For a girl who didn't like running, Hermione seemed to be doing it a lot. And for a witch who'd been described as the brightest one of her age, she really did a lot of stupid things. Such as stupefying Charles. Now she'd lost one of the few allies she had left, and with nowhere to go, Hermione felt like giving up.

Panting, she slowed down, and tried to take control over her breathing again while keeping a tab of what was going on around her. She'd run even further into the mess of smelly alleys and completely lost her sense of direction, and to make things worse, it was getting dark. She wanted to cry.

A figure broke out from the shadows. "Lost, are we, milady?" it said.

"No, I'm fine," Hermione lied.

"Fine indeed. Those are some fancy clothes," the man said and stepped closer.

"I should leave. I'm late, actually," she said and started walking the other way.

"Make no haste," another voice said, this time in front of her. "We simply wish to make your acquaintance, milady." The few teeth still intact in the man's mouth were yellow and crooked.

"Well, I don't want to make yours," Hermione said. "Let me pass."

"Let me pass, she says. As if she's in any position to give commands. Thou aren't in thy pretty palace anymore, princess, and here goes no one to help thee." The men stepped closer, grabbing her skirt and caressing the fabric on her arms.

Hermione was too angry and upset to even care about the consequences of her actions anymore. "Stupefy!" she yelled, and both men fell to the ground with a stupid look on their faces. "Well, luckily," she said to them, "I can take care of myself".

Although, that wasn't exactly true. She'd been taking care of herself ever since she got here, and look where she'd ended up. In a deserted ally, with no friends, no place to go and no hope of ever returning home again. She felt her eyes tear up.

And then, without any warning, there was a boy standing in front of her, having appeared out of thin air. Hermione raised her wand, but the boy lifted his finger to his lips, urging her to keep quiet.

"You know of Hogwarts and muggles?" he asked, with a quiet voice.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. Yes!" She felt like laughing. The boy was a wizard! "Who are you?"

The boy shook his head, making the black fringe fall in front of his eyes. "Not here. Come with me. We can help you."

"Okay," Hermione said.

The boy lifted a big piece of fabric she hadn't seen until now, and gestured for her to get under it. "An invisibility cloak," she said with a pang of homesickness.

"Sssch!" he said. "We need to hurry, or otherwise they shall find us hastily. We may speak anon."

Hermione nodded, and as the boy swept the cloak over their crouched necks, she wasn't sure whether to smile or cry at the familiar feeling.

… … …

"Your majesty!"

"What is it?" Henry asked with a hoarse voice. Perhaps he should have taken the physician's advice and stayed in bed a bit longer, for his wound had started to hurt all the more again.

"T'is Lord Brandon," the servant said. "He's been found in the outskirts of town."

"Well, is that really something thou needst to inform me about?" Henry asked. It wasn't exactly uncommon for Charles to do such things … after all, that is where one would find the brothels. Although, his fevered brain managed to remember, he was supposed to be with her.

"Well, your majesty … he was unconscious."

"What?!" Henry tried to stand, but the pain in his abdomen forced him to sit down again. "S'wounds," he swore. "How? When? Why? What happened?"

"We know not, your majesty. He has yet to wake up to tell us."

Henry didn't even care about what the servant would think of his next question. "What about the maiden with whom he presently resided? Where be she?"

"W-we know not, your majesty. It seems as if though she's disappeared."

Henry lost all his words, and it took a few seconds before he reacted. "Disappeared?" he roared. "Well, find her then! Find her or I shall have thy head on a plate! Now! WHEREFORE WAITEST THOU?!"

The servant nodded and bowed at the same time, and then he stumbled out from the room, only seconds before Henry threw a vase with flowers at the spot where the boy just been standing. A crippling pain went through his abdomen, and forced him to his knees. He knew those stitches had been too good to be true.

Crawling to his bed, he tried to think clearly. Hermione, gone. Charles, unconscious. What could have happened? Where was she now? Was she unharmed? His vision blurred. Should someone harm her … he'd have them hanged and tortured and put their heads on a stake and throw every person they'd ever met in prison only to torture them as well.

If only he hadn't been confined to this room, he'd be out in the town, looking for her himself. But he could barely manage to sit up, let alone standing or running. Curse this! Curse everything! She must be unscathed, otherwise he wouldn't know what to do. If she was harmed … he'd break apart. Who cared about the future of England, if she wasn't there to see it? He whimpered. If she … if someone … if she wasn't … he couldn't even finish the thought. He wouldn't have it. She would be found, and she would be unharmed. That was all that mattered. Whatever it took, he would see to it.

"Wolsey!" he roared as loudly as his soar body would allow. "Come hither this minute should you wish to see the break of day!"