Chapter Fourteen: Tennis Shoes and Mapmaking
"Could you write any slower?"
Hermione's pencil paused on the parchment paper, as she crouched on the ground to write, gnawing on her lip tentatively. Percy's slightly impatient sigh was behind her, and she whipped her head around to glare at him.
"What?" It came out cattier than she would've liked as she glared at him, his grim mouth bobbing in and out of view in the small light his wand provided.
"Just tell them we're safe, and to send me reports that they're ok too." He glanced at his wristwatch as she started to scratch. "I need safety reports from everyone. It's been an hour since I've heard or seen anyone." Hermione hurried the end of the message, and folded the paper into a plane delicately. Pulling her wand from its holster underneath her left arm, she tapped the paper gently, and it took off into the air, plunging into the darkness.
They had left, according to Hermione's watch, exactly an hour and 20 minutes ago, each armed with a backpack full of tools, some emergency food (Molly had tearfully given this to them, explaining that it was in case 'the worst' happened), and sheet after sheet of parchment for notes and messages, and to draw maps to bring back to the rest of the camp. The Slytherin group had set off separately and an hour ago, George, Rolanda, Percy, and herself had split apart where their map had told them to go in separate directions. They should've reached the barrels where the Hufflepuff Common Room was located about 30 minutes ago, taken about 10 minutes to find the right barrel, and crack the code, and then start surveying. They were nowhere near it, now.
Lost was probably the best way to describe where she was, at the moment. Percy and she had chosen the wrong fork in the path, which was clearly only his fault, and now they were completely lost in the catacombs of the school, while somewhere in the rest of the basement were the rest of their companions, who they had completely lost track of. Hermione brushed the hair out of her eyes as she tucked the pencil behind her ear, getting to her feet, and offering Percy a hand up.
"Where should we try next?" He bit his lip as he balanced himself out, releasing Hermione's hand. She flexed her fingers instinctively.
"It's been getting steadily colder and colder." She turned and pointed down the hallway. "That probably means we're close to the dungeons."
"And if we're close to the dungeons-"
"We're close to Horace, George, and Dudley." She shifted the weight of her backpack on her shoulders, and slid her wand back in her holster. "And Harry gave Dudley the Marauder's Map before he came in. They should be able to help us figure out where we are better."
"Right." They started off in silence, Hermione's fingers curling and uncurling in time to her breathing, trying to stay focused while not focused enough to realize that Percy was steadily ending up closer and closer to her every time they set off in a different direction.
"How do you think Dudley's doing?" Percy's breath was almost on her ear. She jumped, then picked up her pace, watching her shoelaces slap against the floor as she walked.
"Fine, I suppose." She mumbled. "Professor Slughorn's a good enough sort. He'll be nice, even if Lee isn't."
"Lee would be fine, I think." Percy mused, more to himself than to her. Hermione forced her breathing to steady, keeping up her pace as her shoelaces gently thapped against the floor. "For a pure-blood, he's a good guy."
"I didn't say he wasn't." She grumbled, turning a corner. More nothingness spread in front of her, lined with classrooms. Sighing, she stopped as Percy unzipped her backpack for her, and he slid out a piece of paper. Carefully, he sketched what direction they had gone, and how many classrooms were in this particular hallway- 5. It was a makeshift map, but so far, it was their only way to determine that they weren't simply going around in circles. It was working, at least. Sliding it back in, he zipped up her bag again, and, nodding, took the lead, his wand glowing in front of him. She started after him, thapp thapp thapping in his wake.
"We can't be too far now." Thapp thapp thapp thapp thapp.
"Probably not." Thapp thapp thapp.
"Doesn't this look familiar to you?" Thapp thapp thapp thapp. Breathe, Hermione. Thapp thapp.
"Kind of." Thapp Thapp. Why aren't you breathing, Hermione? She paused for a moment, and forced herself to do what her mind was telling her, and instantly regretted it.
Shocked by a wave of nausea, Hermione's panic instincts kicked in. This all felt very familiar- too familiar. And not familiar in an 'oh look, that's where my 3rd year detention was held' kind of familiar. In a panic filled, nauseatingly sick, 'dear god we're about to die' kind of familiar. Hermione gagged momentarily, rocking back on her heels, and then careening forward towards the smell, knocking Percy out of the way as he screamed after her, confused.
She had to keep running. Had to. Something was at the end of this hallway, and whatever it was, she needed it.
Thapp thapp thapp thapp thapp thapp thapp thapp thapp thapp
Everything was a blur as she pounded against the ground, only hearing the sound her shoes made as she turned the corner, and skidded to a grinding halt.
Oh.
She didn't need this.
Every bone in her body fell apart as the impact hit her, rocked straight through her from the soles of her feet to the snap in her neck as she let her knees hit the floor. Someone had started wailing, a guttural scream ripping through the air like knives, and it took a second for her to realize that he throat was aching, like it was bleeding. She was screaming.
There were only two things that could make her scream like this.
One, bones and all, a skeleton, undistinguishable and unrecognizable.
And one, she couldn't bring herself to look at. A body she could recognize as female, decaying and rotting away, dried blood caked around them.
Hermione was pretty sure she had just thrown up.
It was the exact same smell that she and Harry had stumbled on last Christmas. The one that made her wash her hands and face over and over and over again until her skin was exposed and raw. This was the smell that had haunted her dreams sometimes late at night, when she was alone.
She couldn't feel anything anymore. Just numb and sick.
And like she was flying.
Oh, that was odd.
She found herself hoisted into the air, and pressed into a very warm chest as she shook violently, sobs stretching out her throat like they were desperate for air, desperate to be heard; a terrible sadistic war-cry that she had held back for months had finally found its way to the surface, and it would not be asked to leave any time soon.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard a door being kicked open, and soothing shushing sounds, but they only made her angrier. She wanted to break things, to scream and cry and hurt something beautiful.
She lashed out, her fist connecting with the side of his face, kicking violently as she screamed, but he kept a firm hold on her, his fingers digging into her as he maneuvered around the desks to a stretch of empty wall.
Percy set her down on the floor, letting her rock against the wall as he desperately searched through his own pack for something, anything to help. Hermione grabbed her knees and rocked herself back and forth, back and forth, as the back of her head tapped against the stones in the wall more aggressively each time.
Her entire mind was complete chaos. Somewhere in her, she knew that this wasn't where she wanted to be, or what she wanted to be doing, but the rocking helped, and the crying helped, and dear god the screaming helped. The screaming felt so good and raw and visceral.
She wanted to crawl out of her own skin, and hide under one of these desks- live there like a dog for the rest of her life, just out of reach of that devastating, brutal war that, even when it was ended, still wasn't over.
How could it not be over by now? Her mind asked as Percy uncapped a bottle of water and poured it over her hands to get the vomit off, finding soothing words to say that she couldn't hear. How can we have fought a war and have finished it and it's still not done?
Hermione was vaguely aware that Percy was asking her something- something important. Something she needed to hear.
But she couldn't keep her head above water, and everything sounded dull and dim and like screaming from the bottom of the lake; they were words that she would never understand.
The chaos was making its way out of her body, ripping her to shreds along the way, but finally leaving as she calmed herself down slowly. Logical solutions. Baby steps. Take care of one thing at a time.
She stopped screaming, but couldn't stop rocking.
Then she stopped rocking, but couldn't stop crying.
And then she could hear, but she was still crying.
Weren't there a finite number of tears that a person had within their own body? She wailed inside her own head, as Percy begged her to calm down, the blue in his eyes barely visible here in the darkness of this classroom, his wand cast aside and still alight with his spell far away someplace.
And when she couldn't think of anything else to do to stop the tears, her brain out of logical solutions, she did an illogical thing.
Percy was sitting inches from her on his knees, a small trickle of blood from where Hermione's nails had connected with his face streaming from just below his ear to his neck, his glasses dangerously askew. His mouth was set in a grim line, eyes wide with fear and concern. He was heartbreakingly handsome.
She leaned forward, letting her weight shift to her knees, and wiped her face on the backs of her hand, wet meeting wet. It certainly wouldn't stop the flow, but it was something. Tentatively, she unclenched her fist, and placed it palm down on Percy's chest, digging in to find purchase on the cotton of his shirt. His eyes got wider as she met them levelly, and with a tiny sob and a fresh batch of tears, she dragged him to meet her halfway, and let their lips collide.
He instantly reared back, his shirt ripping from Hermione's grasp as she mourned at the loss. He scrambled to his feet and started to pace slowly, running his fingers through his hair.
"Hermione, this isn't really-" She careened to her feet, using the wall as support to keep her balanced.
"I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"
"Did mean to? Hermione of course you meant to!" He threw his hands in the air and paced furiously. "You're distraught-"
"You didn't let me finish my sentence-" He waved her excuses away asshe stooped to pick up the water bottle sitting abandoned next to her.
"You don't want to be doing this with me-"
"Says who?" She swilled the water around in her mouth to get the vomit aftertaste out and spat it on the floor.
"Says me for one, and it wouldn't matter-"
"Percy." He turned, surprised at the dark tone in her voice. The lack of light in the room had made everything less clear, but even so, she could just make out his eyes raking over her body before they met hers. "I want you."
"You don't really want that." He took a cautious step towards her, trying to explain. She shook her head.
"Now." He took another step towards her, slowly crossing the gap between them as tears continued to stream down her cheeks. As he got closer, she could make out the blue in his eyes starting to darken slightly.
"Hermione, you're upset."
"Percy, please." She stretched out a hand to him, and he took it cautiously, his fingers lacing through hers. She pulled him towards her a bit and he stumbled, blushing furiously. "I need a friend."
He stiffened for a moment, gnawing his lip, and Hermione held her breath, tears still glistening on her cheeks.
In an instant Hermione was sure she would remember forever, Percy closed the distance between them almost violently, grabbing the back of her neck and knocking his forehead against hers almost too harshly. His breath caught on her cheek as he searched her eyes, trying to find something that she would've gladly given him, if he would only tell her what, and his lips smashed onto hers.
If their first kiss had been born out of pure joy, this one was certainly born from the darkest of sorrows. He laced his fingers through her hair, tilted her face upwards and crushed his lips against hers, her bones humming softly in response. He caught her lips again and again, bruising at the touch, as she let her fingers search blindly for the pain she had caused him, her fingers smearing his blood slightly as he stopped for a moment to let out a low hiss. She mumbled an apology, but before she could get it out, he had crushed himself against her, pinning her to the wall with his entire body, which sent a thrill of heat through her that pooled in her belly. He broke away from her again, tangling his fingers through her hair as they both caught their breath. Percy nuzzled his way to the cook in her neck, and breathed slowly on her collarbone.
"Will you hate me tomorrow for this?" Bewildered as to why he would even think such a thing, Hermione arched her body into his, hoping he would understand. He let out something between a growl and a moan, and as his teeth sunk neatly into her collarbone, her whole world spun.
And Hermione lost her mind again.