It had been six months exactly since the war and Voldemort’s death. I suppose you could say that we were beginning to heal now, but honestly the wounds still feel raw. The Weasleys had lost a son and I doubted they would ever fully recover from that. I doubted any of us would. I know Harry blames himself. Of course he does. I didn’t want to imagine what his nightmares were like. 

 I took my wand and smiled at the familiar weight of it in my hand. I proceeded to walk around the clearing, by the tree line, and recite the spells I’d learnt by heart for when we were on the run. The familiar words rolled easily off my tongue and my wand wove the magic into a thick cover around us. I tried not to think about the memories from the war. I tried to keep my mind blank. When I was done with the wards I turned around, and despite my best efforts, expected to see one boy with black hair and one with red.

I only got blonde. 

 Slowly, he removed his hand from the door handle and turned around fully and made his way over to us. I thought he could see my heart thundering in my chest. I fought to keep my face neutral. I fought to hide my fear.

He stopped in front of me. I felt like his piercing blue eyes could see strait to my soul. He cocked his head to the side slightly and his lips moved in a slow smile.

“Hello Miss Granger.”      

I groaned slightly as my sandpaper eyelids slid open. I lay in my bed for a few moments, waiting for my groggy mind to clear enough for me to think properly. Or at the very least function like a normal human being. I sat up slowly, wincing as a sharp dizzying pain shot through my pounding head. I reached up slowly and gingerly touched my forehead. God I had one hell of a headache. 

 “Maybe you just don’t really love him.” His voice was almost…hopeful? It couldn’t be, and if it was how do you take something like that?
  Never the less his words circulated through my mind. I mean I knew I steered away from the L word but I’d always presumed that was because I wasn’t ready to feel anything like that yet. But could it be that maybe I just never really saw Ron that way? Maybe I’d been fooling myself this whole time......

 You’d think we’d be closer after last night. Seems we’re just further apart than ever. The thought brings a pang of sadness to my heart, a pang which I immediately shove away.

He’s not your friend Hermione. He’s your captor. You appear to have forgotten that.

Yes. I had. Because I didn’t want to think of him that way. 

 I glanced over my shoulder.

My heart stopped.

Oh god.

There were at least a dozen of them, their coats shining in various shades of grey as they leapt over the treacherous ground. Their lips curled back in snarls, revealing their long, white fangs. Their eyes fixated on us.