t been snapped like twigs.

It ended and he gasped in the freezing air, his arms, still in one piece, pushing him up. He had to get to Hermione. He could hear the two voices shouting in the cold night air, the silencing spell place around the area keeping the muggles from hearing them. One was high, that of his lover, the other low, that of his enemy. His enemy, who wanted nothing more than to kill his lover, his lover wanting nothing more than to save himself. He searched for his wand, finding it half buried. He crawled to it, his body protesting at every move, the darkness calling to him. He gripped it and turned, his heart dropping as he watched Hermione fall to the ground. She rolled and shot another spell, dueling Fargo with apparent ease. Pushing himself to his feet as the scene before him spun, he moved to get good aim at Fargo, to take the bastard down. But he couldn’t get in a free shot at this angle, Hermione was always too close. She tripped Fargo, sending him to his knees and hitting him with another spell he couldn’t hear over the roaring in his ears. He fell, face first into the snow as Draco’s vision wavered. Before he knew what was happening he was keeling to the side, the snow coming up at him. He studied a piece of wood next to him as his world tilted and twisted out of control. He coughed, his body racking with it. The snow beneath him turned red.

She was there, turning him, her face that of a goddess. She was talking to him, but he couldn’t hear her words. She was grabbing him, lifting him. The last thing he saw as the darkness consumed him was her horror stricken face.

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A/N: I'm addicted to cliffies. I can't help it. I'm sadistic.

Short, yet again, but I think worth it. Curious as to why Hermione suddenly has her powers back? Heehee :)

XOXO

RynStar15