Deep breath in, keep running, must keep running!

Hermione Granger was currently sprinting like the hounds of hell were upon her through the deep of the forest. If she stopped to think about it, that analogy was more fitting than she liked seeing as Fenrir Greyback, notorious rapist and murderer was one of the ones lunging after her. Why doesn't anybody ever listen!? She'd been saying for months now that they should come up with a nick-name for He Who Will Not Sod Off And Die so that if they were overheard by ANYONE, they wouldn't set off any alarm bells. But did they listen? No. No they did not. Hence the fleeing through a bloody forest fearing for their bloody lives. Sigh, why do men not listen? Is is an evolutionary trait? Is it an inherent sexist behavior? Whatever it is, it's infuriating and she really wishes they'd learn to just jolly well listen to what she had to say. Surely it isn't that hard? Right?

She heard Ron go down in the distance and knew that the chase was over. They had lost the game of cat and mouse. Shame really, she could only imagine what will happen now. She darted over to where Harry was still running and flung a stinging jinx at his face, hearing him squawk in indignation and pain when it landed dead on. She grimaced in sympathy, knowing full well that that has got to smart a fair bit. They were closing in now, she could sense them, feel the oily taint of the dark magic and depravity they've succumbed to in the air, corrupting the surrounding aura with it. Mind running full pelt still, trying to come up with a cover story and identity as swiftly as possible before the questioning began. She loosed a deep breath into the crisp air, watching it turn into mist. Why does nobody ever listen?