Draco's breath came ragged, rain stinging his eyes as he pushed through the dense trees toward the shore. The bitter taste of mud and blood filled his mouth, but there was no time to slow.
Lucius was down — but the war was far from over.
His heart thundered with dread. Hermione.
When he reached the beach, a shiver ran through him. The cold air seemed to twist, carrying a dark magic he knew all too well.
"Where is she?" Draco demanded of the wind, desperation clawing at his voice.
Suddenly, the eerie silence was shattered by the sharp crackle of dark spells and muffled cries.
Ahead, cloaked figures moved swiftly — Death Eaters, their wands glowing ominously.
Draco's eyes narrowed. They had her.
With every ounce of strength, he sprinted forward, wand raised, heart breaking at the thought of what they might be doing to her.
He burst into the clearing just as the attackers released their captive.
Hermione collapsed to the ground, pale and trembling, eyes flickering with pain and defiance.
Her robes were torn, skin bruised and marked with dark, cruel symbols — evidence of magic twisted to torment.
"Her magic… it's fading," one Death Eater hissed, but Draco stepped between them.
"Leave her," he growled, voice sharp as steel.
The Death Eaters laughed, their eyes cold and merciless.
But Draco didn't wait.
He blasted spells, deflecting curses, his fury rising with every second her life hung in the balance.
Hermione's gaze met his — flickering, weak — but filled with the stubborn fire he loved.
"You… won't… break me," she whispered.
But as the battle raged, the dark magic had already carved deep into her soul.
She faltered, her body going limp.
Draco caught her just as she slipped between worlds.
"No," he whispered fiercely, clutching her close. "You're not going anywhere."
With a roar of rage, he fought harder — not just for victory, but for the woman who had become his everything.