A/N: Originally, I had only intended 10 chapters. But now, of course, my story is not complete. I'm not going to speculate how many more at this point, simply because I'm having too much fun writing this and I'm not ready for it to end. As a reward to you for enduring such a miserable cliffhanger last time, this chapter is extra long.
I love ALL your comments. Thanks to sabotageuse, , and MJJnMK for new reviews!
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*********Chapter TEN*********
The only thing that saves Hermione is that the dragon still can't see her. She grabs the scale; it feels cold and hard in her hand. Then she concentrates on Orev and Apparates to his side. He's confused a moment as her hand grabs his and she again Disapparates, this time to take them into another part of the forest.
When they reappear in a clearing, she removes the Disillusionment Charm still on her. She drops the scale and puts her hands on her knees, panting. Orev's out of breath, too. He sinks to the ground next to her. In the distance, the dragon is still roaring.
"I think you . . . hurt it just enough . . . to make it angry," Orev says between gulps of air.
Hermione's face hurts. Her shoulder hurts. Really, her whole body hurts. She sits down, too.
Carefully.
"Alright," she says when she can, "spill."
Orev looks at her appraisingly, his eyes searching her face, then going down to her shoulder. He leans back to look at it.
"You're hurt." He reaches for her.
Hermione shrugs him off. "Not until you tell me how you know my name."
He looks amused for a moment, then scowls. Really, there is no keeping up with this man's moods.
"Because your charms wore off when the dragon blood hit you. I recognize you now."
Hermione gasps, then reaches into her bag for a little mirror. Sure enough, her own nose and freckled face stare back at her. Red blotches pepper her face where the dragon's blood and fire burned her.
"So where do you know me from?" she demands, dropping the mirror and looking him in the eye.
"Are you serious? Everyone in the wizarding world knows your face. Hermione Granger, one-third of the Golden Trio."
Hermione bites back a sob. Maybe it's because she's tired and injured. Or because he's mentioned a group that is made up of two now instead of three. Or because she's been on her own too long. Either way, she's relieved she doesn't have to pretend anymore.
Orev hesitates, a wary look in his eye. "I was sorry to hear about the death of Ronald Weasley."
She says nothing. What is there to say?
"I'm assuming you are here for him, then?"
Hermione looks out to the trees and sighs. "Yes."
They sit there a while, listening to the dragon create a fuss in the distance.
"You really need to let me look at your shoulder, Granger. It's bleeding."
"Some bait you turned out to be."
"It's not my fault you stayed longer than you should have!"
"Why you arrogant—"
"Wait," Orev says, standing. "Wait."
Hermione listens, but the woods have gone silent. "Where's the dragon?" she whispers.
A shadow passes over the clearing.
Hermione doesn't wait to find out if it's spotted them. She leans over, grabs Orev's ankle, and Disapparates with him in tow.
They land on another mountain altogether, just at the edge of the dragon preserve. Hermione was sitting when she disappeared, and she's still sitting when she lands. Orev, who's just had his feet pulled out from under him, lands right on top of her, his weight knocking her backward to the ground.
"Oomph!" they both say.
He raises, propping his weight on his arm as he tries to orient himself. They are a tangle of robes and cloaks. Eventually, they figure out whose limbs belong to whom, and Orev shifts positions to free his cloak from underneath her. He ends up with his body lined up with Hermione's, pressing her into the ground. For a moment, she can't think.
Orev frees his cloak, but doesn't move. Instead, he's staring directly into her eyes. "You okay?" he asks.
No, she's not okay. He knocked the wind out of her, and for some reason she's having trouble getting it back.
"Do you mind?" she says finally.
He smirks and rolls off to lay on his back beside her. "I think we need to call it a day," he says with a sigh.
Hermione agrees.
"What do you have in that bag to treat those wounds?"
While Hermione digs through her bag, Orev insists on setting up the tent himself and putting up the wards.
"Just about everything." Hermione tries to turn around to look at her shoulder, but she can't see the deep gash where the dragon's claw caught her.
"You're going to have to let me do it," Orev says. With a deep breath, she nods. It really hurts now. She pulls out bandages and two vials of a healing potion she always keeps ready. One is to drink, the other a salve apply to the wound.
She peels off her torn cloak and unclasps her robes. She has trouble getting her right arm out of them, though, and Orev helps her slide it out. Underneath, she's wearing leggings and a long t-shirt. Blood soaks her t-shirt, and it clings to her back. When Orev pulls the shirt away from the wound, she hisses in pain.
"You're lucky," he says. "A centimeter deeper, and the dragon could have punctured your spinal column. I need you to take off your shirt."
"No."
"Don't worry, Granger, I won't peek. But you've got to let me treat this."
She sighs and moves to lift the hem of her shirt. But Orev stops her. He moves her hair around to her uninjured left shoulder, then flicks his wand. The tear in the back of the shirt widens. The fabric rips all the way down the back, but stays on her arms. She's left holding it like a jacket put on backwards. She draws her knees up to her chin.
"Thank you," she says, realizing he's tried to save her some embarrassment.
"You are welcome."
Then Orev unclasps her bra, pushing the straps off to the side. He mutters some enchantment over her wound, pressing his wand tip along it. She feels the skin tighten and pull together. By the time it's over, she's gritting her teeth in pain.
Hermione takes a deep breath. "Where did you learn that?"
"Well, I've had plenty of experience removing bras, if that's what you're asking." He dabs the salve over the wound. It cools and soothes her pain.
Hermione flushes, glad he can't see her face. "No. You know what I mean."
She can almost hear him smirk.
As the pain leaves her body, so does the tension. Orev's fingers trailing across her back feel warm and cooling all at the same time. But that's probably the salve doing its work. She closes her eyes, allowing herself to relax. Orev seems to know how good it feels because he lingers ever so slightly as he finishes up at the top of her shoulder. She almost whimpers when he pulls his hand away. Get a grip, Hermione.
"Now your face."
"I can do it." Hermione protests out of habit, but she doesn't open her eyes.
Orev moves around to face her. He dabs more potion on her face, burnt by the dragon blood and embers. His finger touches her lips as he gets a spot near her mouth.
"There," he says quietly, "all done."
Hermione just wants to sleep. Instead she opens her eyes to look into his. "Thank you," she says again.
He nods. "Thank you for getting the dragon scale."
"The scale! I forgot it!"
Orev shakes his head. "I picked it up just as you jerked me off my feet. Thanks for that, by the way."
Hermione sighs again, slouching with her arms holding her shirt firmly to her front. "Who are you, Orev? It's only fair."
He inclines his head. "I am Orev, your friendly 'Lord Protector of the Trees.' Now, let's get you to bed, Wren."
"I can manage."
Orev helps her anyway, holding her by the waist until she's steady on her feet. His hands on her bare skin still feel calm and soothing.
Oh get a grip, Hermione. She holds the shirt tightly to her.
"You'll need to sleep on your stomach tonight," he says, "to allow the salve time to do its work."
"Okay. What are you going to do?"
Orev looks up and around into the afternoon sun. "No sense in wasting time. I have a potion to brew."
For one wild moment, Hermione thinks he's going to leave. In the next thought, she's listing all the reasons why she shouldn't care. So what if he does leave? He's caused me nothing but trouble. And he already told me about the caves. As soon as I feel a little better, I can go looking for myself.
Orev walks her to the door of the tent and hands her her robes and cloak. "I'd help you get settled," he says, "but . . . Rule Number One."
Hermione smiles. "I'm fine from here. Thanks again." Then, out of impulse, she leans forward and kisses him on the cheek. His stubble is rough against her lips.
Orev stiffens. "You don't have to do that."
"I know I don't." Is that anger in his eyes? "The way you've been flirting with me since I met you, I didn't think you'd mind."
"It was a mistake."
"Because you know who I am, now?" Her temper is flaring, the tension returning to her body.
"Yes," he says simply. "I apologize."
"Oh don't apologize. I was just thanking you." She turns and sweeps into the tent, casting her own wards around the inside. She shouldn't have kissed his cheek. Of course he would take it the wrong way. But she didn't mean anything by it.
Did she?
No. No, she did not.
But when she lays down on her stomach a few minutes later, she can't help but remember the way he touched her so carefully, and how soothing it was.
Get a grip, Hermione.
..
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..
She's surprised in the morning to discover Orev is still there. And he's dug in. The air in front of the tent is full of items floating in the air around him. A cauldron sits within a hot fire. Steam rises out of it in purple spirals.
"Where'd you get a cauldron?" Hermione asks.
Orev doesn't look up from stirring. "You're not the only person who knows how to use an Undetectable Extension Charm."
Refreshed after a good night's sleep, Hermione feels almost well again. Her shoulder twinges slightly when she moves it, but otherwise she had no trouble getting dressed in fresh clothes. She repaired her robes and cloak. Since Orev knows who she is now, she didn't bother with the charms to disguise her face.
Orev stirs once clockwise, once counter-clockwise. Then repeats. A piece of silky hair falls down around his chin. The rest is pulled back into a short ponytail. Standing over the cauldron, he reminds her of Professor Snape, who used to peer into her potions looking for a reason to criticize. He looked just like that when he couldn't find anything wrong with hers.
But Snape is gone, like so many others. She conjures a plush chair and sits in it. Some tea would be good; she should have made it before she left the tent. Then, Hermione is struck by a thought.
"I know you," she says.
Orev looks up quickly, his face flushed from standing so close to the hot fire. His eyes pierce hers.
"Or I know who you're related to," she amends.
"And who is that?"
"Why didn't you tell me you were related to Severus Snape? I didn't think he had any living relatives."
Orev laughs and nods to her. "Bravo, Wren."
"You may call me Hermione."
"I think not." He leaves the potion to simmer and conjures a wooden chair of his own next to Hermione's.
"Why not? I call you Orev."
"Tea?" he asks, summoning a kettle and two cups from somewhere. "I made it just before you woke."
"Yes, thank you."
Orev pours some for both of them, then settles into his chair. "I'd offer you sugar and cream, but I'm fresh out."
She takes a hesitant sip. It's good, even without cream or sugar. "You act a little like him, you know. Always with the sarcasm."
He takes a sip of his own. "The potion needs to simmer for a few hours. Hope you weren't planning on going anywhere today."
Not to be put off, Hermione continues, "And you look quite a bit like him, actually, now that I recognize the similarities. Cousins, maybe? He didn't have a brother, did he?"
Orev settles deeper into his chair, gazing out through the trees. With the sun shining overhead, the forest sparkles green and gold.
"Why haven't you made yourself known? He's quite famous now, you know. There's even a fund in his honor. Harry insisted the Ministry make the largest contribution."
"A fund for what?" Orev hides his interest by taking a sip of tea.
"Orphaned children."
Orev sputters and sits up, coughing.
"Burn yourself?" Hermione cocks an eyebrow.
"A little," he snarls. "Why did Harry Potter put that in Severus' name? Why not his own?"
"Snape was an orphan, too, wasn't he?"
Orev grimaces. "Not until he was older."
"I bet you know what he was like as a young man, then, although you're younger than he was, correct?"
"I'm not going to tell you about Severus Snape's childhood, so you can just forget that."
"But now, you see, I'm curious."
"You would be." Orev spits out. Then he turns to her. "Severus Snape was a bitter young man. It won't do to go digging into his past as part of some misplaced desire to understand him."
"I don't think it's misplaced. The wizarding world owes him a great deal."
"Yeah, well, it won't do him any good, will it? Go ahead and assuage your guilt, if you must, but Severus Snape will not reap one benefit from it, not where's he's at."
Hermione scoffs. She's not trying to assuage her guilt. Okay, maybe a little. She did think horrid things of him when she was his student. "Were you close to him?"
"No."
"Hmm," she says. She's not sure if she believes him.
Something moves through the trees at the edge of her vision. Hermione stands and walks around the fire to the edge of the wards. She watches it a moment, waiting for it to get closer.
A bear? No—it's brown, but walking on two legs. It has a shock of red at the top. Hermione's heart skips down into her stomach.
"What is it?" Orev calls.
"Not what—who. It's Charlie Weasley."
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************End Chapter***********
Ahhh… And now Hermione has only half-guessed the truth. To give her credit, she did watch Severus Snape die right before her eyes. ;)