#4 ~ The \"Up Against the Wall\" Wars

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine.
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Chapter 29 ~ She Still Breathes


Draco almost hardened with glee as he watched the couple turn down an adjacent pathway that took them out of the line of sight of the gate. He motioned to his deatheaters to move in, half working their way past the couple and half remaining behind. Draco himself, fell in step directly behind them, stopping to pull up a flower here and there as the deatheaters positioned themselves.

It was all Severus could do not to turn and attack. But he had to wait until they had all drawn close to attack together, he couldn’t afford to have any at a distance. He doubted if they would go for wand play, because any blitz of defensive or offensive spellwork, even if not unforgivables, would attract Ministry attention and warrant immediate investigation. They wouldn’t want the aurors to appear and thwart them. It would mean going completely underground again. Severus fingered his hidden shortsword, wishing they would rush in already. He glanced sidelong at the witch beside him.

Hermione was breathing deeply, as if centering herself. Her hands were clenching and unclenching, in the unconscious sign of readiness he had come to recognize. She was ready to fight. As several deatheaters sauntered past them in the guise of choosing blooms, Severus slipped his arm out of Hermione’s, giving her a subtle nod. Wait…wait…

Suddenly Hermione felt herself caught in a bone-crushing grasp around the waist, her arms pinned against her body.

“Gotcha, you mudblood bitch!” Draco breathed in her ear. Instinctively she pressed her stone charm, then stepped forward, dropped and gave Draco a powerful elbow to the mid-section just as he apparated…

…and landed with a bang on the floor of his Manor…alone.

He hopped up to his feet, gasping and clutching his midsection. “What the fuck! Where is she?” he yelled, furious, before apparating back to the gardens.

The deatheaters had hurled themselves at Severus en masse when Draco grabbed Hermione. The Potions Master spun, using the wicker basket like a club and knocked most of them back as he drew his shortsword with a blood-curdling yell. A deatheater dove at him from behind, driving a shining dagger downward at his back. Severus reversed his sword and drove it backward, leaning forward, and stepping to the side. He felt it penetrate flesh and ripped upward, drawing it back, glistening with blood. The deatheater fell, neatly gutted from belly to sternum. An arm slipped around his throat and he spun, flinging the deatheater over his back into another charging wizard, then slashing with his sword.

Hermione released the stone charm just as a deatheater grabbed her around the neck and another caught her by the legs, stretching her out. She drew her blade and drove it into the thigh of the deatheater behind her, and he screamed, dropping her, and she landed on her elbows and drew her legs in so the deatheater holding her legs was pulled off balance and toppled on top of her. He drew his dagger, but not before Hermione drove her own into his deep into his side and ripped upward, pushing him off of her, blood covering her blade and her hand. She leaped to her feet just as another deatheater charged her, and she stepped to the side, extending her leg, tripping him and he flew face-first into the stonework surrounding a flower setting, and lay still.

She heard Severus cursing and challenging the deatheaters, and the sounds of blows falling as several deatheaters dove at him at once, bringing him down. She screamed and charged the mass of wizards on top of her lover, kicking, punching and driving her blade into as many as she could reach, when she was savagely pulled back by her hair by Draco Malfoy, who swung her around and flung her to the ground. Her dagger flew out her hand, landing several feet away.

Snarling, the blonde-haired wizard dove at her, and she rolled swiftly out of his reach, springing to her feet and crouching. From her viewpoint, she could see Severus back on his feet, struggling with three deatheaters, two were lying still on the ground. He didn’t have his sword. He caught one with a bone-crushing elbow to the face. The deatheater staggered back, blood streaming from his mouth and nose

“Learned a few tricks, eh mudblood,” Draco sneered, circling her and feinting. Hermione’s eyes slid back to the blonde wizard and she spun slowly following his motions. Draco flung himself at her and she stepped aside, hitting him with a smashing right cross in passing that staggered him. He clasped the side of his face, which was bruising. Furious, he charged her again, and again she stepped aside, this time kicking him hard in the ass as he sped by. He landed hard, sprawled on the ground, his face in the dirt. He scrambled back to his feet.

“I’m going to kill you,” he snarled, drawing his wand and shaking with fury. Fuck the Ministry. Fuck the Aurors. He wanted her dead, and dead now.

Hermione frantically felt for her wand which she had inserted in the sheath thong. It must have be knocked loose…it wasn’t there. She twisted her ring, and before Draco’s stunned eyes, liquefied and melted away. He spun around, looking for her, and suddenly his wand was torn from his hand, hovered in the air and then snapped in half. Hermione reappeared, grinning evilly, dropping the pieces at her feet.

“If you’re going to kill me, you’re going to have to do it the muggle way,” she said, her eyes narrowed.

“Fine, bitch,” Draco snarled drawing a dagger. “That’s been a dream of mine ever since you first came to Hogwarts.”

Hermione’s knife was still laying on the ground a distance away. She could hear Severus still battling the remaining deatheaters. Drawing a deep breath, she took a defensive stance, watching Draco. He ran at her, the dagger slashing down viciously. Her arm flew up blocking the blade with great force. Hermione spun, catching him on the side of the face with a powerful roundhouse, knocking him to the ground. It was very satisfying. She was about to crush his blade hand with her foot, when two great arms came up under her arms and locked behind her neck, pulling her back in a full nelson. She struggled to topple the weight of her attacker forward, but he was well planted, like stone. It was Goyle. He laughed stupidly, blood running from his mouth. Draco stood up, twirling his dagger.

Hermione’s heart almost stopped beating. She saw three deatheaters had Severus, a blade to his throat, arms held behind him. Several deatheaters lay unmoving around him. He had a gash on the side of his face, and it looked as if his nose was broken. He was watching her

Draco walked up to Hermione, and spit in her face.

“Now, you’re mine, mudblood. I’ve got plans for you. You like fucking Slytherins,” here he cast a hateful look at the seething Severus, who had death in his eyes, “There are plenty at the manor, who will be happy to oblige you.”

He turned to Severus.

“I was going to let you watch, you traitorous piece of shit,” Draco said, looking at the dead deatheaters littering the ground.“but you’re too much trouble.”

He looked at the deatheater who held the dagger to Severus’ neck.

“Slit his throat. Let her watch him die,” he sneered.

“Noooo!” cried Hermione, struggling in the laughing Goyle’s iron grasp.

Before the deatheater could move, he was hit with a powerful blast of magic that blew him several feet away. He landed, and didn’t move again.

“You will not harm my master!” Eli cried, frowning, both hands still extended in front of him.

“What’s this? A fucking house-elf?” Draco said, staring at the small creature.

Goyle swallowed. “Ah, Draco…it’s not a house-elf. It’s a bunch of them.”

Standing a bit away from Eli, stood about twenty house elves, all snarling, ears flattened in anger, showing row upon row of glistening sharp teeth. And to add insult, he recognized Leaf Ear, snarling with the rest of them.

The deatheaters holding Severus, let him go. The Potions Master rewarded this by raining furious blows and kicks on both of them until they lay on the ground, arms flung up in front of them, begging for mercy. He then retrieved his sword and began walking purposely towards Draco. Several house-elves moved in to cover the fallen men, snarling viciously, daring the deatheaters to make one move.

Hermione took this moment to invoke her fire charm. Goyle screamed and flung her away. She ran for her dagger and retrieved it. Goyle made to go for her again, when several small green streaks charged him at amazing speed and dragged him to the ground screaming as they tore at him viciously. When they parted, blood gurgled from his throat like a fountain. His face was next to unrecognizable, and his gaily flowered robes were bloodied and ripped to shreds.

Hermione saw Severus closing on Draco.

“No!” she said to Severus, holding up her hand, “he’s mine.”

Severus stopped, his eyes meeting Hermione’s. He nodded his head, and folded his arms. His heart however, was skipping in his chest. If Draco harmed her, he would take his head.

Draco’s eyes shifted, taking in the scene. Over half of his deatheaters were dead or mortally wounded. Those that were functional were guarded by the vicious little house-elves. He was alone now. He looked at Hermione…maybe he could still get some satisfaction, some vindication. He lowered himself, tossing his dagger from hand to hand as he approached Hermione, his ice-blue eyes narrowed with determination. Let Snape see his bitch die.

He moved cautiously. Hermione wasn’t the helpless Gryffindor princess he remembered any more. She was lethal. His eyes hardened with hatred. Something else she managed to excel at. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. She was a freak, a witch born from muggles, something that shouldn’t ever have been. She should have been killed in the womb. Aborted. Well, he’d correct that little error, and avenge the Dark Lord and his father in the process. He just wished he could have had at her just one good time, had an opportunity to violently teach her, her proper place in his world order before she died..

The house-elves watched in silence, Leaf Ear especially. They knew not to interfere. Eli looked up at his master pensively, worried for him, hoping that he would not lose his best secret.

Hermione eyed the young wizard who had been her nemesis all through school, and who held so much hatred for her that he made her a primary target for torture, pain and death in adulthood.. For what? Because she simply was. Like she had a choice in this. He hated her long before the fall of Voldemort, before the death of his father. She knew in his mind, she had no right to exist. No right to excel. No right to be anything of worth. And he would kill her if he could, to right what he felt was a grievous error of nature. She also suspected, there was an undercurrent of desire, that he was ashamed of…that he blamed her for. He did try to fuck her once. And she was sure part of his twisted plan had been to succeed where he had failed before. Well, it finally came down to this. She had to earn her right to live.

Hermione began to move toward Draco. No more dancing. This had to end now. They both rushed at each other, bodies clashing, hands to wrists as they struggled to hold the enemy blade away and let their own strike. Desperation made Hermione strong, but hatred drove Draco on. His blade slowly came down, the tip cutting into her shoulder, before she twisted, and flung him away, diving after him. Draco fell on his back and just managed to get his leg up as Hermione fell toward him, her dagger extended. He caught her and kicked her away, leaping to his feet and charging her as she fell, his dagger extended, driving down toward her breast. She barely managed to roll away, and brought her heel down savagely on his spine when he landed, before crouching and leaping for him again, hoping to strike before he could turn over. She landed a glancing blow on his lower hip, a long thin line of blood colored his blue cotton shirt. He elbowed her in the face, and blood flowed from her nose as she rolled away and jumped to her feet. She wiped at the blood, looked at it and dried her hand on the front of her dress, now filthy from rolling on the ground.

Order members apparated all around them, too late, but collecting the surviving deatheaters and binding them. Tonks and Kingsley watched Hermione battle Draco, as did Minerva, her eyes narrowed, egging the young witch on even as she feared for her. She knew better than to interfere…or the killings would continue.

Draco charged at Hermione, this time slashing wildly. She blocked the blows with equal swiftness, her bracelet blocking the knife magically, giving her the advantage. Draco gave a particularly nasty swing, and his arm was knocked away, leaving his chest wide open. Hermione didn’t hesitate, and plunged her blade into the wizard’s heart to the hilt, jerking it upward and pulling it out. Blood poured from the wound..

Draco stiffened, his eyes wide in amazement. He grasped at the mudblood’s arms desperately trying to keep from losing his balance. His heart hurt and his legs wouldn’t hold him up. He felt something wet and warm running down his chest. The world was dimming. He felt himself drop to the ground, saw shadows gathering around him. It felt like a troll was sitting on top of him…he couldn’t draw a deep breath. He was dying, he knew. She’d killed him. Maybe…he would see his father. Maybe there was another place the Dark Lord reigned. A place free of traitors and mudbloods and idiots. That would be…the perfect heaven. He drew one last ragged breath, and left his pain behind.

Hermione stood over Draco’s body, looking at the blonde lashes curled against his cheeks in death, his handsome face expressionless now. She wished he would have died with open hatred etched there. It would have made looking at him easier. She felt hands on her, gently pulling her away from the dead wizard, cool, pale hands turning her into a strong, lean body, breathing deeply, and then there were arms tightening around her, and a strong heart beating against her. A hand reaching into her tangled hair and leaning her head forward. A strong chin settling on the top of her head.

Her arms hung loosely at her sides. She felt the slippery handle of her blade easing from her fingers, heard it fall to the earth. There were voices all around her. The flash of a camera and more voices, angry now, moving away swiftly. And still she was held close. Then she smelled the scent of a rose, the soft petals held to her nose. She reached up and took it, still pressing it against her nose.

A silken voice whispered softly, “A flower Hermione, because my love, you still breathe.”

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A/N: This was a hard chapter to write. Please read and review and let me know your thoughts, especially about Draco’s death. Thanks