War of the Wolf - Chapter 9

Kill Or Be Killed

He didn't let them know that he was already in the house watched by eight skilled Aurors, didn't let them know that he had been in the house for a full twenty four hours before the supposed attack was supposed to take place. It had been important to Draco Malfoy, that he had not been seen. There was always the risk of a spy or unsupecting squealer amoung the side of the "good", and he couldn't allow the risk of being captured by the side of the "dark". So he did the one good thing he was good at, and he snuck out of Hogwarts and turned up in the Weasly house hold, with none the wiser.

Draco was resigned. If there was one thing he learned while in the room of requirement, it was that death, whether it was his own or an adversary of his, was going to occur. be that as it may, he preferred that it wasn't him. He wasn't against killing, he'd done it before, but to do it on the level of cold-bloodedness that was expected of him...it was hard for him to even fathom. While he realized he could, in fact, use the magic that had been taught to him since he was in the cradle-he also realized it was quite impossible if he wished to leave the Weasley household alive. He was quite sure that both the Death Eaters and the side of the Good were monitoring the house for the slightest use of magic. If he even tried to mutter a curse or a defensive spell he would have a full scale assult on his hands.

No it was better this way, to kill ruthlessly and silently and live another day.

Draco stayed in his wolf form-he was harder to track that way, and his senses were multiplied tenfold. He would be able to hear and smell trouble before it even stepped through the door. He found himself a comfortable place, hidden from view behind a comfy looking, well lived in rocking chair. He dropped his head down to his paws and waited.

How did he get into this mess so quickly? Why was he so willing to kill and die for the side of the good? He should have just stayed buried deep in the protective forests. But no, that would never work. He was Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, of the House of Malfoy. Despite what his father had done, it was up to him, Draco Malfoy to carry on the family name, to create an heir to carry on the Malfoy Legacy. He was a human being, a man who could create and mould his own destiny.

Thats what I'm doing here, Draco thought to himself, creating my own destiny, under my own rules. He would do it for Hermione Granger too. He no longer cared that she was a mudblood, things like that didn't matter to him, he wasn't sure if it ever did. Maybe if he did this one thing, and protected her friends and family, she would grow to like him, maybe even love him. She was the perfect mate for him. Strong, beautiful, intellegent and powerful-she was his equal in everything. They would make beautiful heirs.

The quick rush of flame in the fireplace nearly had Draco jumping to his feet, but he remained seated on the ground, using his powerful senses to figure out what was happening. The stand in's for the Weasley's had arrived exactly on time. It was amazing, how well the standin's looked exactly like Mr and Mrs Weasly, even down the size eight and a half shoe that Molly wore.

If it weren't for Draco's inhanced senses he was sure that even he would be able to tell the difference. But alas, he did have inhanced senses, and he could tell the differences between the fake couple and the real couple. For instance their sent, Molly Weasley (the real one) usually smelled like freashly baked goods with the tiniest dash of Vanilla perfume, this Molly Weasley, the fake one, smelled faintly baked goods with a tiny dash of Vanilla and fear. Draco could smell the fear from where he was. And Ron Weasley's father usually had the tiniest hint of a limp, a tiny nearly unnoticable hitch in his walking pattern (from an accident when he was in Hogwarts, playing Quidditch), whereas this Arthur Weasley had no walking aliment.

Like clockwork, Draco heard the softest of footfalls above him in the upper floors, could smell the faint, rotten smell that only a Death Eater could possibly possess. Draco waited patiently and counted the footfalls, listening to the hushed voices of three Death Eaters. Six more surrounded the house, waiting for some sort of signal before entering the Weasley household.

Draco slowly rose to his feet, letting the rough padding of his paws carry him silently up the stairs to where the three Death Eaters were surely going to hide in ambush. They were to be the back up plan, Draco thought to himself as he blended in with the shadows and moonlite. Like the young idoits they were, they decided to split up, sure that course of action would prove to be most effective. Draco could smell the excitement and lust that farely radiated off the Death Eaters. Fools, Draco thought, following the youngest male into the Weasley's Master Bedroom, you will die. There will be no mercy granted to you.

Draco snuck into the room, just barely getting through before the door closed on him. The room was incased in darkness, not a problem for Draco, in his wolf form-but for the would be killer it proved to be a hinderence indeed. He didn't waste any time in killing the young man. Draco shifted back into his human form, and grabbing the extremely sharp dagger hidden in his boot, he came up behind the Death Eater, reached infront of him and grabbed a hold of his mouth while he brought the dagger up to his neck and made on long deep slice.

Draco closed his mind off to the blood, to the sound of the man's last struggles before he died. It was a neccessity, he repeatedly told himself. This was a war, it was kill or be killed. At least it was a fast death, Draco thought to himself, before dropping the young man to the ground and wiping the blood from his dagger onto the Death Eaters' robes. He dropped the dagger back into his boot, opened the door, and shifted back into his wolf form while he stalked the others.

It took only about four minutes, but it felt more like an hour. And before long he was downstairs back in his hiding spot, watching and waiting for the main event. The Aurors who were playing as Mr. and Mrs Weasley were in the kitchen, cooking something...it smelled like chocolate chip muffins. It wasn't up to the real Mrs. Weasley's standards, but it was passible. It was also better that they were in the kitchen, it meant that the Death Eaters would have to go in through the front door, walk through the front entrance and down the hall before they hit the kitchen. It would give him enough time to act.

He had to trust in the Aurors to take on at least one or two while he killed the rest, hopefully they would pull through for him.

He heard the lock on the front door click softly open and Malfoy knew it was time. Growling softly, he stood up and walked stealthily over to the front entrance and watched at six Death Eaters entered the Weasley household. I'll have to take them one at a time, from the back to the front. Fast and silent. Malfoy waited untill the last of the Death Eaters passed him before shifing silently into his human form. Like he did with the others he quickly grabbed the closest Death Eater and killed him without another thought, then layed him down quietly in the hall. One down, five more to go.

The next two went off without a hitch, and then he was down to three Death Eaters. It was at that point that the third Death Eater turned around to check on his comrades, only to find a sharp, blood red blade coming straight at his face. He let out a little squeak before he died and Draco knew the others had heard.

Dropping all pretenses he shoved the dead man onto the floor and tossed his dagger into the heart of the second last Death Eater before charging the last one. As he flew through mid air he shifted back into wolf form and latched onto the vunerable neck of the last Death Eater, then crushed it and pierced his jugular. All six Death Eaters were dead when he landed all four paws on the ground. He heard the two Aurors running towards him and decided it was his time to leave. He picked up his bloody dagger in his mouth and made a run for the outside world. It was time for the others to do their work.

He ran long and hard untill he was deep in forest, back to his old haunting grounds. He stopped when he reached a river and he dove in, eager to be rid of the dark red, sticky blood that covered his body. Draco stood there, in wolf form, shaking as the cold, cleansing water rushed over his body, washing away the blood.

And then he got sick.

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Hermione was barely able to keep her breakfast down when she reached the Weasley's household the next morning. She had been forbidden to go down to her best friends' house during the attack, but she had been there first thing the next morning, in an attempt to figure out what exactly happened.

It was a victory for her side, no Deaths of any Aurors, and quite a few for the dark side. It was like a massicar for the Death Eaters. Murdered. Not by magic, but by a very sharp blade that had torn into their necks. And in one case, a throat torn in half. It was disgusting and sick. Horrifying. Who could even do this? She had talked to Bernie and Fern (the two brave Aurors who agreed to take the place of Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Weasley) and they had said they didn't hear a thing, except for when the last Death Eater had been brought down. They reached the hallway just in time to see an animal leave the house, a large dog or a wolf.

A Wolf. Like in her dream.

Hermione left the house and stepped back into the fresh air once again, trying to calm herself. It had to be a coincedence that there was a wolf here...it had to. But it was so obvious to her that it wasn't a coincedence. There was no way. But the Wolf, what did it symbolize, and why was it here, and why did she feel such a connection with it?

"Miss Granger, I think its time for us to return to the castle and let the professionals deal with this." Albus Dumbledor spoke softly, oddly subdued. It was obviously the blood, if the great Albus Dumbledor had a weakness, it was the sight of blood, and lots of it.

Hermione nodded and followed her ex headmaster obediantly. Ron and Harry flanked her, followed by a small army of Aurors as they headed to the portkey that would bring them back to Hogwarts. Maybe Draco Malfoy would have some insight on what the wolf meant. He used to be, after all, her equal when it came to knowing useful information.

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Authors Note: Okay, so I know its been a long while since i've last updated this story, and I truely am sorry, but I just couldn't figure out what I wanted to happen next, many different ideas came to mind, but this one seemed to suit how I was feeling at the time. One needs to be in a certain mood in order to write certain chapters. Once again, I apoligize and I hope you all can forgive me.