Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to the immeasurable genius of JK Rowling; I just like to borrow them and play with them.
Chapter 15
The train ride from Hogsmeade to Kings Cross Station was uneventful. Hermione alternated between patrolling the carriages, and sitting pensively by the window, watching Harry and Ron play Exploding Snap, and wondering what sort of reception she might get from her parents.
Ever since Hermione had been injured in the Department of Mysteries in her fifth year, her parents had gone cold on the idea of her living in the magical world. The summer after her fifth year, they'd had a terrible row, in which things had been said that shouldn't have been, and feelings were hurt.
She had made a point, before then, every time she came home for the holidays, of telling them as much as she could of what went on in the wizarding world, from the mundane to the frightening. She wanted to make them feel as much a part of her world, her life, as possible. After hearing of the fool's errand Harry led she and the other members of the DA on to the Department of Mysteries, though, her father had tried to convince her to cut all ties with her green-eyed friend, lest he lead her into danger again.
Hermione had exploded, saying he was her best friend and she would gladly put her life on the line for him. She also made the mistake, in her anger, of saying it may well come to that, if the final confrontation with Voldemort came to pass as prophesised.
Both her parents had been stunned by what they saw as a reckless, youthful, foolish attitude towards a serious situation, and had tried to forbid her from returning to Hogwarts at all. She hadn't seen them since, opting to spend subsequent holidays at the Burrow, or 12 Grimmauld Place.
There had been an icy silence between the parties for a good six months after that, until Hermione discovered, after the attack on Hogsmeade last year, that her parents had still been receiving the Daily Prophet. One of the many pictures splashed across the paper of the attack had shown her in the background, a bloody gash across her forehead from a stray hex, helping another student. She'd received three frantic owls from her parents the following day, the last of which, the bird had been instructed to peck her incessantly until she penned a response.
Their correspondence had hesitantly resumed after that, and although they seemed to be back on good terms via post, Hermione was careful never to speak of anything relating to Voldemort or the Order again. The Prophet had been quiet lately, after reporting only the first attack of many, and Hermione was counting on the fact that her parents relied on it, and nothing else, for news of the wizarding world.
Arriving at Kings Cross Station, she hugged her best friends goodbye, and answered the cheery good wishes of her other classmates with a wave, before hoisting Crookshanks under her arm, grabbing the handle of her trunk, and stepping through the barrier to meet her parents.
"Hello, darling," Jane Granger said, enveloping her daughter in a hug. "It's so good to see you."
"You too, Mum," Hermione said, before turning to her father. "Hi, Dad."
Adam Granger looked down at his daughter seriously for a moment, and Hermione got the distinct impression she was about to be told off, before a twinkle in his eyes gave him away, and he wrapped his only daughter in a bear hug, lifting her clean off the ground.
"It's wonderful to see you, Hermione," he said, lowering her to the ground again. "Look at you! You've grown so much; not my little girl anymore, are you?"
"Dad," she said, exasperated, swatting his arm playfully.
"Come on," he said. "The car is around the corner. Let's go home. Done your Christmas shopping?"
She shook her head. "I thought Mum and I might come back into the city tomorrow," she offered, looking to her mother, who smiled.
"That sounds lovely, dear."
The car ride home was strange for Hermione, after being away from the Muggle world for nearly a year and half, but once they got out of the city and her father was able to talk and drive at the same time, they hardly stopped chatting all the way home.
Hermione filled them in on many of the things she'd been doing, although was careful not to mention anything that might give her parents cause to worry, or start another argument. Both her parents were delighted to hear of the work she had taken on with Snape; potions was akin to chemistry, in their eyes, and a subject they could somewhat understand.
She went to bed that night and lay awake for some time, listening to the foreign sounds of the Muggle world around her, and knew she could never come back to live there for good. Despite being Muggle-born and still struggling to fit into the magical world at times, she belonged there more surely than she ever would in the world where her parents lived. For the first time in years, though, she felt her parents had finally accepted who, and what, their daughter truly was.
The following day, Hermione spent an exhausting day with her mother, fighting through crowds in the city to buy Christmas presents for friends and family. After lunch, and already laden with too many packages, Hermione made a quick trip to the ladies room, and came back, much to her mother's distress, carrying nothing.
"You've left the parcels!" her mother cried, obviously envisioning someone else having a very happy Christmas, with hundreds of pounds worth of free presents.
"It's okay, Mum," Hermione returned with a laugh, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the tiny miniatures of their shopping. "They're much easier to carry like this."
Her mum laughed and shook her head. "You've got a spell for everything, don't you, darling?"
They parted ways shortly afterwards for a few hours. Hermione, ducking into an inconspicuous alcove, concentrated hard and Apparated to Diagon Alley to buy presents for her friends.
Most of her friends were easy to buy for; new Quidditch gloves for Ron, a book on Blood Magic for Harry, which had become a fascination for him after learning of the protection his own mother's blood afforded him against Voldemort, and a pair of earrings for Ginny.
Her parents' special surprise was also organised, and she frowned, looking at her list. The last person to buy for was Snape. What on earth could she give him? It couldn't be anything too expensive; she didn't want to embarrass him, or make him feel as though he had to reciprocate, and it couldn't be too personal, lest he get the wrong idea.
It had to be thoughtful, and useful, she finally decided. A book was the obvious choice, but after seeing his collection, she doubted she could find a title he didn't yet possess that would interest him. She'd only skimmed over the fiction books on his shelves, so she really had no idea what he read for pleasure.
She wandered around Flourish and Blotts from some time, hoping for inspiration to strike, when she came upon the writing section. That's an idea, she thought, smirking. Perhaps his supply of red ink needs replenishing after all the scathing comments he's delivered so far this year.
She considered buying him a quill, but something in the parchments section caught her eye. It was a sheaf of parchment, bound into a book by some invisible means. The cover was thick and black, etched with silver and green Celtic designs. Very Slytherin, she thought.
Turning it over, she read the craftsman's note attached to the back cover, and discovered it wasn't just parchment, but self-indexing parchment. The charms woven into the book during it's creation would automatically sense keywords in the writing, and index the books contents alphabetically, including page numbers.
Hermione had seen Snape's research and notes on the Cruciatus potion and antidote when they had started working together; it was a haphazard jumble of ingredients, incantations, charms and formulas, indecipherable to anyone but the author. Even Snape had, on more than one occasion, spent some time shuffling through various piles of parchment in search of a particular phrase or recipe.
It's perfect for him, she thought with a smile, stepping up to the counter and ticking Snape off her list. Shopping done, she headed back to Eeylops to organise delivery to her friends.
The rest of the week passed quickly, and before she knew it, she was stumbling downstairs, bleary-eyed, on Christmas morning.
Her father was in the kitchen, cooking the waffles they always had for breakfast, and humming in a deep voice to the Christmas music playing softly in the lounge room.
"Happy Christmas, Dad," Hermione said, leaning up to give him a kiss on the cheek.
"Happy Christmas, honey," he said, returning the kiss. "I think there's an owl waiting for you in the lounge."
Hermione smiled. "I think he's waiting for you, actually," she replied, "and Mum, wherever she is."
"Right here, Hermione." Jane Granger called, coming down the stairs. "What's waiting for me?"
"Presents," said Hermione, giving her mother a kiss, and then taking over the waffle-cooking from her father, pointing to the lounge. "Go on, there's a present for both of you that you should, er, open now."
They fixed their daughter with a curious look, but went into the next room. Hermione giggled when she heard her mother's exclamation, "Oh!"
One of the presents she had purchased in Diagon Alley earlier in the week was for her parents. They had been using the school's barn owls to communicate with one another over the past year, but once Hermione left school, or if her parents needed to contact her in a hurry, they had no means of transporting their letters.
For that reason, she had gone to Eeylops Owl Emporium, purchased a handsome tawny owl, and arranged for it to arrive at their house on Christmas morning. There was no law against Muggles having an owl for a pet, and Hermione thought it would ease her parents' minds, to be able to contact her easily should the need arise.
"He's wonderful, Hermione," her father exclaimed, coming back into the kitchen with the bird firmly perched on his arm. "What do we call him?"
"That's up to you," she said, and then chuckled. "Although, you'd better be careful. Once you give him a name, he won't answer to anything else."
They discussed names over breakfast, while the unnamed owl sat watching them curiously, perched on the backrest of the empty chair. By the end of the meal, Hermione's parents had decided upon Mercury, the name of the winged messenger to the Roman Gods. The owl hooted happily and flew out the open kitchen window.
A moment later, there was another flurry of wings, but instead of Mercury returning, Hermione turned to see Hedwig, Pig, a large barn owl and a sleek black eagle owl, all laden with packages of different shapes and sizes.
"Looks like your presents have arrived," her mum laughed. "Bring them into the lounge in a moment and we'll get started."
Hermione extracted a box-shaped package from Hedwig, and two smaller packages carried between Pig and the barn owl. Without waiting for the fourth owl, the others took off out the window and disappeared into the sky.
The black eagle owl was watching Hermione expectantly.
"And who are you from?" she whispered softly, stroking its silky feathers for a moment. The owl hooted and stuck out one foot, to which a small envelope was attached. As soon as the owl was relieved of its missive, it, too, took off out into the sunlight.
Frowning, Hermione turned the envelope over, and her breath caught in her throat.
It simply said, Hermione, but she would recognise the elegant scrawl of the penman anywhere.
She glanced at the clock on the stove. It was only just after eight. She'd instructed the post owl not to deliver Snape's own present until breakfast-time at Hogwarts, so it couldn't possibly be a thank you note already. Had he actually thought of her without knowing she'd bought him a present, too? It was only an envelope, but, on closer inspection, a lump in the corner of the package gave away the presence of something other than parchment in the package.
"Hermione! Are you coming in?" her mother called, a trifle impatiently.
Shaking her head, she tucked the envelope under her arm and carried her parcels into the lounge room. She put them down next to the small pile of gifts from her parents, surreptitiously hiding the envelope beneath the other presents. Just like every year, she watched her parents open their presents first.
Besides Mercury, she'd also bought her parents a variety of little gifts, most from the magical world. Her father (and mother, actually) was delighted with the iron-free business shirts from Madam Malkin's. Most commonly worn by wizards in the Muggle Liason Office at the Ministry, she'd thought them perfect for her father.
For her mother, she'd bought a beautiful silver ring set with a firestone. Within the stone, the tiny flame, visible only to the wearer, changed colour according to their mood, reflecting the colour back onto the clear stone for others to see. When her mother put it on, Hermione was pleased to see it turn the deep blue of happiness.
"Thank you, darling," Jane whispered. "It's wonderful."
Hermione grinned broadly, and reached for her own pile of presents. Ron and Ginny had bought her an assortment of lollies and jokes from their brothers' shop, and Mrs Weasley had sent her the traditional knitted jumper and a box of mince pies, which Hermione's father eyed eagerly. Harry's gift was a beautiful black quill which, on inspection, appeared to be from the same species as Snape's owl. She giggled, hoping it hadn't come from Snape's owl.
Lastly, ignoring the envelope, she reached for the small box that was her present from her parents.
"I know it only looks small," her father said, "but it means a lot."
She gave her father a strange look; he wasn't normally one for such sentiments, and then opened the box carefully. Inside was a beautiful silver pendant bearing the symbol of Pir.
"Oh, Mum, Dad," Hermione whispered, gazing from the pendant to her parents in wonderment. "It's beautiful, but how did you know...?"
"You left some of your books home this year," her mum explained. "I was looking through them hoping to find an idea for something to give you that has significance in your world, and I came across the rune alphabet."
Hermione picked up the pendant from the box and held it up, the tiny crystals along the main downstroke of the rune shimmering in the light. Her mother always had a knack for procuring the perfect gift for any occasion, but even Jane Granger probably didn't realise the aptness of her gift. The ancient rune Pir was the symbol of protection, and while the shape had no magical power as such, it gave a sense of well-being, and would bring some measure of safety to the wearer in their daily toils.
It wasn't just the significance of the gift that moved Hermione almost to tears, but the words her mother had used. Something that has significance on your world. The Grangers had finally come to accept the fact that their daughter was part of a different world, a world they neither fully understood, nor could ever be a part of. Instead of feeling resentment, though, as they so often had before, they had finally realised that would only drive a bigger wedge between them, than their living in two different worlds would already serve to do.
Hermione recognised the gift as a sign that her mother and father had finally accepted she would never turn away from the magical world, the world she belonged to, and she was overjoyed that she would be able to go into the world beyond Hogwarts, knowing she still had the support and love of her parents.
"Happy Christmas, darling," her mum said, helping her fix the pendant around her neck, and then enveloping her in a tight hug. When she pulled away, Hermione saw tears glistening in her mother's eyes.
"Mum? What is it?"
"Oh, nothing, darling," the older woman said, smiling sadly at her daughter. "It's just wonderful to see you, after all this time."
Hermione bit her lip and looked down. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "It's not that I didn't want to come home... I did. I just... after last time... I didn't know whether you'd try to stop me going back again, and I couldn't chance it. It's my world, don't you see? I belong there."
"We know you do, honey," her father said, placing his hands on her shoulders. "We were worried, and frightened, and there were – are – a lot of things we don't understand about magic, and that made it harder for us to let you go."
"But that doesn't matter, now, darling," her mother continued. "As long as you're happy, we're happy. And we're so proud of you, whatever path you choose to take in your life."
"Thanks, mum," Hermione said, a single tear escaping her eye as she hugged her mother, then her father.
"Hermione, look, you've missed a present," her father said, picking up the envelope from Snape and handing it to her.
"Oh." She took it hesitantly.
"Well, go on, open it," her mother urged. "Who's it from? Let's see what it is!"
Her stomach in knots, she opened the envelope and withdrew the parchment. The lump she had felt earlier fell into her hands, and she found herself holding a tiny book, obviously shrunken for delivery. She fleetingly wondered why she'd never thought the charm herself; it had cost her a fortune to send all her presents to Harry and the Weasleys.
"Oh, my wand's upstairs," she said, suddenly, berating herself for leaving it out of reach. A few days in the Muggle world, and she was already forgetting basic common wizard-sense. "I'll just go upstairs."
In her room, she sat on the edge of her bed and spoke the spell to enlarge the book, gasping as she recognised the title.
Moonfillies.
It was the book she had read in Snape's sitting room, the one he had taken from her, fearing she would read too much into the reason he related so well to the creature. It wasn't his copy, though; it was newer, and bound in dark blue, not black.
She glanced from the book to the parchment in her other hand. The message of the book itself was more heartening to her than any Christmas wish, but she put the book aside and broke the wax seal of the note.
Hermione,
I realised, upon trying to find something suitable for your Christmas gift, that I have absolutely no idea of your likes and dislikes.
It is inexcusable, on my part, to know so little about a friend, and I do hope you will assist me to rectify the situation when we next meet.
Happy Christmas,
SSHermione stared at the parchment for some minutes, reading the words over and over. It was such a simple note, but the meaning behind the words filled her with a happiness she couldn't explain. A happiness, she thought with a tinge of remorse, stronger than that she'd felt at her parents' acceptance of her, and their own gift.
In her parents' home, far away from Hogwarts, her time with the Potions master seemed almost like something out of a dream, her befriending him something she'd only imagined. Yet here was proof, absolute definitive proof, that he had not only truly accepted her friendship, but offered his own in return.
Hermione didn't notice her mother standing in the bedroom doorway, observing, until she spoke.
"Who is he?"
Hermione dropped the parchment, startled, then bent to pick it up, clutching both the letter and book in her hands as she looked at her mother. "What?"
Jane Granger smiled, and crossed the room, sitting on the bed next to her daughter.
"Oh, come on, Hermione, I'm not that old," her mother scolded. "I know that look when I see it. Are you going to tell me about your young man?"
Hermione flushed with embarrassment. "No, mum, really," she said. "It isn't like that, it's..."
Her mother gave her an infuriatingly knowing look, and laughed. "Well, he must be a smart young man. He knows the way to my daughter's heart is through a book."
Hermione blushed even more, giving her mother the wrong idea yet again. Finally, frustrated, she said, "It's from one of my professors."
"Oh," her mother said, "well then, let's have a look."
Sighing, she handed her mother the book, but not the parchment.
"It's a lovely book," the older woman commented, after flicking through it briefly. "I wasn't aware teachers gave their students Christmas gifts, though."
"It's from Professor Snape," Hermione explained. "Remember how I said I'd been working with him?"
"Yes," her mother said slowly.
"Well, the book is about one of the things we've been working on."
"Oh, I see," her mother said, handing the book back to Hermione. "Well, you'd better write and thank him, then. It was a nice thought."
Hermione had the distinct impression there was something her mother wasn't saying, and she was right, as it turned out.
They were in the kitchen that night, washing the dishes after a wonderful Christmas dinner, when Jane Granger brought the subject up again.
"I had a crush on one of my professors at university."
Hermione stared at her mother, who gave her that same, knowing look again.
"Oh, come on, darling," her mother chided her, "there's no shame in admitting you have a crush on a teacher. We've all been there."
"Mum!" Hermione exclaimed, flushing crimson enough to match the silly Christmas hat she wore.
"Denial will get you nowhere," she said, in a sing-song voice.
Hermione stared at her mother again, not because the idea was so far-fetched, but because the woman, whom she hadn't seen for the better part of two years, had just picked up on feelings she was hardly able to admit to herself, let alone anyone else.
"Mum, you're talking about Professor Snape," Hermione pleaded. "Haven't I been telling you for years how nasty he is? Remember when he was so horrible about my teeth?"
"That was a few years ago, now," her mother reminded her. "I'd say everyone in your world has matured a bit since then. Besides, you could hardly stop talking about him on the way home the other day; how brilliant he is, how you wish Harry and Ron would have more respect for him."
"Am I that transparent?" she blurted out, suddenly mortified at the thought that someone else had been able to read into her feelings... especially a particular someone with the proven ability to read minds.
Mrs Granger smirked and shook her head. "Call it motherly intuition," she said. "I was right, wasn't I?"
Hermione bit her lip and nodded. "It's silly really," she murmured, trying to convince herself as much as her mother. "I just... he's so different when he's not in class, and he really is brilliant."
Her mother laughed. "So you've said."
Hermione blushed again.
"Just be careful," her mother cautioned, looking serious again.
"Oh, mum," she replied, "it's just a silly schoolgirl crush; I'll grow out of it. Besides, he'd never abuse his authority as a teacher, even if he did feel anything in return."
Hermione's mother nodded in agreement, and Hermione had almost convinced herself that what she had said was the truth... almost.
The following evening, after a pleasant day visiting relatives, Hermione was sitting in the lounge room with her parents. They were watching television, but Hermione was engrossed in the book Snape had sent her for Christmas. It was fascinating and she could hardly bear to put it down, keeping it shrunk in her pocket at all times, in case she had five minutes to spare.
It was getting late, though, and her eyes were feeling scratchy from reading for too long. She shrunk the book again, and, stretching stiffly, bid her parents goodnight, and headed across the room to the stairs.
She was halfway across the room when she heard, Crack!
She spun around at the unmistakable sound of someone Apparating into the lounge room, and found herself face to face with a tall black-robed, masked figure.
She backed away in terror. Her parents, behind the figure, had risen from their seats, but she knew there was nothing they could do. Stupidly, she realised, yet again, she'd left her wand in her room upstairs.
In the next instant, the figure tossed back his hood and ripped of his mask, and she nearly fainted with relief as she recognised the Potions master.
"Professor! What-"
"No time," he gasped. "They're coming for you. We have to go now."
Hermione's father, startled out of his stunned silence, strode forwards. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.
Snape turned to the other occupants of the room. "Mr Granger, Mrs Granger," he said hurriedly. "I apologise, but there is no time to explain. Death Eaters will be here at any moment. We have to leave."
"I'm not leaving my house to those mongrels," Hermione's father spat angrily.
"Mum, Dad, you have to listen to him," Hermione implored, coming to stand beside Snape.
"If they find you here, they'll kill you," the Potions master added.
Suddenly realising the gravity of the situation, the Grangers nodded fearfully, and Snape pulled a pocket watch from within his robes. "This is a Portkey," he explained. "It will take you to a safe location. It's only strong enough to transport two people. I will follow momentarily with your daughter."
"I'm not going without Her-" Mrs Granger started to say, but Snape cut her off.
"There's no time," he said, his voice getting louder with every word. "They'll be here any second. You have to go now."
"Go," Hermione urged, taking the watch from Snape, placing it on her mother's open palm, and grabbing her father's hand to touch the object as well. Stepping back so as not to be caught in the spell herself, she mouthed, "I love you," silently to her parents, before the Portkey activated and they were gone.
"Come on," Snape said, reaching to take Hermione's arm.
"Wait," she cried. "My wand! It's upstairs!"
She made to retrieve it, but Snape stopped her.
"No time for that," he hissed. She tried to protest, but he raised his own wand, calling, "Accio Hermione's wand!"
The wand smacked into her hand a moment later, but in the same instant, there was another Crack! and they found themselves confronting the tall form of Lucius Malfoy.
"Shit," Snape muttered under his breath.
"My, my, Severus," he drawled. "You certainly didn't waste any time getting here. Hoping to have first pick at the spoils?"
Snape moved subtly to one side, putting himself between Hermione and Malfoy, as the blonde advanced on them across the room. For her part, Hermione clutched her wand tightly behind her back and retreated across the room in the opposite direction from Malfoy, still keeping Snape between herself and the Death Eater.
"It seems such a pity to kill her quickly," Malfoy continued, idly fingering the head of his cane, which she knew concealed his wand. "What's say we… play a little game while we wait and see if those gutless wonders she calls friends will come to her aid."
Hermione raised her chin defiantly. "You'll be waiting a while. They don't even know you're here, and they'd never be fool enough to walk into such an obvious trap."
Lucius barked out a laugh, and Hermione shrank back into the far corner of the room as three more Death Eaters appeared in the room.
"Come now, Severus," Lucius drawled. "We can't let you have all the fun. Do be a sport; hand her over so we can all have a go."
Hermione let out the smallest sob, as Snape glanced over his shoulder to see where she was. She realised the precarious position he was in, the position she had gotten him into by delaying their departure to retrieve her wand. She didn't see how he could refuse Malfoy's request without blowing his cover.
"Not this time, Lucius," he said in such a low voice, Hermione had to strain to hear him. "This one is not for you."
Malfoy's eyes darkened and his grip became tighter on the head of his cane.
"I beg your pardon?" he whispered malevolently.
For his part, Snape stood his ground.
"You know how precarious my position with Dumbledore is. I cannot claim ignorance of a plan to attack the Head Girl, let alone Potter's best friend. If she dies, Dumbledore will not tolerate my presence any longer, and the Dark Lord will not be impressed to lose his only spy and potions brewer. Are you prepared to take the blame for that, Lucius?"
The blonde's eyes narrowed further. "Do not presume to threaten me, my friend," he warned, putting a sick emphasis on his last word. "You are much more expendable than our Lord likes you to believe."
"Don't presume you know all the Dark Lord's plans, Lucius," Snape hissed back. "The girl is far more useful than you would care to give a Mudblood credit for, and you would do well to leave her to me."
The Death Eaters behind Malfoy had drawn their wands, and Snape's eyes were darting from them back to the cane Lucius was holding.
Malfoy didn't say anything for a moment, and Snape took a couple of steps back towards Hermione, his eyes not leaving the black-robed figures in front of him.
"Stop." Hermione held her breath as, slowly, Malfoy withdrew his wand from his cane.
Snape did stop moving, but said in a low voice, "Hermione, walk towards me, but stay behind me."
Hesitating for only a moment, Hermione made a sudden movement, which startled Malfoy and cause him to turn his wand towards her. In the same instant, Snape whipped his own wand from the folds of his robes and fired a volley of spells at the three Death Eaters behind Malfoy.
Two lost their wands, while one crumpled to the ground under a jet of red light. Snape turned his wand on Malfoy, but the blonde had already fired off his own spell at his old friend.
Snape's wand flew from his fingers as he was flung back against the wall from the force of the spell, and Malfoy turned on Hermione, a feral glint in his eyes as he threw a binding spell in her direction.
She flung herself sideways at the last minute, the spell grazing past her arm as she ducked. Adrenaline coursing through her veins, she recovered her balance and yelled, "Expelliarmus!"
Terror brought out the strength in her magic, and Malfoy flew across the room, crashing into the bookshelf and landing in a crumpled heap by the other Death Eaters, two of whom were picking themselves up off the floor near the kitchen doorway.
She turned to Snape, who had regained his feet.
"Get them!" Lucius shrieked, livid with rage. "Kill them both!"
Time seemed to move in slow motion as Snape rushed towards her. The Death Eaters recovered their wands and didn't hesitate to make good on Lucius' orders. Snape stumbled as another Expelliarmus hit him, but he'd already lost his wand, so it made no difference.
Reaching Hermione, he grabbed her and pulled her to his body, enveloping her in the thick black robe and putting himself between her and the angry followers of Voldemort. She felt a shudder run through his body as a hex hit him in the back.
"He can't Apparate us wandless," she thought frantically. He'll splinch us both. A hex exploded in the wall next to them as Snape's hand found her wand, his fingers closing around her own on the handle, and she felt her magic rise up to meet his own, combining in the core of her wand to magnify their power.
Just before the dull lurch of Apparition tore her body from the room, she heard the Death Eaters let loose a volley of spells.
"Expelliarmus!"
"Stupefy!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
Then everything went black.
To be continued
A/N: Yes, I know, another bloody cliffhanger. Next chapter will be up around Sunday. If you can't wait, it's already posted at OWL. See my profile for the link.
Pir is the rune of protection from madness, wind and fire in Ursula Le Guin's Earthsea books. Coincidentally, upon doing some research, I discovered that in the Fae Alphabet, the rune symbol for Pir is Eihwaz. This Rune is mentioned by Hermione in POA. She mistranslates Ehwaz (partnership) in her 3rd year Ancient Runes exam, confusing it with Eihwaz, which, according to JKR, means defence.
Some of you may have noticed a particular name change in this chapter. What was the mooncalf is now the moonfilly. This was done to keep the story in line with canon. All chapters have been updated to reflect this change, and a further explanation can be found back at the end of Chapter 7, in which the creature is first mentioned.
