Disclaimer: To my eternal annoyance, I am not being paid to write fanfiction. If I were, I would quit my job, drop out of school, and spend the next twenty years breeding plotbunnies. Er, anyway. JKR owns the characters and the settings you recognize, and well as what's "really" going to happen. She's very kindly allowed loons like me to play with them, and We Praise Her For It. I seem to recall that the movie people have some sort of rights, too, so genuflections to them as well.
Snape was at the door, an unconscious Molly in his arms.
"Here," he panted, thrusting her toward Ron. "Take your mother and run. I can't delay him much longer."
Ron gathered Molly's dead weight against him. "What—" he asked.
"He knows, idiot boy!" Snape snarled, mounting his broomstick. "Go!"
With that, he was gone. Ron pulled his mother inside, the familiar scent of her soap and the new tang of blood making him want to keen over her body, scream with the knowledge that his family was dead and she might soon be too—no, he told himself. He would not panic.
"Hermione!"
He wrestled Molly into the kitchen. Where the bloody hell was his wand?
"Hermione!"
Ah, there it was on the counter. Right where he'd left it, opening cans of peas. "Mobilicorpus."
"Hermione!"
Brooms now. Their house was locked down with wards now, anti-Apparition being the chief among them. Just like Hogwarts, Hermione had told him. You won't forget again. They were in the upstairs closet. "Accio brooms!"
"Hermione!"
He cast about the kitchen. What else would they need? "Arcessosaccus. Implete." A flour sack appeared and the refrigerator door burst open as the entire contents of the vegetable drawer flew into the bag.
"Hermione!"
"Ron?" He heard his wife's groggy voice, finally, as she flipped the light switch on.
"Nox! Nox!" Ron whispered, and then, remembering, "Shut it off!"
She did, realization dawning at last in her eyes. "He knows," she whispered. "Is Molly—"
"No time, love. Pack what you need; we won't be back."
Hermione started toward the staircase, then turned on her heel as her witch's instincts caught up to her Muggle ones. "Collige," she said, pointing her wand at the hall closet. Two suitcases walked out to her, and things began flying in from other rooms as she named them. "Toothpaste, brushes, and floss. First aid kit. Rare books. Two heavy jumpers, cloaks, and three changes of clothes each."
"It's him," Ron whispered into her ear as the suitcases closed. The sound of the zippers seemed violently loud as she froze, listening. There were footsteps on the porch outside.
"Duck!" she said, pulling on Ron's jumper as wandlight filtered through the blinds, patterning his face with bars of light and shadow.
"Down! Down!" she said, but Ron was staring at Molly's body, which had begun to convulse. "Cellar," he croaked, and they ran. She prayed they hadn't been heard, that the Death Eaters would assume they'd left when they saw doors and cabinets standing open and empty. She prayed they wouldn't think to break the lock on the cellar doors, wouldn't find them cowered in the darkness.
"Alohomora!" Ron said, then pulled the heavy door open. "Inside!"
She didn't even hear the incantation, just saw one green light followed by another, and then there was Ron on the ground next to a black cloak and a white mask. And the voice of Professor Snape hissing in her ear. "This way, this way!"
She stumbled as Molly's body collapsed. "Mobilicorpus." They were running now, into the woods behind their house where she and Ron had played hide and seek with four-year-old Marianne Potter and dreamed of a family of their own.
Snape's hands were on her waist, lifting her onto a solid, breathing object, then Molly was in front of her. "Hogwarts," Snape said, and they lifted off the ground, speeding into the night sky.
Beneath her hands, Hermione watched the gray flesh of the Thestral come into being.
---
A few notes:
1. This is a random little ficlet. It hasn't been betaed, or, hell, even revised. This is just straight from my psyche to your web browser (with a brief detour to my Latin dictionary).
The title is (obviously) stolen from LotR. The Latin I've chosen for Ron's first spell is incorrect, but very much in keeping with JKR's freehanded approach to Latin spells. The correct forms for the two I have him use are Arcesso me saccum—"I acquire a bag for myself" (conjuring, not summoning, as Accio)—and Imple te—"Fill yourself". Why Ron was opening cans of peas in the middle of the night is beyond me.
I do not plan on writing any more of this story any time soon. Although I haven't ruled out the possibility of continuing it after I finish my other WiPs, it's intended to stand alone.