So Predictable

I knew it all along
You're so predictable
I knew something would go wrong
So you don't have to call
Or say anything at all
So predictable

He ran down the corridor, searching for her. Despite glancing in every nook and cranny, he didn't even get a glimpse of her hair.

He stopped, mid-corridor. A war was going on out on the grounds, and she had been captured. He'd seen the bodies of her captors, but there was no trace of her.

Panting, he went to his left. A mistake. There was a small group of Death Eaters standing in the middle of the corridor, discussing which way they should go. They spotted him before he could hide.

"Time to die, scum," sneered Bellatrix Lestrange.

He didn't want to die. It wasn't out of self-love, or personal survival, or even fear. He wasn't scared to die, he just wanted to make sure she was all right before he died.

Calmly, he pulled out his wand. When Bellatrix started to hiss something, most likely the Killing Curse, he simply said, "Stupefy." Her unconscious body fell to the ground. The other two charged.

He didn't know these two. While he knew hulking forms like theirs, he did not know them. Dodging their searching hands--the masks they were wearing looked hard to see out of--he turned as he ran past them to cast a quick "Stupefy" their way. He bound all of them before running off, wand in hand, ready for danger.

He heard voices. Severus Snape's was one. Another was Filius Flitwick's. Coming out of hiding, he stood dead center in the hallway, shoulders slumped.

"What's the matter?" Snape asked.

"I can't find her, sir," he admitted. "What if she's," he gulped, "dead?"

Snape glowered at him. "Pull yourself together, boy," he snapped. "You'll find her. Now go."

He nodded abruptly and dashed off. Near the Great Hall, he stopped and grinned.

Of course!

I knew it all along
You're so predictable

I knew something would go wrong

He turned, and ran up the marble staircase, pushing a Death Eater down the long flight of stairs before he could cast his nefarious spell.

He rushed to a pair of heavy oaken doors. They were locked.

"Alohomora!" he yelled, not caring if people--namely Death Eaters--heard him. The doors didn't budge. Frustrated, he shouted, "Incendio!" The doors burst into flame. After a minute, he kicked the flaming remnants down.

Running to the Charms section--it was her favorite, he remembered--he heard Lucius Malfoy hissing something.

"You good-for-nothing Mudblood whore," Lucius spat. "You pollute everyone who comes near you. I should just kill you now and rid the world of your filth."

He moved silently to stand slightly behind Lucius. "You do, and I'll kill you," he said, wand trained on the older man's throat.

Lucius sneered at him. "You," he hissed. "You're no better than your Mudblood whore of a girlfriend. You aren't worth enough to lick my boots."

He cringed at Lucius's words. "Surrender, then."

"Never," Lucius spat.

"Then you die," he said calmly. "Avada Kadavra!"

Lucius's lifeless form fell onto the chair in which he had fallen in love with her. He kicked the body onto the floor with disgust.

Walking over to her shaking form, he put his hands on her shoulders, murmuring soothingly.

"D-Draco?" Hermione sputtered. "Lucius-- He--"

"Shh, love," Draco said softly. "It'll be fine."

Hermione dove into Draco's arms, crying.

"Just be glad of one thing," Draco said a few minutes later.

"Wh-What?" Hermione asked, cried out.

"That you're so predictable," Draco told her, voice muffled by her hair.

Hermione laughed and hugged Draco harder.

I knew it all along
You're so predictable
I knew something would go wrong
So you don't have to call
Or say anything at all
So predictable