Chapter One - The Traitor

The first time they met the Death Eaters in a full scale fight, they were sure it was The Battle, the one that they'd all been anticipating and dreading from the very start of the second war. They fought bravely and with determination, everyone willing to give their lives for their beliefs.

By the time it was over, everyone was exhausted despite the energy-giving potions they'd been taking at every opportunity, dozens were dead, and both sides had pulled back to regroup. No one had been victorious, not really. Over the following months, they fought four more such battles, some lasting hours and others lasting days. Neither side seemed to be gaining an advantage over the other.

When Harry, Ron and Hermione made yet another trip to Hogwarts to spend what little time they had to themselves poring over books in search of long-sought information, as they'd done many times before, they were on edge. They expected an attack...they always did. It seemed safer to be cautious and fearful than to be overly confident. For once, that fear was warranted; as they opened the school gates with the password the headmistress had given them, dementors descended from the skies. While they were distracted with trying to hold off the dozens of soul-sucking monsters, the Death Eaters Apparated onto the grounds around them, quickly making their way inside the opened gates.

Clearly outnumbered but unwilling to risk Apparition in the midst of such chaos...leaving a body part behind in the middle of a battle would surely result in them never seeing said body part again, and anyway, they were Gryffindors, and Gryffindors didn't run, right?...they fought for their lives.

A flood of students and professors poured from the castle in the distance, racing towards the oncoming Death Eaters and dementors with their wands raised and looks of grim determination on their faces. Harry sent a Patronus racing towards London, alerting the Aurors. Another flew from McGonagall's wand, summoning the Order, and more than one person thought to notify St. Mungo's of the ongoing battle. Not a single Auror, Order member, or Healer appeared, and after sending her own Patronus to the Ministry a few moments later, hoping against hope that perhaps Harry's just hadn't gotten through, an overwhelming sense of dread and panic settled in Hermione's stomach. For whatever reason...one she realized she may never learn...there didn't seem to be any help coming. They, a small group of a dozen or so capable wizards and witches and a slew of barely trained, terrified students, were on their own.

The children shouted hexes and jinxes, the only spells they knew well enough to use effectively. Spells such as these were no match for silently-cast Unforgivables. The older witches and wizards, including Harry and his friends, had practically spent more time fighting than not over the past year, and they didn't waste their time with anything they'd been taught in school. Every one of them took aim at the Death Eaters without hesitation; every spell that found its victim was fatal. And yet it wasn't enough. Their side was dwindling fast, and more Death Eaters were arriving even still.

Dodging a curse that crackled through the air and just barely missed her head, Hermione began casting spells. If she'd been asked a year ago if she could ever cast an Unforgivable, she would have answered with a resolute no, but now she cast them without hesitation, having seen too many people die at the hands of injured, but still able, Death Eaters.

Hermione was separated from Harry and Ron as the fight escalated into an all-out battle, and she found herself between Neville Longbottom and a surprisingly capable second-year Hufflepuff. In the frenzy of the battle she didn't see the Hufflepuff disappear from her left, and only noticed the girl was gone when she nearly stepped on her where she lay on the ground. Not daring to even take a moment to see if the student was still alive, Hermione only let her rage fuel the spells she cast.

When Neville collapsed beside her in a flash of red, she nearly faltered, but instead turned to face her friend's attacker, and then nearly jumped back in surprise when she found herself face to face with Severus Snape, unmasked but still wearing Death Eater robes, his wand pointed directly at her chest. Before she could say a word or even think a spell, a flash of green erupted from his wand, and she fell to the ground so quickly that she didn't even have time to register what had happened until he stepped over her body and disappeared from her line of sight.

She was certain she should be dead, and yet she seemed to still be conscious and aware. The notion that she may have become a ghost skirted around the edge of her thoughts, but she brushed the idea away when she realized that she couldn't move. Her mind flashed back to her second year, to being Petrified, and decided it was similar to that, though she hadn't been aware of her surroundings at all after the Basilisk's attack. Struggling to take hold of her wand, which was lying only inches from her hand and nearly right in front of her face, she fast discovered that she wasn't able to move even her eyes. The only thing she seemed to be capable of was breathing, and even that was limited to short, shallow breaths that were barely enough to keep her lungs from burning.

Wondering if this was what death was really like and terrified that may be the case, she tried desperately to figure out what was going on around her. She could see her right hand and her wand, and she could see her left hand where it lay draped over Neville's arm. She saw that Neville was bleeding quite a bit, but he was still breathing shallowly, and she prayed he'd survive long enough for help to arrive. Wishing she could close her eyes against the sight of so much blood, she tried to drown out the screams and the hissing sounds of spells flying through the air.

A student ran past, looking back over his shoulder and screaming, "Petrificus Totalus!" Hermione saw the flash of light, heard a deep, rumbling laugh behind her, and felt the force of heavy footsteps running towards her as they reverberated through the ground. Then she felt a sharp pain in her side, and barely registered that a Death Eater had tripped over her before realizing that she suddenly couldn't breathe. All of the air had been knocked out of her by the Death Eater's kick, and now, being unable to take a full breath and with pain radiating from her side and intensifying with every second, she struggled to get enough air and found that she couldn't. She fought desperately to breathe, knowing it was hopeless as darkness came over her.

~

When she next became aware of her surroundings, it was well past nightfall. Neville lay beside her, barely breathing, and she still couldn't move. A man was kneeling above her muttering spells under his breath, his wand pointed at Neville's chest. She desperately tried to identify the voice, but he was speaking too softly. Then she felt someone's hand close over hers, locking her fingers tightly around Neville's wrist, and Snape's face came into view once more.

"Wait for me," he hissed at her, and she had only a second to wonder what he was talking about...where, exactly, did he think she was going to go?...before she felt something being pressed into her wand hand. Just as an all-too-familiar tugging feeling began behind her navel, she heard him whisper, "Finite Incantatem," and only had enough time to tighten her grip on Neville's arm before the Portkey pulled her away.

~

When the world stopped spinning, Hermione jumped to her feet, glancing around nervously. She was in a house, that much was apparent, but whose house, she had no idea. She could only see two doors...through the open one she caught a glimpse of a bathroom, and the moonlight pouring through the window beside the other door suggested that it led outside. There was a bed in one corner of the small house and Muggle kitchen appliances on the opposite side of the room. A small table and a few chairs took up the center of the floor.

Taking everything in apprehensively, Hermione decided that the most important thing at the moment was to make sure Neville was all right. She had no idea what had happened to her other friends, but the battle had been over by the time Snape had come to send her away, and she couldn't imagine them leaving her, even if they thought she was dead, so....

She pushed those thoughts away, refusing to allow herself to think that anything could have happened to them. Surely, she told herself, they thought I was dead and just didn't have the time or the ability to take me with them. Refusing to entertain the thought that she could be wrong, or wonder why they wouldn't have taken Neville, if the situation she'd imagined were true, she focused her attention on Neville. He was breathing easier now, and his wounds, while still there, had stopped bleeding. Hermione wondered if Snape had been casting healing charms on him when she'd regained consciousness, and decided that he must have been...from what she'd observed on the battlefield, Neville shouldn't have even survived being transported, and yet he seemed to be holding his own now.

She reached into her sleeve for her wand and then realized, belatedly, that it had been left behind. That was the thing to nearly break her control, and she fought back tears as she gently took Neville's wand from his hand. Focusing the last of her energy on levitating him carefully, she gently settled him onto the only bed. Once he was settled, she began exploring.

'Should I just wait here?' she wondered, peering out the windows apprehensively. The tiny cottage seemed to be in the middle of nowhere...she could see nothing but trees. But it was dark, she reasoned, and maybe there would be more to see come morning.

Snape had told her to wait, but could she trust him? He was a traitor! He'd killed Dumbledore... and then saved her life? It didn't make any sense. She cast another worried glance back at Neville, wishing he'd wake up and help her decide.

Finally, too exhausted to go anywhere at the moment, and acknowledging that Neville was too injured to be moved yet again, she settled into one of the chairs in the center or the room, grimacing as a twinge of pain raced down her side. The thought that the Death Eater who had kicked her had bruised or broken some of her ribs flitted across her mind, but she was too tired to really care.

She tried to set up some wards over the door and windows, but Neville's wand didn't seem to like the sudden change of ownership, and in the end she only succeeded in a simple locking charm. Frustrated and exhausted, Hermione turned so that she was facing the door, leant her head against the back of the chair, and let her eyes drift shut.

Many thanks to Vaughn for being a wonderful beta and to ladyinthecloak/Karelia for her patience and encouragement.