Draco.

Draco told her it would be better to die.

But despite her attachments, she still had no reason to trust him over her instincts. And her instincts started to scream as the blade moved across Luna's throat.

Hermione dropped to her knees, skidded the wand down the stones, and moved her hands to her head.

She watched as Yaxley scooped up his wand, as Luna's hands scrambled for her throat. Dolohov moved toward Hermione, and Yaxley turned his wand on Luna's neck, knitting the skin back together.

"Petrificus Totalus," from Dolohov.

Her arms snapped to her sides, and her body lengthened, bringing her face-first along the stone floor, smashing her nose. Dolohov kicked her over. He leaned over her, smiled, and spit on her face.

"You're not so smart after all, are you, you little swot?" Dolohov aimed his wand at her head. "Feisty though. I'll enjoy that once you're mine."

He reached down, grabbed a fist full of her hair, and dragged her frozen body down the stones.

Chapter 3

Chapter Notes

Huge thanks to SaintDionysus and raven_maiden .

Mind the tags.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

So far, she was quite pleased with Professor Slughorn. All in all, he was a much friendlier presence than their previous Potions instructor.

He’d welcomed them into the classroom, and she and her classmates had gravitated towards four cauldrons bubbling in the center of the room. Polyjuice was clearly boiling in one. She peered into another and found Veritaserum, without a doubt. She scrunched her nose in disapproval that he would allow such dangerous potions within clear reach of students .

She inched closer as Slughorn gave Harry and Ron spare copies of the textbook, standing on her tiptoes to inspect the swirling silver potion in the cauldron closest to her.

She gasped. Amortentia.

Slughorn asked for each of the potions to be identified, and her hand rocketed into the air every time.

"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!" she said, bouncing on her toes when Slughorn asked her.

"Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"

She nodded. "And the steam rising in characteristic spirals. And it's supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and — "

Honey. Honey dripping into a teacup.

Her jaw snapped shut.

It was innocuous, really. Just honey. Her eyes drifted to a pale blond, wondering if he would have even associated her almost-confession with his morning tea.

Draco was staring past her, glaring at Ron.

No. He probably wasn’t paying an ounce of attention to her.

Never in the way she wanted.

~*~

They put her in a room all by herself. It could have been an old meeting room. Large enough for a table and twelve chairs. It was empty now. The shadows of where portraits used to hang on the walls, rectangles of unblemished wallpaper.