The sun was heavy on her shoulders. The land in front of them seemed to go on and on forever, red, orange and green burning her eyes. Mountains were visible everywhere but still seemed to be very far off. It was disquieting, to be so far and so close at the same moment.
There was no movement on the rocky horizon. They were truly and utterly alone.
The rocking movement of the horse lulled her to sleep. It had been the same for the last few days. This type of sleep was dreamless, closer to unconsciousness than to actual sleep. She was not so lucky at night, if she managed to fall asleep at all. The heat of Voldemort's body against her back was not doing much to keep her awake.
"Don't fall asleep."
Hermione sighed but opened her eyes. "Why ?"
"We're going to have to stop after we go through that pass. I'm not dealing with your sleepiness when we get there and have to actually use our muscles, a thing you haven't done in the recent past."
"Well," she scoffed, "you're the one who doesn't want me to move from the camp every time we settle down ! And what do you want us to do at that pass ? I don't see any trees to chop down or... anything really."
She felt him turn behind her. Was there something on the horizon worrying him ?
"What's wrong ?"
She felt him straighten against her back. His grip on the reins turned his knuckles white. Well, that was worrying.
"Nothing you need to know."
Hermione sighed. "I'm in this with you ! Because of you ! The least you could do is keep me informed of what's happening !"
"Actually no. I don't owe you anything. And this talking back to me thing better disappear soon because I don't have the patience for it."
She resisted the urge to groan and tried to turn to look at the horizon spreading behind them herself. As much as she squinted, she could not see anything. Either Voldemort had a better vision than her, or he could spot signs of threat that she could not. She could not help but shudder at the thought of a threat that would make Voldemort tense.
Ron stared unrelentingly at the horizon. He had been doing so ever since he and Lavender had left the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters just before dawn, in order to avoid drawing attention to their unwanted quest.
The sun had rose, its red hue slowly tinting the blue sky of the night and now it was high in the sky. He could feel the skin of his face and his hands burning. However, they could not stop. He was afraid of them already being late. Lord Voldemort, a bounty hunter, could have already killed Hermione for all they knew. Or worse, handed her over to Malfoy.
His jaw clenched. He had already failed to save Harry. He could not fail her too. He would not. He would save her.
He glanced at Lavender. Her eyes were fixed on the slowly lit horizon as well. She looked at ease on her horse, her cheeks pink because of the heat but otherwise protected by a large hat. A rifle was tied to her saddle. She had also relented and given him a small gun.
He turned back to the sun. They were prepared. Or at least as prepared as one could be when they planned on fighting Lord Voldemort. Which was not enough.
Hermione glanced at Voldemort. He was just as tense as her. She looked back to the small pass where a group of men, very heavily armed men, had decided to set camp for the night.
Fortunately, one of the small advantages of traveling with a renown bounty hunter, Voldemort had spot them more than an hour ago and they had hidden in a large crevasse. When he had first asked her to climb the steep cliff she had scoffed, unable to see the cut, a wound in the rock. He evidently had not really liked what he called her 'rather annoying rebel behavior' and she had climbed, because she was not yet mad enough to argue longer than necessary with Voldemort, whether it seemed a good idea to her or not. He had then left her for half an hour, probably making sure his horse would not be seen or heard but that they could get it back, before joining her in the crevasse.
They had been laying down for almost an hour when the group of men had made its way into the ravine. She had hoped they would continue and try to find a more comfortable spot to spend the night but, alas, they had not.
Hermione knew objectively that they were well hidden. And she was with Voldemort who, for some unbeknownst reason, was protecting her from others if not from himself. She was probably not as scared as she should have been.
But the lack of fear brought something else. She was restless. Hermione knew the man beside her was aware of it because a few minutes ago, when it became clear the men were not going anywhere, he had set his large, relaxingly warm hand across her back to keep her from moving. If anything however, it made her want to move even more.
She knew it was stupid, irrational, reckless. But she was also painfully reminded that were she with Harry and Ronald, they would already have begun to form a plan of action. Because, in the long run, hiding inside this crevasse might do them a disservice. If they were noticed, they would be trapped. Her best friends would have taken a chance rather than sit and wait. And she would have followed them.
But now, Harry was dead and Ronald was... Somewhere. Hopefully safe.
"What are we going to do ?" she whispered.
The men had begun a fire and were laughing. She could see the last remnants of the day's light on the opposite wall of the ravine. The air was already getting colder.
Voldemort did not answer choosing to press his hand more firmly to her back. She scowled. She was not stupid. If she had spoken, it was because she knew the men could not hear them.
"Answer me."
He turned to meet her eyes. His lips were pinched.
"Will you shut the fuck up ?" he murmured.
She had to strain her ears to hear him. It was ridiculous. Was he afraid of a bunch of regular men who were having trouble heating beans ? He was Lord fucking Voldemort.
"No. Answer me," she replied through gritted teeth.
His eyes narrowed before he looked back down. "This is Greyback and his pack."
"Greyback ?"
He shot her a dark look before nodding. Her eyes widened as she looked back down in turn. There were seven men in total. All of them were more muscular and bigger than the average man but one stood out. The sun had burned harsh deep lines in his skin. His hair was black and dirty. But what really stroke Hermione were the scars, on his face, on what she could see of his arms. She shivered. Those scars were just as famous as the man himself.
"So if you could just shut up, that would be perfect."
She nodded, not even bothering to look at Voldemort. She knew the man beside her had killed more than the one sitting by the fire. However, even she had heard of the gruesome way Greyback treated his victims. Moving would be a death sentence.
Fear seeped into her bones. Maybe Malfoy had sent him after her, after them. This would explain why Voldemort was afraid. But how could Malfoy already know that the bounty hunter next to her had betrayed him ? And had he betrayed him ?
She exhaled silently. She would need to escape soon from all this madness. Danger seemed to always find the three of them, and apparently it also was the case when they were separated. Nonetheless, at this moment, somehow in this mad world, Voldemort was her best shot at staying alive.
She stifled a disheartened chuckle, opting rather to let her head fall into her arms. Let the waiting begin.
As the night continued to darken, the cold settled in. She could feel it in her bones. Voldemort had taken his hand off her back, its warmth barely an imprint on her memory now.
She shivered. The heat of the fire below did not reach them. The men around it, Greyback's pack, were enjoying it, laughing and drinking away. She let her head drop in her arms again, hoping they would not spend the whole night awake. Seeing how tense Voldemort still was beside her, Hermione knew he would probably try something. Hopefully before she froze to death.
As the first hours of the night passed away without the bandits giving any sign of tiredness, she started to lose any hope of getting out of this crevasse alive. She was doing all she could not to quiver uncontrollably or fall asleep.
The tense and eerily immobile presence of Voldemort at her side did nothing to help her.
As a new wave of shivers wracked through her, she heard him sigh and he replaced his hand, his God-given warm hand, on her back. Were she not tired and aware that any sound might take this beautiful gift of heat away, she would have thanked him. Because she had every reasons to, how was his hand always so fucking warm ? It was unnatural but a gift from life, which was only natural after all the awful things it had thrown at her. It was nice.
Hermione was lightly shaken awake. She wearily opened her eyes.
"What-"
Her words were cut by the hand immediately at her mouth. She could not make out the features of the person next to her in the obscurity but the warmth was recognizable. She saw a light movement in the dark, Voldemort shaking his head. She nodded and he took his hand off. Her back was cold.
As she awakened more fully, she noticed the heavy silence. And the snores. Her eyes widened slightly as she dropped her gaze to see the bottom of the ravine. Sure enough, Greyback and his men were sleeping soundly. The fire was reduced to smoldering ashes.
She turned her eyes back to Voldemort. It was hard to see him as the darkness was thicker in the crevasse. She squinted to see his finger pointing upwards. She nodded again.
He began to move without making a single noise towards the entrance of the crevasse and deftly turned onto his back. He then motioned for her to join him. As she did her best to do it as silently as him, she realized that her muscles were sore and tense from all the lying on a rocky surface for hours without moving. She grimaced and bit her tongue. It would not do to scream with the men sleeping only a few feet below them.
When she had finally reached him and turned on her back, Hermione was overtaken with the urgency to laugh. The cliff spread out above them. It was not especially high. But it was steep. And she had deemed it unclimbable even before they made it to the crevasse. And she had clearly been right.
She looked at Voldemort incredulously only to meet his patent hard stare. She shook her head. She could not do this. Even if he had fed her more decently, she was physically incapable of doing that.
Voldemort moved to point at his shoes and then shrugged them off. Understanding, she did the same, silently shifting to take them before tying the laces loosely around her neck, mirroring him. Her eyes went back to stare at the cliff. This impossibly high, steep cliff. She could hear her breath quicken, foreign to her own ears. Eyes wide, she looked to her left.
His jaw tensed and he took her upper arm in his warm, deliciously warm, hand. His lips neared her ear.
"You can do it. I'll be behind you. You won't fall. But we have to do it now."
As he let her go, she could not help but wonder, not for the first time, if he was as mad as everybody claimed. Clearly, the hypothesis was not to be dismissed so quickly.
She stared at the cliff as though she could make it disappear or make indents in the stones that could help her climb. Of course, it proved useless.
She inhaled deeply. Harry would not have hesitated. Ronald would have followed. And she would have too. When she brought her hands to steady herself as she got her torso slightly out of the crevasse, she saw Voldemort relax slightly.
Hermione focused on her breathing. She could do it. Of course, she could. She had done harder things. She reached with her fingers, feeling around for something to grip. After a few minutes, during which the panic rose in her chest reminding her of why this was stupid and dangerous and stupidly dangerous, she felt something.
She exhaled audibly and gripped the hold firmly before pulling, effectively almost sliding herself out of the crevasse. She reached with her other hand, wildly looking for a similar grip, if possible, a deeper wound in the cliff. It was quite shallow, but she found one.
Keeping herself from grunting out loud, she narrowed her eyes before she pulled again, with her two hands. A gush of wind went through the ravine. She shivered, tightening her grip.
Whatever she did, she had to keep herself from looking down. That would be a sure-way of sending her there in the middle of the wolf's den.
Slowly, she let go of her first grip and scrambled to find a higher one. The blood drained from her face as she found one. It was even shallower. She forced herself to inhale. There would be good holds along the way. And it was a short way. From a certain point of view. She could pretend to adopt this point of view for the duration of the climb. She was Hermione Granger.
After a few more grips, which were in fact getting less and less easy to hold on to, only her feet remained on the edge of the crevasse. She closed her eyes. She could not look down. Trying to rein in her breathing when the cold wind caressed her ankles, biting her skin, was proving hard.
Her breath caught in her throat. Warm fingers had just wrapped around her left ankle. She felt tempted to shake them off, despite the welcomed heat.
She wanted to cry and laugh. Maybe this was it. Maybe that was how Voldemort would kill her, sending her climb a fucking cliff before throwing her down into a ravine, amongst the scum of earth.
The fingers released her ankle and she took a shaky inhale in. From the corner of her eye, she could see the pale hands of Voldemort feeling around the cliff. He was not going to kill her. The relief flooded her, immediate.
She looked back up, frowning determinedly. She had survived Voldemort. She had survived the Malfoys. She was not going to be killed by a cliff, however insurmountable it might have appeared. Once again, she repeated to herself, she was Hermione Granger. And Hermione Granger was going to taste and enjoy freedom fully before dying in her sleep at sixty-five years old.
With a bit more confidence, she began the perilous climb, gritting her teeth as her muscles screamed.
The most reassuring thing about the climb was not the top of the cliff steadily getting closer but the soft sounds of Voldemort's fingers gripping the rocky surface always barely below her.
Each gush of wind now brought an uncontrollable shudder with it, only calmed by the regular, light and soft touch of warm fingers on one of her ankles. She had no idea how he did it, how he managed to climb while still finding ways to touch her, to make sure she knew he was following.
Her muscles were tense and each move was painful. She was sure she would have scars from biting her cheek each time she had to make a move. She could not afford to make noise. It would mean death for both of them.
The top was getting, if slowly, closer. She could swear the last inches had taken an hour to overcome, when rationally she knew it had probably only taken less than half of an hour.
When her fingers found the tip of the cliff, she could not help but sigh in relief. She tried to haul herself up to no avail. The muscles in her arms were shrieking for mercy, ready to let her fall.
Hermione let her forehead hit the freezing rock. Once again, wind picked up in the ravine and the contrast with the sweat on her arms was nerve-wracking, causing yet another fit of shudders.
Suddenly, a warm arm wrapped around her waist and lips found her ear.
"Lean on me."
She did not even bother to nod and simply pushed on her trembling legs to help him haul her with him on top of the cliff. She had no idea how they managed to do it, to be quite frank how he managed, but once they were on top, she rolled onto her back, finally able to breathe.
The stars were obscured by thick clouds.
She stifled a laugh. They had done it. The bone-wracking cold of the night felt almost welcoming. She shivered again, sure she would be sick the next day. Her muscles wracked with spasms.
"Come here."
Hermione turned her head to look at Voldemort. His black eyes shone like precious stones set in the pale white of his face. His right hand was as close to her as it could be without actually touching her.
"What ?" she whispered back.
He rolled his eyes before unceremoniously taking her hand in his before pulling her into his arms and wrapping her in his warmth. Her body instantly relaxed and a sigh escaped her lips. His lips, warm lips, god was he just warm or was she just insanely cold, found her ear.
"Sleep, we'll get the horse when they leave."
Hermione nodded, her muscles already lax.
"Thank you."
Although she doubted he could have heard her whisper, she was sure he had because his arms briefly tensed around her. She fell into the deepest sleep she had experienced for months.
7