A FEW REPLIES (feel free to skip these if you didn't review the last chapter)

Pyra: I meant Poe as in Edgar Allen -- you know, crazy, depressed guy with weird poetry and gross stories. Quoth the Raven, nevermore. Etc, etc. I love Poe's writings, and I always wished I could write poetry that good. :) As for meeting the Fellowship -- carry on reading!

Lunoria Moonwatcher: Thank you! (Yes, I love making my char's insult each other -- I may have overdosed in this chpt, actually.) Updates are soooo hard for me. I've got 2 other huge stories I'm always working on, plus school and other annoying necessities. I write every chance I get, but I'm a slow writer, because I'm always researching my material and trying to find the perfect word. I like being meticulous, and it's hard to rush my process. I'm afraid it makes for horrible, erratic updates, though. Sorry about that, but I can't change it!

Luthien Tinuviel: Looking forward to more of Mirror, Mirror! I love a good crossover. Probably why I write so many. Dratted fictions, never give me a moment's peace. School is evil and must die, or must at least be scheduled differently so that I can actually sleep to a decent hour before I have to get up! Isn't tarot fun? I don't know if Sirius' deck will make many (or any) more appearances, I'll just have to see how it turns out.

Pass the Porn Tea: Thank you hugely! It's so cool that people actually like this story, I had never expected it. I'll be sure to keep up with the update e-mails, too.

Europa: *Bzzz!* Wrong on two counts. :p You'll see who it is here in a bit! I had far too much fun for my own good writing for them, so I hope you like them.

Haelinial: You got your wish! But then again, it may not be for long. :( I really can't apologize enough for how long it takes me to update, but this freakin' story is so hard to write! Don't worry, though, it's also a great deal of fun and I won't give it up anytime soon. Thank you for the support!

Thorn Took: Love the name! :) Pippin's so cute. (But SAM RULES!!! Ahem. *innocent whistling*) Thank you, glad you like it!

Lebethron: Thank you very much! I try very hard to keep all my char's in check. Dialogue is sooo fun to write. I've also about worn out my map of Middle-earth, trying to keep the HP char's road sorted out. I have such a horrible time with maps and directions, and Tolkien was amazing with them... makes it hard to keep up. I'm glad my work is paying off. Good to know that people really notice it when you try hard!

Angel: *guilty blink* Cho's above Harry? .... I do believe that that is what we might call a stupid plot hole on my part. I hadn't even noticed. You are absolutely right, though. Thanks for pointing it out to me! Dratted fictions, they won't stay one age, will they? :)

Saerry Snape: Ahh. Insomnia. Me knows this phenomenon. Me is currently suffering from it. (....me talk pretty someday....) *eyes roll up, falls over unconscious* (Kyriel: Okay, take her away, boys. She's drooling.) *wakes up* I am not! (*Sirius, James, and Remus roll their eyes and start dragging Raven off the stage*) What stage? You people have been building things in my head again! (Farrah: All the world's a stage, you know, so don't argue.) Grr. I hate villains who quote Shakespeare. (Kyriel: And I hate authors who quote Farscape!) Oh, shut up!

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A/N: Enter the roaming hobbits. That's all I'm gonna say.
Further up and further in,
-Raven

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Chapter Thirteen: Elevenses, Anyone?
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Lord of the Rings is a mythology, it is a fairy tale, it's an adventure story; it never happened... except somewhere in our hearts. And yet, there was Hobbiton, in three dimensions, with smoke coming out of the holes where they live underground... and I believed.

– Sir Ian McKellen on the film version of The Fellowship of the Ring'

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They were tearing at the damp cloaks, the only thin cover Hermione and Draco had; and Hermione screamed and screamed at them to leave her be; but she couldn't hold Draco and the cloaks at the same time -- everything was all such a blur, and nothing made any sense anymore...

Light -- real sunlight; muted, but clear enough -- reached Hermione's closed eyes, burning against the backs of her eyelids. Some other voice was trying to speak over her yells, but she couldn't hear it, and she couldn't stop, not now...

Look out!

Get her arms --

Hermione! Snap out of it!

The voices sounded distantly familiar, but she was so disoriented that she couldn't even place a face or a name with them. Exhaustion was beginning to take its toll; her muscles burned and ached, and her attempts at fending off the intruders were becoming weaker.

Steady now! cried a fourth voice, a new voice -- again it was familiar, and yet at the same time Hermione could swear she'd never heard it before. Like maybe she'd heard an echo of it, or a bad imitation... but the voice was still unmistakable, and unsettling in its strangeness.

She felt her wrists snatched out of the air, and she was dragged forward, full onto the damp grass under the gray sky. The sunlight was dimming again; she must have only seen a brief flash through the breaking clouds. She was aware that she was half sobbing and half dry retching with fear, but her churning gut refused to calm down... what about Draco, the ring, where are the wights, I swear they were here, did I black out? who -- ?...

A pair of small, strong hands were helping her sit up, but she still could not bring herself to open her eyes. Someone patted her back tentatively. All the danger's gone, lass, said the same familiarly-strange voice. All's well now, just you calm down a bit... we'll get you on to Bree safe enough... those wights are tricky old spirits, aren't they?

The voice had a steady calming effect on her nerves, and the familiarity of it was rousing her curiosity. She had stopped gagging, and could almost open her eyes...

Small hands helping her up; steel on steel clashing in the storm; a voice... a voice so familiar, like she'd heard it somewhere before, but not through her ears... like... like a voice she had thought before, but had never heard...

Oh. Oh... good gods above, she knew who it was -- and yet it was so unbelievable, even after seeing the wights and the land and knowing that this adventure was true and not merely a bizarre dream... still, despite it all, the fact that they were real, and one was patting her on the back even as realization was dawning...

Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and looked around at her rescuers.

Yes, of course, the good, calming sight of Professor Snape (and who would ever have thought that he would be a good person to see glaring halfheartedly down at you...). Draco, limp on the ground, was being silently examined by Sirius. Those two, Hermione knew. Them she could accept without question...

Now... what she was finding rather difficult to accept was the red-headed hobbit sitting next to her, and the other, slightly older and more sandy-haired, leaning on his short sword next to Snape. The fact that the redheaded one was dressed in black and silver armor with Gondor's emblem of a white tree, while the blond one was wearing the green-and-white horse-motif livery of Rohan, proved a thought that until now Hermione had hardly dared to entertain --

She knew these hobbits, all right, and she had heard their voices before -- in her head, as she read their dialogue silently to herself all those days ago in the Hogwarts library.

Meriadoc Brandybuck, esquire of Rohan... and Peregrin Took, a knight of the realm of Gondor.

Merry and Pippin? Hermione choked, dumbfounded. They were the first coherent words she had uttered since the wights had come. Sirius glanced up from Draco's prone body.

he said quietly, standing up and moving to kneel by Pippin next to her. What happened?

She shook her head, still staring mutely at Merry, who had sheathed his sword and was now mopping his forehead with a handkerchief. Sirius glanced at where she was staring, and grinned slightly; but as much as he'd like to entertain her with the tale of how they'd met up, he really needed to know what had happened in the storm. He drew Hermione's attention back to himself and repeated the question.

Hermione finally managed. We got. Er. Separated... in the fog, and... and I found Draco, and we walked for a bit... it was my fault, I mean, I thought we might hit the road to Bree... She turned her eyes to the ground miserably.

It was no one's fault, Sirius chided. But what happened when you stopped here?

She didn't look up in time to see his glance stray worriedly to Draco; rather, she took a deep breath and told him all she could about the horrible make-shift shelter, and the ring's disruptions, and the ensuing fight. She couldn't manage to convey the feeling of fear and helplessness; but even if she could have, she wouldn't have wanted to. Still, her mentions of the Ring drew Merry and Pippin's sharp and immediate attention, and they listened hard to everything Hermione said.

When Hermione was done, Sirius took a resolute breath and said, Come here. Gently he helped her stand up, supporting her weight as much as she needed him to. Then he turned her towards Draco and pointed vaguely at the pale boy's face.

Hermione could say nothing. Draco looked a complete mess -- his robes were torn in places (though her own were much the same), vivid purply-blue bruises in the shapes of fingers ran all the way up and down both his arms, one shoulder looked out-of-joint, and a faint, smeared trail of dried blood wound out from under his hair.

I had to hold him down, Hermione said finally, in a detached voice. He wanted the ring. I couldn't let him have it. The wights were going to take us, and then it wouldn't matter anymore.

Sirius nodded, and turned her away from the sight. All right. It's all right... he's fine, anyway, just had a hard knock to the head...

I had to, Hermione repeated, feeling vaguely that she needed to defend herself, though she didn't know what from. She tried to take a step forward, but her right foot caught on her left ankle and she slipped. Sirius was caught off guard and nearly let her fall, but once again Pippin was there to her rescue. Pippin helped her sit down again, and she nodded slightly to no one in particular.

It's shock, some distant part of her mind, the only rational bit left, told her. It's not serious. Just shock...

Snape was saying something to Merry and Pippin -- or maybe it was Sirius -- they were all talking now, at least... but Hermione found suddenly that she couldn't hold her eyes open any longer. Shock and exhaustion pulled her under the black tide of sleep, from which she wouldn't resurface for quite a while.

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Is she quite all right? asked Pippin, startled at Hermione's dead faint.

said Snape, looking down at Hermione and the hobbit. Shock, exhaustion, lack of nourishment... none of the students at Hogwarts are really built for this sort of taxation on their bodies, and Granger less so than most. She spends all her time in books. I wouldn't be surprised if she had never ridden a broomstick in her life.

Sirius glared. If this is only because she's a Muggle-born...

Snape shrugged him off. Merely a practical statement. She can't handle this much exercise.

Sirius didn't get to make any scathing comebacks, as Merry interrupted him with a curious, What's that? Pippin followed his glance and picked up the little square of folded cloth that had fallen out of Hermione's pocket.

Wait -- Sirius began, alarmed, and Snape moved to snatch the thing away from the hobbits; but Merry had already reached out for it. When the package touched his hand, however, he cried out and dropped it instantly.

he gasped, his eyes clouding. A sick, papery tinge was spreading along his right wrist, an echo of a past wound.

Pippin lunged to his feet, alarmed.

I tried to tell you, said Sirius, torn between exasperation and worry.

Snape swept the package up from the ground near the hobbits' feet, tucking it securely into his front pocket. Sirius gave him a long, measured look, but Snape showed no outward sign that the ring was affecting him.

Merry blinked and took a long deep breath, trembling and holding his wrist tightly. What is it? he said, a heavy gloom in his voice. Though I think could say I already know, if your story of other worlds is true. But tell me -- is it what I think it is?

Severus nodded curtly. The Ruling Ring. Its essence was never truly destroyed. It had lost this world, so it tried to take refuge in ours.

Pippin, sobered by this news, said, I'm very sorry to hear it. And I suppose you came here -- however you managed that -- to pass it off on us once again, as it was our trouble to begin with?

Poor cousin Frodo's journey, made for nothing, whispered Merry, looking beaten.

Sirius mouthed silently for a second, taken aback. Nothing of the sort! he exclaimed. Well, I -- Snape and I didn't come by choice. It was Hermione who took it on herself to bring it here. She wanted to destroy it... and I don't think she'd let anyone else try to take over.

Merry frowned. Are you sure she isn't becoming too possessive of it?

Yes, Sam never spoke much of his and cousin Frodo's journey, but when he did he always said it was an awful fright whenever the Ring started to take Frodo in fits, added Pippin.

Sirius, who had himself been wondering about that, looked down at Hermione's pale face. I... I really don't know. He shook his head, thinking to the night she had begged Snape to give it back to her. She hasn't had it long, but it seems to be working on her harder than it ever worked on anyone in the books. I mean, here. You -- well, Frodo, that is -- He rubbed his temples and muttered,

piped Merry, speaking of these books. What about that? Who wrote them, anyway? The only book I know to have ever been written about Frodo and Strider and the rest was put together by Sam once Frodo and Mr. Bilbo had gone. The Red Book of Westmarch, it was, and it's still very famous both in the Shire and out of it. But how can the story of the Ring be known in another world?

Sirius shrugged, and Snape said, I don't know. Parallel dimensions -- other worlds -- they were only a theory in our world. Miss Granger there wasn't the first person to try to cross the barrier between worlds, but she was the first person to succeed. And the Ring may have played a part in that, as far as anyone knows -- in wanting to get back here, back to its own world, it helped her spell along.

Sirius narrowed his eyes at Snape. How d'you figure that? he said suspiciously.

Logic, Black, said Snape icily. But I'm sure your experience with that is rare.

Sirius scowled and did not deign Snape with a response.

It seems there are many questions to be asked, but only a few to be answered, said Merry. Color flushed his cheeks once again; he seemed to be a quick recoverer. One thing I hope you can answer, though, is where you've been -- however you got here, there is still the matter of where you're going now. Whereabouts did you... come through... into... our world? The words felt strange in the Halfling's mouth, and he struggled with them momentarily.

The Old Forest, Sirius answered promptly. He snapped his fingers. Give me a sec', let me find the map -- you'll see. He stepped around Pippin and Hermione and knelt beside his pack, rummaging through it quickly.

Pippin asked, bemused, and Snape barely had his mouth open to answer when Sirius whipped out the flimsy, slightly damp (as was everything else in his pack) parchment and brandished it at the hobbits. Sirius knelt awkwardly next to Pippin to show him the map, and Merry stepped over to see as well.

The hobbits looked at the map for several long seconds. After a moment, Merry said slowly, I'm going to assume that this is this magic you kept speaking of.

Sirius nodded. Uhn, see, there's us -- too tight a little clump to make out the names, but it has to be us. This is where we landed -- he pointed out a vague two-mile-ish area at the edge of the Old Forest --and we've been walking for two days.

Merry arched his brows. For Big People you certainly make terrible traveling time, he said in a pitying tone. You really should have brought a packhorse from your world, at least.

Sirius said eloquently.

Snape intervened. The wizarding community where we come from hasn't much use for pack animals, and our usual modes of transportation are very different from yours.

Oh, and what do you ride then, flying hearth rugs?

said Snape, unfazed. Flying broomsticks.

Pippin blinked.

There's also Floo powder, Sirius added, as if this would make up for Snape's bluntness. It's a way of traveling between magical fireplaces. And Apparation, which is basically a self-teleportation spell -- but you have to have a license for that, it's fairly risky.

No more risky than thundering about in two tons of metal on wheels, Snape said sourly. And they wonder why so many people die in automobile accidents. Muggles.

Shut your trap, Sirius snapped, but it sounded half-hearted this time. He directed the bewildered hobbits' attention back to the map. We were making for the road this way, trying to avoid the barrows here... but we passed one on the east, unintentionally, probably back around... right about there. His finger obscured the spot, and Merry batted his hand out the way to examine the map more closely.

And we met you about a half-mile off the road here, said Merry in a quasi-businesslike, abstracted way. You and... Snape there... Merry glanced up, but Severus was so used to being called by his last name that he hadn't even registered it. Merry cleared his throat. Er, yes, the two of you were perhaps a... mile and a half off your course to the southeast, but it did nearly get you to the north-south road where we were. And your friends here... what were their names? I can't see on the map.

Hermione and Malf -- Sirius also dared a glance at Snape, who was giving the Animagus his deepest scowl. Sirius amended himself quickly. Hermione and, er, Draco.

Yes, those two, they were farther off, maybe two miles, to the southwest. Heading deeper into the barrow-downs, not towards the road at all. Merry frowned. You mentioned something, when we found you, about there being others -- seven was your total number? I see only four accounted for.

Two others are lost somewhere, probably -- one of them's badly injured, his ankle was broken and he can't walk, at least not much. There's no telling what straits they're in after this storm, either.

Pippin had been looking over Merry's shoulder at the map in a deeply absorbed manner. Nearly before Sirius had finished speaking, he nudged Merry over and pointed one small finger at the map, nearly five miles away, on the south side of the west-bound road to Bree. Pippin squinted at the minuscule labels and read, Remus... L -- is that an L? -- Lupin? Odd name. And what is that other there? I can't see this at all, how can you possibly find this map useful anyway, if you can't even read it?

But Sirius had already brightened and was saying, Remus -- and the other there is Eloise, it has to be. How the hell did they get all the way down there?

The holding spell on the stretcher, said Snape, brows furrowed in thought. It must have broken. And Midgen grabbed onto the thing to keep it from blowing away --

--And they both got carried off, I see the picture. Sirius snapped his fingers. How quick can we get to them? We're going towards the road anyway; we have to get to Bree.

Snape and Sirius turned questioning eyes to the hobbits.

The otherworldly people, straight off the pages on which they had been so accurately described, were completely unfazed by the two wizards' sharp attention. What do you say, Pip? said Merry to the other. With these two going as slow as they did on the march from the woods, and one unconscious and another injured?

Pippin shook his head and eyed the four Big People despairingly. I'd say it's hopeless, he said. Without the ponies...

Dratted creatures running off in a storm, cursed Merry.

Think we could call up old Tom Bombadil to give us a lift?

Oh, I wouldn't bother him. He taught me the whistle-trick when I passed through the last time.

Did he? And you never told it to me? You Rohirrim are all the same.

And you Gondorians never ask useful questions.

Just whistle the ponies up, why don't you.

Merry paused before putting his fingers to his mouth in order to say, I can't say whether it'll work, anyway. Then he let out a high, soaring whistle that rang stinging in Snape's and Sirius' ears.

A second later, and nothing had happened. Merry became aware that everyone was looking at him. he said indignantly. They aren't going to just appear, poof and all. Oy, you people are hopeless -- for all your claims to be wizards you're nothing like Gandalf, and not half as sensible. You've got an injured boy and the poor girl's gone slap out like a light, and are you even tending to them?

Abandoning for a moment their deep-rooted enmity, Snape and Sirius exchanged a look that spoke for itself -- Tolkien never quite got in the fact that the hobbits grew up to be drill sergeants, did he?

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A month ago, the hobbits had been perfectly happy in their own kingdoms and courts, sharing all the joy, weight, and responsibility of being knights of the realm. Although Merry served King Eomer in Rohan, and Pippin, the King Elessar of Gondor -- two countries that were a great distance removed from each other -- they did still see each other around almost constantly. Due to the marriage of Lord Faramir, Steward of Gondor, and Lady Eowyn, a shield maiden of Rohan and sister to the King, the two kingdoms could not have been more closely intertwined, for all the distance between them. Great feasts, gatherings, and councils were held in Ithilien, the evergreen land that Faramir and Eowyn ruled together in peace.

Taking one of many leaves jointly granted by the Kings Elessar and Eomer, Pippin and Merry had only a few weeks ago ridden out of the South to come home to the Shire. The little house in Crickhollow that they had once prepared for Frodo Baggins to live in was still as comfortable as it ever was, and they stayed there when they visited. (The two traveling hobbits suspected that old Fatty Bolger had a tendency to keep it well-lived-in in their absences, as its wine cellar was greater and more varied than Fatty's own.) Only two days ago -- the same day Hermione's mismatched party of seven had landed themselves in the Old Forest -- Merry and Pippin had been arranging lodging with Barliman Butterbur, the innkeeper of the Prancing Pony in Bree. They had left the small town of Bree only that morning -- given, very early that morning, but still -- and had been very put out with the storm that swelled up unexpectedly around luncheon-time.

It didn't take long to realize, however, that the storm wasn't just a run-of-the-mill thunder-shower. The faint voices on the air, the cries of the damned and abandoned, were unmistakable -- the hobbits had heard them only once again after their first experience, and on the second occasion, neither Tom Bombadil nor Gandalf nor anyone else had been there to come to their rescue. When they discovered that the wights had struck again at some unwary traveler, Merry and Pippin were less than two minutes in deciding to head straight into the heart of the storm. Reckless, maybe, but they had learned through years of service that in order to save someone, odds are you'll probably have to fight something first, and there's not much reason in lurking around the edge of a fight waiting for the assailant to notice you before you take him out.

Barely half a mile off the road, they became aware of a darker gray blur in the fog and rain that might have been a wight -- or might not. As they dismounted and drew their swords in preparation, the blur got darker, nearly black -- and, in fact, split into two blurs, each of which developed voices that could be heard even over the howling wind. The blurs seemed to be having a shouted argument, the foul language of which could have curled the hair on the toes of Rory Brandybuck himself.

Pippin shouted into the wind, Oy, there! Who is it? –friend or foe?

We shan't suffer any to pass who pledge allegiance to the Shadow in the East, called Merry, though his words were perhaps larger than his skill at swordplay, and it was a good thing that it wasn't a straggling band of lost orcs bearing down on them.

screamed a voice through the wind. Lower, but still shouting, it continued, Did you hear something? Besides the voices in your head, filth!

Filth my -- And who was it who fell in the mud anyway? You're the f--

Who's there! Pippin shouted again, getting impatient.

Right about then was when the large black-shrouded figure of a man stumbled forward to within sight of the hobbits and nearly trampled Merry. Pippin jumped aside, alarmed, and quickly raised his sword...

Ho, whoa, wait on now a second here, blurted Sirius, tripping over the hem of his robe and falling backwards with a loud thud on the soggy, muddy ground. A small grin played on the face of the second figure, who was already rather muddy. Merry realized with a start that Snape was standing right beside him, and whirled about.

Pippin blinked at the pathetic sight of the Big Person, nearly two and a half feet taller than either of the hobbits, sitting forlornly in the sloshy mud front of him, and lowered his sword.

Well, out with it then, who are you? Are you an ally or an enemy to the great kingdoms of the south, Rohan and Gondor? Merry felt oddly superior over these strangely-dressed Big Folk who obviously had no idea what they were doing.

said Sirius, bewildered and soggy and highly annoyed at falling in the mud as Snape had just done not so long ago.

Snape cut in before Sirius could ruin any chance they had with the natives. Friends of Gondor and Rohan, certainly. And the Shire, and.... um... Lorien.... and all the other parts that were on the good side, I can't remember them all.

said Pippin, blinking again.

Sirius was on his feet again, struggling to unstick his left boot from the mud. It came loose with a deep sucking noise. He glanced down at Pippin and Merry and said, unforgivingly, Forgive Snape-y there, he's just a stupid old git with his head up his --

Severus clenched his fists and hissed, One more word out of you, Black! One more word and I swear --

cried Merry. I say, I suppose it isn't my place, but...

said Pippin again, trodding on Merry's foot. Your names, sirs? I can't say I can really place your faces... that is, I know most of the allies of Gondor and... He trailed off, his eyes wandering over their robes and strange boots -- he couldn't tell what the material was that they were made of. It looked like leather, but somehow different...

Sirius and Severus shared a glance that clearly conveyed the awkwardness of this situation.

Mightn't we hear your names first? said Snape as graciously as he could.

Oh, I'm Pippin... Peregrin, I mean... son of Paladin, and this here is Meriadoc son of Saradoc, only most people call him Merry...

Neither of the two men heard anything beyond the words I'm Pippin. The rest of Pippin's banter seemed to merely fade out, like a badly tuned radio signal. Shortly, Sirius became aware that his mouth was slightly open.

You are? Merry prompted for the second time. Snape snapped out of his daze sooner than Sirius.

Professor Severus Snape, he said, uttering the sibilant s's like a snake. And this is --

Wary of insults, Sirius cut in with a hasty, I can introduce myself well enough, you slimy git. Sirius Black, at your service and all whatever it is they say around here.

Where are you from, anyway? asked the hobbits, almost in unison.

said Sirius.

Snape swallowed his pride long enough to have a whispered conversation with Sirius...

What do you think? Not that I value your opinion, but let's hear it anyway.

Merry and Pippin... I mean, they're just... they're Merry and Pippin and -- bludgering HELL I can't believe this is really happening...

Pull yourself together, man. What do we tell them? They're sure to be more open-minded than most people we could find around here. The Elves might believe us, but they're all gone. No way to get to Bree or anywhere else now and besides, we got lost in the first ten miles of the journey -- there's no hope of making the rest of the trip this way.

You know what I think? I think you have an inborn talent for making everything sound hopeless. And yeah, I agree we can't keep going alone, but... these guys aren't seriously going to believe we're wizards from a parallel dimension. Sirius pulled a face. 'Wizards from a parallel dimension'... sounds like a really horrid Muggle-American fantasy movie from the 50's.

We have to try, Black. It grates me to be so stale and cliche here, but they're our only hope.

Sirius looked over Snape's shoulder at the hobbits, and sighed. He spoke quickly. All right, but look, what do we do if they don't believe us?

They'll just blow us off as madmen and forget about us, more than likely. Snape glowered at Sirius and drove in his final point with a cold sarcastic glint. Of course it won't matter, we'll only be left here with hardly any supplies, four or five other members of the company lost in a storm, and no experienced help standing right at hand... hand-height, that is.

Sirius curled his lip at the rain-drenched Professor of Potions and huffed, Fine then. You get to explain everything, you're so keen on it. Don't blame me when they lock you up in a padded cell.

Snape turned back to the hobbits, opening his mouth to begin.

Oy, Sev, Sirius added in a sickly-sweet voice. Try to get a straitjacket in a nice light blue, it'll bring out the extreme lack of color in your eyes.

Severus cleanly stepped back onto Sirius's toes with the heavy, sharp heels of his boots, making Sirius' breath catch with an undignified squeak. He kicked Snape off and stood brooding to the side while Severus, unfazed, began his explanations...

The only critical moment was when Merry and Pippin took one long look at each other in the following silence, coming to an unspoken mutual conclusion.

After a moment Pippin looked back to Snape, and said sincerely, How soon do you need to get to Bree?

Both Severus and Sirius let out the breaths they had been holding.

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Back to the present...

Eventually the ponies came around, ambling along at their own lazy pace, grazing absently. Merry went to tend to them, rolling his eyes at the wizards,' who were arguing once again over Draco and Hermione, undecided about whether or not to revive one or both of them. Pippin cleaned the streak of blood off of Draco's scalp in the meantime, ignoring Sirius and Snape, and examined the wound. Nothing more than a bad bruise, and a small cut where Hermione's hair clip had caught his skin when she lashed backwards.

Although the argument had come to no definite end and could probably go on forever, Snape finally tuned Sirius out entirely and went about his own plans as if the other man did not exist. Schoolboy grudges die hard, especially between two such people as Severus Snape and Sirius Black -- and each's old methods of dealing' with the other tend to come back with a vengeance. Snape ignored Sirius, or spat cold insults at him; and Sirius had to repress urges to levitate Snape upside-down for a good few hours. Sadly, he reminded himself that he had no magic, and therefore settled for throwing verbal barbs at Snape's back.

Severus produced a small vial, probably one of many, from somewhere within his damp robes and waved it under Draco's nose -- Hogwarts House preference still ruled, and he didn't really feel like doing anything at all for the Granger girl if he could help it. But then, again, there was Sirius looming ominously over him... so with an inward scowl Snape revived Hermione as well.

Draco woke quickly, as if startled out of a light doze. His gray eyes snapped open and he jerked his head forward off the ground, eliciting an instant, half-choked curse. He let his head fall back again as his eyes refocused. His sinus cavity was itchy and tingly-feeling from the deep breath he had taken of the reviving potion, and there was a great, sharp pain behind his eyes and up around his temples. His limbs felt too heavy to move. It took him a moment to register that it wasn't raining anymore, and the only wind was a light breeze, though the sky was still overcast and the air dark and damp with the storm's passing.

He blinked and squinted at the pale face framed with dark hair hovering above him. In the dimness, Draco couldn't tell whether it was Snape or Sirius --

That brought his slow-waking mind back to a screeching halt. Where was Granger? Draco had no memory of anything beyond Hermione warning him about the ring, about what it was trying to make her do. There had been wights... hadn't there? It didn't seem like he had... fallen asleep... or unconscious... what had happened? An entire piece of his memory, of his life, gone as if surgically removed from his mind. It was unsettling, and he felt more vulnerable and afraid for the thought of it.

he croaked, hoping vaguely that the more agreeable (at least to Draco) of the two dark-haired men was the one who had woken him up.

Just lie still, said the man. It was most definitely Professor Snape's voice. Draco let out a short breath.

What happened?

In a moment, said Severus, brushing aside Draco's question. Lord knew it was going to take another half an hour or more to get the two teens back to themselves and caught up on events, and that would only waste more of the little time they had to find Midgen and the werewolf.

Once Hermione and Draco were well and fully awake -- both a bit nauseous from the reviving potion and more than a bit sore from their fight, but neither too much the worse for wear -- explanations had to be given all around once again. Merry, who had gone through the packs the ponies had brought back, provided everyone with food while they spoke. It was good traveler's food, much better for the weary and footsore wizards than what they had brought from Hogwarts' kitchens. Severus kept his and Sirius' end of it short and succinct, and Merry stopped Pippin from starting any amusing anecdotes about his time serving in the Tower of Guard by way of a lot of toe-stepping and a judicious usage of elbows. To Severus' relief (for he was getting very tired of explaining things again and again), they all satisfied each other of the current state of events very quickly, and were left with nothing to do but set off once again, back on track in their quest, heading for Bree.

The four wizards, so used to being castle-bound, were wonderfully grateful to have proper guides at last. Merry and Pippin, talking and listening and asking questions about other worlds as cheerfully as could be, did not lead them back the way they had come with Sirius and Severus, back to the north-south road -- instead, they expertly found a path across the country, cutting off the corner they would have taken had they gone back to the road. They knew the country like the backs of their hands, and the barrows held no worries for them.

Hermione and Draco walked a little more slowly than the adults, always lagging behind, but never quite far enough to draw attention to themselves. Hermione watched the ground, and Draco watched the distant air; and every once in a while they watched each other, but neither when the other was looking, and neither with any expression whatsoever.
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