LOVERS- Ginny & Blaise (HP)

TW: Hermione gets attacked

She stood before the mirror, carefully choosing her outfit for her coffee date with Hermione at the Ministry. It had been a while since they'd spent time together outside of their usual routines, and the thought of catching up with Hermione felt like a welcome reprieve from the recent whirlwind of events in her life.

She slipped on a deep green sweater that brought out the flecks of hazel in her eyes, pairing it with a simple but elegant necklace. Hermione would tease her about dressing up just for coffee, but she wanted to look put together for her friend, who was always so effortlessly polished. After a few final touches—a swipe of gloss, a bit of mascara, and taming the last of her flyaway hair—she took a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation.

Today was more than just a coffee date; it felt like a chance to reconnect and find comfort in familiar company. Hermione had always been a steady presence in her life, someone who offered wisdom without judgment. As she fastened her cloak and prepared to leave, she felt a sense of gratitude. Life had been overwhelming lately, and the chance to relax with someone who understood her felt like exactly what she needed.

With a final glance in the mirror, she turned, grabbed her bag, and left for the Ministry, ready to escape into an hour of laughter, warmth, and friendship.

She arrived at the bustling atrium of the Ministry, scanning the crowd for Hermione, but her friend was nowhere to be seen. She frowned, checking her watch. Hermione was famously punctual, often arriving early with her coffee already halfway gone. After a few minutes of searching, her brow furrowed in concern. This wasn't like Hermione.

Spying Pam, Hermione's assistant, at her desk, she made her way over, her heels clicking on the polished floor.

"Hello, glam doll," she greeted, trying to keep her tone light. "Any idea where Hermione is?"

Pam glanced up from her paperwork, a look of mild surprise on her face. "Mrs. Malfoy? She hasn't shown up this morning. Didn't leave any notes about where she'd be, either, which is… well, very unlike her."

She felt a twinge of worry deepen. Hermione was the type to leave detailed itineraries, even for the simplest of meetings. "It is unusual," she murmured, more to herself than to Pam. She forced a quick smile. "Alright, thanks, Pam. I'll go track her down."

Leaving the reception area, her mind started to spin. Hermione rarely missed a beat, and if she'd forgotten to send word or hadn't shown up, something had to be wrong. She walked briskly toward the lift, her mind racing through possibilities, each more worrisome than the last.

As she made her way through the familiar hallways of the Ministry, she felt her worry morph into determination. This was Hermione, her oldest friend, the one who had fought beside her in the darkest of times. If something was wrong, she would find her and make sure everything was okay. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, and set off down the hall, her mind made up. Today was not going to be an ordinary coffee date.

Her heart pounded as she landed in the Malfoy penthouse. She had been expecting the usual pristine order, maybe even Hermione engrossed in a book or pacing with parchment in hand. But instead, chaos greeted her—the living room looked like a battlefield. Tables overturned, papers strewn everywhere, broken glass glittering on the floor. It looked like something terrible had happened here, something violent.

Feeling a surge of dread, she clutched at her wand and forced herself to breathe. But as the gravity of what she was seeing sank in, her panic surged, and with a loud crack , she Apparated back home.

"BLAISE!" she called, barely able to keep her voice steady.

He appeared instantly, a look of alarm on his face. "What happened, baby?"

"Oh, please, you have to help me!" she gasped, rushing over to him. "I was supposed to meet Hermione, but she didn't show up at the Ministry, which was already weird, so I went over to her place. And—oh Merlin, Blaise, it looked like an explosion went off. Her whole place is destroyed, and she's nowhere in sight!"

His hands came up to her shoulders, steadying her. "Alright, okay, just breathe. We're going to find her. Let's stay calm for a moment, yeah? If Hermione's in any trouble, we're going to be there for her."

She nodded, trying to focus on his voice, letting the steadiness in his gaze calm her. "Right. You're right. Let's… let's go."

Without hesitation, he wrapped his arm around her, and together they Apparated straight to Theo's office.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The room was thick with tension as Draco and Theo continued their hushed conversation. The crack of Apparition shattered the air like a gunshot, and in a heartbeat, they appeared, their faces pale and drawn with panic.

"Draco!" her voice trembled, her eyes wide with fear. "Hermione was supposed to meet me, but she never showed up! I went to your place, and—Merlin, Draco, the living room—everything's a mess. She's gone! I couldn't find her anywhere!" Her words tumbled out in a frantic rush, the gravity of her distress slamming into the room like a storm.

Blaise stood at the doorway, a cold intensity in his eyes as he gripped a sleek, black pistol, his stance rigid with urgency. His gaze locked with his, and without needing to speak, he signaled them to move. Fast.

Theo and Draco launched from their seats, the adrenaline hitting them like a tidal wave. Every muscle in their bodies screamed with the need to act, to find Hermione before it was too late.

Theo's voice was raw with panic as he turned toward the fireplace, his hands shaking. "Luna!" His voice cracked with desperation. "Get the safehouse ready, now! Please, my Moon—I love you endlessly."

On the other side of the flames, Luna's voice came through, steady and calm despite the chaos swirling around them. "I'm on it, my Sun. The safehouse will be ready. I love you beyond measure."

The unspoken truth hung heavy in the air: they were preparing for a battle where the only outcome was survival—or devastation. There would be no turning back now. The clock was ticking, and the stakes had never been higher.

They were getting ready for a battle, where there was only one endgame.

Death will welcome them, like an old friend .

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Malfoy Penthouse, a place once synonymous with Draco's immaculate control and quiet elegance, was now a scene of utter devastation. The usually pristine marble floors bore the marks of chaos: books scattered like fallen leaves, shattered glass glinting under the chandeliers, and the antique furniture overturned. What was once an oasis of sleek modern design now felt like the aftermath of a storm.

Draco, Theo, Blaise and Ginny moved through the room in tense silence, each searching frantically for any sign of Hermione, anything that could explain what had happened. The tension was suffocating, each glance at the wreckage tightening the knot of dread that grew in Draco's chest with every step.

Turning the corner into the living room, Draco's gaze swept over the mess, his heart pounding as he took in each detail. The toppled vase, a gift from their wedding, lay shattered against the wall. Broken glass and scattered books covered the floor as if they'd been hurled in desperation. Panic clawed at him, and he struggled to keep his composure.

"My love!" he called, his voice hoarse, echoing painfully in the vast, empty space. "Hermione, where are you?"

He listened, desperately hoping for any sound in return. But the silence that answered him only intensified the dread pooling in his stomach. Behind him, Blaise was in the kitchen, opening every drawer, shuffling through cabinets in search of some kind of clue. The normally composed Blaise was uncharacteristically frantic, muttering to himself as he searched.

She raced into the study, her breath ragged as her eyes scanned the room. Her gaze darted over the bookshelves and desk, fingers rifling through scattered papers, old quills, anything that might give them a clue. "She has to have left something behind!" she muttered, her voice shaking as she picked up a half-empty teacup. She felt the porcelain, hoping it might hold some clue, but it was cold, the tea untouched for hours.

Suddenly, Pansy strode into the room, her heels clicking sharply against the marble, her arrival cutting through the tension like a blade. "What's the plan, then?" Her tone was forceful, commanding. "Because standing around here isn't getting us any closer to finding Hermione."

Draco whipped around to face her, his eyes fierce, and his voice cold. "You're not coming."

Pansy blinked, stunned, and for a second, the silence hung heavy. "Excuse me?" Her voice was low, warning.

Draco's expression didn't soften, his jaw tight. "It's too dangerous. You're staying here."

She took a step closer, fury blazin in her eyes. "Since when do you get to decide what's too dangerous for me?"

"Since now!" he snapped, his voice hard as steel. "We don't have time for this, Pansy. You're staying, and that's final."

Her eyes narrowed, defiance sparking in their depths. "If you think I'm going to sit here while you all run off to play hero, then you're out of your damn mind, Draco Malfoy."

She quickly stepped between them, her hand reaching for Pansy's arm, her tone steady and calm. "Pans, we need you here if things go south. You're the only one who can keep the press out of this, manage the Ministry officials, and keep everyone else off our backs."

Pansy clenched her jaw, glancing from Ginny's earnest expression to Draco's hardened gaze, her anger simmering. "Fine," she muttered through gritted teeth, though the fire in her eyes said this was far from over.

Theo had moved to the hallway, a determined gleam in his eyes as he systematically checked each room. He started with the guest bedrooms, then moved on to the study, the library, even the linen closets—every corner of the penthouse was combed through, but the eerie silence hung heavy, deepening his dread.

In the living room, her voice cut through the tension like a knife. "Draco! Come here!"

Draco hurried in, his eyes catching the glint of something metallic on the coffee table. As he knelt, he realized it was a small, silver ribbon, slightly frayed, caught on the edge of the table as though snagged in haste. His fingers brushed it carefully, feeling the delicate threads. "This must be from the gift she received earlier," he murmured, piecing it together.

Theo joined them, his expression shadowed, yet intensely focused. "It could be a Portkey. She might've been taken."

Blaise came striding in from the kitchen, his face taut with urgency, hands clenched at his sides. "If she was taken against her will, dobbiamo trovarla! We have to find her now."

She scanned the room, her eyes taking in every detail. "Look for anything unusual," she urged, hoping for the smallest clue. "Something that could tell us where it led."

Theo nodded, moving to Hermione's scattered belongings. He bent low, his sharp eyes searching each item with meticulous care, as though expecting her to reappear any second. "Anything that could serve as a marker. A hint. She wouldn't go quietly."

Suddenly, she crouched down beside a shattered vase on the floor. "There's something here," she called, carefully sifting through the broken ceramic pieces. She gently extracted a small piece of parchment, crumpled and slightly torn, hidden beneath the rubble.

Draco held the crumpled note in his hands, reading aloud, each word dripping with tension. " For the diamond in the world of gold ." His voice was low, almost a growl, the weight of the phrase settling over them like a dark omen.

Blaise clenched his jaw, his frustration clear. "What the hell does that mean?" He muttered, casting a sidelong glance at Draco as if willing him to decode the message.

Ginny's breath hitched as a realization struck her. "It's Hermione—the Golden Girl! She's the 'diamond' in their twisted metaphor." Her voice trembled with both hope and terror as the implication dawned.

Theo's sharp gaze darted to Draco, his mind churning as he tried to make sense of it. "Draco, we need answers, and fast! Who's connected to this 'diamond' and why would they take her?"

Draco's fists clenched, and a raw, furious spark ignited in his eyes. "That whore of a woman!" he spat, slamming his fist into the wall with enough force to shake the frames hanging nearby. His breathing came fast and hard, laced with anger. "Karkaroff's whore of a wife! Last time we saw her, she was strutting around, covered head to toe in diamonds, parading them as if she's royalty. She's always trying to pretend she's something she's not."

He exhaled deeply, struggling to control his fury, but the realization fueled his resentment. "It was all an act, her flaunting those jewels to make herself seem important—more powerful, untouchable. And if she's behind this, then she's using those damn diamonds as some twisted calling card."

She looked at him, her face a mixture of fear and awe. "Are you saying… that Karkaroff's wife is behind Hermione's disappearance?"

Draco's eyes blazed with a grim certainty. "Yes. Those diamonds are her way of showing her influence, her attempt to play in the black-market world she's desperate to belong to. Diamonds, drugs, money—it's all currency in that twisted world."

"Draco," Theo urged, his voice laced with tension, "if those diamonds are the connection, we need to find out how she's using them. Where they're coming from, and why she'd use them as a message. We're running out of time."

Draco shook his head, a glint of frustration still lingering. "Karkaroff wanted to frame us for selling low-quality drugs last time we met. It was a setup—a lie designed to lead us astray. And now… now Hermione's caught in the middle of whatever game they're playing."

Her eyes widened, a mix of disbelief and horror crossing her face. "Drugs? FERRET, you're telling me that Hermione got taken because of some twisted, dark deal?"

Blaise's expression softened as he looked at her, the weariness in his eyes betraying his sorrow. "Mia cara," he said gently, "our world is darker than you know, and the lengths people will go to for power… they're far worse than you could imagine. I'm so sorry you had to learn this way."

Draco took a steadying breath, his hands still clenched tightly. "But that knowledge is exactly what will help us now," he said, his tone resolute. "If this was about diamonds and reputation, then they took Hermione to make a point, to demand something. Karkaroff's wife knows where she is."

Her breath hitched, her world spinning as the realization struck her hard. Her voice was sharp, tinged with betrayal and rage, yet she fought to focus. "Blaise!" she snapped, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We'll deal with this later. Right now, Draco, if there's any part of that soul bond that can help find Hermione, use it. Now."

Draco's face hardened, and his jaw set with a steely resolve. He took a deep breath and muttered, "Uruz." At his command, a radiant rune, Uruz, burst into existence before them, shimmering like a hologram in the dim light of the room. The rune pulsed with life, casting an ethereal glow across their faces. Draco's voice was low but charged with power. "Uruz, mother of manifestation, guides us to Hermione Granger-Malfoy. Show me where she is."

The rune brightened, emitting a soft pink light that twisted and transformed, creating an image that filled the space between them. There, within the rune's glow, was a dark, damp dungeon. Hermione's terrified face appeared, her eyes wide with horror as she looked up, her mouth open in a silent scream that pierced Draco's heart.

He clenched his fists, his voice filled with fierce determination. "Hold on, my love. I'm coming."

"Ginny!" Draco's voice rang with authority. "Summon Potter. We need a portkey now."

Before she could respond, Theo stepped forward, his voice calm but unwavering. "There's no need." He grabbed them into a tight formation, his grip firm as he closed his eyes in concentration. With a sharp pop, they vanished and reappeared in the dimly lit basement of Nott Manor.

Without a moment's hesitation, Theo moved to a tall, ominous cabinet and pulled out a strange pair of reading glasses, then crossed to another, larger cabinet. Flinging it open, he revealed an impressive arsenal—gleaming silver knives, loaded wands, a row of firearms, enchanted artifacts. The sheer sight was enough to stop Ginny in her tracks.

"Merlin," she breathed, her eyes widening at the arsenal in front of them.

Theo moved with swift precision, grabbing a sleek silver knife, a freshly polished wand, and another enchanted object that glowed faintly in his hand. "We need to move quickly," he said, his tone measured yet urgent. His gaze shifted to Blaise, whose focus was unwavering.

Blaise turned to Ginny, his gaze intense as he clasped her shoulders. "Mia cara," he murmured, his voice both soft and fierce, "I need you now. I need that Gryffindor fire, that strength you have, because what we're walking into—it'll require everything you've got."

Her eyes narrowed, her resolve hardening. In a fluid motion, she kicked off her high heels, her posture transforming from elegance to pure grit. With a quick flick of her wand, she summoned a pair of worn combat boots and a fitted leather jacket from her closet. Gone was the composed socialite; standing before them was a fierce, determined warrior.

Blaise's lips curled into a smirk of approval. "That's my girl."

She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. "Let's get Hermione back."

Draco's gaze was dark and unreadable, but beneath it, a storm of emotions churned. His hands itched to wrap around the throat of whoever had dared to harm the love of his life. He took the loaded wand from Theo, inspecting it with the calculating intensity of a man prepared to tear down any obstacles in his path.

His expression was stone-cold, his eyes flicking to her as he spoke. "No hesitation. No second thoughts. We go in, we get her, and we bring her home."

Her heart hammered in her chest as she looked at the men around her, each of them prepared to do whatever it took. She clenched her fists, her gaze fierce. "Let's go."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione lay sprawled on the cold, hard floor, a pool of blood slowly spreading from a deep wound on her head. Her fingers brushed against jagged fragments of bone and something unrecognizably soft, like torn flesh. Every slight movement sent a new wave of pain through her body, and her vision swam with darkness at the edges.

The sudden crack of apparition filled the room, followed by the thunderous blasts of gunfire. Blood splattered across her face, mingling with her own, as the violent sounds ricocheted off the stone walls. With a heavy thud, Jelena Karkaroff's body crumpled to the ground, her face frozen in shock.

Hermione's heart thundered in her chest as she struggled to focus, feeling a flicker of gratitude in the midst of the chaos. 

Thank you, she whispered internally, her thoughts flickering between God, Merlin, Allah, Shiva, and Messiah—any power she could name for this unexpected rescue.

In the haze of her fading vision, she caught a glimpse of fiery red hair. The redhead was relentless, her movements swift and brutal as she plunged a blade into Jelena's lifeless form over and over, rage fueling each strike.

A familiar scent lingered near her—a mix of aftershave, toothpaste, and something unmistakably comforting. For a brief moment, Hermione felt a fragile peace. 

But as the adrenaline began to wane, her body surrendered to exhaustion. Darkness crept over her completely, pulling her under as she drifted into unconsciousness.