The air smelled crisp and sweet, and his lungs filled like they had never filled before, as if they could somehow encompass the reality of the whole forest. His legs, though still human, ran faster and faster with a life of their own, and the sheer joy of it swelled in his chest. Everything seemed louder and richer and fuller until he was dizzy with all the smells, sights and sounds of a world that never stopped spinning.
He could hear the river running miles away, the crunching of leaves when squirrels quickly closed the distance between one tree and the next, and the scratching of a fox trying to get to a rabbit that had been faster than any respectful meal had any right to be.
He could hear their voices too. Hermione's and Ginny's. Not Ginny. Scarlett. No, Red — only McGonagall-who-was-not-McGonagall called her Scarlett. Other people called her Red. Red, like blood.
Their voices were not half so distracting as the sound of their blood, all of it iron and warmth just underneath the skin. It called to him even when when he was far enough that their voices were barely whispers to his wolf hearing. Her very existence called to him when all his instincts told him to keep running.
Every muscle in Red's body tensed whenever he came into sight, and she held her crossbow like the old him would have held a wand — like a challenge and a promise of painful things to come. But she never fired and he spared her barely a growl before throwing his arms around Hermione and burying his face on her neck.
He could hear her increased heartbeat every time he came back, and read the relief in the way she moved. He had no way of explaining to her that he would always come back, and she would not have believed him even if he could put it into words. So he didn't try, showing it instead in the carefree casualness that was only too easy to blame on the curse.
"He's not a puppy, you know?" asked Red when they set up camp the first night.
"Oh, I'm sure she knows that," he purred suggestively. Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled. He had missed that smile. He knew he had done preciously little to deserve it of late.
The hunter unfolded her sleeping bag in a sullen silence full of things unsaid. If it was his lot in life to be thrown into the constant company of Weasleys and Potters, he would certainly have preferred to deal with them separately. Ginny was both one and the other, making her twice the annoyance — in this reality or in any other.
Sitting down next to Hermione's sleeping bag, he said, "May I sleep here?" Neither man nor wolf would've asked the question — Draco would've been too proud to risk a no, and the wolf would have required no permission. But he was neither one nor the other — stuck in a limbo of negotiations and allowances between the two.
"Only because you make for a rather comfortable pillow," she joked, ignoring Red's disapproving glare.
He lay down behind her, an arm thrown around her waist. Hermione covered his hand with hers, lacing her fingers with his in a familiar gesture. She smelled like pack. She smelled like home. And it wasn't long before her steady heartbeat eased him to sleep.
The growling woke her up, but it took a few seconds for the scene before her to make sense inside her sleepy brain. Ginny stood on the other side of the now extinct camp fire, her crossbow aimed at the huge grey wolf whose bared teeth and aggressive posture made his intentions all too clear. The wolf's attention turned to Hermione when she jumped to her feet, freezing her in place.
"Don't turn your back to him," Red warned in a quiet voice. "Walk towards me very slowly."
"He won't hurt me," Hermione said without moving.
"I wouldn't bet on it," Ginny replied.
Praying Ginny would not shoot and Draco would not attack, Hermione took two steps towards the wolf. Sensing her to be the more imminent threat, he turned to her, growling and snapping.
"Draco, down," she ordered with all the authority she could muster. When the order seemed to have little effect, she drew herself up to her full height and repeated, "DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY, DOWN!"
The growl turned to a whine and the wolf lowered his body to the ground, keeping his fur and ears flat. Forcing herself to show no fear, Hermione marched up to him and offered a hand for him to smell. The wolf immediately licked it submissively. Hoping it was not all a ploy to turn her into a meal, Hermione knelt down in front of him and scratched his head behind the left hear. "Good boy," she said. "Did the mean hunter scare you?" When Draco sat up and licked her face and neck, she was too relieved for words.
"He so much as looks at me funny and I'll put an arrow through his skull," warned Ginny, lowering her crossbow.
"What happened to him?" Hermione asked, burying her hands in his grey fur. Just the night before he had run on two legs, and held her to sleep in human arms.
"He turned." Ginny started folding her sleeping bag. "They all do. Some manage to stay in human form longer than others, but they all turn in the end. I told you. The person you knew is not in there anymore."
But he was. She was sure he was. Like the day before, he would run off into the distance, disappearing for several hours, but he always came back without fail, rubbing against her legs until she stopped to pet him. Ginny didn't voice her disapproval, but her crossbow was always in hand whenever the wolf was near, and Hermione could not fault her. He might behave like a playful puppy, but she knew that was a dangerous illusion. He was bigger than a dog, much heavier than she was, and if he wanted to hurt either of them, he could do so with little difficulty.
But the Draco Malfoy who had stood before her in The Vaults not so long ago had felt more dangerous than the wolf now running circles around her feet. Claws and fangs could draw blood, but so could words and deeds.
It was midmorning when they heard a commotion as they approached the road leading into town. Loading an arrow into the crossbow, Red motioned for her to be silent and to follow. Hidden by the trees and bushes, they could see without being seen.
A carriage was under attack by a group of thugs. One of the bandits, a brutish man with a scar that ran down his face, kept a hold of the skittish horses, while one of his companions was busy fighting Seamus Finnigan. The other men seemed to be more interested in the contents of the carriage. A thin, tall man dragged one of the occupants out, and Hermione recognised Astoria Greengrass.
The screaming woman, encumbered by puffy skirts, was no match for her adversary, though that did not stop her from trying to fight him off, kicking and biting and scratching. Cho Chang jumped after them, attacking the man with a basket. He let go of Astoria, who fell to the ground, and turned to Cho, hitting her hard across the face with the back of his hand. He had time for nothing else, for just then Ginny's arrow pierced his neck. Before any of his companions had time to react, another arrow hit the coachman's assailant in the back. Grabbing the dead man's sword, Seamus ran to Astoria, who was still down.
Ginny's third arrow missed its target, ending up stuck in the open carriage door. With a speed no doubt born of practice at such activities, a man that seemed to be their leader grabbed Cho and took cover behind the carriage. His companions, seeing the merit of the idea, did likewise.
"Whoever you are," the leader shouted. "Come out or this bitch dies."
With a muttered curse, Ginny made to move, but Hermione put a hand on her shoulder. "You're no use out there and I'm no use here," she whispered. Then louder she added, "I'm coming out. I'm unarmed. Let her go." She walked slowly, her hands raised. She was wearing a set of Red's clothes — hunter garb suitable for travelling — and while she was not armed, she tried to project an air of calm competence, that of a woman who might go around forests stopping brigands from attacking innocent travellers. She wished she had at least a knife with which to defend herself, but as she had no practice in using one, perhaps it was for the best.
"Are you alone?" the man asked, as if expecting she might tell the truth.
"Yes," she said, coming out of the tree line. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Seamus help Astoria up and stealthily hand her a dagger that she quickly concealed in the folds of her outer skirt.
The moment the man walked out from behind the carriage, Hermione recognised him. Antonin Dolohov was no longer holding Cho. He looked different from what she remembered, no longer possessing the sickly complexion brought on by over a decade in Azkaban.
He grinned malevolently, closing the space between them and pressing the sharp edge of his sword against her neck. "You killed two of my men," he observed as one might comment on the weather. "They were not very bright, nor very skilled, but they were mine and you killed them."
Hermione did not reply straight away. Her fear at walking out into a road filled with outlaws had been replaced by something else. Something primal born deep inside her, in a place of terror and nightmares, where Death Eaters still cast their Dark Mark on the sky over yet another broken body. She knew some of the other men, too. Carrow was now holding Cho, and Nott and Gibbon had run over to Astoria and Seamus, who surrendered meekly.
She dug her nails into her palms, trying to focus. She had survived the war. She had survived Bellatrix Lestrange. She would not be cowered by underlings who existed only inside her head. "An unfortunate event, no doubt," she said, her voice steady and her head held high. "But then, life is plagued with unfortunate events."
His eyes narrowed and he increased the pressure on the blade, grazing her skin. "Do you have a death wish, girl?"
No. But sometimes it was necessary to have an open mind about the possibility of dying. "I think the better question is, 'do you'? NOW, RED!" And with that, she dropped to the ground, rolling out of the way. By the time she regained her footing, Dolohov had already fallen with a thud.
Chaos ensued. Astoria buried the dagger on the side of her assailant, turning to help Seamus fight off Nott. Cho elbowed her captor, who did not let go. Hermione made to help her, but someone grabbed her hair from behind, yanking it back. Losing her balance, she fell to the ground, staring in horror at the man towering above her. He held his sword with both hands, lifting it over his head, but before he had time to strike, a flash of grey dashed out of the forest and jumped at him. The man barely had time to scream as he fell to the ground before the sound died in his throat when Draco ripped out his jugular. At the sight of the predator, the horses neighed nervously, but did not bolt.
The man holding Cho threw her to the ground before lunging at the wolf. Draco was faster, however, easily evading the sword and closing his powerful jaw on the man's leg. The bandit's challenging shouts turned into screams of horror as he fell. Between the gigantic grey wolf and the arrows that kept flying out of the forest, the remaining men quickly decided against the virtues of bravery and fled in disarray, with Draco hard on their heels.
"Yeah, you run, you beastly cowards," Seamus yelled after them. "Not so brave now, are ya?"
"Kind stranger," said Cho, moving towards Hermione. "We are in your debt. If there is any way for us to repay such generosity, you need but name it."
"And what reward would you offer an old friend?" Ginny asked, walking out of the tree line, crossbow still in hand. With a small yelp, Cho Chang ran to the hunter, throwing her arms around her in a tight hug.
"A friend of a friend is our friend too," Astoria said with a smile. "I am Cinderella, and this is Snow White." Hermione forced a smile, taking the younger woman's offered hand while trying to remind herself that she did not dislike Astoria — charming woman who may or may not be sleeping with her ex-husband.
"We're just glad we could help," she muttered, because she needed to say something. "Who were those men?"
"Pirates," Cho explained. "Their captain was captured last month. Abducting Cinderella would have given them leverage with Prince James."
"As if James would ever deal with such scum," Astoria sneered, turning up her pretty nose in a way that reminded Hermione of Daphne. "They could put me in irons or even make me walk the plank. My James would never deal with such barbarians, and he will most certainly never release that woman — horrid, evil creature. She deserves to be impaled with her own hook."
"I certainly hope you're mistaken," Cho laughed. "I very much hope that should we be so unfortunate as to be taken by pirates, your James would hasten to our rescue."
"Well, we are lucky we were spared such fate. We have much to thank our brave saviours."
"We only did our duty, my lady," Ginny said gallantly, holding Astoria's hand to her lips with a suggestive smile.
"Now, now, Red, you know I'm almost a married woman," Astoria teased.
The hunter's mischievous smile never wavered. "Hope springs eternal."
Astoria blushed prettily at that — as fairy-tale princesses so often do — but Cho seemed less than amused at the exchange. "We should go," she said. "They've left, but they may come back. Let us not overtax our brave saviours." And with barely another glance at either Hermione or Ginny, she walked back into the carriage, exchanging a brief word with Seamus before climbing in.
"Oh, you must let us give you a ride," Astoria insisted. "Snow and I were just on our way back to town. But what of the wolf? Should we wait?"
"He'll catch up," Hermione said, not feeling overly charitable towards the man, and certain that the wolf would not get lost.