One of These Nights

A/N: Aha! Chapter 2 done! wOOt! Now, once again, I own nothing, my soul included. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. FLAMES ROAST MY TOASTY MARSHMALLOWS! That is their only purpose. Constuctive criticism is welcome, and so is praise! Happy Columbus Day!

"Who are you?" inquired Ron's quivering voice to the figure clad in black behind them.

There were no facial features, let alone hair or eye color, to be seen 'neath the shadow of the hood. As lanky as the figure looked, Ron and Hermione both knew never to taken anything lightly, especially during the approaching night.

The sun was already beginning to set behind the tree line, almost to the point to where neither of them could see 10 feet in front of them. The small stretches of sunlight would be their only guide. The leaves crunched and twigs snapped as Ron and Hermione shifted their stances and the figure moved closer to them. Ron's breathing was heavy as he inconspicuously edged his hand to his back pocket for his wand. Hermione reached for hers and clutched to her bouquet tighter than before.

More twigs snapped as approaching accomplices also clad in black robes appeared out of the Forbidden Forest surrounding them. Ron and Hermione had little options of where to run but they knew one thing. It was an ambush, and there were two teenagers against the six black clad figures they counted.

"Tell me who you are!" Ron screamed in more of a panic than a threat.

A swish of black robes from the charging assailants was the last thing Hermione saw before she darted to her first option of escape, the Forbidden Forest. As bright of a witch she was, Hermione could not fight her instincts.

"Hermione, stop! Are you crazy?" called Ron, as he chased after her.

Spells being fired around them obliterated the rocks and annihilated the trees that spared Ron and Hermione's live temporarily. If nature did not stop the assailants, then he would have to stop them with all the strength he possessed, thought Ron to himself. The momentary cease-fire gave Ron and Hermione time to think where to go next. Of all the times they had been in there, Ron and Hermione would have to have some idea.

"Run to the left," Ron whispered to her, hearing rustling in the brush.

Ron only sprinted 2 meters before he was tackled around the waist and thrown to the ground. More and more appeared out of the brush and pounced on Ron like vultures. From beneath the pile, Ron shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

The red jet of light sent three of the five flying through the canopy of the forest. Screams from their free fall could be heard on the outskirts.

Faced with her own problem, Hermione attempted to say, "Impedi—"

Her spell was incomplete as she was thrown into the distance with the assailant's Impedimentia.

The world came back into vision as Hermione slowly lifted herself form the ground. Flashes of light could be seen in the distance with her impaired vision. Bump on her head or not, Hermione was reminded of what Harry had said to weeks ago, knowing her should have listened to him better. It was two days after he came to the Burrow, two days after his protection ran out. Harry warned her that now that Voldemort was back, now that his friends knew the prophecy and there was no Dumbledore, the nighttime would always be a fight for their lives. One of these nights, it would happen. Someone would go out and never come back. Never did Hermione want to think about never seeing those she had come to know as her second family again, but oh how she wished she had listened to him.

A white light was coming closer to her, so bright she had squint her eyes. Her newly acquired sensitivity to light caused her head to pound. The close the holder of the light came, the more she was able to discern the features of its façade. There was pallid skin and an emaciated face, with a clearly visible jaw line and a flat face. Hermione's eyes widened as her brown eyes met with blood red ones. The stories Harry had told her of his encounters were no longer fairy-tales.

His eyes also widened in what Hermione took as hunger for her evident fear. Hermione felt powerless under his relentless, ravenous stare. Harry said it would be one of these nights, and tonight was that night. Looking down to Forget-me-nots and lilies still clasped in her loosening grip, Hermione wondered, Will these be the last things I see? For what could have been her last breaths, she ran. It wasn't far until her wrist was caught, frozen from his ice cold touch.

Looking at him again, Hermione recalled what Harry told the members of Dumbledore's Army, the most important lesson she would ever learn. Never, under any circumstances, are you to show any fear. There's a reason why Death Eaters are so successful at scaring people. They pry off of people's fear, like dogs. Play their game, and trust me, it can be fatal.

Only hearing Harry mention it once, Hermione attempted the only curse she could think of at the minute. Aiming her wand to his rib cage, she managed to shout, "Sectumsempra!"

With the side of his waist injured, his grip on Hermione's hand was loosened. Her flight for life continued, running towards the fighting noises to where she knew she would find Ron 500 meter away. But Dark Lords are not so easily incapacitated.

The last of the defeated assailants lay at Ron's feet. Pushing back the excess sleeve of one of them, Ron uncovered the identity of the attackers, the snake coming out of a white skull, the Death Eaters. This was an ambush, Ron thought to himself, but who told them we'd be here? How did they know we were going to be here?

A flash of light passed the corner of Ron Weasley's eye. Blinding. Green. His body became limber; No thoughts passed his mind, except one. Hermione.

Madly dashing through the forest with wand alit, there was no sign of Hermione. Ron couldn't count the times he called her name in desperation. Coming to the site where he was sure the light originated, there came crack beneath his footsteps. The bouquet of Forget-me-nots and lilies lay abandoned on the forest floor. Alive she was, for no body lay on the ground, but her wereabouts, those were yet to be know. Clutching to the bouquet as Hermione did Harry's jacket, Ron bit his lower lip and held back his tears. One of these nights it would happen. Someone would go out and never come back.