Title: An Inevitable Fate
Chapter Thirty Four: Just Another Normal Day
Author: KissThis
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Rating: PG-13
Pairing: D/Hr; I know there hasn't been much action here, but I'm actually trying to focus on the plotline a little more (for once!) Something big is coming though for our lovely duo – I promise!!
Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.
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Disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter, but I am now the very proud owner of a snack sized box of 'ZUCARITAS' – a very tasty Mexican substitute for Frosted Flakes. Yum yum.
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A/N: I'm BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK! You missed me, right? I'm sorry I couldn't get it up the 22nd like I'd promised, but there were so many delays with out flights and try as I might I couldn't get it all typed up by midnight. So here it is now...at 1:44 AM on the 23rd of June.
Enjoy!
Nearly a week had passed since the first snow. It hadn't stopped either. The October climate was perfect for the new bout of weather. It was breezy and cool in the mornings, and didn't really warm up until near dinnertime when it would begin to melt the day's accumulated snow. Then every morning it would snow again, replacing what was lost. It was a continuing cycle. A perfect day, every day.
Hermione paused on her way to lunch to examine her reflection in a suit of armor. She clicked her tongue against her teeth. During long study sessions she had a nasty habit of twisting her hair around her finger. Now it was a disheveled mess.
Pulling out her ponytail she fished her wand from her robe pocket. Waving it at her hair she muttered a spell Lavender had told her about. It sounded ridiculous when she said it out loud, but it was supposed to work so she gave it a chance. She bent down to survey they result of the styling charm in the suit of armor.
"A chiffon..." She said to herself, "Classy."
Restoring her wand, she continued down to the Great Hall. The suit of armor creaked and waved goodbye.
She had actually made good time from war strategies and around just as the food began to appear on their golden platters. She slid into her place between Harry and Ron just as Dumbledore began the afternoon's announcements. She only half-listened to them. Something about the third-years. Durmstrang "outraged" that Dumbledore has "kidnapped" half their students – of course, that had been expected. Then something about new arrivals and Hermione tuned the rest out.
She was feeling exceptionally hungry that night and was halfway through the act of spooning more mashed potatoes onto her plate when Dumbledore took his seat. She stomped her foot as a substitute for applause and finished with the bowl of potatoes. Harry and Ron finished clapping and turned back to the table to find Hermione's plate almost overflowing with food.
"My, we're hungry tonight," Harry commented teasingly.
Hermione glared at him and dropped a chicken leg on her plate, "Shut up."
Ron laughed and she turned to her other side to glare at him as well. Still laughing he reached over her plate to grab the shepherd's pie.
"I like your hair," He said.
Her expression of annoyance turned to one of startlement. Her hand shot reflexively up to touch the twist of her hair. She was surprised he had noticed.
"Uh, thanks," She said finally, and turned back to her plate.
Looking at it now, it did seem a bit much. She never ate that much at one sitting, save for Thanksgiving. By the looks of her plate it seemed Turkey Day had come a month early. The sight of all that food should have made her sick, but stead she felt her stomach rumbling and her mouth salivating.
"Tuck in!" She told the boys jovially and proceeded to do just that.
Three goblets of pumpkin juice and half an hour later, the food was cleared away and Hermione was left feeling pleasantly full. Needless to day, Ron and Harry had been hard pressed to keep up with their friend's sudden passion for food. They were holding their stomachs as if doing so would keep them from getting sick all over the Gryffindor table.
"Merlin, woman!" Ron groaned, bending over slightly.
Hermione's cheeks were turning a rose pink in embarrassment, "No one said you had to eat everything I did."
"And be out-eaten by a girl," Harry snorted. "I think not."
Hermione rolled her eyes, "Well I need to talk to Draco about some prefect business so I'll just have dessert over there."
As she said the word 'dessert' her friends' faces turned a bit green.
"No! Mercy!" Harry cried dramatically.
"Please, no more!" Echoed Ron, "You win!"
She gave them an indignant look and walked off to the Slytherin table feeling more than a little put out. She smiled at Viktor and Fleur as she passed the newly erected guest tables, but that was the extent of her good nature at the moment. Pansy saw her coming and made a small smile before sliding over to give her the seat on Draco's left.
"Thanks, Pans," She sighed, too irate to utter the last syllable. They were nearly friends, right? And friends gave each other nicknames, right? There. That was her excuse.
Draco was looking at her in bored amusement, "Yes?"
"Harry and Ron are being mean," She huffed. Childish.
She looked around the table, idly. "Hey! You guys get better desserts than we do." Even more childish.
Draco grinned, "I'm sure there are reasons for that."
"Oh, cake!"
Cake always makes you feel better. Chocolate cake even more so. She reached over and grabbed the plate of chocolate cake from beneath Draco's raised fork, and, upon seeing that she had no silverware, stole his fork as well. Pansy snickered and left the table. Hermione took the first bite slowly, relishing the taste. Draco quirked an eyebrow at her.
"Yes, Granger," He said slowly. "You may have my cake."
Hermione wiped her mouth with a napkin and grinned. Scooping up another piece of cake she waved it at Harry and Ron, giving them a cheeky wave. They both covered their mouths and bolted from the Great Hall.
Draco saw them leave and turned back to Hermione who had already devoured the piece of cake. "What was that about?"
She shrugged innocently, "Couldn't stomach their lunch I guess."
She reached for Pansy's abandoned goblet and took a deep swig to wash down the rich, chocolate-y aftertaste. Her throat burned and she coughed loudly into her napkin. Her eyes watered a bit.
"Oh, boy is that not what they're serving over at my table." She gasped.
Draco chuckled, "Pansy likes her drinks stronger than pumpkin juice."
"Duly noted," She choked, the alcohol still burning the back of her tongue.
"Here," Draco handed her his goblet and she took a long, grateful drink of it then handed it back.
"Thanks."
He nodded, "So what are you doing over here anyway. Besides eating my cake and getting drunk, of course."
"Prefect meeting," She said. "We're having one tonight to go over the rough sketch of the ball."
Draco made a face.
"It's only a week away you know," She reprimanded him sharply, leaning over to swipe some frosting off his newly acquire piece of cake.
"Alright, let's do it in the Prefect's bathroom then." He said, smacking her hand away from his dessert.
Her face bore a very puzzled expression, "Whatever for?" She exclaimed.
Draco smirked, licking chocolate frosting from his lips, "Because. I need a bath."
Hermione snorted, "Whatever. I don't have a problem with it, as long as you're wearing swim trunks."
He pouted. His hair fell over his eyes and Hermione's hands itched to brush it back. Instead she stood from the table. "It's my free period now, so I'm going to head back to the common room for a nap. I'm a bit tired."
"Dream of me," He called after her as she walked away.
"Whatever, Malfoy." She called back. "Prefect meeting after dinner. Don't forget."
Hermione stood on the shore under an emerald-black fringe of trees. The black lake lapped and rolled away into the dark. The moon hung high and silver in the sky. The light it cast made glittering patterns on the water. A man rose from the lake, water was streaming in silver lines from his hair and shirt. His shoulder-length black hair clung wetly to the sides of his face. The dark shirt clung to his body. He held out his hand to her.
She was wearing a long, stark white dress. It was heavy and hung around her like a weight. She'd never in her life owned such a dress. A heavy cloak was pushed back over her shoulders, held together by a loose knot. It was autumn and the moon was full overhead.
The man said, "Come to me."
Hands came from behind her, shoving her roughly forward. She stumbled off the shore and sank into the water. It filled the skirt of her dress, soaking into the cloak. Water-logged, the heavy swatch of cloth began to sink, threatening to drown her. With frantic fingers she struggled to remove the cloak while still keeping her head above the surface. She didn't know how it had gotten so deep. She'd never noticed.
The knot, that had felt so loose around her neck only moments before, was now soaked making it tight and unyielding. As she tore away at it she felt as if her fingernails were splintering. She finally ripped the cloak off, letting it sink out of sight. She coughed violently, trying to force the water that had seeped down her throat from her lungs. The long, blonde strands of her hair fell over her eyes, ends already an immeasurable distance beneath the water.
Wait. Hermione wasn't blonde.
The water was warm as bath water. Warm as blood.
Very slowly, Hermione raised her hand to the moonlight, and the liquid that streamed down it was thick and dark and had never been water.
Hermione floated in the near-shallows in a dress that she had never imagined, by a shore she did not know, and stared at the beautiful man as he moved towards her, graceful and covered in blood.
Hermione woke gasping for air, hands clutching at the sheets like a lifeline. It was like she couldn't get enough air. Great, greedy gulps. Her throat burned as she forced oxygen down into her lungs. She was dizzy and her head was reeling. The dream had felt so real. The blood so warm.
The blood. Bile rose in her throat and she flung herself off the side of the bed. Making it to the bathroom just in time, she emptied the contents of her stomach into the porcelain bowl.
She closed her eyes, half bent over the toilet, as the last shudders passed through her. She had waited for the horrifying images to fade away, for bits and pieces to slip through the cracks, as the edge grew fuzzy. She waited for the dream to fade as dreams do. It did not.
The lake, the man, and the moon were all still sharp and clear in her mind. As if it was an actual event, a memory that had presented itself while she slept.
Climbing from her knees she turned the faucets of the sink. Fresh, cold water blasted out. She found herself automatically looking down before cupping her hands beneath the jet stream. She lifted the makeshift bowl up to her face and glanced at her rippling reflection.
No blood. Just crystal clear H20. She shivered slightly and splashed her face. The water was cool and soothing against her flushed skin. Liquid dribbled down her cheeks and over the curve of her lips. She licked them to keep the counter from being splattered.
She tasted salt, diluted, but the tanginess still filled her mouth. She splashed her face again and dragged a white washcloth beneath the water. She mopped it along her hairline and across the back of her neck. The nerve endings there sent icy chills down her spine.
So her body was no longer feeling the shock of her "dream". That didn't stop her mind from being a jumbled mess of confusion. She leaned against the counter. The marble top dug into her palm. The other hand held the cool rag to the back of her neck.
She'd killed people; blood was no stranger to her. But this had been completely different. She'd bathed in a lake of blood. She'd waded in it. Swam in it. She'd swallowed it.
She glanced up into the mirror. Her face was deathly pale. Gaunt. She was trembling. It had been warm. So warm. So comforting. She swallowed hard, audible, and turned from her reflection.
Then she froze suddenly, not even daring to breathe. She strained her mind, but the sound she was searching for was not there. She waited, stone-still, for five more minutes. Her body protested, but still she did not move.
Hope should be laughing.
Let's all have a giggle at the pathetic human. Look how weak she is. Can't stand a little blood without turning sour. How silly.
There was no laughter.
All Hermione felt was a sad, dark emptiness.
Slipping off her nightgown she locked the bathroom door and slipped beneath the beam of the shower.
No blood.
By some mysterious annoyance or inside joke, she and Draco shared the same bathroom. The doors in their rooms and common room all led to the same place; the only explanation for which being magic. But no matter the reason for it, Hermione didn't want him barging in whilst she was showering.
The warm water felt good. Too good. Her hands twisted the knobs until she was drenched in freezing cold water. At once her teeth began to chatter. Her body shook, trying to generate heat. The fading tan of her skin took on a blue hue, the veins in her hands and arms becoming more prominent.
But she could still feel the thick, warmth of blood coating her skin, and she scrubbed violently to rid herself of the feeling. Harder and harder until she could only feel a faint throbbing pain all across her body. Pain. Pain was good. It cleared your head, gave you sharper clarity.
She turned off the water and emerged from the shower, dripping but feeling finally clean. She dried off with a fluffy maroon towel and walked to the mirror. Her curls were tight from being wet and they stuck to her cheeks and back. Her skin was barely a shade lighter than her towel. It shone bright and pink beneath the harsh lights. She'd rubbed her skin raw.
The fiery feeling was gone, but the stench was not. The acrid stench of blood filled her nose. The vanilla scent of her shampoo was too faint to cut through it. She dug through her drawers, searching, but all of her perfumes were flowery and far too weak to make any difference. Then, on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet, she spied a small golden bottle. It was Draco's cologne. She sprayed it twice above her head, and the thick, soothing smell of sandalwood and cinnamon draped over her like a blanket, completely smothering the bloody smell.
Now the only thing left were the haunting images in her mind. But no amount of water or cologne was going to drive them away.
That was how Draco found her nearly an hour later. Skin still tinged a light pink, she sat hunched against the far wall, beneath the curving stairway, and stared glassy-eyed at the fire dancing almost too cheerily in its hearth against the opposite wall. He wouldn't have seen her at all if it hadn't been for her shadow peeking out form the darkened corner.
"Hermione?" No answer.
He crouched down in front of her and tried again. "Hermione? Are you all right?"
She blinked, startled out of her meditation as a sudden shape blocked the flickering flames from sight. She blinked several more times, clearing the glazed look from her eyes, and turned her face to Draco. She'd missed what he had said.
"Hmm?" To her own ears, her voice cam out incredibly loud. To Draco it was soft and hushed.
"I asked if you were alright." He repeated. His eyes widened. "My God, Hermione! Your hands!"
He covered her pinkened hands with his own. He pushed up the sleeve of her sweater. Harsh red splotched disappeared beneath the bunched cloth where the skin had not yet faded to pink. Something crinkled beneath his fingertips and he drew his hands back. The sleeve of her sweater fell back down to her wrist.
There was a letter clutched in her hands.
"Hermione! What's happened?"
Was that worry in his voice? Hermione couldn't tell. She couldn't hear over the sobs. A small girl was hunched beside her. She couldn't have been more than ten years old. Long, golden-blonde hair spilled over quaking shoulders, spilling into a pool across the floor. Her legs were drawn up to her bare chest. Tiny arms wrapped around her knees, one delicate hand clasped over the other. The girl's heart-shaped face was buried in her knees, long hair falling like a curtain around her, shielding her face from sight. She was crying.
Hermione licked her lips. There was still salt on them. Her throat was thick and she couldn't seem to form any coherent words. Finally, she managed: "Nothing...just a dream."
He reached out to tough her shoulder, and his hand passed straight through the girl's head. Hermione stared at it dumbly. A robe covered spear. The girl made no movement, no sign of discomfort or pain. She just kept crying. He couldn't see her.
"Was it bad?" He asked quietly.
She looked up into his clear blue-gray eyes. He was worried about her. She hadn't been wrong. A lock of white-blonde hair fell over those worried eyes. Despite everything, she felt a smile tugging at her lips. She lifted a hand and brushed his bangs back with gentle fingers. She tucked them behind his ear then let her hand fall from his face. He was confused. Her smile was gone.
"Something's wrong with Hope," She said quietly.
He took a moment to let her words sink in. His next question was a surprise, even to himself. "Are you alright?"
The dumb-founded look was on her face again. "She's in pain," was all she managed to say in reply.
He was scowling. At himself? At her? Probably at her stupidity. His hands were on her shoulders still and he shook her a little. "What about you, Hermione. Are you okay?"
"For the moment," Her lips felt sluggish.
"Damn it, Hermione!" He cursed. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
She shrugged. He was angry. Angry? Why? Draco sat fuming for several minutes, but said no more. Hermione fell back into her trance-like, meditative state. Flames reflected in her eyes unseeing. The girl cried.
Bricks and mortar. Bricks and mortar and magic.
She was building a wall.
"We need to tell the Order."
Hermione slowly drew back form her self-induced trance. Draco noticed the change immediately. Her amber eyes were bright and clear, her skin was back to mocha, and when she spoke her voice was steady and competent.
"I agree," She replied crisply, no longer whispering. "But not yet."
"Hermione," His tone was stern, and his hair was back over his eyes. "Whatever is happening to Hope could hurt you. We have no idea what kind of hold She has over you."
"I understand that Draco, but there's nothing we can do about it at the moment. I need information first. Can you deliver this letter to Professor Lupin?"
He looked down at the slightly crumpled envelope she was holding out to him. He stared at her hard.
"What did you do, Hermione?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Yes you do. Cut the bullshit, 'Mione. I want to know what you've done."
She flinched as he spat the crude words at her. She lifted her chin defiantly, "I've locked to dream behind a mental wall."
The breath left his mouth in a rush, "You can't repress your memories." She didn't bother correcting him. "You'll end up hurting yourself."
"I'm not repressing," She shot back, hotly. Childish.
"You need to deal with it. Work through it."
"I did deal with it. You saw my arms..." She trailed off.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, "You're scaring me..." He confessed earnestly.
Though probably not the response he'd been waiting for, it made Hermione smile, "I scare myself sometimes."
She crawled out form beneath the stairs and stood up. Draco straightened as well. He took the letter from her and slid it into the pocket of his robes,
"How bad is it..." He asked, looking up.
Hermione shrugged her shoulders, "Pretty bad."
"Any idea why?"
She shook her head, "I've got a few theories, none of which I care to shared until I've found out more."
"The letter?"
"The letter."
Draco nodded and they both started towards the portrait hole. "Where are you headed?" Hermione asked, as if the morning had been nothing out of the ordinary.
"Arithmancy. And you?"
"Dueling on the grounds with Moody and Tonks."
"But there's two feet of snow!"
She snorted derisively, "Do you think they care?"
Draco stopped just outside the common room. His hand was on the portrait, holding it open for her. He cleared his throat. His face was a mask of seriousness. "Don't let things get too out of hand before you tell the Order."
Her smile was sad, "You should go deliver that letter."
She stepped out beside him and he released his hold on the portrait. "You can feel Hope can't you?" He asked suddenly.
Hermione nodded once. Down. Up. "Yes."
"What is She doing right now?"
She glanced back at the common room as the door drifted shut. Hands pushing roughly at her back. The weight of her cloak pulling her under. The handsome man that had felt so wrong. Long, blonde hair dragging through bloody waters.
Hermione turned back to Draco, "She's crying..."
Hermione pulled herself from the snow-covered ground, wand in hand. Tonks had not fared as well. She was face down in the snow and she wasn't moving. As Moody hobbled through the snow to revive the battered shape shifter, Hermione took the momentary lapse in training to warm herself.
Pulling off her gloves, she held them in her mouth while she summoned a small, flickering flame into her cupped palms. It spread out across her hands, licking tendrils around her fingers and engulfing the icy skin of her hands. It danced along the cuffs of her sweater without burning.
Tonks struggled to her feet, but moody held her down. Words were exchanged that Hermione could not hear from that distance, but she surmised that she would not be fighting Tonks again.
Moody was walking towards her, the 'thumping' of his wooden leg muffled by the snow. The fire felt warm on her hands. Warm as blood. She shook her head roughly to rid herself of the thought.
"Very impressive, Miss Granger," Moody said gruffly. "Tonks isn't quite up for another round just yet. So, it looks like you're out a sparring partner for the moment."
"I understand," She mumbled awkwardly around the gloves in her mouth. She flushed in embarrassment. "Will I be getting another partner, sir?"
He nodded, "Me."
Hermione wished she hadn't said anything.
With lightening fast movements that belied his elderly appearance, Moody's wand was out and aimed at her chest. Surprised, the gloves dropped from her open mouth. The fire in her hands crackled and went out. Her wand was in her hand before Moody had called his first attack.
The Disarming Spell hit the snow just wide of her body as she dodged to the side. The magic hit the snow with force sending a thick white cloud billowing outwards. Hermione jumped back, putting distance between them.
"Expelliarmus."
The snow was still raining down. She couldn't see to dodge.
"Protego!" She shield went up around her as the shimmering energy cut through the snow. It hit the magical shield and bounced back towards its caster. She saw Moody echo her spell. The Disarming Spell hit the barrier and dissipated.
He was advancing again. She needed more space. Aiming her wand down at her feet she blasted two more clouds of snow into the air. She jogged backwards keeping her wand up the entire time.
"Expelliarmus!"
The spell hit her wand arm with such force it spun her around, but she maintained a grip on her wand. Apparently, his magical eye was more helpful than she had anticipated. She wasn't going to be able to rely on distractions or barriers.
She took a step backwards and felt her balance falter. Her back was to the lake. He was going to force her onto the ice where she'd be at a disadvantage. She did it for him. Taking several steps backwards she lifted her wand.
"Lumos!"
She didn't aim at him. Light wasn't going to hurt him. She aimed at his feet. The spell danced across the stark white snow and reflected in a dazzling display of light that filled the entire grounds with a pulsating, golden aura. Moody gave a shout as he was blinded. She wasn't sure if this counted for his magical eye as well, but she figured the confusion of one eye darting all over the place while the other was unseeing had the possibility of being just as bad.
She lifted her arms into the air, not waiting for the light to recede, and called forth the magic inside herself. The amber of her eyes began to seep into the whites, golden light flickering. The gentle breeze began to pick up around her, stirring the hem of her robes and tossing her curled ponytail. It roared in her ears as it picked up speed, and she slid backwards on the ice.
She pinpointed Moody's shadowed figure in the fading light and unleashed her rising torrent upon him. The air around her became still as the invisible hurricane tore away from her, the disturbed explosions of snow being the only indicator of its violent path. A veteran of war, the trail her whirlwind created was enough. With one arm shielding his eyes he constructed another shield. The wind, however, was natural. She hadn't created it, only amplified it. The Shielding Charm would have no effect.
The wind crashed into him, lifting him off the ground and twisting him head over feet. Turning her open palm towards Moody's trapped form she pulled her fingers into a fist, gesturing to her creation to bring its prey to her. The whirlwind obeyed. Cutting through the snow it slid down the slope and stopped, hovering at the lake's edge. Then it died, as abruptly as it had risen, dropping Moody unceremoniously onto the ice.
As the magic that she had exerted disappeared, Hermione staggered forward. She took in a deep ragged breath. She felt weak and dizzy. She took another slow breath to calm herself. She shouldn't have expended so much energy in one go. She'd have to finish this duel now or risk being run into exhaustion.
"Glacius!"
She pointed her wand in a circle around Moody. Giant, crystal spikes shot up from the iced lake. Moody was attempting to dodge them, but the ice pillars weren't there to hurt him, only to trap him. When he was successfully "caged" and her spell finished, Hermione fell to her knees. Her breathing was shallow. Her strength was seeping away. She couldn't think of what had drained her so completely. She could barely think at all. Something was wrong.
Lights shot up into the overcast sky as Moody struggled to free himself. The icy prison held. Hermione fell to her side. She could see the auror through a hole between spikes. She needed more energy, but she couldn't risk him casting a spell at her. She might not have the strength to "change" it.
"Sorry," She mumbled, through he couldn't hear her, and weakly lifted her wand. "Revoco."
Moody disappeared from sight. She heard an echoing 'thud' as his body hit the ice, then her spell was flying back to her. The golden-green energy hit her hard, her body not being strong enough to counter the shock, and pushed her back several feet. Sparkling, golden-green energy. Life energy. It coursed through her body, filling her with strength. She got to her feet, but it wasn't for long.
An invisible force swiped at her legs, kicking them out from under her. She fell painfully onto her backside. She hadn't even heard the spell. But when she looked up she saw Moody hanging halfway out of the Crystallized tiers, his wand raised. He hit her again before she could raise a shield and she was sent sliding backwards. Flailing wildly, she tried to slow her progression across the lake. The friction in her legs and rump was beginning to burn. The spell flipped her over and sent her bouncing the last several feet.
Sprawled out on her stomach in the middle of the lake, Hermione slowly lifted her head. She couldn't even rest and let the pain pass through her. Warmth trickled down her cheek and she glanced down to see crimson beads splatter on the ice. Lifting a bare hand, she tentatively touched her forehead. A decent sized gash bisected her left temple. Her fingers came away smeared a bright red. Blood red. Thankfully, this time, she managed to keep the memories of her dream from rising. Her head throbbed. Apparently, Moody didn't take kindly to being imprisoned.
Lifting her wand hand, and steadying it with the other, she aimed just beneath Moody's squirming body, "REDUCTO!"
From the distance now between them Moody surely saw the jet of magic coming towards him. It seemed, however, that while the whole he had discovered proved wide enough for his torso, it appeared too narrow for his lower half. She watched as he tried to wriggle his way out, but he could not go forward, nor could he go back. He was effectively stuck.
The spell hit the crystal wall head on, reducing it to nothing more than miniscule motes of ice. Hermione wondered if he'd shielded himself in time. Of course the Shield Charm wouldn't have worked, since the spell wasn't directly attacking him, but there were other protections charms he could have called on.
She sagged slightly. Already the stolen energy was being eaten away. The sound of shifting ice drew her attention back to the duel at hand, and she got to her feet as quickly as she could manage on the slippery ice. Moody was pulling himself over the large pieces of broken ice.
He had erected a protection of some sort, but evidently not soon enough. His nose was bleeding and his left arm stuck out oddly at the elbow. His movements were sluggish though, the result of the life energy she'd drained from him. His action and reaction times were cut down to a good half of their original, and she'd use that to her advantage.
She lifted her wand, but a wave of dizziness washed over her. Her arm was like a lead weight. It started to drop. Delayed reaction time or no, Moody didn't miss her lowered defenses and took the opportunity to attack.
Her memory was fuzzy. Her gaze was foggy. She shook her head trying to clear it. She only succeeded in making it throb harder. How had she run through Moody's life energy so quickly? It should have lasted for hours.
She heard the Disarming Spell before she ever got to see it. It whistled shrilly as it sped across the lake's surface. She turned, as if in slow motion, to meet the attack. It surged upwards and plowed into her gut. She felt her feet leave the ground as it lifted her up into the air.
Wings...I need wings...
Hermione reached down into her very core, where Hope's brilliant gold energy resided. In her mind's eye she saw the floating sphere of energy. The shine of power was gone from it, turning the energy a dull saffron color. She reached farther, her fingertips grazing the surface. The sphere shied away from her touch.
Her body hit the ice, jarring Hermione from inside herself. The ice cracked. It was a loud and terrifying sound. The surface split beneath her and ice began to tip inwards with her weight. Freezing water soaked into her back. She was having trouble regaining her breath from the impact. Fear gripped her as the ice around her feet cracked and separated from the mainland. Moody was hobbling towards her, wand still raised as if wary of her actions. She was terrified. She scrambled to pull herself onto the solid ice. Her fingernails scraped the surface. The ice crumbled beneath her desperate hands.
Hope?" There was no answer. "Hope?!"
She strained to search her mind for the deity, but panic was tearing her focus in two. She couldn't get to safety and search for a savior at the same time. The ice beneath her began to crumble. The frigid water sloshed over her legs, seeping into her robes.
"Hope?" It was pitiful sounding. Pleading, begging, but no answer.
Her soaked legs slipped off the chunk of ice that had supported them, pulling her entire lower body down with them. She cried out as water like ice engulfed her legs and waist. She was sliding off the islands of ice. She flung herself at the solid ice as her body slipped into the water. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. Try as she might, she could not pull herself from the lake. Her legs were turning numb. She kicked them violently to regain the feeling.
The ice that lined the hole was cracking and crumbling under her weight. Moody was walking faster now, the confusion evident in his grizzly features. He didn't understand why she wasn't using her powers to free herself. Hermione's bare hands were scrambling over the ice trying to find some sort of purchase. Her elbows dug into the ice in an attempt to keep her from slipping any farther.
One of the tiny icebergs collided with her shoulder. It jolted her sideways. Another inch of her body slipped into the water. Another hit, another inch. The chunks of ice were trying to recluse the hole. Her legs were falling asleep again. She kicked them against one another. This time it took longer for her to regain any feeling. The ice was giving Moody a difficult time with his wooden leg; his advance was slow. Hermione doubted Tonks could even see her. No one was going to save her.
Someone was crying. It wasn't Hermione.
Just past her reach, the young, blonde girl was lying, curled in on her side. She was older now, nearly Hermione's age. Her long hair draped over her naked body, the ends trailing across the slick ice. Slender fists were held up to her face trying to staunch the flow of tears from wide, amber glowing eyes.
"Hope!" Tears were now running down Hermione's cheeks. She reached, straining her fingers, but the girl was just beyond her grasp. "Hope, please! You can't just let me die."
Her water-laden clothes were dragging her under. She was losing her grip on the ice. The tears blurred her vision. Her teeth chattered. "Please. Just take my hand!"
She lifted her hand out to her as the water swelled up around her neck. The crying girl didn't move. She was silent now. Only tears continued to roll down porcelain cheeks. Hermione struggled to keep her head above water. A large piece of ice connected with the nape of her neck. She cried out in pain. Her head reeled and for a moment she was left seeing double.
"HOPE!"
Crystalline droplets rolled over sugar-pink lips. "This is your fault," The girl said evenly.
Hermione looked up at her in shock. She hadn't even moved. She stared horrified into the girl's eyes as she was pulled under. Eyes colored gold to the very edges, where salty tears formed. They were as dull, empty, and lifeless as the eyes of a doll.
Hermione screamed and the ice floated back into place above her head.
Hermione was sent head over heels through the icy water, twisting and turning until she had no idea where she was. When she finally stopped spinning she was startlingly aware the she was slowly sinking. Her hands went to her throat and she quickly unclasped the metal brooch that held her cloak. She felt the weight slide off her shoulders as her cloak sank to the bottom – without her. The temperature of the water was already turning her legs into lead weights. She kicked hard upwards, but it wasn't enough. With numb fingers she managed to undo the clasps of her robe and that too disappeared into the inky depths of the lake.
As she began kicking her way back to the surface, something large and frightening detached from the shadows of the lake. Just beneath her kicking feet one giant, luminescent eye opened. Hermione had to fight back the urge to scream. It was just the giant squid.
Hands above her head, she touched the cool solidness of the ice just when she thought her lungs would burst from lack of oxygen. There was only an inch of air space. Mouth pressed near the frozen roof she could breathe. Hermione said a silent prayer. She just might survive the day.
Miracles do happen.
Small waves began to slosh through the lake. A wave washed over her face, and she swallowed water. She treaded water as gently as she could without sinking back down into the lake. It was her movements that were making the waves. She was going to drown herself.
She stayed very still until the water calmed, then took a deep breathe, hyperventilating to expand the lungs and take in as much air as she could. She dunked under the water and kicked in the direction where she hoped she'd fallen through. Her chest was tight, throat aching with the need to breathe. She surfaced and kissed ice. There wasn't even an inch of air. Water splashed into her nose and she coughed, swallowing more water. She pressed as close to the ceiling as she could, taking small shallow breaths, then under again, kicking, kicking for all she was worth. If the ice got any thicker before she found a way out, she was going to die.
Please, God, please, don't let me die here like this.
Her chest burned, throat bursting with the need to breathe. The light was dimming, and she realized it was her eyes that were losing the light. She was going to pass out and drown. She pushed for the surface and her hands touched solid ice. The air was gone.
She panicked, kicking furiously, fists banging against the ice. Her side connected with something soft, but solid. Throat burning she ran her hand across it. It was the shore. She'd gone the wrong way. She didn't have the strength to break through the thick ice and she'd gone the wrong way. She was going to die.
Something slimy grazed her leg, but she was losing consciousness fast. No oxygen was making it to her brain. Something wrapped around her ankle. She looked down into yellow glowing saucers.
The giant squid.
It had followed her. It wanted to help. She was almost in complete darkness. Her fingers wrapped around the tentacle that held her leg. Her eyes were shut and a tiny stream of bubbles left her mouth.
Then her eyes snapped open. Bright, blinding beams of light burst from them, and amber seeped into white. Golden-green light filled her. The tentacle slipped from her leg and the squid disappeared into darkness. Fire exploded around her. She felt the hard gold hilt of her sword in her hand as she shot upwards. Screaming a garbled cry into the water she burst through the ice.
Hermione took a gasping breath that hurt all the way down. She heaved herself onto the ice, crawling from the second hole, coughing and relearning how to breathe.
The fire continued to rage across her body. Warming without burning. Steam rose off her sprawled body. She felt the curls brushing her cheek dry and become frizzy. She was completely dry in less than a minute. The flames sizzled and died out. She couldn't waste the life energy given to her. She got to her feet.
Staring down at her, only inches from her face, were the glittering eyes of a dragon. A Norwegian Ridgeback to be exact. A Norwegian Ridgeback named 'Norbert' to be very exact. And standing beside him was none other than Charlie Weasley.
A/N 2: Watch for a new story coming out by me. No title yet, but it's going to be a compilation of one-chapter/one-shot Hermione/Harry stories. I may also be starting one up for one-chapter/one-shot Hermione/ Draco stories. So keep your eyes open!