Parade of the Sun - Dramione

PART ONE.

December 18; 4:13am

Hermione fully believed she was floating in an abyss of darkness, until the sound of waves broke through her muted ears. There was a line of grey at the bottom of the darkness, disappearing as she furrowed her brow in pain. Her body felt drained and useless, head under in a well of exhaustion, and she ached. The world lurched with a sudden wash of water and she could feel wetness dot her cheek. There was a constant woo-chuh, woo-chuch from what she knew were the paddles, and the boat she must be on lurched again.

She opened her eyes to sunlight, dark brown wood, and the length of an arm. She breathed in deeply, tasting salt, and something squeezed her hand. The sensation brought a sting of pain, and she blinked furiously, clearing the haze to focus on the hand slipping away from hers. Both hands were dirty, brown embedded within the wrinkles of knuckles and lining fingernails. Their palms were deep shades of red, inching onto the back of their hands in dried rivers, and almost black in the webbing of their fingers. It didn't work, she knew. She could tell by the thickness of the fog settling into her brain, and the slow stuttering of her heartbeat.

"What are we going to do with them?" She froze at the voice, shutting her eyes, and his hand stilled against her fingertips. She needed a plan. She needed to move.

"As soon as we're past the enchantments, we're going to clean them so there's no evidence. They'll be dead in an hour, tops, I reckon. We'll throw them over, and we'll go...wherever or whenever we want." Rich laughter followed, joyous and triumphant, and Hermione could feel the anger begin to swell inside her stomach.

"Think they'll swim to shore?"

"Haven't got a chance. We'll Obliviate them in case any of the local lot find them before they hit the bottom, but look at 'em. Not a way they're reaching the island. Try your wand."

There was a brief flash of color, and she could feel the weight of grime leave her, her shirt no longer sticking to her skin. She could feel something wet slide across her chest and down her side, and knew it was blood coming from her numb shoulder and ribs. Pain blistered out around that merciful numbness, but these wounds were meant to spread and could never heal. She and Malfoy would be skeletons within hours, and it was all his fault.


Her mind was like a free-fall, rapidly descending into the knowledge of what was inevitable but refusing to accept it. There had to be something they could do if--

"Obli--" Her eyes flew open at the beginning of the spell, determined to drag up energy and block, or fight, or do anything to save herself. Malfoy moved suddenly, more quickly than she could flinch, and the short, bald man in front of him fell to his knees with a cry.

Hermione got as far as her elbows as Malfoy launched himself past her, and with a cry on the air, everything was a fog and nonexistent. Hermione blinked out at a pair of trousers, and her head felt light and freezing cold. There was something horrible that she had to worry about, but she couldn't remember what it was. Trying to grasp anything beyond the legs in front of her was like trying to clutch mist in her palm.

A flash of white, and then wide, grey eyes filled with something wild. Draco Malfoy's face rose over her, dirt and blood harsh against the paleness of his face. Hermione met the earth like a meteoroid, pain flaring, and shock making her spin. She gasped, but it was weak and strained, her heart pausing for too many beats before giving a painful thump. She couldn't move her left arm at all, and her right jerked and trembled when she tried to raise it. There was no energy to shove him away, so she fell back, her lips moving around his name as she tried to reach for her wand. Malfoy? Why would Malfoy--