Abyss

Abyss

Draco swore under his breath and gritted his teeth in frustration, knowing that even if they outnumbered the Death Eaters they'd be lucky to get out of this alive. Mrs. Parkinson was not a fool, not like her daughter. She'd never let anyone other than the best guard her in a situation as dire as this.

Some of the wizards and witches looked about ready to pounce. "Steady," Weasley whispered, his eyes locked at the enemies. He probably recognized the severity of the situation as well and didn't want the others to act so irrationally. "Steady..."

Mrs. Parkinson looked at each of them, and her lips twitched when hers met Draco's eyes. Her mouth parted into a grand smile, before she turned and began to walk away. She was enticing him to follow her, and this he knew. Draco stepped forward, but Granger stopped him with a hand that gripped his arm desperately. "Don't follow her," she whispered, her eyes gazing forward. "That's what she wants you to do."

That's what I want to do, his mind reasoned, but his body heeded her warning. With difficulty he lifted his eyes off the retreating figure and focused on the others. It was fortunate he decided to, because at that moment they began to attack.

"Reducto!"

"Impedimenta!"

"Protego!"

An exchange of spells flew in the air, flames from curses and streams of green and red met, were exchanged viciously. Three minutes elapsed and two from their side fell down. Five minutes passed, and six were dead. Seven minutes. The fight continued, and their number continued to dwindle while the other remained steadfast in their offense and defense. Nine minutes. Then--

"Draco!"

He turned and saw Granger charge at him, hauling her body over his and causing them to stumble to the floor. A shot of green sailed over their heads, hitting a window instead of a body. Granger lifted herself, straddled him, and shouted, "Crucio!"

One of their fervent enemies went down on the floor screaming, drawing his knees to his chest and writhing in agony. A dark-haired wizard took the opportunity and finished the fallen enemy with a Killing Curse.

Draco was filled with awe; for a first Unforgivable Curse she truly did an amazing performance at executing it. "Impressive," he said.

Granger looked at him in a grave fashion. "He was trying to hurt you," she said simply. And quickly they regained their feet, faced separate enemies.

Weasley was able to eliminate a threat, shouting the Killing Curse at the top of his lungs. The battle was now down to three against six.

"Impedimenta!" shouted Granger, and a witch she was battling flew backwards and collided with a marble statue, causing it to topple over her. She gave a short shriek and then it was gone.

A sable-haired Death Eater produced a sharp knife from his robes. "Engorgio!" he yelled, and the sharp knife swelled into a sword-like weapon. He let it soar. The dark-haired wizard was unfortunately impaled at the throat.

Now it was two against five.

"Avada Kedavra!" A green rivulet emanated from Draco's wand and connected solidly with a wizard's forehead. He slumped gracelessly to the ground. "So much for the best," Draco muttered in triumph.

The battle was down to one against five.

The last remaining wizard looked around him in alarm, his wand at the ready. His eyes connected with Granger's, and reading his intention to kill her she swiftly pointed her wand at him.

A curse sealed his fate, and just as his body fell to the ground, so did hers.

"Hermione," Draco said, dropping to the floor and gathering her in his arms. Her shoulders shook with fervor and she entwined her arms around his neck, tears flowing incessantly from her eyes. "Shh," he soothed, trying in his best to calm her down. With a heart as big and good as hers, he couldn't imagine how awful she must feel, knowing that she had to be the reason for someone else's death, no matter how evil that person was, or how helpful it was for the cause.

"We have to move," Weasley spoke, and Draco looked at him, intending to bark and snap. But Weasley was looking at her with sympathy and compassion, and his words spoken not unkindly. He closed his mouth, and focused on her. He felt Granger nod against him, and he helped her up and wiped her tears with his hands.

She glanced at him, her eyes large and red. "Thank you. I'm fine now."

Weasley looked at the hall, with the bodies of the others littering the ground, and grimaced. "To the Great Hall, everybody," he said. He led the way, walking towards the door on the right.

Draco immediately headed towards the opposite direction.

*

Oh God oh God oh God...

Hermione closed her eyes and drew a deep, shaky breath, trying to cleanse herself from the vision of her enemy slumping to the ground, dead, because of her own doing. It was difficult, for her mind kept conjuring images of his final moments... how his eyes rolled up to his head, how his wand fell from his side, how he fell to the floor... dead dead dead dead dead...

She felt weak, tired, drained, and that was why she fell to the floor the moment her fiend did. She didn't know that using the curse was very exhausting, but it was. Hermione wondered for a moment how Malfoy and the others utilized this curse without feeling the way she did, but--

"Malfoy! What the--Malfoy, come back here!"

Bill's voice was clear and sharp against her hearing, and quickly she opened her eyes to see Malfoy's blond hair almost melding with the darkness. He would have disappeared from her view completely hadn't it been from the charm she used on her eyes. "Malfoy!" she choked.

He stopped at her call, and turned.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? I said we're going to the Great Hall!" Bill demanded.

Malfoy pursed his lips. "I'm done following you around like a dog, Weasley," he said, infuriated.

"Get back here Malfoy. That's. An. Order."

He looked at Bill, then at her, and back. "No. I have my own score to settle." Malfoy returned his gaze at her. "I'm sorry," he muttered, speaking the words only to her. Then he turned and ran.

"Draco..." You promised! Hermione took a step forward, and then faltered. You promised me you wouldn't leave my side! She knew where he was going, and with whom he was going to settle that score. But she also knew that he couldn't do what he wanted alone, unguarded, with his emotions having free reign over him like that. It could mean that he was heading towards death, and her throat and chest constricted in fear at the thought - she wouldn't allow that to happen. Not if she could help it.

He broke his promise and left her side, but that didn't mean she would break hers and leave his.

"Bill," she began, turning to the oldest Weasley. "Bill, we have to help him. He's in danger! He's going to--"

Bill shook his head. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he said. "But the order was clear. We have to go to the Great Hall." He cast an angry glare at the direction Malfoy took. "We can't waste any more time."

"Malfoy's not a boy anymore," the red-haired witch said. "He could take care of himself." The black-haired wizard nodded his agreement.

She was becoming desperate. Snakes slithered in her stomach at the thought of them abandoning Draco like this. They couldn't just leave him! "But--"

"Let's go." And Bill walked out, the other two flanking his heels.

At that moment, Hermione made her decision. She wouldn't walk away. Not on Malfoy. "I'm sorry, Bill," she whispered. Her feet not making any noise as she moved, she turned and followed the way Malfoy seized.

"HERMIONE!" she heard Bill call after her.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, tears searing her eyes again. She was never one who was happy from having to defy authority, but here she was, doing just that, committing something rash. Hopefully she'd see Malfoy alive so she could kill him.

She glanced behind her; saw that she couldn't figure out the silhouettes against the dark hallway. She knew she'd run pretty far from the others now. There was no turning back.

A dilemma confronted her soon after. In front of her lied two paths, one was leading to the right and the other, to the left. Throwing caution to the wind and hoping against hope she would choose the right one, she pivoted and headed towards the left.

A few minutes later, and she paused to catch her breath, her hand resting against the wall to prevent her from slumping to the floor. Her knees were buckling, her shoulders trembling. Hermione looked around her in dismay. She wasn't far behind Malfoy, so she knew she should've caught up with him ages ago. So why hadn't she--

"Lost, are you, my dear?"

The hair on her skin prickled and stood up. Her breath was lodged somewhere between her mouth and throat, emitting a choked sound. She straightened herself, gripped her wand tighter, turned...

...and saw Mrs. Parkinson beaming at her, an affectionate smile adorning her face. She twirled her wand around. "Don't you worry, dear. I'll help you find your way soon enough."

*

"A surprise indeed," Lucius continued, casually removing his glasses from his face and setting it down on the table beside layers of books. His hand discretely reached inside his robes, and Harry tensed, preparing himself for an attack.

Before he knew it, the books atop the table flew towards them, showering them with hardbound novels and volumes with weights to rival theirs. Harry went down on his knees as several tomes hit him on his chest, stomach, head. Snape, though, hurled the books away from him. But being busy with deflecting books he became unguarded and Harry's "Lookout!" came a bit too late. A Cruciatus curse impaled Snape, bringing him also to his knees.

Harry was never a friend of Snape's, but seeing him writhe in pain and agony was enough to make him feel overwhelmed with hate and anger that he felt for Lucius Malfoy.

"A traitor in my midst," Malfoy spoke, his voice deep, his face barely repressing his spite as he looked down on Snape. He walked around the desk, raised his wand, had it aimed at the professor. "I invited you in my home, shared my food, my company, my thoughts with you, and this... this treachery, is what I get in return?"

Snape was trying to catch his breath, sweat making his forehead glisten. On his face it was obvious that pain racked him still, rendering him unable to speak.

"Working for Dumbledore, are you, Severus? Ah. I see that the magnificent, all-knowing wizard had you blinded to his lies and foolishness. But as they say, only a fool would follow a fool." He flicked his wand. "And I'll see to it that Dumbledore would also follow you to the grave."

"That's enough, Malfoy!" shouted Harry. Grabbing a book nearest to him, he threw it at the older wizard.

Lucius stepped back and the book flew harmlessly in front of him. He curled his lip in displeasure. "The infamous Harry Potter," he said. "Always had to be the hero. Well. The Dark Lord would reward me handsomely if I could deliver him your head. Now be a good boy and hand it over to me."

"I'll bet he'd be more happy to have yours instead," Harry returned, gripping his wand tighter.

Snape made a coughing sound.

"Typical," sneered Malfoy, after a few moments of silence. "Only a boy who'd had absolutely no parental guidance could be so naïve and so crude at the same time, though I guess even with James' and Lily's presence you'd still be the pathetic nuisance that you are now."

Anger flared inside Harry, making his vision blurred, obscured for an instant. "Impedimenta!"

"Protego!"

And Harry, having copied what Malfoy did before, let the books before him fly towards the older man. As he was busy deflecting the spell he first sent Malfoy was sorely hit - on the head, arms, chest. He faltered, his pain evident on his face. An eye for an ey, Harry thought smugly. A pain for a pain.

"Expelliarmus!" Snape said, rising to his feet. Malfoy's wand shot from his hand and dropped to the floor.

Harry was relieved to see that Snape's pain appeared to have lessened, almost gone.

"Give it up Lucius," Snape drawled, standing ramrod straight, his pale face gaunt and tight. "You've lost Hogwarts. You've lost leadership. You've lost everything."

Both Harry and Snape were still too far from retrieving the wand, but Harry was confident that even if that was the case, with two wands pointed and ready to curse at him Malfoy was defenseless, defeated.

But their enemy proved to be undaunted by the sudden change of events. The corner of Lucius' mouth twitched. "No," he whispered. "Not quite everything."

With blinding speed, he knelt and retrieved his wand.

*

When faced with the end of the darkened hallway Draco picked the right and walked in it. He was wary; every scratch, every noise, every sound that met his ears was regarded with distrust. Constant vigilance. He mustn't let his guard down. Not when he was out hunting a formidable prey.

Suddenly, scurrying of feet reached his ears, and two large figures loomed in the distance in front of him, their bulky weight apparent as they ran. Draco squinted, trying to get a better look. "Goyle? Crabbe?"

They stopped, a few good meters still separating them. "D-Draco?" Goyle called.

"Is that you?" Crabbe added.

Draco paused, not knowing what to do. Had they been others, they would have been struck dead by now. But these two, they've been with him for the past seven years, offering their constant presence at his sides. The three of then weren't friends - at least, not the type of friendship exhibited by the Golden Trio - but their company, their flanking his feet like faithful dogs, was one of the things that remained true and steady during those times. Even if they were now playing at different, opposing sides, Draco knew he didn't want to hurt them. At least, not when it wasn't necessary. "It's me," he confirmed. "Where's Mrs. Parkinson?"

Goyle and Crabbe looked at each other, then at him. "Why should we tell you?" the former said, clumsily raising his wand and aiming it unsteadily.

"They've... they've told us you turned traitor on us," Crabbe muttered.

He had not the time for explanations. "Tell me what I need to know, and I'll let you both go."

The pair looked at each other again. "We don't want to hurt you, Draco," said Crabbe.

"It might be better if you just leave. We won't say we saw you."

They were still faithful to him, he realized. Both sides were reluctant to hurt each other, and that was a surprise. Perhaps they were the people Draco could call friends after all. "Where's Mrs. Parkinson?" It wasn't a question. It was a threat.

"We won't say," Goyle said.

They were both being stupid, stubborn Slytherins. "Then as reluctant as I am..." Draco raised his wand.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Draco watched, stunned, as Goyle dropped dead on the floor, life draining immediately from his face. Turning, he saw his mother impeccably separate from the shadows, her own wand raised as well.

Crabbe emitted a guttural, gurgling groan.

"Vincent," she said coldly, her face devoid of any emotion, "if you don't want to end up like Gregory then you better tell my son what he wants to know."

Crabbe dropped his wand to the floor, stepped back, stepped on Goyle's outstretched, lifeless hand and stumbled to the floor. "She's... she's on this floor, but on the other side. Please don't hurt me, please don't hurt me..."

Draco lowered his wand and looked away. Crabbe had potential; his large bulk formidable and fearsome. But here he was, making a fool out of himself. It was disgusting. He should be properly taught--

"Thank you Vincent," his mother said calmly. "Avada Kedavra."

"Mother!" he shouted, running towards Crabbe. But, like Goyle, he was also dead, his life wiped away in an instant. An uncomfortable feeling filled Draco as he stared at the two. Guilt. "You didn't have to kill them!" he gritted, gesturing at the Slytherins. "You didn't have to! I would've done something else to--"

"It was necessary," she said, lowering her wand. She pursed her lips. "He was a threat to you."

"A threat? Mother, you and I know he - they - are--" He winced, "--were too stupid to be a threat! Most especially to me! They weren't a threat!"

"Calm down," his mother said with a frown. "They're dead. We can't do anything more about it."

"No," another voice said. "You couldn't anymore, could you, Narcissa?"

Emilia Parkinson emerged from the shadows, the cruel, taunting smile still etched on her face. "I have to hand it to you - I never thought you had enough spine to kill." A harsh laugh bubbled from Mrs. Parkinson's mouth as she glanced at the dead bodies on the floor. "Well. I guess I owe you a favor. Those two were more of a nuisance than help. I'm sure I would've done the same had I been in your place."

The desire to permanently remove her presence was enough to drive him out of his mind. Draco stepped forward. "Shut up!" He raised his wand. "Impedi--"

"Crucio!"

From out of nowhere came the curse that knocked Draco off his feet. Pain pulsed and throbbed in him, running through him like fast-moving ice in his veins. He crumpled, writhed in despair, as wave after wave drowned him.

"Draco!" his mother said, rushing to his aid.

"Ah," Emilia said with a wide smile. She held a hand to the side and another grasped at it, entwined her fingers with Mrs. Parkinson's. "Thank you, my dear. Now kindly help me get rid of them."

Draco watched, through a haze of pain, as Hermione looked at him, her eyes glassy, blank, dead.

She raised her wand.

"Now," Mrs. Parkinson said, the devil on her face as she smiled. "You'd know how it feels to be killed by the person you love, boy."