A/N:This is a short fic I wrote for andthearrowflies prompt challenge - 1/5

To the Rescue

I wasn't going to be able to keep this up; there was no doubting that. I was unfit and my pursuers were quite the opposite. I had the speed advantage but my stamina was awful and I had limited steps left. I tried to think of a plan – whilst ducking out of the way of their threatening curses – to try and stop what was inevitably going to happen to me.

It wasn't fair that just because I was a muggleborn it automatically meant I was a target for violence and hatred. It wasn't like my heritage was something I could control.

My breath was coming in short, sharp bursts; the pain in my legs was becoming unbearable and my heart was pounding through my chest. I had no idea what to do and I was really starting to panic. I didn't have enough energy to shout for help, but even if I did I doubted anyone would hear me besides Filch – a fat lot of good he would be, dishing out detentions left, right and center.

I knew I shouldn't have been out of bed after curfew, but I really didn't have a choice. I'd been so busy revising for the end of year exams that I'd missed dinner – everyone knows seventeen year old girls need their food – and I was on my way back to the tower after a quick dash to the kitchens. I hadn't done anything to the Slytherin's. I was just casually walking past, my head down in the hope they wouldn't recognize me. They just wanted to get a few quick curses in, probably only scare me a bit. But, after that Hufflepuff got sent home under suspicious circumstances last term, I wasn't taking any chances.

Suddenly the wind was blown out of me as I seemed to run into some kind of invisible bar, smacking me right across my stomach, almost making me throw up. Before I could really think about what was happening I had been tugged to the side of the corridor, a hand clasped tightly across my mouth.

I was pulled tightly to someone's body, though whose I had no clue. Strangely, I wasn't scared, just angry. Couldn't this attack have waited? I was just trying to get away when it became apparent more than one group of people had it out for me. Now someone had got me in his or her grasp, presenting me to the Slytherin's. They'd stopped me from running and held me – a perfect, stationary target for the pureblood's vicious curses.

I was struggling in my captor's arms, desperately trying to escape, screaming against their sweaty hand. I just wanted to be back in my dormitory, tucked up in bed. Was that too much to ask?

"Just be quiet!" a voice hissed in my ear, "I'm not going to hurt you!"

I recognized that voice. I wasn't sure where from and, to be honest, I had bigger things to worry about, but I knew that voice. I didn't feel protected, but I was definitely a lot less scared.

The Slytherin's had evidently caught up with me, but they looked completely bewildered, looking around for something. Had they given up with me? What were they looking for?

"Where the hell did she go?"

"Mudblood bitch! Where's she hiding?!"

What? I was right there, right in front of them. I was beyond confused – why couldn't they see me?!

After several more minutes of searching, they gave up and turned back, deciding this was a useless pursuit. Personally, I wasn't as relieved as I thought I would be that they'd gone. I just wanted to know why they couldn't see me, who the mysterious voice belonged to and why they wanted me.

As soon as the Slytherin's were out of sight, the hand was released from my mouth, and I forced myself out of his grasp, taking a few big, deep breaths.

"What the hell?!" I yelled as I turned around, ready to let him have it, whoever he was.

But I froze. It was James bloody Potter! Why?! What did he want, of all people? To irritate me out of my mind like usual?

"What do you want? Why did you do that?! I thought you were going to kill me! God, Potter, you're such an idiot! Why can't you just leave me alone?!"

I started back down the corridor. For God's sake, couldn't he tell I'd had enough for one day?

"What? Oh, come Evans. What did you think I was doing? I saw you were being chased, so I thought I'd give you a hand. Without me, they'd have cursed your arse off; can't you see that? We both know you couldn't have run much further. You could at least thank me."

Oh crap. He was totally right. I'd been such a selfish prat I hadn't realised that he had just saved me from them. Rescued me.

"Right. Sorry, that was rude."

"Yeah, it was."

As he turned to leave – with a face like thunder – I noticed he was holding a piece of old, weathered parchment, and had a silvery, flimsy cloak over his arm.

"Potter?"

He turned.

"Why couldn't they see us?"

He scoffed. "You really think you deserve to know? Just go back to bed, Evans."

I scowled at his retreating back, annoyed. "Well, where are you going?"

He just carried on walking, ignoring me, and reading his parchment, his lit wand illuminating the thin paper.

He was one mysterious prat.