Dare You to Move

Dare You to Move

By Inwitari

Snape's voice cut through the noiseless kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place like a knife. His greasy hair slung about his face and deep in Hermione's heart, she knew what was coming.

"Ronald Weasley has joined the Death Eaters." The silence seemed even more deadly than before.

Molly Weasley had cried, Ginny had gasped, Fred and George had stood in shock. Arthur had gripped a chair for support and Harry wasn't even there. He was in his room, sulking as usual. Hermione had ran from the dingy kitchen, chin held high, to the room she shared with Ginny. She sank to the floor.

"It's all your fault." The voices started whispering.

~.~

"I'm sorry but I cannot spy anymore. He has told them everything, including my true status as a member of the Order." Snape's voice dropped and became slower, he chose his words very carefully, "I was able to apparate away quickly before... too much pain was inflicted on me."

Albus Dumbledore sighed, "I must admit, I never saw this coming."

"Nor did I." Remus Lupin agreed.

Silence reverberated round the room once more.

~.~

"It's all your fault.

It's all your fault.

It's. All. Your. Fault."

~.~

2 years later

"Welcome to the planet

Welcome to existence."

Draco Malfoy smirked to himself, slumping back on the green velvet and silver trimmed recliner of his luxurious office in his newly inherited Manor. The plan was foolproof, even idiots like Crabbe and Weasley would be able to carry it out, he thought to himself, selecting a cigar from the wooden box on his oak and green felt desk.

He gave a satisfied sigh as he lit the cigar with the fire from the tip of his wand and took a long puff. Oh how he would love to see the look on that Mudblood's face when she found out her precious parents were dead. He could imagine the look in her eyes as her heart broke into tiny little pieces. Would she want to see the scene for herself? Make sure it was real? Would she know he was behind it? Would it make her angry? Would she want revenge? Draco laughed to himself. Granger thought she was so high and mighty, but that would just make it even more fun when she fell.

He smiled and blew out a cloud of grey smoke. Almost the same colour as his dark soul. He laughed sardonically at the irony of it.

~.~

The Order stood once again the kitchen of their Headquarters. Since the death of Dumbledore three months previously, Professor Minerva McGonagall had taken over the running of Hogwarts, and Hermione was now in charge of the Order of the Phoenix. Her sharp mind had quickly adapted to military tactics and her ability to spot a trap a mile away had saved more than a few lives. Her performance in the skirmishes that had followed Harry's graduation had earned her the respect of many members of the Order, despite her youth.

Regardless of the relative success of the Order under Hermione's guidance, the girl had withdrawn into a world of her own since Ron joined Lord Voldemort. She had enough clarity of mind to plan ambushes and to fight when she was needed, but the rest of the time she liked to spend alone, or with Harry, trying to get him to cheer up. Harry was a lost cause. Most had given up on breaking his bad mood years ago. Ginny and Hermione were some of the few who still tried. Sometimes Hermione thought that Ginny was the only one whose voice Harry could actually hear.

There was a knocking at the door, interrupting the meeting. Everyone jumped. "I'll get it," Hermione said, getting up from her chair at the table, on which there were some maps with moving black and white wooden figures. The figures were of Hermione's own invention; they helped show in a practical way the exact details of how each attack would be carried out. Hermione simply told the figures where to move to on the map, talking through the plans with members of the Order. She had gotten the idea from Ron's chess set. At the thought of Ron her chest constricted and breathing became hard. She pushed the thought aside, as she had been doing since that night two years ago.

Tip-toeing quietly through the hallway, so as not to wake the portraits, Hermione opened the front door to find Bill Weasley standing in the rain, his long red hair falling out of his regular ponytail so it obscured his left eye. He gently pushed past Hermione in a rush to get inside. He stood in the hall for a few seconds, head bent. "You're a little late for the meeting, Bill." Hermione sighed, closing the door, "Did Mundungus not arrive on time to help you set up the wards?" Bill didn't answer. "Bill, where's Harry?" Hermione asked more urgently, she was beginning to be concerned for Bill in his dejected state. Without saying a word, Bill turned and strode into the kitchen, his long earring dangling as he went. Hermione ran after him, feeling her stomach twist in knots as she noticed the blood on Bill's previously pristine white shirt. She had been so wrapped up in him being late she hadn't even noticed. Bill had been at the Granger household, protecting Hermione's family. She felt her heart speed up as she raced to the kitchen, fearing the worst.

"He's dead." Bill stated flatly, "Ron is dead." The red blood staining Bill's clothes was of the same basic type as his own. His brother's blood. His young brother's blood, barely nineteen.

In answer to Hermione's worried glance Bill added, "We obtained our objective. The Grangers are safe and the newly designed wards are securely in place."

"But at what cost?" Hermione whispered, torn between relief and grief, her face hidden in her hands.

~.~

"Everyone's here

Everyone's here

Everybody's watching you now

Everybody waits for you now

What happens next?

What happens next?"

"A most sincere loss, Master." Dolohov repeated to the Dark Lord, sitting on a raised platform on his green and silver throne. It was rather presumptuous to possess such a throne, but you could be as presumptuous as you bloody well liked when you were going to be the ruler of the world.

"MALFOY!" Voldemort screeched. Dolohov fell backwards down the step of the platform to resume his place.

A figure in black stepped forward from the line of Death Eater's on their knees before the stage. They kneeled rigidly, more disciplined than in previous years, one Death Eater indistinguishable from another; except for the man who stepped forward. He was not of the same strict conformity of the others, through his dark hood the occasional wisps of blonde hair escaped. Usually it was gelled back in a neat display, but today the man did not have the time to think of his appearance before he was dragged forcibly out of his lavish house.

"What went wrong, Malfoy? I thought you told me your plan was foolproof." The Dark Lord spoke softly, yet even through the gentleness of Lord Voldemort's voice, Draco feared his destruction was near.

The blonde-haired man gulped as the line of Death Eaters twisted slightly to stare at the man whose fate rested on the answer to one question.

~.~

Molly was being comforted by Arthur, but the Weasley children had their jaws set and their eyes staring unblinkingly forward. They would have reminded Hermione of the people who had been Kissed by Dementors, if it weren't for the determination in their eyes. Brother or no brother, they would not cry for a traitor.

Bill took a deep fortifying breath, "Harry is injured, he's been taken to St. Mungo's. They're not sure if he'll..." No one needed to hear the rest. Hermione had already slouched against the wall at this point, but at these words she slipped soundlessly to the floor.

The Order turned to look at Hermione, the planner. What were they going to do now? What would happen if Harry didn't pull through? They knew it was a bad time, but they needed guidance, and Hermione was the only person left after Dumbledore's... departure.

They didn't realise- it was Hermione's fault. Ron would have been there in that kitchen, safe and sound, if it hadn't been for her. Tears began to trickle from Hermione's dark eyes.

~.~

"I am very sorry, Master. This will not happen again, I can..." Draco tried to explain, ascending the steps to the platform.

A sharp voice cut through his, "Crucio!"

Draco screamed and fell to the cold grey floor. He remembered the cloud of cigar smoke was almost the same colour as the floor. What was it he had thought? "Almost the same colour as my dark soul." He would have laughed sardonically at the irony of it, but he felt like that soul was being torn to pieces as everything he believed in, everything he had worked for, shattered and withered before his tear filled eyes. The pain ripped through him as he writhed on the ground.

~.~

"I dare you to move,

I dare you to move,

I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor.

I dare you to move,

I dare you to move,

Like today never happened,

Today never happened before."

The assembled Death Eaters paused their bombardment of curses to allow Lord Voldemort to glide to the centre of the circle and kick the unmoving body on the floor in front of him.

"Get up, Malfoy."

The body gave an involuntary spasm and coughed. His dark robes had been taken away, and he lay in a pool of crimson, his black shirt soaked and his expensive, smart black trousers ripped.

Voldemort leaned down to whispered in his ear, "I dare you to defend yourself. It will make this more interesting. Come on, get up." Draco Malfoy shuddered as the cool breath of his murderer touched his delicate ear, increasing the pounding in his head tenfold. He was now in no doubt, he was going to die.

~.~

"Hermione, dear," Mrs. Weasley croaked. She waited for a reply before continuing, "Hermione?"

Hermione's bushy hair was covering her face, her head in her hands, the tears continuing to spill from her chocolate brown eyes. They couldn't see her cry, she had to make sure of that. She had to be strong. She had to get up. Everyone was waiting for her. She took a steadying breath and discreetly wiped her tear-stained face.

~.~

"Welcome to the fallout."

"I do believe you have served your purpose, Mr. Malfoy." Voldemort stood up and said, idly twiddling his wand in his hands. The circle of Death Eater's laughed heartily at this joke. The Dark Lord had fallen out with his favourite pet.

Draco did something then that no one expected. He stood, albeit shakily, and faced the Dark Lord, "Yes," he snarled with as much energy as he could muster, "I suppose I have."

Even the Dark Lord couldn't conceal the shock on his face.

~.~

"Welcome to resistance."

Hermione stood. The blood rushed to her head, but she was standing, looking defiant as always. The strong leader of the resistance. She gave a small, encouraging smile, "Harry will be alright. And the boy that died..." A few members of the Order looked shocked, she was going to mention Ron, "Wasn't the boy we knew. Remember that. The boy that died was something that Voldemort created. He. Was. Not. Ron." Hermione enunciated carefully.

Suddenly there was a banging on the door and Tonks ran into the kitchen, unaware of the news the others had just received. "New intelligence..." she gasped, falling into a chair, "Death Eater attack. Tomorrow. Hogwarts."

There was a collective gasp.

"Surely he is not strong enough to attack Hogwarts yet."

"It's impossible"

"This can't be true!"

"Oh yes, it can." Hermione murmured sadly. Welcome to the resistance, where there is no time to mourn.

~.~

"Maybe redemption has stories to tell."

Using the last of his strength, Draco apparated away from the Dark Lord, away from his torment and away from the only life he had known.

He forced one foot in front of the other as he unsteadily walked through the barren streets of Hogsmeade, the rain battering him and the once colourful signs of the famous wizarding village fading and falling into non-existence. He had to get somewhere safe, if he stayed outside in this weather he would surely die.

A little voice in his head told him he had nothing to live for anyway.

What were his choices? One: returning to the Dark Lord and facing his fate. Impossible. Two: Running. Trying to pass himself off as a neutral in this war, but he couldn't spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder. Besides, Voldemort would find him in the blink of an eye. Three: Joining the other side. Begging for their protection, far superior (he admitted grudgingly) to the protection he could create for himself. Of course, the most feasible course of action was the third choice... but redemption? Pah. Being on the "good side" with Potty and that Mudblood Granger and those disgusting half-bloods and muggle loving... No. Redemption was not for Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin and the Epitome of a Pureblood. He would not sacrifice his pride and go begging to them.

A little voice in his head piped up. Who would forgive a monster like him anyway?

~.~

"Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell."

Hermione had ran to her room again. The voices returning to her, "It's all your fault."

If only she had lied. If only she had told Ron that she loved him too. Why was she such an idiot? Why did she have to laugh at him the way she did? There he was, declaring his undying love for her, putting his heart out on the line and she had thought he was joking. Hermione had laughed at him and told him to stop being stupid. When she saw the hurt look his face she knew he was telling the truth. She tried to apologise, to explain she hadn't meant to laugh and tell him it would never happen. If only she had been more tactful. For once, Hermione had been the insensitive one, and it had cost Ron his life.

Forgiveness? Pah. Hermione could never forgive herself for what she had done. She felt sick, deep down in her stomach. She couldn't stand to be who she was, she didn't even want to be around herself anymore.

The walls seemed to be closing in on her. She couldn't breathe. Hermione ran out of the house and into the street, it was just dark enough to apparate.

~.~

"Where can you run to escape from yourself?

Where you gonna go?

Where you gonna go?"

Malfoy was nearing the end of the main street in Hogsmeade. Where was he going to go now? His strength was failing and his vision was coming and going. He had to choose where to go to die. He understood that now. No more childish games, he was a man now, and he was going to prove it by quietly dying somewhere of his own choice, not lying in a pool of his own blood at the feet of the man that had forced him to become a monster, imploring forgiveness.

Strangely enough, he found his feet taking a familiar route. Hogwarts was near. He found it funny that the place he was choosing to spend his last moments was the one place he couldn't wait to get out of as a child. As he walked, he wondered what life would have been like if he had been sorted into Gryffindor, or if he had different parents, or maybe if he had befriended Potter, Granger and Weasley.

Draco stumbled and fell through the gates to the place he had once called home.

~.~

Hermione apparated without thinking. Dangerous, the studious side of her brain chided. She could have splinched herself.

But she didn't. Instead Hermione found herself just outside Hogwarts. Strange where your subconscious chooses to go. Through the veil of rain she gazed at the old stone building, a fortress, impenetrable, foreboding and yet... the most beautiful and heart-warming place she could imagine. She slipped through the gates to the place she had once called home.

~.~

"Salvation is here."

He was hallucinating. He had to be. He thought he had just seen a figure walk through the gates, open as though Hogwarts had been expecting them.

The red robed form stood out against the green and grey background. Draco shivered, remembering his lack of a proper covering. He could feel life ebbing away as the figure gasped and ran to him through the shimmering rain.

~.~

Draco Malfoy. Death Eater and Sworn Enemy. Her wand was drawn before she had known who he was. His breathing was ragged, but at least he still had breath.

Hermione looked down at the chiselled face of her bully. He looked like an angel when his malicious eyes were closed, the eyes that could convey so much hate. She bit her bottom lip as her head waged a ruthless war. Save a human being, or kill a monster?

Suddenly, she saw Ron's face in her mind. Guilt temporarily smothered her. Her actions had been the last straw, the thing that pushed Ron into the arms of Lord Voldemort. Didn't everyone deserve a chance? Wasn't that why she had created SPEW? To create equality for all? Didn't Draco deserve the right to live? She didn't believe in much anymore, but she found herself believing that Draco Malfoy, Pureblood extraordinaire, could change. It was stupid, but she wanted to believe in him. The way she hadn't believed Ron. Draco was her salvation. Her shot at atonement.

She knew she could save him, quickly assessing his wounds Hermione muttered a few healing spells that would last long enough to get him to St. Mungo's. She slipped off her cloak and slipped it over his shivering body.

From a private room high in the towers of Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall watched, and smiled.

~.~

Draco felt sheer disbelief as he slipped into unconsciousness, a Mudblood, no, a person had saved him. Hermione Granger, his salvation.

~.~

"I dare you to move,

I dare you to move,

I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor.

I dare you to move,

I dare you to move,

Like today never happened

Today never happened."

Hermione sat in a sterilised white room with Harry's bed on one side and Draco's on the other. She held Harry's hand, but was still unsure of what to do for Draco except watch over him. She wasn't sure what she could do, but she was determined not to let Draco return to the life he had once led.

Neither of the boys moved. Hermione squeezed Harry's hand tighter. "Please wake up." She pleaded, searching Harry's face, but she was talking to both boys.

Hermione fell asleep a few hours later, still sitting upright in her chair.

~.~

"The tension is here,

The tension is here,

Between who you are and who you could be;

Between how it is and how it should be."

Draco woke after a tumultuous sleep. He had dreamt Voldemort had been angry with him, he dreamt he had been hurt, a Mudblood had saved him and... he was grateful? No, that couldn't be right.

Sitting up in the bed that definitely felt inferior to his own... It wasn't his bed. That was the first thing he noticed. The second was the white sheets. Eugh. White. The third was his white pyjamas. He was wearing pyjamas! What on earth was going on?! Was that Potter? Draco felt sick.

Then he noticed her. Sleeping on the chair, looking like an angel with her eyes closed, the eyes that could show so much contempt for him and yet light up a room when she laughed with Potter and Weasley. Hermione Granger, the only person who could make him shiver with a glance; his salvation. It was all coming back to him now.

He was suddenly struck with panic, what if she only brought him here to get healed, then it was straight to Azkaban for arrogant Malfoy? What if this was to extract her revenge? What if... Wait. They wouldn't have put him in the same room as precious Potter if they thought he was a threat. There were no visible restraints around him, no Dementors floating about. Were they intending to send him to Azkaban later?

He couldn't go back to Voldemort, that was for sure. In fact, he wasn't even sure if he wanted to. His whole life he had been taught to fear, bow to and respect that emaciated excuse for a human being. He was tired. Tired of living out Lucius' dream for his life. Tired of being everything that everyone expected of him, and tired of being treated like dirt and working so hard for something he wasn't even certain he believed in.

Hermione shifted and Draco held his breath. He let it out again when she merely resumed sleeping, but her head was now on Draco's bed.

Tilting his head to get a better look at her, he realised he wanted to touch her. Reaching out a hand he lightly brushed it across her cheek.

Hermione sprang up, hitting the top of her head on Draco's chin. "Ouch." Draco said, in the tone of a three year old who had just been told he wasn't allowed any sweets.

"Sorry." Hermione muttered, blushing, "Quick reflexes, learnt that over the years. Not a very deep sleeper."

"Not able to form sentences very well either it seems, Mud..." Draco replied sarcastically, cutting himself short at the end.

Hermione looked as though he had hit her. She had really believed he could change.

Draco stared at the sheets in front of him, "I'm sorry, Hermione."

Hermione's mouth gaped at the sound of her name from his lips. She took a daring step, reaching forward and gently pulling his chin so he was facing her and she could look into his eyes. There was no sign of malice. He was like a sleeping angel again. Those grey eyes could be so beautiful when they weren't so full of hate.

Hermione touched his chin with surprising tenderness and pulled his face towards hers. He looked into her eyes, his mouth hanging slightly open. Her eyes still made him shiver, but it felt different this time. She was like a sleeping angel again. Those brown eyes could be so beautiful when they weren't so full of contempt.

"I know what you did, and, thank you, Hermione." Draco whispered.

"No, thank you, Draco." Hermione replied. Draco looked confused. Hermione doubted she would ever tell him the true reason she had saved him.

Hermione's hand dropped to the bed, but the eyes of the two old enemies remained locked for a long time after, neither of them wanting to move.

"I dare you to move,

I dare you to move."