Last Stand
Several minutes had passed. I found myself lying close to Justin, both of us trying to regain consciousness. My head throbbed as awareness slowly returned. Screams pierced the air around me. I could hear them even through the fog in my mind, desperate and frightening. Through my blurred vision, I could make out Pansy and Blaise somewhere in the middle of the clearing. They were locked in some argument that had escalated—throwing punches at each other before both crashed to the ground, momentarily stunned.
"Hermione," I tried to call out, desperate to find her, to know she was safe.
But my voice wouldn't come. My throat constricted as I struggled to breathe, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. Each attempt to speak only produced a weak, raspy sound that disappeared into the chaos around me. I attempted to push myself up, my palms pressing against the blood-splattered forest floor, but my strength had abandoned me. The taste of blood grew stronger, and I wondered dimly how badly I was injured.
As my vision cleared slightly, I spotted two figures in the distance. My heart lurched—Hermione and Draco were both sprawled on the ground. Relief washed over me when I saw Hermione stirring, struggling to push herself up on trembling arms. At least she was conscious, at least she was moving.
For what felt like an eternity, I stood frozen, watching helplessly as Pansy and Blaise clashed savagely. The air was thick with tension, their furious screams echoing off the cold, unyielding trees. Each word they hurled at each other was laced with venom, a precursor to the physical blows that crashed down. The nauseating thud of fists colliding with flesh shattered the oppressive silence. Blood splattered across the floor with each impact, vivid red droplets painting a grim picture on the otherwise dull surface.
Something caught my eye—an axe lying on the ground beside me, its metal blade glinting dully in the dim light. With a surge of desperate resolve, I stretched my arm out, my fingers closing around its wooden handle. The weight of it nearly pulled my arm back down.
I forced my legs to move, struggling to get to my knees. My body protested with waves of pain shooting through every limb. Somehow I managed to balance, teetering precariously as the room spun around me.
I paused, gathering what little strength remained in my battered body. One moment of stillness, drawing in a ragged breath that burned my lungs. With every ounce of strength left in me, I swung the axe in a sweeping, desperate arc. The blade cleaved through the air with a whistling sound before connecting with brutal force against Pansy and Blaise's faces. I recoiled as I heard the crunch of teeth shatter like fragile porcelain and bones fracture, sending shards scattering like macabre confetti. I shuddered, my stomach twisting at the gruesome mess it left at my feet as the ax slipped out of my hands with a dull thud.
Two cannon shots fired off seconds later. I collapsed back to the ground, the weapon clattering beside me. Blood—mine and others'—covered my clothes, my hands, seemingly everywhere. The metallic scent of it filled my nostrils, making my stomach lurch. I sat there, unable to move further, my mind fragmenting into disjointed thoughts as shock took hold. The leaves above me seemed to pulse around me, voices and sounds distorting as if underwater. Minutes passed, or perhaps hours—time had lost all meaning. I stared blankly ahead, my body present but my mind retreating from the horror surrounding me.
Through my daze, I registered movement in the distance. Hermione and Draco were stirring now. My vision blurred and refocused in nauseating waves as I watched them. Draco's pale hand shot out, violently grabbing Hermione's leg in desperation. Despite her weakened state, she reacted instantly, kicking fiercely until his grip broke. She scrambled away from him, her movements frantic but determined.
I wanted to call out to her, to help her somehow, but my voice remained trapped, my body refusing to respond to the commands my brain was desperately sending. All I could do was watch through blood-crusted eyelashes as the scene continued to unfold before me as if behind glass. Justin and Michael clamor to their feet, murderous eyes not even sparing a glance at Pansy and Blaise’s ruined remains as they stagger towards me. They wear matching murderous smirks as they seem to steady themselves with each step. I groan as I force myself to my feet. It will all be for nothing if I do not fight my way through these last few seconds. I heft the axe up against my shoulder, glaring at them in warning as they approach. I swing without hesitation, taking them both down in seconds, gritting my teeth as I am baptized with fresh blood.
Through my haze, I watched in horror as Draco lunged forward, grabbing Hermione again. Before I could process what was happening, he plunged a knife into her chest. The blade disappeared into her body as he twisted it with cruel deliberation. Hermione's scream pierced the air—a sound so raw, so filled with agony that it couldn't possibly have come from her. It was inhumane, a sound I never imagined could escape her lips.
"NOOO!" The cry tore from my throat, breaking through the paralysis that had held me captive.
Something snapped inside me—rage, desperation, pure animal instinct. I lurched forward, finding strength I didn't know I still possessed. My fingers tightened around the axe handle as I launched myself toward Draco. The world narrowed to a single point—Draco's shocked face as I brought the axe down into his abdomen. Again and again I swung, each impact sending shockwaves up my arms. I was screaming, sobbing, cursing—words I couldn't even understand tumbling from my mouth. My mind kept repeating, This isn't real. This can't be real. Please let me wake up.
When my arms finally gave out, I collapsed beside Hermione's motionless form. Her eyes stared upward, unseeing. I gathered her into my arms, pressing my face against her chest where no heartbeat sounded, and released a growl of grief that seemed to come from somewhere outside myself.
Blood covered everything—my hands, my clothes, my face. Hermione's blood. Draco's blood. My own. I couldn't tell the difference anymore, and it didn't matter. For what seemed like an eternity, I stared at her face in complete silence, memorizing every detail as if I could somehow preserve her through the intensity of my gaze. Then the dam broke. Tears flowed unchecked down my face, mixing with the blood. My body convulsed with sobs that ripped through me like physical blows, shrieks of anguish echoing in the now-quiet room.
She was gone. Hermione was gone. And nothing would ever be the same again.