Sorry! I have been so busy, new job, qualifications, new course starting in January. I am really ill right now, so this writing won't be the best but I just want to get it DONE so that I can move onto my next project! I hate not finishing something and then starting on to something else, though I do it all the time. Anyway, I warble. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I already have it pretty much planned to the end – but please feel free to review with your feelings about the characters and settings. You will see why it's a sequel to TDHW soon...xx

The changes in the men's facial expressions were astounding. Joy, sorrow, panic, anger, confusion and then a look of gentle pity.

It was Ron who spoke first. 'That's great, Hermione.' He gave her a warm lopsided smile. 'How far along are you?'

'Four months.' Her face was bright and she looked like that little girl who used to sit overjoyed in the library. 'I just had to be sure.'

The atmosphere was still tense, Hermione turned with a hesitant smile to Harry. 'Isn't it great?'

His eyebrows were slightly knitted together so that he wore a little frown. If Sirius had been there, he would have said that he looked exactly like James.

'Yeah.' He said softly. 'Yeah.' And he wandered out of the room.

Hermione's face fell and she turned her attention to fiddling with the cuff of her jumper. Ron grimaced. The timing wasn't ideal, and at the back of his mind he felt that this baby was a replacement for the one that they had lost. But how could he be cross? It wasn't right to resent this baby just because that wasn't how things had been planned.

Gently, he slipped his arm around her waist – she was a little plumper perhaps, but the bump was still yet to show, and she nestled into his shoulder.

'I'm going to be a mother.' He heard her say. 'It's happening this time, I know it is.'

'Hermione –'but Ron never managed to finish what he was going to say as Harry came bursting back through the tent in a panic.

'They're here. Death Eaters. They're here.'


The three burst out of the tent in a panic, wands out and pointing at the darkness. For what seemed like hours, they stood with their backs close to one another so that every area was covered and jumping whenever they heard a crack on the nearby forest floor.

The cold wind whipped around them and went like daggers down their lungs and burning their cheeks.

'Harry,' Ron spoke at last, 'Harry.'

'Quiet.' Harry interrupted him. 'They'll hear.'

'But, Harry-'

'Shut it!' he snarled.

'Harry,' Hermione spoke timidly, 'Harry, I don't think that anyone's here.'

Harry didn't say anything, instead his jaw set determinedly and he jabbed his wand in the direction of the forest, knuckles clenched white and hands shaking.

'Harry, please, come inside? There's no one here.'

'I saw them.'

She swallowed. 'Maybe they were just passersby?'

Harry shook his head aggressively. 'It wasn't like that. They were coming for us. I know it.'

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. Harry did have a tendency to be paranoid.

'Then we'll keep watch.' Ron said at last. 'And wait.'


When Hermione took over the watch from her husband four hours later, they exchanged a wry smile.

'Does he ever get it right?'

Hermione smiled and ruffled his hair. 'Get in there. You know what he's like, best keep him happy. If nothing has happened by morning then we don't have to do this the following night.'

Ron headed back into the tent and Hermione assumed his place, pulling her knees up and resting her chin on them.

It was still bitterly cold, growing colder and colder like death, and the howling wind began to sing to her. Songs that she knew only from nightmares and touches she knew from horrors. She felt sick.

'Hermione,' the air breathed, 'Hermione.'

She swallowed and chose to ignore it.

'Where are you, my Miss Mudblood? Where are you?'

Hermione suppressed a sob and pulled herself closer together.

She felt sick. She was sick. Why did she think these things? What the hell was wrong with her? Things were bad enough. Time and time again she convinced herself that it wasn't real, but years had passed and they never faded, the details never changed.

When Lord Voldemort stood in the forest, he looked exactly the same.

Now he held out one of his long white arms and beckoned her.

Hermione's breath hitched in panic and looked back down on her knees praying that it would all go away soon. But she could smell him on her skin, could feel his body pressing against hers, she could taste his skin and she could hear him whisper her name as if he were right behind her.

Finally, it all got too much and she ran.

Faster and faster away from him and through the thickening of trees the other side. At the back of her mind she knew that she was running into the darkness, but it was like he was messing with her mind and she just couldn't think straight. Eventually she came to a jolted stop as if someone had grabbed her and that this was as far as she was supposed to go.

At once Hermione cursed herself for so easily running into a trap. He'd been sent to scare her into running away from security, but she didn't have too long to ponder this as a green jet of light came flying her way. Hermione dived behind a large bolder and grabbed her wand out of her pocket, shooting golden stars over her shoulder. Whether they hit the intended target she didn't find out, for a blue light had suddenly hit her squarely in the chest. It wasn't a spell that she had encountered before; it made her feel woozy, dizzy and she felt her eyes droop. But Hermione had faced worse and managed to stagger up and cast her wand around her. She almost wished that she hadn't.

About twenty or so figures in black cloaks and masks surrounded her.

Death Eaters.

Quickly she shot a spell at one of them which was quickly reflected. The rest of them were still. She swallowed and threw another spell which was also reflected. By concentrating fully on her, they were able to focus on her every move and anticipate her every turn. Yet, at the present they did not seem so focused on the attack. Hermione took a deep breath a sent a variety of flashing spells at them, all non-verbal as if that might help, but they were all easily pushed away. She tried again, and again, and again.

Rapidly, and without warning, the Death Eaters all joined in casting their spells at the struggling witch. Hermione kept a tight grip on her wand and did whatever she could to try and keep up a good combat. She was a good witch. A clever witch. Her physical fitness was never in any question but Hermione was struggling.

Nonetheless, she pushed herself forwards and thought of the baby inside of her.

'Reducto!' she shrieked, sending the curse to the nearest Death Eater.

The hood was blasted back and Hermione screamed in horror.

Underneath it was the rotting face of Bellatrix Lestrange.

Her skin was no longer sallow but tinged blue, her features hollowed into her skull and her blank eyes rolling around in their sockets, a trickle of blood trickled out of her lips and down her chin.

There was no recognition that her hood had been pulled back, and no recognition that this was the witch that she had tortured some years previously.

This wasn't right; Hermione pulled back the hood of the next Death Eater.

Fenir Greyback, blood matted into his fur and one eye hanging out of its socket.

With increasing horror, Hermione blasted back a few of the other hoods and found the Death Eaters to all be the same. Bits of flesh had fallen off of them so that she could see the yellowing crumbling skull underneath. Some had their throats slit; others had marks of curses on their faces. These were all Death Eaters who had died all those years ago in The Battle of Hogwarts. She had helped to identify some of these bodies herself. How could they be alive? They weren't alive? They were standing and moving and cursing, but other than that they had lost all of their familiar personal traits. They had lost their souls.

It dawned on her.

Inferi.

Immediately Hermione panicked. She shot out curse after curse, but none seemed to have any effect and now they were fighting back.

She wasn't unused to battles. But she'd never faced twenty to one. Now the curses were coming quicker and quicker and Hermione felt herself being to the ground. Vision deteriorating, heartbeat slowing down, Hermione lay there struggling to breathe and unable to move. A dark cloaked figure came towards her.

Hermione was never one for giving up. With the last bit of strength in her body, she pointed her wand out – but it was quickly snatched from her fingers by one of the figures.

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, Ron threw himself in front of her and set a jet of fire at them all. They dissolved into dust almost instantly, but more continued to grow out of the ground.

'We need to get outta here, Harry!' Ron bellowed behind his shoulder.

A pair of comforting arms slipped around her body and Hermione felt herself be pulled away, spinning and spinning into the darkness.


'What were you thinking?'

They'd set up camp again and were sitting around the fire outside. Ron was out collecting more wood; Hermione was huddled up in the duvet and Harry sat opposite her, his green eyes boring into her brown ones with a look of concern.

'I got scared.' Hermione whispered, her voice hoarse. 'Please don't ask me why. I don't know.'

They were silent for some more. The only sound was the crackling of the fire and the occasional muffled curses of Ron as he tripped over tree roots.

'Do you ever think about it?' Hermione hesitated. 'About before?'

Harry's eyes flashed up at her. 'Of course I do. All the time.' He paused. 'Do you?'

Hermione frowned slightly, her eyes welling up with tears and her breathing getting faster somewhat. 'I can't explain it. I just think of before and.' She sighed. 'Ignore me, I'm sorry, it's nothing.'

Harry swallowed as he looked at his best friend. 'Do you think that maybe you should go home?'

Hermione placed her head in her hands. 'I'm fine. It was a minor blip. I just-.' She swallowed. 'I'm struggling, Harry. I'm struggling and I have no idea why.'