Chapter Eleven: Oh, oh, Trouble

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter of any of the characters.


Hermione was moving like a ghost. There was no certainty in her actions, and she couldn't even be sure she was actually doing anything. She picked up a cup, she set it down.

It made no noise. It made no difference.

The dementors were close. She could feel them like sticky cold dew on her skin. They were already draining her, sucking her of every feeling she had ever had. Her breath came out in small shivers, a small bit of mist surrounding it. It was freezing. And it was desolate in this house.

Malfoy was gone. She hardly knew where. He had simply gotten up and walked out the door without so much as a word to her. If nothing else, at least the dementors were dulling her panic. She was on the ledge; a slight push was going to send her down a frantic spiral. Where was Malfoy? And why hadn't he come back yet? If he got himself killed then there would be absolutely no hope. For all she knew, Voldemort was on his way here to finish her off as well. She ran her fingers along the kitchen counter. There was absolutely no difference; her hands were as cold as the marble. But they shook violently with anticipation.

Hermione's eyes jumped to the window, then to the door. What now? What was she to do? Was there anything? The dementors were slowly leaving the area, their cold numbness was disappearing and the fire in her stomach grew. She began to panic about her impending panic.

She couldn't make a run for it. The invisible rope was tied to her foot and to the post of the stairs. Allowing her access to only inside the house, and not even as far as the library on the second floor. If death was going to come for her. It would have to be swift, at least she hoped for as much.

A piercing scream outside startled her out of her reverie. Hermione dropped the cup she was holding onto the cold floor. It shattered into a hundred pieces, glittering in the filmy morning light. She could not even hear the sound of the broken glass as it hit stone floor, the scream was on repeat in her head. Loud, clear, and fresh, as though it were coming from her own lips. She thrust her body into action and ran to the door, peering through the glass.

There was nothing to see outside, the fog was thick and rolling, but as much as Hermione could make out, there were no shapes floating about. Was it a human that had run into a dementor? But would human scream? They couldn't even see the vile things, how were they to know what was coming for them?

She stepped away from the door quickly. Now the dread was in a fixed rise. Hermione could feel herself begin to grow balmy. Her eyes watered and her body shook in large tremors. But her mind worked quickly and efficiently.

There was no way to get rid of the rope. Only Malfoy could do that.

She had nobody to contact as Malfoy hid the floo powder. That would have to be a last resort.

There was nowhere to hide that dementors or wizards could not find her.

Hermione wasn't much of a masochist, so suicide wouldn't be any good. Plus she was certain Malfoy had a spell against that.

There was nothing else she could do. So Hermione opted for the floo.

Hermione hadn't a clue as to who she could contact. There was no way she could get in touch with Harry. She didn't know where he was, and the lines were not secure. That would only bring death down upon him as well. Malfoy was out of the picture, he was being assumed dead after all. She began with the drawers in the sitting room; she pulled up the couch cushions too.

Any survivors that she could remember being left? No, nobody. Lavender was an option, but if she were caught...Hermione didn't want to be the cause of those consequences. There was nothing in and around the coffee table. And nothing in the china cabinet. Damn, she'd never find the powder.

Oh. She was an idiot. Hermione Granger was a complete blithering idiot. As the chain had swung against her chest, she realized she had a perfectly good option right on her. Hermione grabbed the necklace Malfoy had given her tightly in her fist, so hard it had begun to dig into her flesh. Her stupidity was causing her to blush with chagrin. He had given this to her for such a reason as this, and it never dawned on her to use it. It wasn't just another piece of jewellery!

"Please Malfoy, please still be alive, come fucking get me, don't leave me here...come on...work damn it, work!" she cried angrily now tugging on the chain. Another scream sounded from the back of the house, towards the beach.

"Come on! You stupid slimy bastard git! Where are you when I bloody need you!" she screamed, aware that she was certainly attracting attention to herself as well. Whatever was out there was sure to have heard her now.

Another gurgled scream. This one was too close for comfort. She could hear the blood as it splattered on the pavement. It was right outside her door. Hermione felt her knees weaken and she slipped to the ground. Those weren't dementors. They couldn't have been. No, a human would not fear a dementor, and death by dementor had no sound, let alone gurgles and splatter of blood. What would a human fear?

Giants were too loud, and too complicated to handle. Humans didn't fear vampires, not so immediately anyway, that was also a silent death. Trolls? Not so far away, and certainly not goblins. Her mind flew through Voldemort's alliances, trying to figure out what was causing havoc on the streets. Deatheaters? Using what? Machetes? Aside from Voldemort himself, the only other terrifying creature out there was,

"Werewolves" Hermione whimpered softly. Her stomach did an unpleasant flip, and her tea rose up her throat.

She had had her fair share of run-ins with werewolves, and nothing scared her as much. Not even Voldemort. Death from a wizard could be quick, especially if they really wanted you dead. Death by werewolf was a slow and gruesome thing. Usually used for the Deatheaters entertainment.

"Oh Malfoy, if you really wanted me dead, couldn't you do it yourself" she groaned tiredly lying down on the carpeted floor and closing her eyes. Her body was worn out.

"Oh get up, and stop being so pathetic. It's not like you Granger"

Hermione's heart stopped. And the quickly restarted at the sight of Malfoy running down the stairs towards her. She had never been happier to see him. "Oh, finally" she cried stumbling to her feet and rushing over to greet him with arms wide open.

"Now, that reaction would be great every time you see me" he grinned tersely as her arms found purchase and she gripped him tightly. It was a poor attempt at humour, given their current situation.

"It's so loud, so much screaming" Hermione whispered locking eyes with him. He pulled out of her arms, and she followed him into the kitchen. He began opening cupboards, looking for something.

"Werewolves? Why?" she muttered more calmly now, eased with Malfoy's presence.

Malfoy suddenly turned around, his eyes locked on hers with a fervent force. "Did you see them?" he asked incredulously.

"No, but I've been listening to them massacre people within a kilometre radius for the last half hour" she replied coldly.

Malfoy turned back around, opening another high cupboard and reaching around back behind some fancy china tea cups. "Damn, I can't reach" he muttered. He clambered onto the countertop on his knees and tried again.

Another scream, this one was outside their door to the left. "The neighbours" Malfoy muttered to himself.

"Where did you go this morning?" Hermione asked as he pulled out an old silver walnut cracker.

"Business" he replied shortly.

"Listen here Malfoy; since this business of yours is now involving me, I want in on whatever you're doing. Don't leave me in the dark" Hermione demanded. He jumped off the counter and headed upstairs, she followed right at his heels.

"Sorry Granger, no can do. It's probably better if you're in the dark" he replied warningly.

Hermione stuttered and followed into his office. "I can't see how that would be" she muttered closing the door behind her. "What are you doing with that?" she asked pointing to the nut cracker in bewilderment.

He gave her an odd look and resumed grabbing papers off his desk and stuffing them into his cloak. Hermione shook her head and willed her brain back into work. "A portkey?" she asked disbelievingly wandering over to his desk.

"Yes" he muttered as he pushed a couple of scrolls into his pocket.

"Where?" Hermione asked softly.

"Where ever we're sent" he replied cryptically.

"Where Malfoy?" Hermione repeated angrily.

He glared at her from over his desk. "It doesn't fucking matter, anywhere but here right now. And I don't know. Where ever we're sent!" he growled.

"You don't know? Whose portkey is it? Who the hell are you entrusting this too? Please tell me you have this figured out. Don't jump blindly Malfoy, it could be the end of us both if you act reckless!" Hermione chastised, but there was a hysterical edge to her voice. She knew she didn't care, and she could agree that anywhere was better than here right now. That with the werewolves going from door to door. Anywhere was better, but for in the hands of Voldemort and his Deatheaters.

"Do you trust this person Malfoy?" Hermione asked seriously.

"Yes" he replied with certainty.

"Okay" she whispered, relenting. There was no way about this, he was taking her with him, whether she wanted to go or not. So it was best to just do it and shut up. Hermione wasn't one for giving in, or being obedient, but enough near death situations, and one learns that sometimes it's better to go with the flow. "How long?" she asked.

"Another ten minutes" Malfoy sighed sitting in his chair.

"Can we afford that?" she asked sadly.

He shrugged, "I don't really know"

Hermione walked around behind him and gazed out of his large window. The street down below was clean, of bodies. But there was red running down the gutters, red tingeing the fog, and a heavy metal scent that infiltrated the air.

"Why?" she asked, knowing he would know what she meant.

"Isn't it clear" he sighed, running his pale hand through his flaxen hair. Hermione could see just how tired he was, and just how aged. This was not a young man, and she was not a young women. She felt a hundred years old, and ready to crumble at any moment.

In another life she would have finished her Healer studies and would have been working as an intern. She would probably have been happily content with Ron, even if she wasn't deeply in love. But most importantly, everyone would be there with her. Even Malfoy could have had a place in her life, if he hadn't run out on them. Then even he could have been happy.

In this life she was tired and sad, thoroughly. In this life, she was the walking dead. But weren't they all. Just walking silently, doing their jobs without passion, hope, or love, knowing that death was handing low over the backs of their necks.

"So Voldemort does want us dead, what did you do?" Hermione asked sympathetically. She leaned her back against the window, staring at the back of his rumpled head.

"It doesn't matter, he'd want me dead soon enough anyway" Malfoy replied sadly. It was a strange tone to colour Malfoy's voice. True grief was not something Hermione thought him capable of. There was so much he wasn't telling her, and he wouldn't ever.

"While that may be true, what you did matters to me" she replied honestly.

"I can't imagine anything I do mattering much to you" he laughed dejectedly.

"It does, more now than ever. Especially now that our fates are entwined. What you do affects me Malfoy, and what I do will affect you. That is how things are now. And it also affects my view of you" she answered quietly.

"I didn't know that my views could be affected any longer. I thought I had dropped so low that I couldn't be redeemed" he said, Hermione could hear the smile in his voice.

"No, everyone can be redeemed, even you. Besides, I told you I didn't think you were a total monster. You're just misled, which is unfortunate. But you aren't a monster. Those things down there, killing people recklessly, are monsters" Hermione said with disgust.

"I've killed recklessly" he whispered, his head dropping lower. Was that regret she heard?

"No, you've killed carefully. I'm not sure which is worse for me personally. You've been careful to kill heavy people. People who are worth millions of muggles, but you keep your hands cleaner in that sense. But you've killed people I've loved" she murmured. Hermione then sighed and looked back out the window. "Time?" she asked.

"Two minutes" he replied looking at the clock.

"I don't think we have that much" Hermione whispered, goosebumps rolled up her arms.

Malfoy leapt outside his chair to look out the window as well. "Shit" he cursed pressing his forehead to the window.

Down, by the gate, the werewolves were tenderly pressing against Malfoy's shield. It bended against their fingers, giving. There were four of them; Hermione recognized only the first one. Her blood curdled at the sight of him.

They had found their targets. The only house on the street that they could not see, and now they knew that somebody was hiding in here. What would they do? Wait for a wizard to come blast the shield away, or wait for...

"You have to remove that shield in order for the portkey to work" Hermione said in terror, her fingers closing around her lips at the thought. It wouldn't take but two second for the werewolves to catch them. But it would take a whole thirty seconds for the shield to disintegrate. And there was now a minute left until the portkey went off.

"Any ideas?" Draco asked anxiously.

Hermione stared at him in horror.


A/N: Yes I'm back. It's been forever, and there's a long story to go along with it that I might or might not tell you but that basically consists of me going to Japan for two semesters and loving it! Sorry, for no forewarning. Lol, please take me back! Well, I'm making my rounds, and hoping to get a chapter up on every fic by friday.

Cheers,

Ana