Chapter 5

Hermione was barely aware of the thick, rough woven blankets across her bare torso and legs. She could feel warmth to her left, the crackle of a fire. Its warmth seeped through the layers to her skin. The aroma of cooking meat filled her senses, her stomach grumbled. Then it came back to her; the wolves fighting; the blood seeping down her neck from the death of one of them; a strong arm…

Hermione bolted upright, clutching the blankets to her. The fire caused shadows to flicker, making it hard to discern what was in the room with her. In front was a window set into a white painted wall. Framed certificates hung, gathering dust while outside, the rain still hammered down. Above the fire to the left was a thick, carved mantelpiece, upon which an old carriage clock stood ticking gently. Just in front of the fire was a large fire guard, over which her clothing dried. To her right she could just make out the shadow of a desk, its papers strewn all over the floor. Further along the same right wall she could see a door, the firelight playing over the brass of the handle. She then examined her bed, which turned out to be a rich red sofa.

"Ah, you're awake," Hermione swung her legs over the side of the sofa and turned her head to look at the speaker in one fluid motion. A young man sat in an armchair, his legs stretched out in front of him and his feet crossed. He had his sandy coloured hair tied back with a strip of cloth into a pony tail, accenting his handsome face. He wore a pair of dark blue jogging bottoms and a white crew neck t-shirt. At his feet a muddied white sack lay open while in his hands he clutched a photo. His deep green eyes trained upon her face looked accusingly at her. "You're a witch, aren't you?"

Hermione remained silent. She surveyed him warily, unsure of his intentions. He sighed and dropped his gaze to the moving photo in his hand. "Where were you going?" He asked quietly, folding the picture and putting it back into the sack that Hermione now recognised as her own. Again, she said nothing. "Well, I'm Allard," He put a hand to his chest and looked at her again. Allard stood abruptly, causing Hermione to flinch back from him. He put his hands up. "Whoa, I didn't mean to scare you," He smiled warmly. "I'll be back in a minute, ok?" He walked steadily passed her to the office door and left, closing it behind him.

Checking behind her she darted forwards to her belongings which she noticed were still quite wet from their exposure to the rain. She dumped the contents out onto the sofa next to her and dropped the sack to the floor before hurriedly rearranging the blankets to cover her better. She pulled the three pictures from the pile and put them to one side. She began searching hurriedly through her clothes and the remnants of her meagre rations, tossing them to the floor when she did not find what she wanted. The map was gone, the chain and hourglass was missing. The door opened with a snick. Hermione turned abruptly to see Allard returned with a bundle of clothing.

"Here you are," He put the clothes down next to her and frowned at the mess she had made. "Lose something?" He asked. He bent to tidy them but Hermione's hand on his arm stopped him. He looked at her.

"My name is Hermione, and I am a witch,"

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The white wolf-woman hauled herself up from the thick mud. Her breath came in ragged gasps and pain lanced through her. Holding herself up with one hand, she reached tentatively for her stomach. The rain lashed down upon her quivering form, washing away any traces though it did not matter, she could smell her own blood in the coppery gore of the others. Shakily, she stood clutching her hands over the deep wound from Carrows and stumbled towards the looming buildings. There were people in there that could help her; that could help her cub.

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Narcissa Malfoy stood smiling over her child's crib in her chambers. The night was clear of cloud, allowing the stars to shine brightly over the city. The baby slept peacefully, breathing steadily and slowly curling and uncurling his little fist. A smile played over Narcissa's features, lighting them. The arms of her husband curled around her, his chin resting lightly o her shoulder.

"Narcissa, come and talk with me," He spoke gently, taking her hand in his. She turned and together they stepped out of the child's room and into a well lit sitting room. Leading her husband, she drew him down onto a black leather couch and sat facing him. He took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips, planting a soft kiss upon it.

"I am to leave at daybreak on a special mission," He avoided her steely blue eyes and the pain that he knew lay within them. "I – I can't refuse him," A choked sob escaped her throat as the tears tracked runnels down her porcelain face.

"Where?" She moved to find his eyes with her own, despite her tear-blurred vision.

"Narcissa, I-"

"Where?" She asked fiercely, grabbing hold of his black robes. Lucius closed his eyes resignedly. He let out a breath before answering her.

"Over the wall," Narcissa flung herself into his embrace as she let her sorrow overwhelm her. She knew her husband would never return to her side a hero as he was now. If he returned at all, he would be killed for harbouring such knowledge. If he didn't return he would either be already dead or murdered by their master and some foul spell. He could not win.

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Hermione finished dressing in the fresh clothes Allard had given to her. The grey tinge of dawn was hardly visible through the heavy storm clouds but the carriage clock on the mantel gave her all of the information she needed to know. After her statement, Allard had fished the cooking food from the fire, taking care not to burn himself and had left it cooling on the hearth. He had turned and met her gaze, pausing before he strode wordlessly from the room. That had been over and hour ago. Since then, she had managed to eat the beans and ration-pack meat with her fingers, packed her belongings back into her sack and dressed, ready to leave as soon as the rain stopped.

Now only a steady patter of raindrops, Hermione was able to survey the surroundings from the office window. She was on a higher level looking out onto a large tarmac covered area that now lay several millimetres below the downpour and beyond that lay hills of high grasses flattened by the weather. Four shapes were visible on the lower levels of the nearest hill; the bodies of her attackers. But where was the fifth?

A scratching sound at the door to the office made her jump from her reverie and into a cautious stance. A tiny whine reached her ears as the scratching continued. Swallowing hard, she edged to the door. Her hand wrapped around the handle and turned it. The door swung forward a crack. Hermione looked down at a small shiny black nose and a pale paw scrabbling at the bottom of the door. Trembling, she pulled it open a fraction further. A cub with snowy white fur trotted into the room and sat on its haunches, looking up expectantly at her and wagging his little tail. Hermione frowned and cocked her head slightly. It let out a high pitched bark.

"I'm hungry," Hermione looked wildly around for the source of the child's voice. A giggle drew her attention to the cub. "Where's my mother?"