Just at the corner of Whitehall road, tucked behind a Muggle store, was a simple wizarding cafe.
Asclepius's Exotic Eats wasn't the best place for a sandwich, or company, or even cheap drinks, but over the last few days it had become the preferred meeting place of Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley, who met up promptly at two each afternoon and shared a basket of chips.
Ginny stretched out her legs to Hermione's side of the booth, heels kicked off long ago. She wiggled her toes at Hermione's mock look of disgust, giggling when her friend playfully swatted at them.
"I don't understand why you don't just wear your trainers here."
Ginny rolled her eyes, sick of the familiar chastise.
"I wear that gear all the time now, so excuse me for wanting something more feminine."
Hermione raised an eyebrow, taking a dainty bite from her chip. Her own robes were business professional; form-fitted, cut just below the knee, and in a uniform grey. What she wouldn't give to be wearing the gear that Ginny bemoaned, although the trade-off wouldn't nearly be worth it if Hermione would also be expected to enter the Quidditch pitch.
"I can't believe they're making you work over Christmas! Everyone celebrates the holidays, even magical creatures." As if to highlight her point, Ginny shoved three chips into her mouth, chewing and swallowing them in one motion. "If you aren't at the party, I don't know who I'll end up talking to since Harry always gets dragged off by someone."
Hermione nodded in sympathy.
"Will Luna not be attending this year?"
Ginny shoved a chip around gloomily, raking a hand through her hair.
"No, she's leaving for the Galapagos tonight. Researching Animated Twigs or something like that," she sighed, hand held mid-rake. "I just feel that since we've graduated two years ago we've all been so distant. After everything we've been through, it'd be a damn shame for any of us to lose contact."
Guilt coiled in Hermione's stomach.
Ginny was right. Since she began working at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Hermione had been distant from all of her friends, and even these daily lunches had only started two weeks ago. She was surprised that she didn't even stutter over Luna's name, whom she hadn't seen since Ronald's last birthday.
Ron
Well, there was a reason for Hermione to be distant. Their fallout wasn't the exact reason for her avoidance of the Weasley household (that would be incredibly childish given the close ties they held in common), but it was one of the reasons why she suddenly had so much free time to throw into work...not that she lacked in industriousness before. Hell, the reason they separated in the first place was Hermione's over zealous dedication to work and lack of consideration for their relationship.
Now, with yet another Weasley before her upset with how distant she was being, Hermione just didn't know what to do.
It seemed that her passion would always strain her personal relationships without the close confines of school to keep them together.
Hermione leaned forward to grip her friend's shoulder reassuringly.
"I'll be out of the office before dark, and then leave for the party straight after."
This coaxed a smile out of Ginny, which quickly turned mischievous after giving Hermione's work robes a look over.
"The enthusiasm is great and all, but promise that you'll at least change first. We aren't expecting anyone to die at the party."
Rolling her eyes, Hermione began to button up the offending robe "No, you're right, I wouldn't want to jinx it."
Ginny removed her legs and began to shuffle them beneath the table awkwardly, blindly searching for her heels. When she found them, she celebrated momentarily before frowning at Hermione.
"You have to go back already? I thought we were going to eat quick and then check out that new book shop."
Hermione was already side-stepping away from the booth, purse slung over her shoulder.
"Unfortunately I am. Last night we received a distressful message from a mother who claims that her son, a werewolf, is being wrongly accused of tampering with-"
"My, my, my...I haven't seen a palm like this since my great grandmother."
A woman in her late sixties stood beside their table, leaning heavily against a sagging cane. Her free hand was gipping Hermione's petite wrist, beady eyes trailing over the lines of her palm.
The witch froze, not even bothering to swipe the irritating lock of curly hair that pushed it's way in front of her face.
The palmister continued to rove her hand; grinning at times, and sighing at others. Hermione tried to wrench herself away, but the elderly woman stood her ground, remaining firm with her grip.
Divination, palmistry, astrology...Hermione hated it all, and now a panhandler was going to cause her to be late for work.
Just as she opened her mouth to order the intruder to drop her hand immediately, Ginny swooped in behind the woman, looking over her shoulder.
Her eyes flashed conspiratorially to Hermione's for a brief moment before returning to her hand, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
'What do you see, ma'am?" Ginny inquired politely, reveling in her friend's discomfort.
"Nothing," Hermione snapped, giving one last, useless tug of her arm. "And I won't pay her anything just to hear rubbish."
The fortune teller clicked her tongue, but seemed otherwise unperturbed. Hermione expected her to drop her hand at the first mention of not getting paid, but the woman was persistent, and Hermione was surprised when she complied after the reader motioned to see her other palm. Justifying her actions by telling herself that the woman wasn't going to leave until she had her fill, Hermione instead focused her attention on the lines that the woman was inspecting.
She hadn't remembered much from divination, expelling what "knowledge" she gained from the class the moment she left. Her palms, from her perspective, looked as unremarkable as any, with straight, deep lines and short fingers. There was a small paper cut just beneath her right pinky, and Hermione wondered if the woman was going to use it as an excuse to predict her most certain imminent and painful death.
"Oh, but look at these palms dearie...mirrors of each other they are."
Her voice sounded hoarse with misuse, and it's poor quality made Hermione twitch. Trying to recover her bravery, Hermione looked the reader in the eye, noticing for the first time how a light film covered them.
Blind, or, at least partial blindness.
"Of course," Hermione replied dryly, "should I expect the same amount of surprise if I show you my feet or ears?"
Ginny shot her a look over the stooped woman's head and she felt herself flush with indignation. Being scolded for disproving backwater superstition was not something that sat well with her conscious.
The woman only gave a soft chuckle, composed despite Hermione's acidity, and rubbed soothing circles into the pads of her palm.
"So intelligent...and equal parts prideful you are." Her fingers pushed into the plush pad beneath her thumb and the woman smirked. "And a bit of a vixen if you don't mind me saying." Hermione's face flamed, and she could see Ginny gnawing on her lip in glee. "Loyal though, certainly not the type to stir. A cautious, but deep lover. Vengeful if betrayed." An image of attacking Ron with canaries floated in her mind, but she brushed it aside just as quickly as it formed.
This is what she wants, Hermione thought to herself, concentrating on maintaining a neutral expression. Say as many generic statements as she can until I give her a path to unravel.
"Such a perfectionist," the woman continued to coo, reverently comparing the two hands. "But so much heartbreak for one so young, and you take so much blame. But here, look at this - your life line is all chopped up. Your past approaches your future, but at the same time you exist in the present."
Ginny nodded her head in mock understanding, and Hermione puffed her cheeks to try and not laugh.
"Be wary though my dear, change is fast approaching."
Her eyes crinkled with a smile, and she dropped Hermione's hands unceremoniously.
"The hands of fate love to play with your type."
"Well," Hermione replied briskly, gathering herself, "The hands of fate will have to wait until a little after dinner when I've completed this case, won't they?"
"Don't tempt them," the woman called after Hermione, who tucked her purse close to her body and left without saying goodbye to Ginny.
As she approached the door, she heard her friend accousting the fortune teller for a reading of her own, and she sighed at the ridiculousness of it all.
She was late, much to the amusement of her coworkers, who were used to her punctuality. After hearing so many jokes and jabs at her irresponsibility, Hermione was thoroughly cross by the time she found herself delivering a package to the Department of Mysteries. It was intern work, but the Unspeakable had requested her by name, and her boss insisted the man was someone not to disappoint.
The hallway was just as dark and compact as she remembered it, and she involuntarily shivered as she opened the door to the entrance chamber. Walking to the middle of the circular room, the click of her shoes echoing around her, she spun in place, eyeing each of the handleless doors. The tile under her feet were a cool, still black, and for a moment she felt as if she were suspended in mid-air. One of the twelve doors opened, and Hermione spun around.
Expecting to find Roger Maxime, the Unspeakable who was to take her to the Time room, Hermione was instead put face-to-face with the person she least expected to run into in a government building.
"Hello Hermione."
Luna's dreamy voice carried across the room, and she seemed to float towards Hermione, her ghostly pale hair streaming behind her. She held a loose-leaf notebook in her hands, wand stuffed behind her left ear. Luna came to a stop just before the tips of their shoes bumped, and she smiled.
"I wasn't expecting to run into you here."
Hermione snorted, but understood the sentiment.
"I work here Luna, but it's good to see you."
"Yes, it's always nice to see a friend," Luna tilted her head, and eyed the bulky package in Hermione's arms. "Where is that going?"
Hermione shrugged vaguely.
"I'm delivering it to the Time room, but I have no idea how to get there. The package says Roger Maxime on it, and I assumed he would meet me here, but…" she bit her lip, and tried to remember everything she knew about these rooms. Only the Unspeakables had knowledge on how to navigate this level, which was as confusing as some of the rooms in Hogwarts.
"I can show you."
Hermione turned to look at Luna, who was already walking towards the door directly beside the one she came from. Scurrying after, Hermione spoke over the noise of their feet.
"What are you doing here Luna? And how do you know where to go?"
Luna stopped outside the door and gave Hermione a serene look.
"I've been here for some time. The Unspeakables have let me study the Veil in return for studying me studying the Veil."
Oh, Hermione thought, following the back of Luna's head as she lead her past the door and into a thin, winding hall. That's right, she did mention all those years ago about being able to hear voices beyond the Veil.
"It's just a side project until my trip to the Galapagos," Luna's normally quiet voiced boomed in the eerily silent hallway, and Hermione swore she heard a hiss behind them in response to the noise. "Has Ginny told you of it? I'm going to study the Ancient Skolopendra."
Hermione stepped up beside Luna, leaning down to whisper in her ear.
"Perhaps we shouldn't talk until we arrive Luna. I don't think the workers here much appreciate chatting."
Luna nodded sagely.
"True, but then how do you think they ask questions?"
Hermione didn't answer, but her lack of a response didn't seem to bother Luna, who continued to bob ahead of Hermione, the claustrophobic halls not halting her nature.
After what felt like an eternity, even to the normally patient Hermione, whose nerves were on high for a reason she couldn't explain, Luna stopped before a familiar gold door and pushed it open slowly, calling out a soft greeting.
Clock decorated the surface of every piece of furniture in the room, and Hermione gaped. A relentless ticking pounded her skull, but she ignored the sound and walk over to study pieces and artifacts that she only previously ran past.
"Construction is slow, but it's beginning to match it's former glory."
Hermione jumped at the unfamiliar voice, the package in her arms bumping uncomfortably against her chest. A man was standing at the end of the rectangular room, smiling at nothing in particular.
Hermione walked towards him cautiously, unable to help her eyes as they examined each curiousity she passed.
"Roger Maxime?" She asked, passing by what looked like a replica cuckoo clock from her grandmother's house.
"For now."
Hermione tore her eyes away, and felt an uncomfortable tug at the man's smile. Luna had trailed away from Hermione's side, and she silently cursed her friend's curiosity. She was just going to give this package to the man and then leave as fast as she could.
Dropping it into the man's outstretched hands, Hermione gave a brief nod of her head.
"Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."
The Unspeakable caught her mid-twirl, and Hermione reached for her wand reflexively, pointing it to the man's throat.
If he was surprised, it didn't show on his face, and instead he wore the same, unnerving smile.
"I-I'm sorry! I don't know what got into me."
Hermione slipped her wand back into the front pocket of her robe, but her hand lingered against it instead of moving back to her side.
Why am I so nervous? You're a Gryffindor Hermione, act like it!
"No doubt a reflex from the war. It will certainly serve you well."
Hermione let out a tight sigh, turning her body slightly so she could look for Luna.
"It's saved my friends on several occasions," she admitted, the throbbing noise forcing her to forget why she had twisted around.
Oh, that's right, she had work to do.
Hermione looked at the man with a frown.
"I'll be taking my leave now. I have work to do."
The Unspeakable caught her mid-twirl, and Hermione flicked her wand from her pocket, pointing it to the man's throat.
If he was surprised, it didn't show on his face, and instead he wore the same, unnerving smile.
"Let go of me," she hissed, and her wand shot out a warning spark that sizzled against his skin.
He held up his hands in defeat, and Hermione put her wand back into the front pocket of her robe, but her hand lingered against it instead of moving back to her side.
He's definitely suspicious, although that was rash of me. Harry would've been proud.
"No doubt a reflex from the war. It will certainly serve you well."
Hermione grunted, twisting around to look for the exit.
"It saved my life on several occasions," she confessed, the throbbing noise forcing her to forget why she had twisted around.
Oh, that's right, she had work to do.
Hermione looked at the man with a frown.
"As curious as I am about this room, I have to go."
The Unspeakable caught her mid-twirl, and Hermione looked at him over her shoulder. She was so used to being manhandled today that it just didn't surprise her anymore.
"Ah," Hermione reached up to hold her head.
So used to being manhandled...? Wasn't it just the woman in the restaurant?
The smile on the man's face grew to a predatory size, expanding across his head far more than a normal mouth.
"What do you know about parallel universes, ?"
Hermione looked at the man with narrowed eyes.
"Not much," she answered, looking at the reflection of the clock beside her. Was that Luna in the distance? And was she waving her hands?
Ugh.
She had work to do.
Hermione looked at the man with a frown.
"This room is...is doing something to me. I need to get back to work."
The Unspeakable caught her mid-twirl, and she sagged against his body. He laughed, leaning down to whisper in her ear.
"Quite the willpower you have missy. Your pigheaded desire to work kept you sane longer than most."
Hermione struggled weakly against his hold.
"Not yet, I need you to listen. I'm doing very important work for very important people, and need to use you as a...research subject. You like learning, don't you? They say every decision we make, each option we have, creates a separate timeline. Now, I've theorized that smaller timelines tend to absorb each other, creating sensations like Deja Vu and other abnormalities, but I need that tested. I need to send you to a very specific timeline requested by a very specific person and see if your meddling will influence it at all. Will it's future meld with our own? Erase it? Cause a paradox? Endless possibilities you see, and none of them right, but all of them very curious. They've put a limit on the experimentation we can do after that damn woman came back and died on us, so I apologize for the secrecy. But, well, you understand. Anything for knowledge."
The man sat Hermione up, shoving the package back into her hands.
Dropping it back into the man's outstretched hands, Hermione gave a brief nod of her head.
"If we're done here."
The Unspeakable caught her mid-twirl with a shout.
"Don't move!"
Hermione looked down and saw an orb laying on the ground. Her eyes couldn't settle on an exact color, or size really, but it was there, buzzing around.
"You accidently knocked that over when you turned so suddenly."
Hermione took a step back, and the man released her arm.
"I'm sorry sir, I didn't…" Hermione looked into the reflection of the clock in front of her, and noticed Luna's figure rapidly approaching.
"Could you pick it up for me?"
"I...yes, but…"
Was that Luna's voice yelling over the ticking? Hermione tried to strain her ears, but the man shoved her towards the orb.
"Pick it up!"
"You don't have to be rude!" Hermione snapped. Yes, that was definitely Luna's voice yelling at her, and this man was definitely trying to force her into doing something she didn't want to do. Hermione turned her head and saw Luna running towards her, several black forms chasing after her, wands drawn.
"Don't do it!" Luna yelled.
Hermione wavered in her spot, and strong arms gripped her sides. She could hear him mumbling about unplanned variables and meddlesome girls. Hermione tried to weakly fight back, but the man tugged her hair back and growled into her ear.
"Do it, you stubborn bitch."
Tired of all the yelling, and the ticking, and the man behind her, Hermione threw herself down and grasped the orb just as she felt Luna's long fingers envelop her hand.
In a sensation comparable to apparating, Hermione felt an uncomfortable sensation of being thrown back before her world went black.
When Hermione awoke, her body throbbed in pain. Groggily, she sat up, and looked at her surroundings.
It was a shack, old and run down, remarkable only in that it was still standing despite it's poor infrastructure. Hermione felt a chill run up her spine, and gasped when she touched her arm only to feel skin. Looking down, Hermione blushed and realized that she was naked.
What had happened? Where had her clothes gone? And where was she?
"It looks like everything that wasn't made by this time disappeared."
An equally nude Luna stood by the single window, and Hermione averted her eyes.
"Oh, we're both girls. I'm sorry it bothers you."
"It..it doesn't, I'm just-" Hermione shook her head, and stood up. Her vision spun, and she snapped her eyes shut. Nausea worked it's way up her stomach and she gave an involuntary gag. A hand rubbed soothing circles into her back, and she sighed against it.
"Thank you, Luna."
"If you'd like to keep your eyes closed, I can walk you to the window."
Hermione nodded, and allowed herself to be led. When she felt the cool glass against her outstretched hand, Hermione opened her eyes to a squint. She couldn't see much, but what she could see was unbelievable.
"It's...it's so dark."
Snow coated the streets of what looked like a Muggle town, but despite the cloudy daylight, no one walked the streets. The lights that shone from the houses were dim and flickered off at every noise, only to hesitantly turn back on after a few minutes had passed.
Stepping back from the window, Hermione shook her head.
"The last thing I remember…" Hermione's voice cracked, and she felt tears pool in her eyes.
"Luna, oh Luna I'm so sorry I grabbed it. I'm afraid I've dragged you to this...this universe with me."
Luna gave her friend a comforting smile, walking over to the far wall, sliding down it with grace.
"Come sit by me," she coaxed, as if talking to a frightened animal. Hermione felt her limbs move, but her senses were numb.
Sliding down to sit by Luna, she leaned against her, resting her head on her shoulder.
That sat like this for some time; Luna staring off into space, and Hermione sniffing, but both trying to make sense of the situation they were put in.
Finally, Luna spoke up.
"I'm glad I grabbed your hand Hermione, because it would be right dreadful to be stuck here alone."
At this the dam broke, and Hermione sobbed loudly against Luna's shoulder.
"I shouldn't be crying," she gasped between shuddering breaths. "This is the most unhelpful thing to do and I-"
"Impractical doesn't mean incorrect Hermione. You can cry and still be helpful."
"Of..of course. Th-thank-you again Luna." Hermione's tears came to a hiccuping stop, and she tried to dry her face as best she could against her arms.
Silence filled the room again, and once more it was Luna who broke it.
"Well, what are we going to do?"
Hermione turned to look at Luna, who was staring at her expectantly.
"Excuse me?"
"You always come up with plans."
Hermione stood up on shaky legs, and Luna followed suit, clearly eager to be doing something.
Hermione made a checklist in her head.
They were naked.
In an unknown time.
In an unknown place.
Wandless.
It was snowing.
And darkness was quickly approaching.
"Well, there isn't much we can do," Hermione finally said, crossing the threshold, "except for to explore."
Before she turned the doorknob, Hermione looked at Luna from the corner of her eye.
"How proficient are you at wandless magic?"
"Okay," was the simple, but calm reply.
Hermione set her mouth in a grim line and flung open the door.
"I'll lead the way then."
Hermione thought she knew cold.
She recalled a particularly vivid memory, back during her fifth year of Hogwarts, when she awoke in her bed at 12 Grimmauld Place and couldn't feel her toes. Ginny snored gently across the room, content in her blankets that had been cast with a warming charm. Hermione had foolishly declined the request of a similar charm, despite the heckling of , insisting that she would not only be fine, but tended to overheat anyways. In truth, she had only denied the sweet offer due to the sullen look Sirius Black had on his face - a result of the rant Molly had gone on moments before about how the house was an unlivable icebox, and how he was doing nothing to remedy it. Her refusal managed to perk him up to some degree, and he spent the rest of the evening boasting about it. Eventually, even Remus and Moody had thrown their hat in with Sirius, and soon the house had become divided between those with "advanced constitutions", and the rudely labeled "fragile ones." Of course, Hermione was positive that the adults had long since cast a charm for themselves, and she saw the only other underage members with "advanced constitutions" getting a charm from their mother before going to sleep. After some time of rubbing her feet and cursing her pride, she eventually fell into a fitful sleep. She awoke to warmth however, discovering that someone had snuck into their room and cast the charm for her. She had her suspicions on who had helped, but why would...
Any thought she had was snatched away by her first step into the cold, and her whole body tensed up, like a whip ready to crack. Hermione had casted one of the few wandless spells she mastered before they journeyed out; a bluebell flame that Luna and Hermione cradled between their interlocked fingers. She fought the desire to break, to let out a shudder and gasp against the elements. Stiffly she lead them forward, and she could feel Luna shaking behind her. Hermione had never noticed before just how tiny her companion was until now, and she found herself often twisting her head to look back at her.
Like a fragile piece of moonlight, Luna struggled against the wind and snow. Her long hair, silver in the retreating light, whipped around her pale, thin body like a dress. At any moment Hermione thought she might snap, but each time she turned around, Luna seemed to walk with a personal fire that was growing brighter as the challenging pace continued.
The shack they had emerged from was set aside from the rest of the town, and it's purpose alluded Hermione. No visual markers gave away the structure, and the further they walked from it, the more it seemed to blend in with the background. She hoped to investigate it further; ideally with clothes and a wand.
Ahead, a light flickered within a building.
They walked closer to the tiny farmhouse, pulling each other along the frozen pathway. Each footfall sent a spike of pain up her body, and she was too frightened to look at her toes, which had gone numb within her first few steps. The surrealism of their situation halted any embarrassment she might have about her public nudity, with survival at the forefront of her mind. The scenery was beginning to become more urban, and when they reached the edge of the house's yard, the light immediately went out.
Curious, but Hermione didn't have time to question it. The incoming darkness was filling her with dread, and for some reason she felt that it would be of the utmost importance for them to be in a building by the time the sun went down. Perhaps, if this venture didn't work out, they could make it back to the shack.
Slowly, as if twisting a rusted screw, Hermione turned to look back. She couldn't see the shack at all from here, but she did see Luna's purpling face, her eyes puffy and red. The wind pushed their hair into each other, and for a moment the rest of the world was blocked out as their hair mingled around the two of them like a barrier.
Tugging on her friend's hand, she once again led the way, pulling them to the front door of the building. Nothing could be heard from outside the door, and had the two of them not saw the light flicker out at their approach, Hermione would have assumed no one was home.
She raised a hand to knock, but found that the fingers on her free hand wouldn't curl into a fist. Palm open, she pounded as best she could against the entrance.
"Help," she croaked out. "Please, help."
The seconds ticked by, and still no reaction. Desperate, Hermione turned the doorknob and pushed. It opened but a centimeter before a chain stop it, and Hermione pushed her face into the open space.
"Please, open the door."
She tried to yell, but her voice came out a soft rasp. Outside, the wind howled, and fresh snow began to fall. Hope filled her chest when she saw a pair of nervous eyes peek at her from atop the staircase. Hermione tried her best to smile, but as soon as she made to talk again, a large hand pushed it's way through the open crack, and Hermione barely had time to back away. It swatted at the space her head had just been before returning to the confines of the house.
"Get out! Go! You're the entertainment tonight, not us."
The voice was rough with emotion, and it's owner slammed the door on them.
Hermione flung herself at the door again, dropping Luna's hand, as well the precious bluebell flame. Throwing her body against the door, Hermione wasn't sure she was even making human noises as she desperately tried to get their attention again. When that didn't work, she laid her hands on the door, one against the doorknob, and the other by the chain.
"Alohomora," she whispered, pushing against the door. In her frozen state however, her lips could barely form the words, and her spell sounded more like Amoha.
Silent then.
Alohomora.
Alohomora.
….alohomora.
The damn spell wasn't working, and they were going to die.
No, no Hermione. Think...what are our options? The shack...it has to be the shack. We have to make it back. I can conjure up another-
"-mione. Hermione."
Luna's soft voice barely carried over the wind, and Hermione turned to look at her friend, who was standing rather daftly in the middle of the yard, hand pointing to the second floor. Hermione tried to gesture her over to the semi-protection of the covered entryway, but Luna shook her head, gesturing with as much force as a frozen girl could.
Slowly, painfully, Hermione moved towards Luna, numb from the knee down. It was painful forcing her head up when she arrived, and at first she didn't see anything, but slowly a familiar pair of eyes came into focus from one of the second floor rooms.
A girl, no older than thirteen, stood at the window, clothes and shoes in hand. Looking around, she opened the window a quarter of the ways, and hastily threw the clothes down. Hermione didn't think she had Luna had it in them when they rushed to grab them before they touched the snow, grateful for the assistance. The window slammed shut not a moment later, and the girl was gone from the window before they had a chance to say thank-you.
In the yard of the farmhouse, the two girls helped each other into their outfits and shoes. It wasn't perfect, of course. The dress was far too short for Luna's taller frame, barely reaching mid-thigh. The boots, however, were a perfect fit, and she slid them on gratefully. Hermione's dress was a fine length, but her curves stretched painfully against the material. The trainers that were thrown at her were a size to large, but least her feet were somewhat covered.
They were still freezing, but at least their modesty would be preserved should they die.
Darkness fell upon the town by the time Hermione managed to conjure another bluebell flame. Luna tried to conjure her own as well, but only a thin, smoky wisp would emit from her hands before going out.
"Shack," Hermione gritted out, and the two began to walk back where they came. It had been less than an hour since they left, but already so much had changed. They were beyond cold at this point, and Hermione knew they were toying with death if they didn't get inside soon. A dark peak appeared in the horizon, and Hermione felt Luna sag with relief. She wasn't expecting them to reach the shack this fast, but leaving always felt slower than coming back.
Odd though, that the shack should appear to be getting closer to them...and she didn't recall it being so large, or so-
"Run," Hermione hissed, "Run, Luna."
Their reactions were dampened from the cold however, and by the time they turned, Hermione could more clearly see just what was coming for them - Death Eaters.
It was a group, huddled together, but moving with purpose. The darkness of their cloaks whirled around each other like a black hole, and one was raising its wand just as the girls started to push against the wind.
A flash of green,and the dark mark appeared above the small town ahead of them. Their feet were pounding painfully against the ground, adrenaline pushing their bodies to move. She could hear their approaching laughter and jests as they pushed ever closer.
We have to hide, Hermione thought, looking around desperately. All the lights were out now in the town, save the flickering lampposts. A jet of red light shot over their heads, and Hermione squeaked, ducking from the debris of the wall it hit.
Hermione turned to find Luna, who was staring at her with eerily calm eyes. Her chest was heaving, just as Hermione's was, and she could see the tension in her body, but Luna was waiting.
Waiting for Hermione's orders.
"Split up," Hermione whispered. "Go...go down that way. I know more wandless magic and I-I can hold them off. Get help Luna, get someone."
Another jet of light hit the window above them, and the glass shattered all around them. Quickly, Hermione lifted up her hand and cast a shield charm around the two of them.
"Beautiful," Luna whispered, as the glass fell around them.
The Death Eaters were playing with them however, like a cat who found a mouse, and they didn't have long to celebrate before they hastily had to dodge a jinx.
"Go!" Hermione yelled, pointing towards the farthest alley. She could tell that Luna wasn't happy about it, but she nodded anyways, and ran as fast as she could. Hermione took a steadying breath, ran to the alley closest to the Death Eaters, who cooed at her like a lost lover. Purposefully misfired spells lit her way, and her heart hammered against her chest.
She couldn't die here, she wouldn't die here, she-
Hermione heaved as she was yanked sideways into a small hole in the wall, a strong arm holding her against their body. She struggled, and wanted to yell, but her capture had quickly snaked his other arm around her mouth and held it tightly.
"Stay quiet birdy, and we both might live through this."
Hermione was still hissing mad, her chest heaving against his hold, but something about his voice had calmed her to some degree. It was a familiar, cocky voice that she hadn't heard in nearly, well, nearly five years.
Hermione tried to twist in her captures arms to confirm her suspicions, but was held in place by his grip.
"Squirmy, aren't you? Well, normally I'd like a bit of feistiness, but right now that's just going to get us hurt. Sorry love, but I promise you'll be fine."
She felt a wand tip press against her forehead, and her body slumped, suddenly spent. She was tired, so tired, but not tired enough to put a voice to a name before she was knocked unconscious.
Sirius Black was here.
Alive.
And that could only mean one thing...they were in the past.