Seven

Many thanks to my beta, Soul Bound.

Hermione sighed heavily, stopping to adjust the strap of her bag, which dug sharply into her shoulder. The tall wizard beside her quietly paused also. Snape had been a surprisingly unobtrusive and undemanding companion. He simply shadowed her without comment while she wandered about the village in, what must have been for him, a very erratic fashion. Just walking the familiar streets and taking in the shops and the faces of the people had been surprisingly reassuring. Everything about the village quietly asserted to her that she had once lived there happily, and even though not a trace of her existed there now, her memories were real and valid. However, Hermione chose not to walk down the street where she used to live – she had her limits to nostalgia.

Hermione shifted her heavy cloak over to her other arm and wondered if they should have apparated to the church instead of walking, but instantly dismissed such silly wizarding thoughts from her head. They turned off the busy road, and the noise of the cars and trucks instantly cut out as they entered a picturesque lane lined with large oaks. The autumn leaves of orange, red and yellow formed a grand canopy overhead, and the afternoon sun dappled through, casting a honey-coloured light.

'It's only about another ten minutes, my teacher.' Hermione's legs felt heavy, and a great weariness was in her despite the beauty around her, and she put it down to the huge meal she had eaten earlier.

'That is fine, my lady,' replied Snape. He too had his cloak over his arm and actually had a tinge of colour to his normally pasty face. In his hand was a plastic bag with a thick book in it. When Hermione went to the rabbit warren of a second hand bookshop that she loved, she was quite certain she heard Snape let out a sigh of satisfaction as he looked about.

'What is on both sides of the lane, my lady?' Snape asked, curiously glancing about. 'They do not seem to be built on.'

'On that side is the village common.' Hermione pointed to her left. 'You can't see it because of the trees, but it goes for miles. And on this side are some fields and the church. This is the quickest way; otherwise we would have to go through the common, which takes another fifteen minutes or so.'

The lane seemed much quieter than she remembered; neither a car nor a person had passed them, and there was nary a breath of a breeze. Hermione's thick jumper was hot and itchy.

'It's a bit warmer than Scotland.' Hermione stifled a yawn.

'More comfortable temperature for you, I would imagine, my lady.' Snape wryly looked down at her.

Hermione snorted. 'Well, yes, I suppose, but this morning I finally figured out that I had to dress for the cold, and look how warm it is now? I can't seem to win.'

They walked quietly some more; somehow the silence made conversation feel wrong. The utter stillness and complete quietness was oppressive...as if the trees themselves were pressing down on them in unison; even the air felt thicker and more viscous, making it harder to breathe. Not a leaf moved in the trees, and it seemed like they were the only two living souls in existence. Hermione twisted up her hair and clipped it up in an attempt to cool herself down. She felt something resembling a gossamer thread move lightly through the air. There was something unusual in its movement that caused Hermione to notice it in the stillness...otherwise it would have passed without heed. The young witch glanced over and noticed Snape lift his head, as if he too felt something, but he carried on walking slowly without breaking his stride beside her.

'Goodness, I hadn't realized how tired I was until now, my teacher.' Hermione wearily groaned, her voice seeming ridiculously loud in the stillness.

'Hush now, Miss Granger; I believe we may have company,' he breathed ever so quietly in English.

Hermione frowned at the strange comment when so obviously there wasn't anyone else about. Then her heart lurched, snapping her out of her lethargy when she understood his meaning: an ambush. The witch somehow managed to continue walking at the same slow pace. All her senses heightened, but still the witch couldn't detect anything except the intense stillness. Snape moved infinitesimally closer to her so their arms bumped up against each other. They walked slowly, their steps in time with each other. It was agony. All Hermione wanted to do was run away...but from what? She couldn't detect any movement and didn't know what Snape sensed. From the corner of her eye, Hermione saw he had discreetly slipped his wand into his hand so it was partially hidden up his sleeve. Sweat broke out on her forehead. The witch glanced about uneasily, but couldn't see what Snape had noticed. The lane was eerily still.

'We have attracted quite a crowd, Miss Granger. We have at my estimate at least eight tracing us,' he muttered under his breath. 'Do not look at me, but count to ten slowly, and Apparate back to Hogwarts and notify the Headmistress at once.'

Hermione gave a tiny nod and slowly counted to ten. The noise of their footsteps sounded loud. But when the young witch Apparated, tight invisible threads clung to her, holding onto her arms, legs and neck tightly...not allowing her to move in the netherworld she was in. She struggled furiously, knowing if she hesitated, she would be more than splinched. It was through sheer terror Hermione found the strength to rip through the sticky ropes and push herself back down beside Snape once more. Her breath came in sharp gasps, and sweat trickled down her spine. Hermione staggered to try match Snape's regular stride again. Even though she felt she had run a marathon, she knew she would have appeared only to flick in and out.

Snape looked startled when he saw her beside him once more and held out his arm to steady her.

'So it was an Anti-Disapparation Jinx I felt. This makes the situation more complicated.' His brow furrowed, and his eyes looked worried.

'I still can't see anyone,' Hermione breathed, feeling disorientated.

'They will be making their appearances soon. You must try to outrun them and then Apparate to safety. I will block them, but you must run as fast as you can. The spell only works a short distance around the person who casts it, and while it is active, they also cannot Apparate,' explained Snape urgently in a low voice.

Hermione nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. 'Sir, can you see the lane we are coming to? I am sure they are expecting us to turn right to go towards the church, but what if I turn left towards the common...it might just give me enough time to get ahead to Apparate.'

Snape looked down at her, hawk like, his eyes impassive, and simply nodded.

Hermione quietly opened her bag and slipped her wand up her sleeve. As they approached the T-Junction, she thought she saw black shadows pass near some brambles on the corner. Both Snape and Hermione veered to the common side of the road.

'Run, Miss Granger, run!' barked out Snape.

Hermione threw down her cloak and took off as fast as her legs could go. For a distance there was only the sounds of her rhythmic breath, her boots on the pot-holed road and her bag slapping on her back. Her legs were strong and her body powerful in its movements. Then she heard a single crack of a hex but didn't see anything, so intent she was on running down the empty lane. Her back felt exposed, and Hermione expected to be struck down at any moment. She glanced about but didn't want to risk losing her stride by turning to look behind. Another shotgun like noise came ricocheting up the lane. Hermione swerved instinctively to one side. A curse came hurtling pass...inches from her...and a tree ahead burst violently into flames. The young witch put on another burst of speed, but curiosity overcame her, so she turned to look behind.

What she saw made her insides freeze. Hermione was looking at her death. Snape the betrayer stood alone in the center of the lane. His face was in shadow and his wand raised facing her. Hermione realized with horror he had set her up. He intended to kill her all along just as he killed Dumbledore and Ron. In a swift movement, Snape flicked his wrist. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, expecting the worst, but reopened them a second later to see a flash of green shooting downwards towards a crumpled figure on the ground. Relief mixed with guilt rushed around Hermione like a tidal wave. Something caught Snape's attention in the wood next to the road; he deftly deflected a curse shooting towards him and rushed aggressively off the road towards the source of it.

Hermione realized her vulnerability standing in the middle of the lane and, flinging off her shoulder bag, started running again. She leapt agilely over the flaming tree that had fallen across the road. The witch heard with dread the sounds of branches snapping coming from the wood alongside the lane. Hermione put forth another burst of speed, but still the sounds of someone following kept pace with her. So heightened were her senses, Hermione easily saw the hex coming and blocked it without faltering her step. But still the shadow kept pace with her. When another hex came shooting out barely missing her, Hermione on impulse veered off down a small track away from the lane. She stumbled on a raised root but quickly regained her footing; it was much trickier underfoot, and all her concentration went on negotiating the uneven surface. The track went sharply downhill through thick undergrowth. Soon she heard the sound of footsteps following her again. The track opened out onto a field, and just as she stepped out into the bright daylight, Hermione felt a searing pain in her lower back, which made her scream out in agony. She turned and saw a shaven headed man emerge from the track. Panic gripped her vice like again. The witch flung out a hex and saw it strike his wand hand, sending his wand spinning into the undergrowth. But almost simultaneously, Hermione felt a sharp pain in her hand, making her drop her own wand. The man spat out a growl of pain. Hermione spun on her heels and took off across the field, aiming for a stile in a hedge at the far end of the field.

Her back and hand burnt in blinding pain, so no other thoughts entered her head other than to run away. But she was starting to tire, and her chest heaved in effort to get more breath in. Hermione leapt over the stile, gripping the rough wood with one hand. As she did, she looked behind and saw the man pounding heavily across the field. The witch just had to get ahead; then she realized this was the man who had cast the Anti-Disapparation Jinx as he too wasn't Apparating in order to catch her. Hermione looked wildly up and down the narrow track; there was no clue to which was the better way to go. On impulse, she turned right and ran along the track. By now her whole body was aching, and the witch struggled to get enough air into her lungs. She heard a grunt as the man leapt over the stile. Hermione turned a corner and saw with dread the track stopped at an abandoned farmyard. There were no more places to run. She had made the wrong choice.

Hermione heard the man pounding down the track, so she leapt into the unruly undergrowth and wriggled behind a scraggly bush, wincing in pain as nettles found every piece of exposed skin. The witch crouched down, despite the thorns and twigs poking at her, and willed her breath to quieten. Her heart pounded so loudly in her ears that she feared the man would be able to hear it. Hermione ducked her head down even lower but lifted her eyes to peer through the leaves as the man emerged from the track and slowed down. The heavily built man was cradling his blackened stump of a wand hand, and he paused right in front of Hermione. All she could see was his dark trousered legs. Thick, short hands came groping down his leg. Hermione's eyes widened in horror when she saw him pull out a 12" blade knife from a under his trouser leg. Oh, God, no, Hermione thought, trying to quieten her breathing. The man stepped off the track towards her, his face smirking, and adjusted the grip of the knife in his hand. Hermione cast her eyes down and started praying.

'Come out, little Mudblood,' came a gleeful call.

The young witch slowly moved her hands around, trying desperately to find something to use. Her hand curled around a thick stick. The man crept forward, his shoes snapping a twig inches from her face. Hermione couldn't help glancing upwards and found herself looking straight into the round faced man's blue eyes.

'Ah, there you are, my little Mudblood...you think you can get away from me?'

Hermione quickly moved into a kneeling position with the scraggly bush still between them, clasping the piece of wood tightly. She didn't know how big the stick was, but it felt reassuringly heavy in her hand. Hermione fixed her eyes on the man.

The man lunged with the knife. Hermione rolled away to the other side of the bush, a branch slashing her across her face. The man quickly recovered his crouched stance with practiced ease. He lunged again. Hermione rolled away, but he abruptly switched directions and was on top of her. His black stump of a hand was clasping her tightly across her throat. The huge weight of his body was pinning her down, taking all her breath from her. His knife hand lifted to plunge. Hermione writhed and twisted desperately under his concrete weight and finally managed to unpin her arm from under him and raise the stick. The witch hit it across his head with all her might. The only sign that it had any effect was that the arm across her throat lessened its strangle hold on her. But Hermione's only focus was the knife still poised ready to plunge into her. With the last ounce of strength left in her, the young witch raised the piece of wood again, and with a surprisingly soft thud, whacked it against his head. This time the effect was immediate. The man's weight collapsed down on top of her, and Hermione heard a ripping sound and felt a burning sensation in her chest. Hermione desperately wriggled, trying to move out from under the leaden weight. With Hermione's entire body searing in agony, she twisted and turned until she was free. She staggered ungracefully to her feet, swung around and landed another blow to the man's head with her piece of wood.

Laying face down, blood poured from the man's gapping head wound, pooling onto the ground. But Hermione still wasn't satisfied. He might attack her again. He might hunt her again. She hit down once more with tremendous force, feeling the bone give under her strength. She wiped her hair out of her eyes and felt stickiness everywhere. Unconcerned, Hermione focussed on watching the still form for any movement, ready to pounce again. There was none.

After an unknown amount of time, her focus widened, and Hermione became aware of her surroundings once more. A thrush trilled out a tune. With one last look of pure hatred at the body on the ground, Hermione moved slowly back through the undergrowth to the track, stumbling over a branch, but catching herself before she fell.

Once standing upright on the track, Hermione readied herself to Apparate back to Hogwarts, but was arrested by an intense sense of wrongness. Snape, realized Hermione blearily, where was Snape? A sharp crack of rage raced through her, and the pain in her body receded as if it was but a trivial thing to be endured. How dare they try to hunt her down and kill her like she was some sort of game animal? She turned abruptly, stalking back up the track, feeling him running parallel to her in her mind.

Looking back afterwards, Hermione didn't know quite at which point they merged, but her awareness was already starting to alter as she moved carefully along the uneven path. The witch heard a nearby fox stirring within a rotten tree trunk, listening to her pass, and smelt a hedgehog obliviously asleep, tucked up under a nearby hedge. The movements of the trees told her rain was to come later that night. By the time Hermione got to the stile, she was aware that he was with her and felt a thrum of excitement shoot through her. He was taking her hunting. She leapt over the stile hurriedly and loped over the field, watching the swifts swooping inches above the ground for insects in the blinding sunlight. Hermione paused for the briefest of moments before she reentered the dark, muddy track leading back up to the lane.

The young witch heard noises of what she knew to be men, but simultaneously heard it as he heard it, a high pitched buzzing sound. She strode up the track strongly, abruptly bursting out into the dapple colored lane. There were the backs of at least five men pacing intensely towards Snape, who was edging backwards, hunched over but still deflecting the hexes and curses they were hurtling at him. Three bodies laid randomly about the lane. Snape's face startled when he saw her, and one of the men glanced behind and spotted her.

'Oi, look...it's the Mudblood, ' came the guttural voice.

At that point, Hermione's mind was scooped upwards. She was with him, and they were watching the scene together as he saw it. The figures were trivial little beings too caught up in their own self worth to be of any importance to him; yet he hated them because she hated them.

A figure of putrid water stepped towards them, and they felt the intention of death radiating off him in its perversity. This wasn't the way things should be. The figure wasn't hungry; it didn't have a family to feed. The man lifted his weak arm, holding a pathetic twig, and they saw him try to move something towards them, so they sent the element of pure fire back. The man exploded. The water within him boiled and burst outwards, spilling the man's body contents onto the lane.

They turned their attention to the next figure of stagnant water moving at them, so they again sent fire towards him, and he too erupted, his life force spilling out from within him.

The man of spring water, who the part that was Hermione recognized as Snape, continued to counter the curses raining down on him, but they saw his water was becoming murky with tiredness and fear. Hermione felt him focus intently on the man of spring water for a time, as if curious.

They then turned their attention to the next figure of polluted air and used the element of earth to cut off his life force. He clutched his throat in a desperate attempt to breath, falling to his knees and tipping forwards onto his face...his neck straining for air. But he was no longer of interest to them.

The man of spring water sent out two rapid death curses in quick succession, and two figures fell to the ground. Such trifling magic she felt him scoff.

The last figure stood still, its fire moving uncertainly within it. Without much effort, they sent out water, which doused the flame in an instance.

He gently moved throughout her body in one last reassuring and knowing caress and left her abruptly.

Hermione saw the ground come rushing up to her. Her head hit something solid, but strangely it didn't hurt. She was wearied...all she wanted to do was sleep and not feel anything. Hermione's eyes fluttered, and she heard a loud buzzing. Something annoying lifted her head...not letting her rest. She forced herself to open her eyes, but they refused to focus on anything...everything was a murky brown anyhow. Her stomach gave out, and she vomited up her large lunch, but had hardly the strength to keep her head upright. Two hands pushed her hair back and held her head firmly as the contents of her stomach heaved out of her. Hermione was so exhausted she didn't even care anymore...all she wanted to do was sleep. Eventually, her body slowed its heaving, and the awful taste of her mouth filtered through. Hermione felt something rough wipe over her eyes and winced as a sharp shot of pain went over her forehead, making her forget for an instant the pain everywhere else. But she was now able to see and could make out a black form crouching next to her. Sounds were rushing over her, irritating her by not letting her rest, but still they came until she could work out the words.

'You must stand, Miss Granger. You must stand, my lady. We need to Apparate quickly, but you must help me. I am going to lift you now, my lady.'

Hermione felt something tug under both her arms, and then an agonizing pain of hot needles ripped down her left side. She blearily saw the ground from a standing position, although her legs were not capable of supporting her. Hermione tried to move, knowing somehow she should help, but couldn't. Her head lolled forwards, and she looked down and saw a startling pair of white, slim hands clasped around her middle.

A deep voice spoke,' Ready, my lady,' and they Apparated away from the lane with a crack.