Out of the Woods

Disclaimer: JKR owns the rights to anything you recognize in this fic. I wish I did, but alas! Life is like a box of Bertie Bott's. Sometimes you get chocolate fudge, sometimes you get earwax.

Credit: Credit goes to my wonderful beta, Tevildo, for cleaning up my horrible punctuation and grammar. Any errors that remain after he is done with a chapter, are solely my own. Feel free to pelt me with cauldron cakes for these.

AN: Sorry for that absolutely BEASTLY wait folks, it was certainly not intentional (although, if I were evil *cough* that's where I would've left you hanging). Expect the next chapter in two days or so?

She had been smiling and walking swiftly towards the bounding shadow when the attack struck. Severus' shrill bleat of terror turned her blood stone cold.

"NOOO!" She was running now, waving her arms wildly. "GET AWAY FROM HIM!"

The large eagle owl was bent low over its quarry, its tawny wings half-spread and its beak clicking aggressively. Hermione could see it shifting its grip on the motionless body beneath it. NO! It must not lift off!

Without thinking, she made a dive for the hare, grabbing onto Severus with one hand and trying to fend the bird off with the other. Its wings pounded painfully against her head and shoulders, its scrabbling talons opening gashes on her arms, its cruelly curved beak scoring a deep cut on her forehead.

After what seemed an age, but was probably only a handful of seconds, the owl took off with a loud screech, the turbulence of its wings adding to the disarray of Hermione's hair. She felt rather than heard the fast thudding pace of Hagrid's approach.

"Get away, you ruddy bird! 'Ermione! Are you ah'ight?" Hands as big as spare tyres lifted her from the ground and steadied her. Hagrid's concerned face swam into view among the starfield of bright sparks dancing in front of her eyes.

A sob wrenched itself from her throat. "I've killed him!" Throwing herself against the reassuring solidity of the half-giant, she cried into the softness of his moleskin vest.

***

He patted her shoulder awkwardly. "Nah, you didn't kill it. It is... natural and all tha'..." He felt horrible when this only seemed to make it worse. There was just no way to say "owls eat hares" that didn't sound insensitive. He'd been trying really hard lately to be more "sensitive" – Olympe liked stuff like that.

He had known Hermione since her first year at the school and he couldn't ever remember seeing her more upset about anything; having been through a war with the young woman, that was saying a lot. Hagrid looked down at the object of her despair. Why did she care so much about this animal? It was a handsome creature, no doubt about that; solid black from the tip of its nose to the tips of its toes. Large, as hares go, and sleek. He sighed. It certainly was a pity tha...

Swiftly dropping to one knee, but keeping Hermione at his side with a comforting hand, he curled his huge fingers around the hare's chest. Yes! There it was – the faint flutter of a heartbeat. He knew he had seen the poor mite twitch.

Scooping up the hare and depositing it in a startled Hermione's arms before lifting her onto his arm, he set off towards the school, his gargantuan strides devouring the distance. They had to hurry.

***

It had had a narrow escape; quite a few cracked ribs along its left side, deep lacerations that had miraculously not penetrated beyond the muscle and maybe a couple of sprained joints. Gentle palpation had suggested that there were no serious internal injuries, but shock could still be the undoing of the little creature. Hermione was patiently dribbling Hagrid's shock remedy into the unresponsive animal's mouth. She had waved him off impatiently when he had treated her scratches and the nasty cut on her forehead. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, but her mouth was set in a determined line, as if she could keep the injured hare alive through sheer force of will.

"Ah'ight, give it t' me so I can take a look a' those ribs." Hermione looked very reluctant to give up the little scrap of life she'd been cradling against her for the past half hour. "'Ermione... it'll be ah'ight, I promise." She bit her bottom lip, tears sparkling afresh in her eyes as she nodded, and gently laid the hare on Hagrid's kitchen table.

Working on something so small in comparison to his huge hands was quite challenging, but he had never let a hurt animal down. With a deftness and grace that seemed supernatural, he treated the hare as best he could; shaving the area where the owl had struck, cleaning the gashes with anti-sepsis potion and applying bone-knitting ointment to the quivering ribcage.

Throughout the process, Hermione paced up and down on the other side of the table, twisting her fingers together so violently that Hagrid thought he might have to use the bone-knitting ointment on them before too long. She was obviously trying to stay out of the way, but echoed every whimper that the hare uttered.

It was very late before Hagrid had finally done all he could for the injured animal. "Bes' we can do now is find it a nice warm box and le' it have some res'. I have a cosy cor-"

"Can I take him up to the castle?"

"Er... ah course. Doesn' matter where it sleeps, I suppo-"

He was caught off-guard by her hug. Even at full stretch her arms couldn't quite reach around his chest, but she squeezed fiercely regardless. "Thank you, Hagrid. I don't know what I would've done without you."

Flustered, but very pleased with her praise, Hagrid gave her the remedies he had used. She listened attentively as he explained how to apply them, her brows knitted together in keen concentration as if she didn't dare miss even the smallest detail.

The moon was hanging full and low over the castle by the time she wrapped the hare snugly in her cloak and stepped out of the front door. "Take care, 'Ermione." Hagrid stood, a tall, dark shape against the warm glow spilling from the doorway, until he saw the small bustling shadow that was Hermione reach the safety of the castle.

***

Hermione was exhausted as she slipped into her seat at breakfast. She'd been up all night tending to Severus; casting intricate warming charms, forcing him to drink the remedy Hagrid had given her, changing his bandages.

Crookshanks had been interested in the patient, but a stern warning from Hermione had sent the cat off to sulk on top of the bookcase. She knew he wouldn't do any harm to Severus. He had yowled indignantly at her from his vantage when she had commandeered his basket. "I'm sorry, Crooks. It is only for a little while, I promise," she had explained. He seemed to understand, as he always did, what she wanted from him.

She had left Severus sleeping fitfully. Hermione had been torn between staying with him or going on as usual, but the former would have raised too many questions. She promised herself she would check in on him between classes and spend her off-periods there. The students would just be revising for the examinations - Fridays near the end of term were never busy - and she wouldn't have any homework to mark. She'd have plenty of free time.

***

"Time" had become a very silly notion indeed. What need had one of time when one had nowhere in particular to go and nothing in particular to do? All that mattered was the present; the past a fading memory of unchangeable things and the future inconsequential to the here and now.

He drifted in and out of consciousness; sometimes The Cat would be curled up around him when he woke. At first he hadn't liked it – it had done something to him in the past... but he couldn't quite remember what. He certainly liked the warmth and felt momentary disappointment whenever The Cat left.

Then there was The Woman. He was dimly aware of missing her when she wasn't around, and he didn't know why his heart leapt when she touched him. His pain and fear lessened when she spoke to him. He had no idea what she was saying, but her voice was like a summer breeze, warm and gentle. If he could, he would wriggle in delight as it swept over him, but it hurt too much. Although, here, too, he had this niggling feeling that he shouldn't like her as much as he did.

Sometimes he woke up with a word in his head. Hermione. But what use did one like him have for words? He forgot it almost as soon as it registered. It was there again when she woke him. He closed his eyes, sighing blissfully as she stroked his ears, the word fading from his mind again. He couldn't guess why she shook as she held him, couldn't guess what was in store for him tonight.

Maybe it was better that way.

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