Monsters in the Eye of Monsters
Summary: In a universe where the magical world is exposed to the Muggles, wizards and witches are suppressed and hunted. There, in her small, brown cottage in the woods, Muggle Hermione Granger meets Wizard Ron Weasley, and an adventure is born.
A/N: Hey again people. So, long time no see, right? First of all, I'm sorry, but some personal problems decided to pop up and destroy my forever-lasting writing joy. But now I'm back again, so no need to worry! Because as I said before, updates will be close to weekly, and I always try to hold my promises.
You: "After all this time?"
Me: "Always,"
Chapter Three
The next day, she was woken by the delicious smell of food. It smelt like bacon and eggs, but she soon realized it was what Ron called "tasty and colourful breakfast", consisting of a dry toast buried in several kinds of vegetables, spicy pepper and other unrecognizable foods.
The flood of light that had swept open her eyelids was unnatural. The night was still in its darkest hours, the darkness seeping though the thin tent material like mist. It seemed like the tent could collapse any second under the weight of the night. She doubted there was a moon out there at all, although she had carefully peeked outside to realize it was full and cast a pale moonlight on the deserted and dry branches over her head.
She had to crack a smile as she crept out of her sleeping bag, or rather Ron's sleeping bag. The space in the tent was minimal, so he'd given up his sleeping bag for her, ending up cuddled together with Harry. Hermione couldn't help but shiver in the slight cold, a small part of her jealous of their shared body warmth. A memory of Ron making a bed appear in thin air struck her mind, but she didn't have the energy to think more about it as the smell of breakfast forced itself into her nose and mouth, making her stomach rumble horribly.
Ron and Harry sat stiffly inside their small sleeping bag, a plate on each of their laps. Ron kept raising a hand to pull his hair out of his eyes and Hermione thought he looked rather cute while constantly drawing it back, only to let it fall in his eyes again when he bent over his food.
Hermione looked down on her plate, only to find it full of small breadcrumbs. Her stomach growled. The dry toast wasn't exactly satisfying. Ron looked up at the noise and Hermione felt the blood collect in her cheeks.
He smiled his askew smile, his blue eyes glowing a shade darker, "I'm sorry, 'Mione, but we don't have an unlimited supply of food," he began before his eyes grew wider and he started stuttering, "I can call you 'Mione, right? Because your name is so long and frankly it takes a lot of time to say it,"
Hermione's face grew a tad redder, "So you're saying my name is...hard to pronounce?"
She felt Harry's amused stare pierce her vision, but refused to look his way, painfully aware of the colour in her cheeks and their ridiculous conversation.
Ron's ears were blood red when he came up with an excuse, "I'm not saying that your name is ugly. I mean, it's pretty and it fits you, it's just that 'Mione is easier to say. No offence, 'Mione," he paused and Hermione chuckled, "Bloody hell, I said it again, didn't I?"
Hermione felt the smile plastered across her face slowly grow wider, her teeth showing more and more. She looked him in the eye and he offered a shy grin, "You have my permission to call me 'Mione'," Hermione said in her best imitation of the Muggle queen of England, pretending to lift a cup of tea.
Ron's face split into a smile that made her cheeks, which the blood had left only seconds ago, redden once again, to her irritation. "Didn't know Muggles had a sense of humour," he managed to utter between gulps of air. His laughter pierced the tent, making the darkness from the outside drift away.
"Well, that was until you met me," Hermione continued and the three of them broke into pathetic laughter. Her eyes met Ron's blue orbs and their stares locked. It lasted only a small moment, but the moment was frozen on the back of her eyelids.
It almost took her back to the time her life was spinning around a small hut in the woods, her arms packed with vegetables and groceries.
The laughter died out and Harry let out a last choked gasp before a sudden chill ran though the tent. The walls of the tent fluttered wildly, like a warning, making her shiver and goosebumps appear on her skin. The hairs on her neck raised themselves slowly, along with the dying wind.
The temperature sank. She began uncontrollably shaking. Hermione had to bite her tongue and clamp together her jaw to prevent her teeth from shaking and shattering in the gust of a sudden coldness. In a strange way, she knew something evil had come into her bubble of happiness, just like the bad people – the Death Eaters – had pinched and popped her safety bubble at home.
An inhuman scream pierced the air, making her cringe. It was near. Closer than she wanted to acknowledge.
The boys sent each other worried glances. She thought she might have recognized a terrified glint in Ron's innocent blue ones, and that made her worry too. Hermione realized that this was no ordinary wolf, and there was no safe forest they were camping in.
And they were in trouble.
Another deafening scream sounded in the air, making her blood freeze in her veins. The hollow contents of the creature's agonizing screams echoed back and forth, pulling in the tents thin material shield. Hermione wanted to reach out and force the walls to stop fluttering. It was making her nervous.
"What are we gonna do?" Harry mouthed to his two friends silently. The sentence triggered her primal instincts and she had to keep a strong grip on her self control to keep herself from running out of the tent screaming bloody murder. He and Ron had already drawn their wands, their eyes flickering around alarmingly.
She felt the sore feeling of blood running down her arms where she'd clawed herself with her nails. Hermione bit her lip. Hard. The rusty feeling made her senses awaken to their fullest.
The silence was overbearing, but was broken by a fragile yelp and a growl that followed shortly afterwards. Then, the only sound remaining was of the weak breeze pushing branches and pulling leaves along the ground.
The weak wind decreased slowly, but noticeably. Hermione shuddered as the weak wind disappeared with a final gust. First, there had been sound, indicating that time was not frozen, then, there was nothing. Only the fluttering image of the tent walls falling asleep and hanging limp on the poles.
Her muscles had stiffened and she was sitting in a cramp-like foster position. Her hands were numb. The blood had miraculously been pressed back in her veins. They were cold and pale as the moon outside.
On the wall next to her, she could see the faint shadows of the thick trees surrounded by cobwebs of branches and dried leaves. A leaf had settled peacefully just above her head.
That's when she saw it.
A branch had broken, letting out a last, drying crack. All of the three habitants of the tent had turned their head in the direction of the sound, each having their own concentrated, horrified expression plastered across their face.
In fact, Hermione didn't even need to turn her head, because she'd already noticed what had made the sound. The shadow of a sickly thin, hairy creature had stepped out into shadow show on the tent wall.
It was tall. Taller than her. Even taller than Ron. Its back was bent into something looking like an old man's posture, except for its abnormally big muscles, which she could spot through the green material of the tent. It almost looked human, if you didn't count the long, hairy ears and knife-sharp claws that looked like a fine cause to a quick death.
Hermione gasped out loud as it turned its head towards their tent. Its ears sprung upwards and it let out a snort that sounded a lot like a menacing laugh. It lifted its head and sniffed the air. Hermione could smell the rot emitting from its pores. She was reminded of a killing machine, knowing too well that it was the creature's purpose.
She only hoped it couldn't smell fear.
Hermione didn't dare to blink as the shadow ran out of its show. Her racing heart beat faster than even before. The blood pumped hard in her head. She could only hear her own breath and her own heartbeats, appreciating that they weren't gone quite yet.
Her eyes locked with the boys'. Harry stood stiffly in the middle of the room. Ron was sitting crooked on his toes with his wand directed to the opening in the tent. Harry spun around when another crack filled the air, another step closer to their position.
Hermione felt the tension emitting from them in waves. The desperation that washed over her made her feel hopeless. They could protect themselves, but what about her?
Ron had sensed her conflicted emotions, and carefully tip-toed over to her, flashing a nervous grin her way, showing her that he would, once again, be her knight in shining armour if needed to.
The temporary relief that a few seconds ago had flooded her, was now fading and sent her spiralling down into a state of fear. The growls and irritated snorts had started up again, just outside the opening of their tent. The creature hadn't been this close, and she could sense its hunger. A strangled scream escaped from its throat before she noticed the claw.
The creature had found out that they were in the tent, and was slowly pulling the tent open.
The three teenagers stood still, not daring to shift their positions in fear of awakening the death machine beast that threatened to tear them apart.
Hermione gasped silently as its face came into view, but she didn't have time to express her disgust for the creature's features, as it had already lunged forward in a swift, fast-as-lightening leap. And in the end, she just found herself standing just in front of it, its yellow eyes tinged with animalistic hunger and unpredictability.
End Notes
Thanks for reading and I hope you've enjoyed it so far. Especially thanks to all reviewers, who have waited faithfully (I hope) for a new update. So, chapter three done – what do you guys think, still hungry for more?