"Snape! Professor Snape! They're coming, quickly, gather the potions. We have to go now."

"Granger, what is it?" His words were doubtful but his actions belied how much he trusted in her judgment. His hands snatched at bottles seemingly randomly from shelves, placing them in a black case carefully but swiftly.

"They sent the werewolf, they sent Fenrir. He's here, in the castle. We might have minutes."

"Or seconds." He snapped the case shut. "Come here, hold on to me." It was a surreal moment—as she crossed the classroom to stand at his side the thick wooden door that led to the rest of the dungeons burst open, splintering across the floor. A creature that could only be described from Hermione's vantage point as wild and large skidded into a desk, nearly toppling it over before scrabbling on top of it. Unconsciously Hermione had clutched Snape's arm and he pulled her tightly against him. He reached inside his pocket and grasped the bent galleon that was their only means of survival. In the swirl of images and colors as the Portkey took effect she saw the beast snarl and lunge toward them. She opened her mouth to scream, but the yank of the Portkey stopped her. Seconds later she opened her eyes to the den in Grimmauld Place, almost falling to her knees in relief.

"Remus! Here, now! Arthur, anyone!" Hermione's eyes snapped up to Snape and realized their ordeal was not over yet. He still had not released his tight grip on her. She heard a cry, recognizing it as Mrs. Weasley, and felt the vibrations of heavy footsteps approaching, coming from the kitchen and down the stairs.

"Snape, what's happened?" Lupin was the first to arrive, followed by Mrs. Weasley.

"Is Hermione all right? What's going on?"

"Lupin, it was Fenrir. They sent him after her." Hermione's eyes whipped from Snape to Lupin.

"What? After me? After us. He was in Hogwarts, I don't know how …"

"Someone let him in, and we have a good idea of whom, but that's not important right now. What's important is your safety, Hermione. Snape was not mistaken in saying that Fenrir was after you, we recently learned of Voldemort's plan to—"

"To kill me? Remus … he's sent Fenrir to kill me?"

"No. He intends to have him bite you and capture you if he can." He was having trouble holding her gaze.

"He thinks that killing you would be too easy on Potter." Lupin grimaced at Snape's admission.

"Essentially, yes. Which is why you have to go—now."

"Remus you can't send her away with that thing after her!"

"Molly, it's what is safest for her … and the Order. Fenrir has unparalleled tracking abilities and obsessive tendencies—if they do not leave now, they will not get far."

"They?"

"We will not send you alone. Snape is going with you."

"He can't! His cover!" In truth she had resigned herself to travelling alone, and having a traveling companion made her feel safer … but that it was Snape made things … complicated.

"Silly girl, my cover was blown when Fenrir broke through that door."

"Let me get some supplies, some food for them, just one minute—"

"No Molly. They must go now. Snape, I have grown to trust you against my better judgment, I even find myself respecting you, but if she is hurt—"

"Goodbye. Hold on to me Hermione, under no circumstances let go. Even if you are dying, keep holding on. Understand?" She nodded. "Have a tight grip?" Another nod, and then they were gone.

She could not seem to find a point of focus. Everything about her was in flux, the air was pushing in and out of her lungs without her taking a breath and there was nothing solid but the body she was clinging to. She tried to scream, but there was no air, so she closed her eyes and let her head fall against the chest in front of her, the point of reference as she drowned in space. Then they stopped. Her legs slammed into the ground and crumpled beneath her. They were on grass, on a hill, under the sky. There was a light wind, which she drank from with greedy gulps. She clutched at the blades of grass, breathed in their fragrance, pulled some out of the ground and gazed at them bunched in her fist. There was a shadow over her.

"Granger, stand up. You weren't supposed to let go."

"But we're done, we've stopped." We're alive. We're real. "What just happened?"

"I apparated us to twenty different locations at once, then focused us to this point."

"You foolish man! We could have been splinched!"

"We very nearly were. But that was the first bout, it will get easier as we go on."

"We can't … Snape, we can't do that again. We could be ripped to shreds."

"If we do not leave now, Greyback will find us and we will be ripped to shreds. Take the better odds." He reached down and pulled her up. "Are you ready?"

"I don't think I will ever be ready to do that again. Is he really such a good tracker—"

"Yes Hermione. Trust me. Now, wrap your arms around me and hide your face in my robes, it may be easier if you can't see." She did as she was bid, worrying over the one thing Snape had asked her to do that might prove too difficult—to trust him with her life. "Take a deep breath. No letting go, no matter what." She was about to retort that he had mentioned that point already when all thoughts other than oh my god please let us live were pushed out of her mind by the changes in pressure around her. This time she could feel them moving through some medium, she wasn't sure if it was air—it couldn't be, she couldn't breathe—but it wasn't water. It was the feeling of a portkey, apparition and a time-turner all at once, with a little bit of falling off one's broomstick. She began to feel sharp changes in pressure and temperature, she realized that every few seconds Snape was focusing them in a different location to try and confuse Greyback. It was a powerful use of magical control, and Hermione could not help but look up to try and experience it. As soon as she had, she wished she hadn't. Images swirled around her before solidifying as they landed with a sharp jolt, and with a lurch they were off again. On the top of a sand dune, in the middle of a forest, on the frozen, howling tundra, in a cave behind a waterfall, on a ship in the middle of the ocean, in the rainforest during a deluge, in a storage closet who-knows-where, directly in front of a raging brushfire, in a place so cold the air burned her lungs in an instant, on the top floor of an abandoned apartment building, the call to prayer playing softly in the background, and so many other places and impressions flying by so quickly she could hardly comprehend them. She gasped and couldn't catch her breath, she clutched wildly at Snape's shoulders and he growled in her ear, "Close your eyes Miss Granger, you're panicking will kill us both." She did as she was told, she honestly didn't think she could take anymore without being sick. She pressed her face into his chest and clenched her eyes shut as they swirled through space. She felt the changes in environment around her increase rapidly, their feet barely touching the ground before they were off again. Sometimes their feet did not actually touch the ground, but Hermione could feel them falling through the air ostensibly toward the very deadly ground. She didn't want to look up to see how close they got to losing their lives. Finally, finally Hermione's feet touched the ground and Snape released her, both of them stumbling a bit until Snape righted himself, cleared his throat, straightened his jacket, and introduced her to his safe house, the place they would be occupying until the threat had passed. It was a small, sturdy-looking stone house in a small clearing in the midst of a tall forest. It seemed that Professor Snape had a secret cottage.