The Fractured Flame | Draco Malfoy Love Story

Chapter Eight: Wake Up Call

"Diffindo."

"Crucio."

"Confringo."

"Locomotor Mortis."

"Stupefy."

"Expelliarmus."

"Relashio."

"Incarcerous."

"Crucio."

Ryusaki glanced at him, furious. "Avada Kedavra."

Many of the different spells hit Draco with no where to go as he only made the conscious effort to dodge the Killing Curse. Pain consumed him, causing him to buckle to his knees as the robed figures began to surround him. A wand was pressed against the underside of his jaw and dug in painfully, but at this point his entire body was in anguish and he was bleeding profusely.

Bollocks.

If he made it out of this alive, Theodore Nott was going to owe him that prized bottle of 1740 Elf-Made wine the selfish bastard kept locked up.

As the Killing Curse was about to escape Ryusaki's mouth again, the bitter thought echoed in his mind again.

If he made it out of this alive.

Wake Up Call

Hermione had been peacefully sleeping. She was on her side with her knees bent and Crookshanks nestled behind her legs, blissfuly soaking in the warmth and cuddles. That all changed when Ginny stumbled into her room, slamming the door open as the only witch to have the permission from the wards to Apparate into her apartment.

"Wake up! I need you! You still have your healer kit from when you and Harry were on the run, right? Where is it?!" Ginny shouted worriedly, flickering on all the lights with a wave of her hand.

Crookshanks hissed at her before darting off into the living room where the throw blanket would coax him back to sleep. Hermione shot up, stumbling out of bed, not coherent in the slightest.

"Ah—What—Healing—yes." She pointed towards her walk-in closet, "It's in the back. Why? Are you hurt? Is it Harry?" Hermione glanced at the clock. It wasn't even four in the morning on a Friday. "Harry shouldn't be at—"

Ginny made an impatient noise and grabbed her arm, "I'm Apparating."

Nothing more was said before Ginny Apparated them into her living room. Or at least what used to be the living room. The couch and table had been evanesco'd and on the white, plush rug was now a limp body. A brown haired wizard she didn't recognize was pacing near the fireplace, his hands running through his curly hair.

"I—I didn't know where to bring him. I thought—I thought maybe you could help," He sounded so panicked, looking at the bloodied body, "St. Mungo's was approved to refuse treatment to any witch or wizard bearing the Dark Mark. I—"

Harry was kneeling beside the body that obstructed Hermione's view of his or her face. Well she assumed it was a male in his twenties from the athletic build, "Nott. It's alright. I'm more miffed that you were somehow able to break the wards I'd done." Harry was also in his pajama pants, but gestured for Ginny to retrieve all the potions they had in stock, and then beckoned to Hermione to join him. "I need your help. I can't save him. You always healed Ron and I."