Author's Note: I am of the opinion that the Room of Requirement does not exist in time/space the way that most things do. The Room uses a combination of different sorts of magic to make itself into what you need from it. And to do this, it must be able to alter more than just the appearance of things. It's magic! SO THERE. XD


Chapter 3: Fighting One's Demons

Hermione was freezing cold. She'd tried a Warming Charm twice, but she still felt as though she was slowly turning to ice. Her toes had gone numb ages ago, but she still kept pushing onward even as her joints slowly frozen painfully in place. She was in a dark, seemingly endless frozen forest. There was no moon, no stars, just blackness above the skeletal trees, which filled her with a crushing sense of claustrophobia and dread.

So far, for all her walking, she'd not encountered another soul, nor had she seen any monsters or malevolent creatures. She thanked Merlin for that, at least. From time to time, she called out to see if she could find anyone, friend or foe. She'd circled back, following her footprints until they disappeared, but could not find the door she'd entered.

In short, she was trapped with limited food and supplies and the slowly falling snow didn't seem to be a very good candidate for a reliable water source.

She called out once more before sitting down on a snow-covered log and pulling a small wax-wrapped sandwich from her robes. She ate in small, measured bites, and though the sandwich tasted delicious, it gave her no pleasure at all.

"Maybe I don't deserve to be happy," she mused to herself, "After all, I got out of the war relatively unscathed. So many lost their lives, their health….their families…"

She thought back to her parents and how she'd been unable to fix their memories and how Australia's equivalent of the Ministry was unwilling to help muggles with spell damage. It hadn't helped that Mr. and Mrs. Granger had been upset when she'd shown up on their doorstep. She'd left Crookshanks to look after them. At least he'd remembered her. To some extent, that made it all the more horrible, because it reminded her that she'd done such an extreme thing to the two people she loved most in the entire world instead of talking to them about it.

"And now, they may well be gone forever," she said sadly, hot tears dripping off of her nose and onto her sandwich bread, "Oh...I'm being silly...talking to myself and crying about things I can't change...things that are all my fault."

"Are you...alright?" a somewhat gruff voice said from behind her, and she nearly fell off of the log as she twisted around, pulling her wand and casting a Shield Charm as her sandwich flew to the snow-covered ground.

The young man who'd spoken had drawn his wand as well, pulling up a Shield Charm of his own. For a moment, they stared in silence at one another, both on full alert and expecting an attack from the other, before Hermione noticed the little blue lanterns floating around his head. And a tiny voice in the back of her head told her that he looked somehow familiar, which made her feel less afraid. Both of them lowered their wands and looked at each other, their mouths still slightly open with surprise.

"Are you...real?" Hermione said, her eyes wide as she looked over his young, hawk-like face for signs that he might be out to do her harm.

"Last I checked," he replied with a shrug, "What about you?"

"Well, of course I'm real!" Hermione replied, sniffing loudly in the cold air, "Otherwise, why would I ask you if you were real?"

"It's the exact sort of thing a figment of my imagination would say," the unknown man replied. He was obviously an adult, but he still had youthful features, which gave him the appearance of having been in school very recently.

"Are you a student at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked gently, trying another tack, "I haven't seen you around."

"No," he replied, hiding his eyes behind his long, black hair, "I'm not a student. But I used to be."

His words felt loaded with a sadness that Hermione could practically feel, but she felt uncomfortable prying. Her mind raced as she tried to think of something to say.

"Oh, that explains it, then," Hermione replied, smiling awkwardly. She felt so fake for doing so when all she wanted to do was feel miserable and sorry for herself, but she didn't want to drive off the only company she'd been able to find in hours. And at least he wasn't trying to kill her or force himself on her or something like that. Though as she looked him over in his black robes, which did nothing but accentuate how thin and tall he was, she doubted seriously that he would be much of a threat without a wand.

"How long have you been here?" he asked in a way that nearly sounded accusatory. It was obvious to Hermione that he didn't have much of a sense of tact and she could empathise with that, but she bristled a bit anyway.

"It's been awhile," she admitted, trying not huff loudly in irritation, "But I'm here for a reason. I don't think the Room would have made this place for me if I didn't need it."

"You asked the Room of Requirement to make a frozen forest so you can die of hypothermia?" he replied, arching an eyebrow as he crossed his arms to conserve heat, "Of all of the daft things I've ever heard-"

"That's not what I did!" Hermione shouted, inwardly smirking when his eyes went wide and he backed up, obviously intimidated by her aggressive outburst. "I….I can't summon a corporeal Patronus."

Something flickered behind his dark eyes as they narrowed, sizing her up. Surprise? Commiseration? Hermione was not sure.

"Not many witches or wizards bother to learn how to summon a Patronus, much less a corporeal one," he replied, finally. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, and certainly not something you should banish yourself away to whatever horrible place this is because you cannot do it."

"But...I could!" Hermione replied, her hands balling into fists as she held back angry tears, "I've been able to summon a corporeal Patronus ever since I was in fifth year!"

His eyes widened.

"Intriguing," he replied, stroking his pointed chin, "May I ask what form it took?"

"A sea otter," Hermione replied easily, "But...now..look."

She pointed her wand, mustered up the most positive thoughts she could imagine and shouted "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A tiny fizzle of light sparked from the tip of her wand but nothing else happened.

"I see," he said, frowning.

"I'm Hermione," she said, extending her hand. "I know we're not exactly meeting under the best of conditions, but it's nice not to be alone. I was beginning to talk to myself."

He took her hand and shook it awkwardly, as though not used to the gesture. His hand was warm and dry, unlike her frozen fingers, which were almost blue with the cold. She nearly moaned with pleasure at the warmth and he pulled his hand back as though he'd been bitten.

"Are you...all right?" he asked concernedly.

"Just...a bit cold.." Hermione replied, trying to keep her teeth from chattering. "My Warming Charms don't seem to be helping much."

As she met his eyes with her own, she couldn't help but wonder where she'd seen him before. He was taller than she was and had quite a sallow, pale complexion, but that could describe hundreds of students in the years above her in school. Hermione was somewhat mortified to admit that she barely knew any Gryffindor students outside of her own year, much less the names of students from other Houses. And from the quiet, calculating look of the young man before her, she very much doubted he was Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. But he didn't act like Draco or the other Pure-blooded snobs from Slytherin. Maybe Ravenclaw then? Hermione racked her brain but she couldn't even seem to remember one name.

"This is going to sound kind of weird," she began as he stared back quietly, waiting for her to speak, "But I think I know you. I just can't place your name."

His eyes seemed to darken for a moment, lines appearing in the corners of his eyes before he finally looked up again with a conflicted, guarded expression.

"Just call me...er...Prince. That's my surname," he said, his eyes darting to the ground.

That seemed familiar too. It was so odd, though, because for some reason, Hermione also felt like he was being truthful without actually being truthful. It was so paradoxical, that it almost took her mind off the cold.

Almost.

"Well, I guess that's enough of a rest for me!" she said with a false sense of brightness, jumping up and trying to jog in place to get some feeling back in her legs. "I near froze solid sitting here!"

"Allow me to accompany you, Hermione," he said softly, giving her a small, inexplicably sad smile, "It will be beneficial to both of us if we encounter anything...dangerous."

Hermione felt a shiver go up her back at the silky sound of his voice.

It was so familiar, it was almost scary.

She studied his guarded expression and decided that even if he was obviously hiding something from her, he was also offering his help and company, which were both things that she sorely needed.

"I don't think I can refer to you as 'Prince,' though," Hermione said skeptically, "Not without feeling unbearably silly."

"And we can't have that," he replied a bit sardonically. Moments later, his eyes widened and his cheeks went scarlet as he realized he'd actually said it aloud.

Hermione snickered despite herself, and he looked incredibly relieved. His body seemed to sag with relief.

"Er...sorry," he mumbled, wringing his hands, "Sometimes things just...slip out."

"Don't worry," she replied, "I'll have you know that I've endured far more boorish behavior than that in my lifetime. Besides, the odd quip here or there reminds me of...well...I'd rather not say. It'll just make me cry like a ninny again."

He said nothing in reply but nodded slightly as though silently commiserating with her.

"So...do you have a first name, then?" Hermione continued, giving him a hopeful, big-eyed look.

He gave her a reluctant look.

"Come on. It can't be that bad!" she said impatiently, "I know a boy named Neville Longbottom! Yours can't be more embarrassing than that!"

"You can call me…" he trailed off, looking somewhat stricken, "Just call me Se...Sev. Just Sev. Does that work for you?"

"There! That wasn't so bad, was it?" Hermione replied, beaming. "It's nice to meet you, Sev. I just wish it was under slightly less depressing circumstances."

"Agreed. The faster we can get out of here, the better," he replied, looking around watchfully.

They began to walk, and before long had left the clearing far behind them. Small things seemed to move just out of their eyesight and from time to time, strange calls that sounded like a cross between a beast and a bird emanated from off in the distance. Hermione pressed close to her quiet companion, both of them with their wands held down and at the ready. Still, they did not encounter another soul as they continued on their way.

"So, how did you find me?" Hermione asked, after a time. She found the silence to be almost more unnerving than the possibility of giving their location away to some strange beast.

"I heard you calling out for help," he replied, shrugging, "And then the door appeared and I went inside. And here I am."

"Wow. You didn't even think twice, did you?" Hermione replied, impressed. "How brave!"

"More like suicidal," her retorted with a rueful snort, giving her a sidelong glance, "But yes, I suppose it was...in a way."

"I'll have to thank you with a proper meal once we've found our way out," Hermione said with a small smile, "Because I was starting to think I'd be lost and alone forever."

"Better to be lost and with company, then?" he replied, smirking back.

"Definitely," she said, looking up at him and studying his features. Her mind was still whirring with the desire to know where she'd seen him before. And a not-so-little voice in the back of her head was beginning to admit that she found him to be quite enjoyable company as far as company was concerned. And even the lank, dark hair and scrawny build wasn't enough to take away from the purposeful way that he walked and the somewhat hypnotic sound of his voice when he spoke.

This isn't good. At this rate, I'm going to develop a crush on a near stranger and it's going to be even more awkward than it already is right now.

But Hermione's musings were abruptly interrupted as a rustling noise focused their attention to their immediate left.

A dark spectre advanced upon them, making the already frigid wasteland even colder than before, and Hermione could feel any remaining joy seep out of her like air out of a deflating balloon.

"D-dementor!" she shouted stupidly, raising her wand before she realized that she couldn't drive it off, couldn't produce a Patronus...it was going to suck every bit of happiness from her body and take her soul and there was nothing she could do….

"Snap out of it!" Sev cried, shaking her. "We have to run!"

"Wha-?" she looked at him, "Can't you-?"

"No! I have the same problem you do!" he shouted, his eyes widening until he looked almost demented. "If you don't want to have your soul sucked out of you then come with me!"

"It's no use!" she cried, feeling her eyes fill with tears, "I'm just going to slow you down anyway. I'm just...I deserve to die…I…"

"We don't have time to stand here arguing!" he shouted back at her. "Take my hand. Follow where I lead. And if you still have a death wish after we get away from this damned creature, then I'll respect that and let it get you, all right?!"

Hermione nodded numbly and grasped his hand tightly, allowing him to pull her away from the dark spectre that seemed to be growing closer at an alarmingly fast speed. She focused on the warmth of his fingers entwined around hers, the heat of his palm as he pulled her through thorny brambles and behind trees and around rocks, swearing as he blazed his way through the underbrush in an attempt to lose the dementor on their trail.

Somehow, the extreme exertion jarred a memory in her head.

A book on Advanced Potions.

An old clip from the Daily Prophet.

A sudden moment of clarity.

"Oh my god," she said breathlessly as they ran, "It's impossible. I know it's impossible...but...I know who you are."

He turned back momentarily as they ran and she could see the profile of his large, hooked nose in the half light of the floating blue lanterns and she knew.

"Please…." he gasped, his eyes wild with fear, and Hermione wasn't sure if it was for the dementor or if it was the fact that she'd figured it out. "Please...don't hate me."

But there was no time to respond, because there was suddenly nothing under their feet as they crashed through a bush and off the side of a very high drop. The sound of rushing water below was only a minor comfort, as the cold of it was enough to knock the breath from Hermione's body as she struggled to keep her face above water.

But their fingers were still connected somehow, and this somehow gave her the strength to keep fighting the urge to sink down into the water and let it end her.

Gasping and coughing, they flopped onto a sandy bank and lay side by side in the near pitch black, the fairy light having been extinguished by the roaring freezing river. He cast a Drying spell on them both silently, and though she knew it should feel wrong and strange to pull herself closer until they were face to face in the sand, somehow it didn't feel that way at all when she actually did it.

"We need...to stay warm…" she said, her cheeks burning in the darkness as she felt his breath coming out in warm puffs only inches away.

Tentatively, he wrapped his arm around her, but he said nothing in reply as their combined body heat made the oppressive cold of their surroundings somehow more manageable.

She listened to the steady rise and fall of his breath until she closed her eyes and knew no more.