Fear of Capture: A Love Story
Connections
"Matthew! What are you doing?" A small voice cut through the static of his headpiece.
"Shh….She was here this morning. She never came to the rendezvous point. I'm worried," he whispered briskly. There was a sleepless edge to his voice, the biting wind cut his words short.
"Wait…. She never showed?" A sweep of dread washed over Matthew. Very few things could make Hannah late. This, certainly, had never happened before. He should have more people with him. He should have brought the entire team to investigate what could have possibly slowed Hannah. She was the weapons expert. She was the tactics expert.
The voice sizzled out as the wind increased, throwing snow over him and forcing him to fall over. Finally, he saw the little door, covered in snow though it was. His belly was lying directly on the snow, but he managed to reach the latch. Pulling slowly, he closed his eyes when the warmth emitted from the shaft seeped into his skin, rejuvenating him.
He pulled his gun up in front of him as he crawled into the little space. His feet were already frozen, but he didn't care. He only cared about finding Hannah.
A grenade threatened to slip out of one of his many vest pockets as he tried to lower himself onto the floor. He tried to ease the grenade back in by shaking his back a bit, but only managed to dislodge it and send it tumbling to the ground.
A thud and a rattle later, he heard cautious steps coming toward him. Immediately he threw himself onto the ground and pulled his gun up in front of him. He could get a decent shot - a head shot.
The footsteps came closer, yet Matthew could not be sure if it was or wasn't Hannah. He refrained from shooting.
Suddenly, a red light came and enveloped him. He couldn't move, but his entire body tensed, including his fingers. By no intention of his own, he began shooting erratically into the far wall of the hallway as his fingers contracted. The gun hadn't gone useless in all that snow. He collapsed further onto the ground and then heard one of the shots connect. More than one, if he was lucky.
A bright, green light came his way, completely enveloping him. The pressure from the gun eased, and soon there was no pressure at all.
Hermione woke up slowly, still feeling the ache in the back of her head. Her left eye…she couldn't see anything out of it. It hurt like hell to try to open it. She tried to touch it, but then realized her wrists were tied together behind her.
It was dark. So dark that she couldn't even see herself. She did, however, manage to see the little crack of light that indicated a doorway. She was placed in a corner somewhere, as she could feel the pressure of two walls against her back. She was in a closet.
Hermione scooted forward, increasing her headache but still managing to get closer to the door. Leaning back, she pounded against the door with both her feet, attempting to break it open. It didn't work, but she kept trying. If anything, it would earn the attention of Professor Snape, wherever he was. Though she didn't particularly favor the idea of getting hit by him, she was fairly sure that he was not going to kill her if he hadn't already. He must have seen her face and figured out who she was.
The third time she raised her legs to pound against the door, it miraculously opened.
She squinted her eyes to adjust to the sudden outpouring of light, but she soon recognized Snape leaning in the doorway.
"Miss Granger, I don't know why you came, but I assume you want me alive." He winced as he said this, clutching his side. She noticed he was bleeding profusely from that area - she couldn't have given him such an injury in their tussle earlier. This was new.
"Do you know how to remove a bullet?" he asked, sweat dripping from his brow.
She stared at him, fear clutching at her. He couldn't die. She had worked so hard to find him, to find the truth. He couldn't die. "Yes," she gasped.
Silent magic, a wave of his wand, and her hands were untied. She couldn't feel either arm anyway. They'd fallen asleep a long time ago. Soon, she realized, she'd be feeling the awful pain associated with having her hands tied up.
She felt the blood rush through her arms down to her fingertips. For a moment, she couldn't move, but the blood traveled quickly enough. All she would have to worry about now was the sudden heart attack that might occur when cold blood returned to her heart.
Either way, Snape was in front of her, and he was slowly dying. Cautiously standing up, she stepped out of the closet and offered him her arm. He took it, relieved that he didn't have to hold up his own weight anymore. She ignored the prickling pain shooting up and down her arms.
Down he went, onto the floor. She returned to the kitchen to fetch a knife and when she got back, he was offering her his wand. Hermione had no idea where he'd hidden hers. Magic was a blessing when it came to medicine. She didn't need anything but the wand, in all honesty.
She preferred to use the knife.
Several times, he'd almost fallen asleep and she'd had the pleasure of slapping him awake.
She assumed he had gone out and gotten himself shot, spying or perhaps something else. After she had removed two bullets located in basically the same spot, she realized that these were bullets she knew.
He was glaring at her from the ground.
"What is it?" he asked, wincing slightly as he sat up.
"I know this bullet. It's from a Colt M16. We use these…" she whispered apprehensively. The bullets were fairly common - most automatic rifles used the 45 millimeter standard. But she assumed he'd been shot by a handgun.
He sighed and closed his eyes. He was helpless. "Go. His body is near the shaft."
Her one good eye went wide with shock. "Matthew!" she whispered as she stood up, walking quickly away from him.
A feeling akin to panic kept shooting up and down her spine. Hermione hoped against hope that it wasn't him, but she knew that was impossible. Who else would have followed her down here?
Slowly, Hermione made her way towards the hallway that led to the shaft. She winced in obvious discomfort when she got there. The smell of singed metal was overwhelming - there was a metallic taste to the air. Bullets were still dripping back out of the wall into which they were shot, scattering on the floor. An entire magazine had been shot erratically - this sloppy work was very unlike the Matthew she knew. It gave her a little hope.
Coming near to the body, though, she realized it couldn't possibly be anybody else. The purple lowlights in his hair was enough to identify him. She eased the gun out of his deadlocked fingers. Tears dripped down onto her cheek, and it reminded her that she was still half blind. Her left eye would no longer open. There was a thick layer of crust over it as well, and it was too painful for her to try to remove the scabbing that prevented her eye from opening. She felt as if it were welded to her eyeball.
Trying not to think about it, she turned Matthew's body over, face up. His eyes were open, but clouded over. The residue from the shots had settled into his eyes as well. If he were alive, he would be blind.
Finding nothing for it, she left his body there. There was still so much to be done, and this was still her mission.
She removed most of his other firearms. He had come especially armed this time - perhaps out of worry for her. She wouldn't cry. The last thing she needed was to show weakness before Snape. She took Matthew's vest. The many pockets contained five magazines of ammunition for the M16, several hand grenades and two smoke bombs. For some reason, he carried a medical supply kit filled with the standard military issue, but also several needles full of adrenaline.
Needles. She put those back in the vest and zipped it up around herself.
It fit quite snugly, even though it had been on a man. He was skinny for a good reason, she supposed. It was never good to have lose articles in combat.
She returned to Professor Snape, watching him warily as he struggled to sit up straight in his chair. She still had his wand. Unless he had hers, he was defenseless.
"Why did you kill him?" she demanded. "Couldn't you have simply used Petrificus Totalus?"
He didn't even bother to tell her that he had, and that the spell itself had caused the lethal barrage of bullets.
"It was necessary," he said, seemingly unconcerned.
She took this response quietly. If Professor Severus Snape said it was necessary, it most likely was. Poor Matthew.
"Why did you come here, Miss Granger?" he asked, troubled. "And why are you so…armed?"
He gestured toward her gear, her brown combat boots.
She considered him for a moment, and all those things she'd planned to say to him, all the questions she'd wanted to ask seemed nonsensical for a moment. This man in front of her had nothing to offer. He was weary and injured, and he seemed to have cut contact with the outside world.
Simply put, he was in hiding.
Suddenly, she heard a deep growling noise and scratching at the far door. Alarmed, she released the catch for the M16's magazine and put in a fresh one.
"Don't bother. It's just the dog. Let him in." She stared at Snape, and opened the door. The dog ran in, shook off and toddled off somewhere. It was a rather large dog.
"I'm here because you killed Albus Dumbledore," she said, still staring after the dog.
"If you mean to take your revenge, extracting bullets from my person is probably not the best course of action," he replied nonchalantly. "Also, you might want to let me take a look at that eye. Can you see out of it?"
Surprised at his concern, she shook her head. "No, I can't even open it."
He motioned for her to come closer and she did, albeit cautiously. She was confused. There were so many things she had planned to do once she found him, but this situation never crossed her mind. If Snape really was on their side, she wouldn't need to tread so lightly.
He snatched his wand back, and for a moment she feared that he had tricked her. But he cast a silent spell, and her eye cleared up. All of the grime and crust that had stuck to it, trapping it closed, had disappeared.
"How is it now?" he asked, staring directly into her left eye. A chunk off the middle was simply missing. He had gouged it out with her own goggles during the fight.
"I can't see," she whispered. "I can't see out of it."
"You will need to have it removed, eventually," he informed her. She closed both her eyes when he said this. The sting from keeping the left eye open was far worse than the crusting over had been. It was swelling at an alarming rate as it was.
She nodded silently, attempting not to cry. It wasn't such a great loss, really. It's not as if she had lost a limb. Or her life. That thought sent her back to Matthew, who was still lying on the bare wood floor.
"Miss Granger, I've no intention of killing you. I will use a memory charm and you will go back to your people, understood?" he said, gritting his teeth. It would be hard to explain her injuries and her dead comrade.
"Absolutely not, Professor," she responded. "I came here to…" She trailed off.
Her intentions varied upon whatever it was that she found. If she found him to be a true Death Eater, her mission would be to kill him. And if he was on her side, she had come to help him.
"To?" He pressed, needing an answer perhaps just as much she did.
"If I'm correct…the night you killed Headmaster Dumbledore was also the night you lost the trust of the Order. That same night, you gained a high level of trust with both Voldemort and his Death Eaters. You…you only killed him because you had to, in order to remain a trusted member of Voldemort's closest circle. If I'm correct, you have no means of communication with the Order that wouldn't have you immediately killed." She gripped her gun for some reason, perhaps fearful that she had been wrong all along.
He narrowed his eyes at her. "How would someone like you be privy to this information?"
"I…I stole Professor Dumbledore's Pensieve, Sir." She bit her tongue. Why had she called him Sir? "I stole Professor Dumbledore's Pensieve. Several agents from the Ministry had broken into the room immediately after I had. I took what I thought were the most important things with me. I took his Phoenix, too, but he flew off. I think he went to see Harry Potter." She was reporting to him. Had she already allied with him? He never really answered her, but she was nervous now. She clutched her gun, but at the same time couldn't imagine actually shooting him.
"Would you be willing to act as a messenger?" he asked. He looked apprehensive.
She felt the same way. He could easily be tricking her into spying on the Order for his Death Eaters. But that just…didn't make any sense to her. The memories she had witnessed in the Pensieve. She had seen his anguish. Dumbledore had demanded so many things from him.
"Kill me if you have to, Severus. You must protect the boy."
"Professor Snape, I will."
She let go of her gun, she let it swing to her side.
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