Stumbling across the clearing, washed cold with fear and that cloying silver mist, my hands clammy, my heart thumping, bile rising in my throat, some lingering knowledge itching inside my throat: in the aching blackness of the night there were three balls of that curious light, bobbing along like fireflies, throwing vicious shadows across worried faces, stuttering mouths.

"I should've known," I muttered as I pushed someone aside. "I should've bloody known!" In between them on the ground lay, splayed and shaking, the body of a boy: his shirt was torn away from his shoulder, by knives and hurried hands, and beneath the dark crimson that had become sticky and clumped there was the hard white of bone, the edge of torn flesh. I fell to my knees, could feel them go weak; I passed my hands over the wound once, twice, before I threw a look to one of the looming figures now trembling with fear. "What the hell have you done, Hopper? You've splinched him. God-damn splinched him. I can't fix this. I can't fix this!" The boy groaned and all at once fell silent, and all I could do was look slowly up towards the others, my face filled with hatred and contempt, and I said quietly, "Get the girl."

"What?" Hopper murmured.

"I said get the bloody girl!" He moved away in a rustle of leaves and hurried conversation and I stared at the body in front of me, lifeless and pale, and wondered why I was there. I knew she was there before she was in front of me because I could already here the rise and fall of her prickly arguments; Hooper pushed her to her knees on the other side of the boy and I hissed,

"You take Charms?" She lifted her chin a little, pursed her lips but said nothing. I felt a surge of anger and barked, "Well, do you?"

"Answer him," Hooper growled, grabbing her by the hair, and she nodded with a curt,

"Yes." The first time I heard her voice; lower than I expected, more nasal.

"'Do healing spells?" She threw a furtive glance towards the boy and replied,

"I'm not healing him, if that's what you mean." Hooper's face reddened and he lifted a hand:

"Don't you bloody dare-"

"Hooper," I said, and stopped him. "Heal him," I said, looking at her again. "Heal him, now. We might let you go if you do."

"Might?" She tossed her hair.

"Will."

"Our bargain?" She asked, and in the eerie ligth cast by the wands her eyes seemed to glitter. I nodded and threw her her wand. We drew away and Hooper seized my arm and hissed,

"You're letting a mudblood heal him? A mudblood? Better to let him die."

"Mudbloods healing mudbloods. Better to let her try and keep the Death Eaters off our backs. Who out of us knows the first thing about those charms?" I felt his grip tighten before he yanked his arm away with a sharp movement and walked away. When I turned back she was muttering soft incantations, and the only other noise in the wood was the sound of our fear, the far-away pining of a fox. We held our breath.

She worked for several minutes, and the boy barely stirred, except to give a quiet moan, and I watched her intently with greedy eyes, soaking up the fineness of her skin, the richness of her hair, the way her eyes were like opals in the cool night. Finally, she murmured,

"Tergeo," and it was done. She leant back on her hands for a moment and someone dashed cautiously forwards to disarm her and check the wound. And it was all healed except for the scar which zig-zagged across the joint. I walked forward, nudged the boy with my boot and, when he yelped and instinctively rolled onto his side, I smiled and lifted my head.

"We stay here for the night, lads," I said, sweeping a dreadlock back into its place. Behind me, Hooper had already started the protective charms and sliced his wand through the air, grumbling. I turned to join him but felt a hand fasten itself on my arm; without looking I prized open her fingers and said tiredly,

"Go and join your mudblood friend. You'll spend the night with us, I hope."

"You said I could leave," she said behind me and I heard her voice rising. "You said. Our bargain!"

"Well, I changed my mind, didn't I, darlin'?" I smirked, still walking, and as I lifted my hand I caught a glimpse of her reflection in my ring as she dashed towards the edge of the thicket. Someone caught her before she reached the boundary and I heard her scream in frustration as they threw her down beside the boy. I laughed at her over my shoulder.

"We ain't called Snatchers for nothin', darlin'," I grinned.

Part two. I hope you enjoyed it- your comments are so welcome!