All characters and content belong to the amazing JKR, I am simply playing in her wonderful world.
She was forced to run away, she had reasoned. They were going to end her life in the same twisted way they had ended everyone else. The last she saw of Harry he was shooting killing curses, and the last she saw of Ron... She was alone now, and she never wanted to be found again. Post HBP and AU from then on. Rated M for some grizzly details and potential lemons in later chapters
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The Order had abandoned Grimmauld Place months ago; its location had been compromised, somehow, and they had lost three aurors on that night. They weren't anyone Hermione was particularly acquainted with, but still, they had been someone's family, someone's friends. Most of the higher ranking Order members had fought valiantly while the rest of the house occupants fled. Herself, Ron, and Harry had gripped onto Molly's arms as she apparated them to the edges of The Burrow. In the moments before they had apparated, she saw dozens of bright flashes, several of them a bright green, and her stomach twisted in anxiety as the four of them stumbled through the dark marshes of the Weasley property towards the house. That night had been mid August, and though still summer, she felt an unnatural chill in the air. Not even ten feet from where they had apparated, she heard several more cracks, indicating more arrivals. She didn't turn to see who, but her knots inside her loosened. "More have survived. More have survived, it's okay Hermione, more have survived".
Molly pushed in front of the Trio as they entered the clearing surrounding her family home, hurredly opening the wooden door with a flick of her wand. "Quickly, up to Ron's room. Stay there until told, I beg of you. We'll call you down when we have more information," the middle-aged witch panted. As they passed through the doorway, she looked back out into the fields, her brow slick with sweat.
"Arthur! Arthur, please tell me that's you!" she bellowed in desperation. Moments later her worn down husband limped out through the long grasses, his thinning hair askew and his ragged robes torn along his abdomen. From behind him and fierce flash of red hair came rushing forth.
"Mum! Oh mum they almost had him!" Ginny sobbed as she flew at speed into her mother's open arms. The youngest Weasley's body shook hard with her sobs as her mother gripped her into a tight embrace.
"It's okay sweetheart, it's okay," Molly cooed into her daughter's hair. Arthur Weasley stumbled to the front door and leaned against it as an exhausted sigh left his lungs. Molly pulled him into an even tighter hug as Ginny clambered into the room, towards the Trio. She came to rest in Harry's arms, still sobbing quietly. Within a minute there had been dozens more apparition cracks, and soon a small crowd was gathered in the clearing, all eager to be inside.
"Upstairs, you four," Molly ordered. Her hair was ruffled and her eyes tights with worry. They didn't argue, and retreated onto the rickety staircase as Order members flowed through the front door. Harry lingered on the first flight, hoping to listen in and hear something to explain what had just happened. He had the smallest view of the Weasley's living room from where he crouched. His brow was furrowed and tight and his jaw clenched. Hermione knew he wanted nothing more than to storm back down and put Kingsley Shacklebolt in order. The tall, dark Auror was deep in discussion with Arthur and Moody, with several other order members around them listening intently.
"Harry!" Ron whispered sharply to his best friend. "Harry, come on. I know you want to be down there, but you heard mum."
"He's right Harry," Ginny said "the more you try to push yourself into things the harder they'll push you out. We just need to wait up here until everything cools down."
Harry shot them an annoyed glare before twisting his head back to watch the commotion downstairs and Ron, Ginny, and Hermione continued upwards. After less than a minute Harry fell back with a scared gasp, and Hermione spun around to see he was alright. Harry was crawling to his feet and Hermione saw, through the small gap in the staircase railing the bulbous staring eye of Moody.
"Keep going you four," Moody growled up to them quietly. "Don't worry your head, Potter. I'll have you down here soon. We need to account for everyone else, assess the damage. Granger, make sure he stays put till then."
There was a shocked gasp from the distance, and Moody spun on the spot and stomped towards the kitchen, where an injured form was being dragged through the door. Hermione gripped Harry's arms and pulled him up into Ron's room. There they sat for three hours before being summoned.
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Hands shaking, she scrambled around the small room she shared with Ginny at The Burrow. Her small beaded bag gripped tightly in her left hand, Hermione grabbed the last of her belongings and threw them carelessly inside. All thoughts of any ordered packing had escaped her mind the moment she saw the first black robe and silver mask grow out of the darkness that enveloped the crooked house.
The brisk cold of December had long since found its place, with winter storming in early in late October that year. The surrounding countryside was blanketed in a thick white blanket; the Weasley clan in addition to Harry, Remus, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Hermione had been gathered in the small living room. There was deep discussion between Remus and Shacklebolt as to whether the Trio and Ginny should be returned to Hogwarts for their safety. None of them had returned this year. Despite McGonagall taking position of Headmistress, there had been so much fear surrounding the family that Molly had simply refused to let her children out of her sight. Harry and Hermione had vehemently declined, stating that their efforts in the war vastly outweighed the need to pass NEWTS.
"Dumbledore gave me a mission," Harry had hotly countered Remus' plea for him to return to the safety of the castle. "Now, I don't care how young and vulnerable you think I am. I've more than proved I can handle this. If Dumbledore trusted that I could succeed, then you should too!"
Despite the pleading look in his eyes, Remus had lowered his gaze and nodded. Molly entered the room with a tea tray filled to the brim, catering to the many guests. They all sat in relative silence while they warmed their bodies with their hot cups of tea, the tinks of their cups on plates the only sound above the howling winter wind circling the Burrow.
Arthur broke the silence, clearing his throat. "So…where will you three begin?" he asked, eyes locked onto Harry's. Harry took a deep breath, debating what he should say. They had spent their months at the Burrow meticulously planning. Harry had hundreds of pages of notes that Dumbledore had left him, and he honestly had little clue on how to interpret them. They were mostly transcripts of memories Dumbledore had stored in his pensive as well has snippets from unpublished history books and sensitive pieces of information he had entrusted to very few. Hermione had spent two months rewording many of the pages so they could be understood or interpreted. By Halloween, they had a very short list of what items could be Horcruxes. Two of them, Tom Riddle's diary and Marvolo Gaunt's ring, had already been destroyed by Dumbledore. They suspected at least two other items would hold some kind of significance to Hogwarts, but as to what they would be, the Trio were still in the dark. At the bottom of the list, Hermione had scribbled 'Bellatrix Lestrange – vault'. When Harry and Ron questioned her, she told them she had overheard Snape at an Order meeting telling Kingsley Shacklebolt about the curiously high amount of activity there, as well as the random increase in wards around it.
"But how would he even know that?" Ron queried, scrunching his nose at the mention of the spy. "The git's probably just trying to lure someone in so his Death Eater buddies can have some fun." Hermione shot him a glare, but didn't say anything further. In truth she hadn't heard Severus Snape telling Shacklebolt anything at all. Months earlier, when the Order was still running its headquarters at Grimmauld Place, the Trio had been privy to one of the meetings. McGonagall had been addressing the crowded kitchen on a recent spay of attacks, and as Hermione was listening intently she felt a curious prickle at the edges of her mind. It felt magical, and the curious sensation confused her. Brows furrowed, she let her gaze wander around the room, trying to find the source of her discomfort, seeing if anyone else felt it too. Without direction, she felt her eyes unconsciously settle onto a figure in a shadowy corner near the fireplace. Her searching stilled as the black eyes of Severus Snape locked hers in place. His eyes were intense, burning a hole into her mind. She saw images flash through her head, images of the dark, crazed witch Lestrange followed by images of the entrance hall to Gringotts. Hermione pulled back slightly, in an unconscious attempt to snap free from whatever had just happened. She blinked several times and shook her head.
"Miss Granger, are you quite alright?" Remus had asked quietly from across the long kitchen table. He looked at her with kind, concerned eyes.
"Yes," she replied "Yes I'm quite alright." She subtly looked back to the face of her old professor in the corner, his eyes still on hers. She gave him a questioning frown. Had he done that? She thought. I mean, I know he is a skilled Legillimens…but what on earth even was that? After another brief moment of eye contact that almost felt too intimate, Snape turned his eyes back to McGonagall. That was the last time the Trio had seen the dark wizard before they left for the Burrow.
"We've got some ideas," Harry said vaguely to Lupin, who simply gave a doubtful look. Remus had been adamantly opposed to the entire idea of the Trio setting off on their own, in fact he thought the entire prospect of them being involved in the war was distasteful. But most of the Order had talked him to his senses, Harry was, after all, the central figure. He gave Harry one last sorrowful look before pushing himself up from the armchair he occupied and moved towards the kitchen to make his leave from the Burrow. Before he opened the door he turned back, giving the Trio one last look. He opened his mouth to speak, but before words could find his tongue, a large explosion sounded that shook the walls.
"What in Merlin's name-" Arthur began to say, but was cut short by another loud bang. Ginny, who had retired to her room early that night, came bounding down the stairs, calling pleadingly for her mother, a large gash upon her forehead dripping bright red droplets onto her sweater. She was in Molly's arms within another few short seconds, and the rest of the occupants had begun fleeing the room, spilling out into the small clearing in front of the Weasley's house. Hermione had made it to the doorway, and stood in brief silence as they all stared intently out into the surrounding fields. A high-pitched cackle laden with malice echoed in the dull silence. Shacklebolt raised his wand and cast a silent shield charm which rippled and formed a large dome over the small crowd. There sounded the slow crunch of steps through the thick snow and ice than had settled around the Burrow, and from between the thick, dead grasses a darkly clad figure emerged, its face shimmering in the light of the half moon. Hermione recognised the mask, and drew in a deep breath, wrapping her fingers around her wand in the back pocket of her jeans.
As she exhaled, several shouts rang out at once. Stupify! Confringo! Expelliarmus! Stupify! Avada kedavra! Bombarda!
Jets of almost every colour flew through the air, many bouncing off of Shacklebolt's still standing shield, however it was wavering underneath the attacks and within thirty seconds had faltered. Before the head Auror could produce a second, a green jet flew past his head, narrowly missing his ear and colliding with the outside wall just below the kitchen window. Molly was at their side in an instant, gripping Ginny's arm. She raised her wand slightly and murmured under her breath before disappearing with a crack! She had lowered the wards so they could aparate on the spot, something Hermione doubted she would ever do unless she knew they could not return for a long time. Harry had run forward to the front lines, standing side by side with Arthur, Shacklebolt, Lupin, and Fred and George. All men began stood only feet away from several more dark figures which had emerged after the first. Spells began flying between the two armies once more, and Hermione screamed when a stunning spell hit Lupin in the centre of his chest, causing him to fall backwards. His robed splayed around him on the snow.
Arthur Weasley shouted to Harry between spells, demanding he flee with Ron and Hermione, but Harry held his ground. Ron ran forth and joined his friend, shooting out what Hermione thought was probably the most powerful jinx she had yet seen him cast. His struck the nearest Death Eater square in the face, and in agony they ripped their silver mask away, blood pouring from every orifice in their head. They squealed in agony, and Hermione recognised them to be Dolohov; the fading scar over her chest twinged at the memory of his attack on her not two years past.
A slightly shorter masked figure came to the forefront, decidedly banishing their mask before the Order had the chance to. They stood beside the screaming pile that was Dolohov, and let a crooked, rotten smile spread over their face, their eyes deranged and black hair flying wild around them. Hermione let out a mournful wail as Bellatrix Lestrange stepped towards Ron, feet moving fast. Without speaking, she raised her wand, and fluently and sharply brought it down with a slash. Ron fell to his knees and his wand fell to the ground from his limp hand before his body hit the snow with a dull thud.
Harry had seen, at only the last second, the moment Bellatrix silently slashed his best friend's throat and ran towards her with fury in his eyes, emitting a guttural growl as he shot forth a number of spells. In his rage and pain, Hermione noticed, he wasn't even thinking about what he was firing, and with so many layers of pain building inside her she stumbled backwards, into the house again. The moment before she turned she saw that horrid green fly from the tip of Harry's wand, and she felt sick knowing that he had been driven to the point of using an unforgivable. But she didn't see if he hit his target.
Hermione ran blindly up the stairs, heart pounding, hands shaking, and eyes pouring. She stumbled and fell halfway, and while pushing back to her feet risked a glance through the window on the first floor landing. Harry was still firing his spells manically, and was back to back with Shacklebolt and Arthur, Lupin still out cold in the snow with a Death Eater standing triumphantly over him, his heavy boot pressing into Lupin's chest. She couldn't bare to see any more.
Her head thumped inside her skull.
Ron was hurt. Ron was so badly hurt. Ron was…dead. She couldn't comprehend what she had witnessed, she couldn't make it true in her mind. There was no way it could have happened.
But it had. She fell through the door of the room she shared with Ginny to hurriedly grab the last of her things as more screams from below met her ears. She was shaking and wailing and running on pure adrenaline, almost all sense of logic gone. All she knew was that she had to get out. Get out fast. Get anywhere. Get OUT.
Her brain screamed at her.
Hard thumps sounded from below as she swung her beaded bag over her shoulder, and the vile cackle that drifted up led her to know that this battle hadn't been won. And she was next.