When the Snow Melts

Broken

Ron was desperately throwing curses back at their masked attackers, his thoughts racing as he struggled to keep up with the sudden frenzy of activity happening around them. He narrowly dodged a stunning spell and took a moment to glance in Harry's direction. Harry's mouth was slack, his face pale, his eyes fixated on Draco as the boy tumbled headlong down the rock-strewn slope. Throwing caution to the wind, Harry began charging toward him with a singular focus.

Ron gasped in pain, his attention pulled back to the fray when a poorly-aimed spell seared across the top of his forehead. Blood poured down his face, forcing him to close his right eye as its hot trail burned across his vision. He hastily constructed a magical shield while another curse came barreling down on him. Short of retreating back into the forest, their immediate area was devoid of any trees or rocks large enough to provide cover and they were hopelessly outnumbered.

Another spell zinged across his shield. He dropped it momentarily and fired off a disarming spell that missed by a mile. He was flustered and panting with the exertion of blocking and returning spell after spell in rapid succession. His obscured vision was doing nothing to improve his aim. It wasn't a very comforting thought, but he knew it wouldn't be long before he made some fatal error. He needed Harry to snap out of it and join the fight.

The familiar crack of someone apparating closeby startled him, causing him to step backward and trip over a protruding rock. As he came crashing down, he glanced towards the source, desperately hoping to see a friendly face. His stomach twisted up in despair, all his hopes of a rescue turning instantly to ashes. One of their robed attackers had apparated directly behind Harry. Ron let out a garbled warning, but Harry didn't even turn to look as the large, hooded figure seized him by the waist before disappearing with an ominous crack.

The rest of their hooded assailants took that as their cue to leave, their disappearances echoing like the finale of a firework show.

Ron wiped the blood away from his eyes with his sleeve, his hammering heartbeat and ragged breathing sounding too loud in the deathly silence that followed. Another thundering crack sounded off from the direction Harry had been running towards only moments before. In stunned disbelief, his eyes traced their way up the slope, seeking out the source. A small hooded figure gathered Draco's limp and bloody body into its arms, disappearing with a crack that echoed across the rocky landscape. The subsequent silence seemed deafening in its finality.

His mind was reeling as it processed what had just happened, he forced himself onto unsteady legs, only distantly aware of the throbbing pain in his ankle which he must have scraped on the rock that had tripped him up. Blood was rapidly soaking through his sock and pooling up like a warm bath inside his shoe. More blood streamed down his face, gushing anew with every thundering beat of his too-loud heart.

He was all alone. The early morning calm seemed impossibly tranquil given the circumstances. The soft birdsong in the distance seemed an affront to his sensibilities. The gentle breeze playing out across his skin, a shocking antithesis to the turmoil he felt inside. A molten soup of hot emotion bubbled to the surface and he let out a ragged scream, his whole body trembling in frustration.

With an angry shake of his head, he tore up the slope and threw open the doors of the Great Hall. The sound of cutlery on dishes died away as one by one, everyone turned shock-widen eyes in his direction.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat before speaking, fear etched clearly on her concerned face as she surveyed his bloody and flustered appearance. "What's happened?"

"They've taken him," he cried out between gasping breaths. "Harry... He's gone!"

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