A/N: Sorry the last chapter was so short. There's no sense as to where I end chapters. I have no structure that I'm following. This is a complete mish-mash of weird ideas and emotions and character torture.

Not much to say here except that I'm extremely sorry this chapter took so long. First Dobby didn't want to cooperate with me, and then it was Snape... and now, of course, school -- being the evil thing that it is -- is leeching away all my writing time. Anyway, there's some actual action this time! Highly unusual for me. Mwuahaha...

Read on,
-Raven

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Chapter Twelve: Speak Elvish, Alvarado
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***
Hermione was dreaming.

Or at least, she thought she was dreaming... but it seemed so real... she could almost feel the grass, almost touch the sky. She lifted her head and looked around with the slowness and inexplicability of the half-conscious.

She took a step forward, and her feet didn't touch ground; she kept moving, and she thought she was moving towards something, but she couldn't see what it was -- she could only see that it was dark, and shadowed, and feared.

She didn't want to go there.

A lance of fear skewered through her gut and she tried to turn; but she couldn't move at all anymore, and all she could hear were a clock and a heartbeat, synchronized, merciless, logical -- the rhythm was harsh. She opened her mouth to cry out,

tick tock thump-thump tick tock thump-thump

but no sound came, and with her lips parted in a silent scream she --

blood flows hands move in circles

***

She woke up.

Someone's voice... familiar. A girl?

She couldn't feel her right arm. After a moment of disorientation she realized that this was because a crumpled, deformed hand was cutting off her circulation. She mumbled a protest, opening her eyes.

the voice cried again. Wake up!

she muttered, and groaned. Her throat was terribly dry...

Thank God! said Eloise, letting Hermione's arm go. The freed blood scorched back through Hermione's veins, making her arm sore and tingly.

What? Is something wrong? said Hermione, levering herself upright and hissing between her teeth at the pain when she put weight on her sore arm.

You are, Eloise raced. You were talking --

cut in Draco's voice. He was sitting on Hermione's other side, his gray eyes as impenetrable as ever.

In your sleep, Eloise went on.

What'd I say? said Hermione, struggling to remember the last scraps of a dream she'd been having. They slipped further away the harder she thought about them, though, and in seconds she could remember nothing of it at all.

I don't know, said Eloise. You weren't speaking English.

What, then? said Hermione, bewildered. French? What?

I think, said Sirius' grave voice; Hermione spun her head and saw that he, Snape and even Remus were also awake. They were all watching her.

I think, Sirius repeated, that it was the Black Speech.

-----------

But I don't know a word of the Black Speech, Hermione complained as they trudged onward that day. The sun was midway up the sky, and as they had finally decided to pass the barrows by on the west, they had finally begun making good progress. They kept a close eye out for the distant gray speck of a tomb, and veered westward as needed; the enchanted map of Middle-earth proclaimed that they were well on the way to Bree, and if all went well, they should be able to reach the town by the next morning. Sooner, if they could keep up a fast pace... but Hermione saw that not only herself, but Eloise and Draco as well, were beginning to falter in their steps, wearying.

After we reach Bree there'll be no such rush, Hermione comforted herself. We'll get properly supplied and go on towards Mordor at our own pace. And that'll be that.

That's a dozen times you've said so, said Eloise, but I know a little of the languages of Middle-earth, and that was the Black Speech if I've ever heard it.

You haven't ever heard it, said Hermione. Besides inside your own head.

You know what I mean.

Hermione sighed. I suppose. She groaned and looked at the sun. Isn't it time for lunch yet? she said, trying not to put too much of a whine into her voice.

Try to bear on for another hour, said Sirius.

Easy for you to say, grumbled Draco; but on they went.

Finally they came to a halt, and sat for a skimpy meal of bread, rather stale bacon and a drink of water each. Eloise woke Remus, and he joined them; by his voice alone he seemed to be doing much better.

We should be traveling at night, Snape observed coldly. Hermione saw that, though his voice was icy, the professor was sweating profusely under the bare, unforgiving sun.

Hermione conceded. We can change our schedule once we leave Bree, I guess.

The heat was draining, and no one felt much like talking. As a matter of fact, all they wanted to do (or at least, all Hermione wanted to -- she surreptitiously guessed that the same was probably true for the others) was cover up with a blanket for shade and sleep for the rest of the day. Thankfully, the clouds were beginning to build up into thick, fluffy, white masses, and instead of scudding quickly across the sky, they were inching slowly along. It meant more cover over the sun, for which Hermione was grateful.

It didn't occur to her that the clouds were getting darker on the bottoms, weighted down with moisture; or that the humidity was getting steadily higher...

Eloise said, when they had probably sat there longer than they should have.

said Sirius, blinking slowly, as if it was hard to keep his eyes open.

Hermione said you read tarot.

It seemed to be a yes. Remus groaned, rolled his eyes and pretended not to know Sirius existed.

Eloise grinned slightly. Do a reading, she said, half-teasingly.

Sirius shook his head and pinched his arm to keep himself awake. No, I think we should probably be getting on...

Eloise begged, tugging his sleeve to make him sit back down. Oh come on, it won't take that long...

Sirius gave in, shrugging; it wasn't that much of an argument. He found his deck and book of meanings in one of his bags and shuffled the cards quickly. This can't take long, he warned. I'm going to do a spread I invented. I have to be reading for someone in particular. Volunteers?

I volunteer Professor Lupin, said Eloise, grinning wickedly; she had already heard the story of yesterday morning from Hermione, and thought it was extremely funny.

exclaimed Remus. You're going to be working for Filch in detention for the rest of your miserable life!

Sirius allowed himself a small grin that seemed to show far too many teeth.

You realize you just sealed your fate, said Hermione with a sigh.

Damn you, Remus snapped under his breath. Hermione snickered behind her hand.

Right then, said Sirius, shuffling menacingly. He cut the deck quickly and laid down a single card about a foot away from himself. It depicted a man, tired yet calm and ultimately in control, leaning against a large blue dragon; he wore plain, worked-in clothes, but a crown circled his head and a jeweled sword lay at rest in his hand. The man and dragon stood in a field of flowers, with the overhanging branches of unseen trees brushing the dragon's scales. In the foreground two small children played with even smaller draclings. The bottom of the card read 4 - The Emperor.'

The spread has 8 cards, said Sirius. This one represents the person I'm reading for.

Didn't know Professor Lupin was an emperor, said Eloise, grinning.

Sirius flipped open the book of meanings, read momentarily, and summarized, A practical, sensible person, who has a great deal of power but never abuses it. Divinatory Meaning -- Your life will be smoother if you cultivate leadership and stability in order to progress. You may be influenced by a charismatic personality.' I don't know anyone more charismatic than Dumbledore, and if employing you doesn't count as influencing your life then I'll eat my hat.

Remus stolidly continued pretending he was deaf.

Sirius laid out three more cards, in a row underneath the first one. Physical and emotional, said Sirius, pointing at the right and middle cards respectively. The card on the right, the physical' card, was the Ten of Swords -- it showed a woman, greatly outnumbered and defeated by an unknown enemy, collapsed over a dying dragon that lay, half-conscious, in a puddle of its own blood. Nine blades pointed at her from the viewer's perspective; her own sword lay across her lap, bloody and steel-scarred. Only on the horizon behind her was there any hope to be seen -- the faint golden glow of sunrise edged over unstained green hills.

Well, that one's pretty obvious, muttered Sirius, slightly uncomfortable.

The middle card was the Three of Swords, and on it three flame-red dragons battled between themselves, oblivious to the wildfire raging in the forest below them -- a fire that they themselves had caused, more than likely. The sheer, unadulterated anger was clearly evident.

Well, with you three, it's inevitable, said Hermione, looking pointedly at Snape and Sirius. The unspoken third person had to have been Remus.

It probably means the ring's influence, Eloise pointed out. Hermione shrugged.

The third card, on the left, was the Three of Wands. Two dragons, blue and orange, flew over a beach; a wand was stuck in the sand, just above the high tide. The two dragons were also holding wands, and they appeared to form a triangle of power.

This card shows the actions being taken in relation to the first three cards, said Sirius. Three of Wands means two opposing forces working in their own ways towards one purpose. It also means the four elements, but I don't see how that...

You and Snape, said Eloise, interrupting. You both tried healing Professor Lupin in your own ways.

Sirius blinked. Who's supposed to be doing this reading, anyway?

she muttered.

No, you're probably right. He shook his head and laid out the final four cards -- three went directly under the others, in a third row, but the fourth was laid sideways on top of the bottom left card.

Past, present and future, he said. The past was the Seven of Wands. It means strength of will, perseverance, said Sirius.

The bridge-spell depended on both, said Hermione.

Sirius nodded. I was thinking more along the lines of this being Remus' reading... his life, I mean, your life, Reme... perseverence is... necessary. He shifted uncomfortably. Well. The, er, the present is the Six of Swords, which means a long journey -- many companions setting out against great odds and all whatnot. That doesn't even need any interpretation.

Why are there two cards for the future? asked Hermione.

Because the future can't be told for certain, said Sirius. There's never a set outcome for any circumstance. There could be thousands of ways the future will turn out -- I allow for two of them to show in a reading.

Six of Wands, said Eloise, shifting the top card so she could see the title of the bottom one; and The Tower. Oh, that one doesn't look pleasant. She tilted her head to see the Tower card better. Her mouth twitched.

The Tower showed two enormous dragons encircling a stone tower under a blackened stormy sky; they bellowed fire and threw their weight against the rock, forcing it down, crushing it to broken shards.

That can't be good,said Hermione. She touched the card with a forefinger, but jerked back instantly; her finger had gone icy cold at the touch, and the feeling was spreading through her whole hand, dissipating as it went.

Sirius looked grave, and even Eloise wasn't laughing now. The Six of Wands is the better result, said Sirius quietly. It means success after hard work. And the Tower... the Tower is devastation. Maybe not complete destruction -- but enough damage done that there would be no hope of repair.

But they're completely contradictory, said Draco.

The future usually is, said Sirius, packing up the cards and book. His abruptness seemed to forbid any further discussion of the topic. We've delayed longer than we should have. We need to get moving.

--------------

And move they did. To Hermione it seemed that the day would never end. Almost her entire conscious mind was filled with the numb pain in her feet, and the burning ache -- less immediate but infinitely more frustrating and painful -- that was growing in her thighs. Stiffness began to settle in even when she was moving; she walked as fast as she could, afraid that if she stopped she wouldn't be able to move again. She said nothing of her discomfort to anyone, mainly because she suspected they were experiencing the same thing and didn't need her whining to rub it in.

The sky was not so clear as it had been yesterday, or even that morning -- the pale gray clouds had been thickening and darkening even more as they talked, muting the sun. It was still warm, but the short grass didn't hold heat for long, especially not when the clouds began providing adequate shade. When there wasn't much heat coming down from the sky, nor much radiating back from the ground, the temperature became infinitely more bearable.

The air was muggy, humid, tinted with the scent of oncoming rain. Hermione hoped profusely that the storm system would leave them alone at least until they got on a proper road. But her wishes were all in vain, as it turned out.

They felt the first spatter of light rain on their faces around what Hermione supposed to be 3 o'clock. The clouds were a heavier, steely gray now; they sunk low in the atmosphere, weighed down by the rain they carried. Sirius swore under his breath when he felt the first drops.

It's getting misty, Eloise noted as she trudged on. Hermione peered into the dimming light and saw what she meant: in the near distance the edges of the horizon blurred and faded, smudged by fog.

This isn't going to be fun, muttered Draco, pulling the straps of his bag closer around himself, as if to ward off the oncoming rain and fog. His sharp gray eyes looked not so much afraid as they were wary. Hermione watched him for almost a full minute, and he never blinked once.

Eloise was wearing a half-scowl of deep concentration. Her lips moved silently, as if she were reciting something to hersef, or trying to call something up from the far recesses of her memory.

Heavy fog, she muttered under her breath. I thought they ran into fog when they sat by a tomb. And then they passed it.... they passed it on the wrong side, didn't they? She lifted her eyes to the others and her scowl transformed into an expression of concern. She stopped in her tracks, forcing everyone else to slow down and turn to look at her.

Who remembers the last barrow we passed? she asked urgently.

Sirius, Hermione and Draco exchanged glances; but it was Snape who answered. His perpetual scowl had been dampened over the past day, so that now his mouth was never more than a thin, pale line. We haven't passed one recently, he said matter-of-factly.

We haven't seen one recently, Eloise amended. Her hazel eyes were clouded with doubt. But these little hills are just high enough to hide one from sight...

Hermione twigged on at last. We passed one on the east, she said disbelievingly. Without even noticing.

Eloise looked downright nervous now. The storm... it's a -- symptom, or something. Look, I would really not like to get caught by barrow-wights. Can't we go back, or --?

Eloise, we can't go back, exclaimed Sirius. This is a serious matter, not a hiking vacation.

I know, she moaned. She looked forward into the colorless fog, stifled a shudder, and said, so quietly that Hermione almost missed it, I can't stand small spaces. Closed in. I just can't.

And now's just the perfect time to let on that you're claustrophobic, isn't it, Midgen? hissed Draco sarcastically.

Hermione sighed. At least we'll all be locked in a tomb together, Eloise. A thought struck her, and she glanced up at the clouds. Maybe Dobby can ward off any wights that come after us. Dobby?

There wasn't an answer. Hermione's heart skipped a beat, but she hid it behind a closed expression; it hadn't occured to any of them to check for their invisible companion since the day they had set out. What if he had gotten lost, or abandoned them, or... well, no one really knew what happened to a person when they didn't have a physical body to hold them to this plane, to force them to obey the laws of nature. He might have dissipated, or faded into nothing.

Hermione called again, forcing her voice not to waver.

Sirius realized what was going on almost as quickly as Hermione. His eyes widened fractionally; he looked around futilely, shouting at the top of his lungs. No luck; there was no sound but that of the wind, which was starting to pick up, bringing fresh, fat drops of water.

Remus got a liberal spattering of rain in the face that finally woke him up. He squinted around at the others, at the sky, at the clouds lowering menacingly -- and promptly cursed. His floating makeshift stretcher was quite steady in the wind -- house-elves' magic couldn't be swayed very easily.

Hermione furiously blinked away one raindrop that landed on her eyelash. She turned away from the full brunt of the wind, dismayed at the loss of Dobby but more worried, at the moment, about the storm bearing down on them.

We can't afford to wait it out! Sirius shouted. We just don't have enough options!

Hermione looked around for shelter, any shelter at all -- but the low rolling hills, shrouded in mist, provided no possibilities. Check the map! she called. How far are we to the road?

Sirius struggled out of his already-damp pack and pulled out the map, trying carefully to sheild the fragile paper from the gusting wind. He peered at it in the gloom and cursed Dobby's absence -- at least the house-elf could have provided some light.

Maybe -- a couple of miles, he said, uncertainly. Three or four. But it's hard to see!

But we're close! Eloise shouted enthusiastically.

Be realistic, Snape cut in. Four miles in this would take hours, at the very least!

If we get lost it'll be worse than waiting, Draco added loudly.

We have to try! Hermione could swear she was all but screaming -- but her voice sounded faint even to her own ears. There's no shelter here! It's pointless to stay! But she had made the mistake of turning slightly to meet everyone's eyes, which put her back in the path of the wind; her words were carried away into the gloom, and she got a faceful of sharp, slashing rain. She jerked her robes all the way over her head and huddled her face away from the rain.

It didn't take any other convincing. They had the perfect map -- no matter how lost they thought they were, they'd always be able to see where they'd wound up, so as long as they were heading relatively in the right direction, it didn't matter if they strayed a little bit. Sirius peered at the map for another minute, then stuck out one cold finger to the south and slightly east. They wrapped up as tightly as they could in their robes -- Remus fished out the light blanket he'd been using for shade and pulled it completely over his head, though it was thoroughly soaked pretty fast anyway.

And they walked.

It seemed, at least to Hermione, that they weren't moving at all -- or at least, not enough to matter. The fog was leeching all the color from the world; the wind carried away sound and feeling; the rain washed away any sense of smell, and everything bent or shrivled under the weight of it. The only thing left was a sense of nothingness -- that whatever great painter had created this beautiful place had just spilled bleach on it, and all the grandiose wonder of it was being erased even as they trudged along.

Hermione kept her eyes on the ground, trying to see just a few more feet in front of herself -- although even that far was impossible in the fog. After a while she began to think she might be veering to the east somewhat, so she looked up to ask Sirius to point the right direction again.

She couldn't see anyone else. Well, that could be expected, she thought. The fog's too thick to see him.

she called at the top of her lungs. Are we going the right way?

No answer.

Her heart plummeted. Sirius! Eloise!

Nothing... she'd lost them. How could she have been so stupid? Should have kept an eye on them -- should have known the fog would separate us, just like the hobbits in the books --

came a faint shout.

Hermione staggered, partly from relief, but mostly from the force of the wind. Who is it? I've lost the others!

Keep shouting!

But who are you -- we need Sirius, he's got the map --

Suddenly, barely three feet away from her, a figure about her height materialized in the fog. Still, even so close, their features were so blurred that she couldn't tell who it was.

You sure this place isn't magic, like Hogwarts? asked the figure. This fog's got a mind of its own -- seems like a spell to me --





Hermione shook her head. At least he wasn't Snape, and a pair was better than one wandering alone, but still... she really didn't want to deal with Malfoy right now. Yeah, it's a spell. I never said Middle-earth wasn't magic. It's just a different kind of magic... and there's a lot more magic here than there is at Hogwarts. At least, there was when the elves were here. I don't know how it'll be now they're all gone...

Stop rambling, Granger. Are you even going the right way?

What did I say before! Of course I'm not! Or I might have been, but I got turned around looking for you...

Maybe we should just wait here, then. Call for Black and Professor Snape.

And get caught by barrow-wights?

Well, what are supposed to do, keep walking at random until we run into a few? Or starve to death, that'd be more like it.

Hermione resisted the urge to scream. What was so very annoying was the fact that Draco was absolutely right. I don't expect we'll get help either way, not soon enough, anyway. Keep walking or stay here -- my vote's for keeping on. Maybe we'll hit the road.

Draco hmphed. If we end up in a ditch somewhere, or back in the woods where we started, don't blame me.

Hermione was taken aback. He wasn't arguing with her nearly hard enough; it wasn't like him. You don't --

Oh shut up and start walking, Granger. We'll never get anywhere if you keep being so thick.

Excuse me -- !

Draco pushed her in the small of the back, forcing her forward a few steps. For a horrible moment she lost Draco's faint outline in the fog -- she shrieked, half startled, half afraid.

he said, exasperated. Fine. Much as I hate you, we've got to be linked, if you're going to be hysterical about it... She felt a cold, damp hand poke her on the shoulder. Give me your hand.

She reached up and took Draco's hand off her shoulder. She was too scared to be disgusted by the fact that she was holding hands with Draco Malfoy -- all she cared about was that there was another human being with her, who wouldn't let her go at any cost.

she gasped wretchedly.

Hermione was glad she couldn't see Draco's face as he replied, Don't get all mushy on me, Granger. It's a necessary evil.

Well, I couldn't have expected anything even vaguely kind-hearted, she thought. Of course I wasn't expecting anything of the sort. And after a minute, she almost believed herself.

--------

They walked, or rather struggled and sloshed, for almost an hour and a half before they were forced to give up. Finding nothing resembling shelter, they had to simply sit down in the middle of the expanse of grass they'd just spent ages slogging across -- if they hadn't already been thoroughly soaked, they would have been when they sat, as there was at least an inch of standing water everywhere. The wind seemed to have died a little bit, but not enough to make a difference. Draco and Hermione, swallowing their pride, sat huddled next to each other, wrapping both their cloaks around themselves, covering their heads and all. Draco tried to catch some rainwater in his water flask, but as the rain was almost horizontal, he didn't have much luck.

I wish Sirius was here, Hermione moaned. I need to see the map...

You should've had the elf make a few more copies.

Shut up, Malfoy, she grumbled half-heartedly. There was a pause, and then... I wonder if there really are any barrow-wights left. We've been out a long time, with no sign of them...

Draco shrugged; she could feel it against her back. The movement left her shoulder blades tingling, and she shifted uncomfortably. She couldn't stop thinking about his head, resting against the back of her own. She could just lean her head forward a little, and then crack it back against his really hard... he'd be unconscious; she could do as she needed with him, and... and she'd be left alone with the...

No, no, no, stop it, what the hell was she thinking? The bloody ring, it just wouldn't stop, would it? She didn't want to hurt anyone. She didn't...

But...

Just in case.



He hmm'ed in acknowledgement. Move your head to one side. Please. On my shoulder or something.

What is this, Granger? Have you been hiding some mad passion from me for years, or something? Because I'm really not interest--

she said, and the tone of her voice shut him up. If you don't, the ring will make me knock you out and abandon you here. Possibly even kill you. I can feel it... working on me. Her voice was getting even more tense as she spoke. I am... I am resisting it, here. Now, if you want that to happen... but if you don't, then please move your target -- I mean, head.

Draco said, There was a short pause. Then Hermione could feel him shifting around until he was sitting with his side to her back, a position from which he'd be able to see if she was up to something. Hesistantly, he put his arms around her waist...

What an odd feeling, Hermione thought, momentarily giddy.

I'm going to just... hold you still, okay? Don't mind me, I'm just... taking extra precautions.

she said, slightly disappointed. The human straightjacket.

Pretty much, said Draco thoughtlessly, resting his chin on her shoulder, which was the only place available. He was holding Hermione's hands out of harm's way, now. She couldn't have moved if she'd wanted to.

They sat in silence for ages, Draco protecting Hermione from herself, from the terrible urges planted in her head by the ring that was currently stuffed deep in her pocket. Their cloaks were soaked, so heavy now that even the wind couldn't carry them away easily -- the edges flapped where they weren't held down by the packs or where Draco was sitting on them. Small gusts of cold wind made their way through the gaps, freezing anything that was damp -- which was everything. The cloaks served no heating purpose any longer, and they only kept out a fraction of the wind... but neither Draco nor Hermione was willing to try and move them.

Was that... but no, not now, it seemed too late for them -- the wind's howls were becoming more and more alien, less natural. Hermione could swear she heard voices --

she breathed, but the sounds oustside were so loud now that he couldn't hear her. she said, more loudly -- pleading.

he replied unsteadily. Her last name didn't sound like a curse this time when he said it.

Can you hear voices?

He almost said something waspish about that, but he refrained -- the same fear she felt was gnawing at him as well, though he'd die rather than admit it. Sounds like the wights have found us.

She swallowed dryly, and said, almost in tears, I don't want to see them.

He wasn't sure how to reply to that. Of course she didn't -- he didn't either. His first reaction was to think, What a stupid thing to say.... but after a moment, he started to understand how she felt -- and it was an extraordinarily odd feeling. No, she knew they would come, and she wanted to be back home at Hogwarts as much as he did -- but if she had been paying attention to her surroundings she might have realized that she'd passed a tomb on the wrong side, or even have been able to avoid it before it happened. The guilt was overwhelming, and she didn't want to see what she'd brought down on all of her friends...

Draco stopped himself. How did he know all this? He'd never been able to understand anyone's mind like this before. Or was he only thinking of his own mind -- he might have seen the fatal mistake, he might have been able to avoid it -- even now, he might be able to drive off the wights...

How? You haven't got a wand, you bloody idiot, you can't just do a Patronus and magic them all away. There is no more magic. Without magic, the world is left as nothing but a blank and empty slate, dull and eternal....

But there was something magical left -- there was the ring. The ring could work. He could just slip it on -- such a little thing -- and the wights would bow before him, and he could send for the ghosts and the traitors, the Death Eaters of Middle-earth; and he would be a ruler over them so far greater than Voldemort that even Lucius Malfoy could be proud of his son -- and then, Draco thought excitedly, I might even have the strength to kill that bastard father -- and when that was done, he'd have more power than anyone --

Hermione shrieked, snatching his hand away from her neck, where it was searching for a chain that wasn't there. She was stronger than he'd expected. What are you doing? This is not the -- the time -- stop it! Malfoy! Urgh! Geroff!

She had seized both his wandering hands now, putting a stop to his unwanted explorations of her body.

Just give it to me, Granger, and this won't get ugly, he hissed.

Ew, Malfoy -- you pervert!

He jerked against her violently, trying to get his hands free. Give it to us, it's precious, it drives off wights, we won't have to hide --

Cold realization hit Hermione -- Draco wasn't perverted (well, he might be anyway); he wanted the... the precious...

Leave it alone! she hissed, cutting off all the circulation to his hands as she gripped his wrists. Outside their tiny protection of cloaks, the shreiks were becoming more excited, more hysterical. Hermione thought she heard the screech of steel against steel -- were they coming with swords; could ghosts even hold swords? --

We wants it! Draco shouted, and for a second he got one wrist free -- but Hermione had him by then, it was too late: she twisted around at an entirely unnatural angle, bent her head forward, and lashed backwards with all her might. The back of her head hit the side of Draco's; he slumped, reeling from the blow. Fumbling quickly, she managed to get his arms around her waist again -- only this time she held his hands as tightly as she could, not caring about the bruises that would show up later or the loss of circulation -- as long as he was bound, and his feet couldn't get any traction, she was safe until the wights came; the wights would solve everything for her, they were right outside now, clamoring to get in, fighting --

Fighting against what? That was steel against steel, but it sounded like a swordfight -- like -- opponents fighting. Who was out there, pitted against Merlin-knew how many barrow-wights? And why?

Hermione didn't dare tear off the soaking cloaks to look. Bowing her head and holding Draco's arms in a death grip, she could only wait for the winner of the hidden battle to reveal themselves...
-----

A/N: Next chpt. we get to meet some new people! Take a guess -- which LotR character(s) is fighting the barrow-wights? *deep, melodramatic voice* Will they defeat the evil creatures of the dark and save Draco and Hermione from utter destruction? Or, if they do, will Draco just whip out the ring and blast everything into oblivion anyway? Next time, in... RAVEN'S SLEEP-DEPRIVED BRAIN. *duh duh DUHN...*
I'm shutting up now.
Expect the unexpected when it comes to my erratic updating schedule -- I have absolutely no idea when this will update, so just keep checking.
-Raven