"Are you sure about this?" Hermione asked, even as she raced beside Ron along the ravine floor.
"Definitely," Ron nodded, tightening his grip on her hand. "A few more steps, and we'll be safe in the Forbidden Forest." He looked pointedly over his shoulder, where Princess Dolores and Countess Bellatrix watched helplessly from atop a swell of the land, the sun sinking behind them as the day drew to an end.
Hermione glanced at him dubiously, though he didn't see it. "We'll never survive."
"Nonsense," he shot her a grin. "You're only saying that because no one ever has."
They ran through the beginnings of the forest, but were rapidly forced to a walk as the trees closed in around them. In a matter of minutes, they left behind the light of day, the density of the thicket so intense that the Princess could no longer be seen. They slowed to a tentative pace, the temperature now several degrees cooler since the canopy of the upper layer grew so it blocked out the sun. Tangled undergrowth flourished thickly around the bases of the gnarled trunks, making safe footing difficult in the dim lighting.
"It's not that bad," Ron appraised, putting his hands on his hips and gazing around. Hermione furrowed her brows incredulously. "What?" He asked, responding to the look she shot him. "I'm not saying I'd build a summer home here, or anything, but the trees are actually quite lovely."
In reality, Ron was so pleased to be away from his captors, and so elated in finding that Hermione was actually alive after believing her dead for five long years, that he doubted they'd encounter anything that could dampen his euphoric mood.
A loud squawking noise ripped through the air, so close that they both jumped, startled. Before Ron had time to react, a six legged animal stood from where it'd be camouflaged in a bush near a mossy log. It was shaped rather like a large tortoise, though its shell was jewel encrusted and its skin a leathery grey. It squawked again, blinking its jet black eyes, before raising its haunches and shooting fire at Ron's legs.
Ron, who'd not been expecting this turn of events, yelped and leapt back, tripping and landing ungracefully. He cried out again and began to wrestle urgently with his cloak, which was fully ablaze.
Hermione calmly seized Ron under the arms, dragging him several feet away from the creature before muttering, "aguamenti." The water jet from her wand hissed as it made contact with Ron's still smoldering cloak hem.
"What the bloody hell was that?" He asked, breathing hard as he unbuttoned the velvet garment and tossed it away quickly.
"Fire crab," Hermione answered. "I imagine we caught it by surprise, showing up here unannounced."
Ron glared at her. "Yeah, poor thing."
She appraised him, eyes scouring over his body. "Are you hurt?"
"M'fine," he muttered, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "Will it be back?"
"I doubt it," she reasoned. "Fire Crabs are not very aggressive, as a rule. They're a protected species, you know." Hermione watched the animal as it settled back into the thicket. "That sound it made must be its warning noise."
"We'll be on the lookout for that, then," Ron said, and extended his hand. She accepted it readily, and they made their way deeper into the Forbidden Forest.
The trees grew steadily closer together, and the undergrowth became more wild by the step. Hermione had long since given Ron his wand back, and they both made frequent use of the Severing Charm as they fought their way through the tangles of vines and branches.
"How is it possible that you're Greyback?" Ron asked after some time, breaking their companionable silence. "He's been on the run for twenty years."
Hermione smirked. "I myself am often amused by life's little quirks," she admitted, meeting Ron's eye over her shoulder. A loud squawking sounded near her left shoulder, and Ron caught her under the elbow, helping them both maneuver to the far side of a tree. A second later, a fireball burst against the trunk, though they were safely protected from it.
She continued as though nothing had happened, pushing on deeper into the forest. "You see, the story I told you earlier, about saying please?" Ron nodded his recognition. "That's actually true. It intrigued Greyback, as did my description of your unfailing love. Diffindo." A large vine that'd been blocking their path split in half with a groan.
"Finally, he decided something. He said, 'alright, Hermione, I've never had an apprentice. You can try it if you like. I'll most likely kill you in the morning.'" She was chatting away happily as she sliced through the intimidating forest, Ron watching in fascination as she told her tale. "For three years he said that to me. 'Good night, Hermione, good work. I'll most likely kill you in the morning.'"
"That sounds horrifying," Ron exclaimed, aghast.
"It was a fine time for me, actually," Hermione insisted. "I was learning to duel, fence, anything that anyone would teach me. Greyback and I even became friends." She looked lost in thought, stopping mid step and meeting Rons' eyes. "Then one day, it happened."
"What?" He asked, so intrigued he forgot momentarily about the certain death promised by the Forbidden Forest around him.
"Greyback had grown so rich that he wanted to retire. He called me into his office and told me his secret. 'I am not Greyback,' he said. 'My name is Kingsley. I inherited the title from the previous Greyback, just as you will inherit it from me.'" Hermione, holding lightly to Ron's hand, pulled him into a walk again. "'The woman I got it from was not the real Greyback either. Her name was Amelia. The first 'Greyback' has been retired for fifteen years, though her actual identity is secret. She apparently stole the name Greyback from an infamous outlaw, upon finding him deceased, washed ashore a beach near her home."
"How is that possible?" Ron asked, disbelief evident on his features.
"Kingsley explained it," Hermione said patiently. "It's the name that inspires fear. No one would surrender to Granger's gang of Snatchers. So, Kingsley disbanded his team and we showed up in a new city. We hired on a new crew, and the entire time, he called me Greyback. Once the new Snatchers believed, he took his leave, and I've been Greyback ever since."
"That's barmy," Ron whistled, coming to a stop again. He leaned against an enormous tree branch, pulling Hermione between his legs and cupping her face. "But brilliant."
Hermione grinned at him. "Now that we're together," she whispered, transfixed by his gaze. "I'll pass the name onto someone else."
"You'd do that for me?" He asked, his face breaking into a lopsided grin.
She was about to reply that of course she would, when, looking over his shoulder, she realized what was happening in fervent alarm. "Ron," she screeched, though she leapt backwards, fighting to tear her limbs away from his.
The tree he'd leaned against had snaked quiet tendrils around his torso, effectively wrapping him up so completely that he already couldn't move. "Ron," she shouted again, watching in horror as the plant began to move faster, creepers covering every square inch of him.
"Hermione," he gasped, his airway constricted.
"I know what this is," she fretted, pacing in front of the scene as she worked her brain ferociously. "Devil's snare. Let me think… It likes the damp... and dark. Ron!" She choked back a sob.
"Fire," Ron breathed slightly, barely moving now.
"Of course, fire," she agreed, surveying the ground desperately for dry wood but finding none in the scratchy moss. She watched, frozen, as Ron disappeared completely from view. She heard a familiar squawking noise over her shoulder, spurring her into action. She didn't need dry wood. If a Fire Crab could shoot flame from its… well, she could light a fire. "Incendio!" She cried, relieved when the vines began to pull back, releasing a wheezing Ron from their clutches.
He coughed, struggling for air, and she assisted him away from the plant. She pulled his shoulders into her lap, brushing his fringe lovingly as he caught his breath. They laid in relative quiet for several moments, both relieved to be alive.
"Lucky you don't lose your head in a crisis," Ron joked weakly, and Hermione swatted him on the arm, grinning with watery eyes. "Thanks for saving me, love," he said, bringing her fingertips to his lips.
He groaned as he stood, and grasping each other shakily, they surveyed the darkness of the bleak forest around them.
"I'm beginning to think we won't succeed," Hermione whispered.
"We already have," Ron answered, trying to keep his voice upbeat. They tentatively pushed on, each looking around nervously as they progressed. "What are the three terrors of the Forbidden Forest?"
"The Fire Crabs," Hermione listed. "And they give a warning noise we can avoid."
"Right," Ron agreed. "The Devil's Snare, which I was clever enough to have found, so now we know what it looks like." He grinned at her cheekily and she rolled her eyes, admittedly more light hearted than she'd been a moment before.
It didn't last long.
"Ron," she exclaimed, heart plummeting. "What about the Acromantulas?"
"What, enormous spiders?" Ron gave a shudder. "I don't believe they live here."
A low, evil laugh echoed around them as eight large, black legs stepped into their view. The Acromantula was easily the size of a stallion, and it clicked its pincers menacingly as it continued to laugh, its black eyes glittering maliciously in the low light.
Ron gripped Hermione's arm so hard his knuckles were white, and they both backed away slowly. Without warning, the spider struck, its pincers closing around Hermione's shoulder and dragging her out of Ron's grasp, knocking him over. She screamed, and the giant spider shook her like a rag doll. The monster released her, sending her flying against a tree trunk where she collapsed in a heap, stunned.
Ron's face was pale where he laid, terror taking him over so completely that he could only watch the horrifying scene take place in front of him. The Acromantula closed in on Hermione's prone form, pincers clicking madly as it moved in for the kill.
The thought spurred Ron into action, and he aimed his wand at the gnarled tree behind the spider. "Diffindo!"
His spell was accurate, ripping through the trunk with a loud crack. The top of the tree, now disconnected from its bottom, slid slowly off its base and crashed, spearing the Acromantua through its body and pinning its writhing form to the soft ground. The sounds of the fallen tree and the wail of the dying spider echoed through the entirety of the forest, overwhelming Ron's senses.
In the moment of following stillness, Hermione moaned, pushing herself up on her good arm and surveying the scene in front of her. She met Ron's eyes over the wreckage, her shoulder torn open, bleeding freely, and his face still as pale as snow.
A loud squawk sounded from behind Hermione. She rolled away as quickly as she could, gasping in pain when her shoulder made contact with the ground. A fireball burst where she'd recently been, instead catching the spider's body aflame as easily as if it'd been made of tinder. The smell of burning flesh filled the air, and Ron dry heaved a few times before pushing himself to his feet. He watched his enemy warily as he limped over to Hermione. The tree was damp enough to not catch flame, and the Acromantula's body shriveled to a crisp before the fire burned itself out.
Ron helped Hermione to stand, and the two locked gazes in profound shock.
The following morning broke over the white sands of a beach, pale pinks streaking through the cloudless sky. Princess Dolores sat atop her horse, oblivious to the beauty behind her as her squashed face stared relentlessly into a copse of trees. To her right sat Countess Bellatrix, and three more soldiers on either side. The semi circle of riders waited in tense silence, all exchanging nervous glances except the Princess, who never budged a muscle.
The trees were beginning to open up as Ron and Hermione limped along. The airy light of morning broke through the branches in bursts, its warmth a welcome sensation to the two weary travelers. The rocks and undergrowth beneath them transitioned slowly to a smooth sand, and they glanced at each other in a pleased shock.
"We've made it," Hermione breathed in disbelief.
"See, was that so terrible?" Ron asked, and, too tired to even smirk, only a corner of his mouth tugged up to show his humor.
Still exchanging happy glances, they found more speed in their pace, pushing optimistically towards the opening of the trees.
"Halt!" An unwelcome voice tore their gazes away from the other, and they were greeted by an equally unwelcome sight. No less than eight mounted figures stood between them and their freedom.
"Ah, Princess," Ron greeted casually. Thus Hermione's eyes first landed upon her would-be-competitor, and she found the pink clad, toad-like woman lacking. Ron squeezed her hand.
"Surrender," the Princess called in an unexpectedly high pitched voice.
"You mean that you wish to surrender to me?" Hermione asked, falsely sweet. "Very well, I accept."
"I give you full marks for bravery," Dolores said hotly, her blue eyes gazing without sympathy on the two pitiful people in front of her. "Don't make yourself a fool." Hermione bristled; this was a term she clearly despised being called. "I tell you again," the Princess simpered, though her eyes shot daggers, "surrender."
"Death first," Hermione responded hotly, before being brought to her knees by the pain in her shoulder. She hissed, and Ron dropped down beside her in concern.
"Hermione," he said quietly, watching green puss ooze out of her wound. "The Acromantula venom."
"It's nothing," she insisted, trying and failing to stand.
Ron, making up his mind, set his jaw and stood. He met Dolores' eye. "Will you heal her, and set her free?"
"What?" The Princess asked, surprised by this request.
"What?" Hermione echoed in faint indignation, still unable to stand on her own.
"If I return with you now," Ron said, voice steady. "Will you promise to heal this woman, and set her free to her business?"
"I swear it will be done," Dolores responded, never flinching away from Ron's intense gaze.
He nodded, kneeling to cup Hermione's face. "I thought I lost you once, and it nearly destroyed me," he whispered, eyes swimming in unshed tears. "I could not bear it if it happened again."
Seeing Ron distracted, Dolores leaned over to Bellatrix and whispered, "once we're out of sight, take her back to Florin and throw her in the Shrieking Shack."
The Countess grinned evilly. "I swear it will be done." Pleased, Dolores spurred her horse forward a few paces.
"Hem-Hem."
Ron kissed Hermione's forehead, then rose and mounted behind the Princess, who viewed the exchange with a smug grin. Hermione, laying in pain on the ground, could only watch them gallop away, unable to do more than stare at their retreating forms in a morose silence.
A shadow fell over her, and she redirected her gaze to see Bellatrix pull her mount to a halt, smirking. "Come," she called, jerking her head to a soldier, who pulled Hermione to her feet roughly. "We must get you healed so you can go free."
"We are women of action," Hermione answered, wincing as the footman tied her arms behind her back. "Lies do not become us."
Bellatrix cackled merrily, amused. "Well said," she exclaimed, but a movement of her arm caught Hermione's attention. The prisoner stared at her captor's forearm. "What is it?" Bellatrix asked, unnerved.
"You have a skull and snake tattoo on your left wrist," Hermione said, smiling up at the Countess. "Someone is looking for you."
Bellatrix whipped out her wand. "Stupefy."
When Hermione awoke, she was chained to a cot, unable to sit. Her shoulder throbbed painfully, though she tried to force herself to take in her surroundings. She was in what appeared to be a windowless, underground chamber. It was damp and dark, lit only by the flickering light of torches that lined the walls. She was alone, though there were other objects in the room. She surveyed them intently, her stomach plummeting as she recognized them for what they were: torture devices.
A small man with colorless hair and large bald spot hurried out of an adjoining chamber, carrying a tray of potions.
"Where am I?" Hermione demanded, watching the pale wizard approach her. His dark eyes were watery, and his nose was pointed in a way that reminded her of rodents.
"The Shrieking Shack," he answered in a squeaky voice, and she noticed as he set the tray down beside her bed that he was missing his right index finger. "Don't even think about trying to escape," he warned her, pouring a bit of a blue potion onto a rag and dabbing her shoulder gently. She bit her lip to avoid crying out. "Don't dream of being rescued either." He was either oblivious to her discomfort, or didn't care, as he continued to administer potions. "No one but the Princess, the Countess, and I know how to get in."
"Then what?" Hermione demanded. "I'm here til I die?"
"Til they kill you, yeah." The rat-man smiled at her evilly, then rubbed a healing balm on her shoulder wound that brought Hermione immediate relief from the pain.
"Why bother curing me, then?"
"Ah," the rat-man sighed. "The Princess and the Countess always insist on everyone being healthy, before they're broken."
"Torture." It wasn't a question. The rat-man nodded happily.
Ron sat on a bench in the courtyard of the ornate castle grounds, staring without seeing into a rose bush.
Bellatrix and Dolores stood some distance away, watching his behavior closely. "He's been like that since the Forbidden Forest," the Countess remarked.
"It's my father's failing health that's upsetting him," the Princess answered.
Bellatrix smirked. "Of course."
The King died that very night, and Dolores and Ron were wed the following dawn. The people of Florin City gathered as they did the day that Ron had been introduced to them, but this time the square was even more crowded than before.
At noon, Ron met his people again, this time as their King. The portcullis rose slowly, and Ron stepped forward, the silence of the crowd disconcerting. Just as before, they sunk to their knees, leaving Ron standing alone among them.
From the back of the square, someone began to boo loudly. Ron's face, which before was stoic, registered only shock. The crowd began to murmur, and parted a path for an old man with a long beard and half moon spectacles. The figure moved forward, approaching Ron as he maintained his constant barrage of disapproval.
"Why do you do this?" Ron asked, surprised at the man's open criticism.
"Because you had love in your hands, and you gave it up," the old man answered. He turned to address the crowd. "True love saved him in the Forbidden Forest, and yet while she lives, he married another." The old man's penetrating eyes stared into Ron's again. "He treated his true love like garbage, and that's what he is: the king of refuse."
With a jolt, Ron sat upright in his bed, covered in sweat and shaking. He grabbed a robe from a hook near his bedroom door, and slung it over his shoulders as he ran down the empty hallway.
The wedding was ten days away, and though the King still lived, Ron's nightmares were getting worse.
He entered Dolores' study without knocking, finding her seated at her desk, reading over some documents. Bellatrix stood behind her, warming her hands in the open fire.
"It comes to this," he announced, and the Princess looked up at him, only mildly surprised to see him there. "The situation has changed. I could bite my tongue and accept my fate while she was dead, in order to keep my family safe. But now that I know Hermione is alive, I cannot marry you."
Ron strode over to her desk, sinking to his knees at the Princess' side. He tried to keep his voice gentle. "I love her, and I know she loves me. If you tell me that I must still marry you in ten days, please believe that I will tear this castle apart trying to find Ginny, I will raise a scene with your staff and your people, and I will be gone by morning."
His chest was heaving, and his eyes searched her face imploringly. Dolores kept her expression blank. "I could never cause you grief," she answered in a sickly sweet voice. "Consider our wedding cancelled." Ron looked relieved. The Princess eyed him, choosing her next words strategically. "Are you sure that your Hermione still wants you? It was you who left her in the Forbidden Forest, after all."
"She will always come for me," Ron answered confidently. "And I for her."
"You set her free, right, Countess Bellatrix?" Dolores directed her question at the dark haired woman standing quietly by the fire.
"Of course."
"Then may I suggest a deal?" Dolores proposed, and Ron sat stock still, listening hard. "We will dispatch messengers on horseback to intercept her route and deliver your tidings to her. If she still wants you, then I'll release your sister, and bless you all." Ron didn't move, waiting for the other shoe to drop. "But if Hermione does not respond the way you would like... please consider me as an alternative?" She gave a high pitched giggle. "I would be happy to see your sister installed as a high ranking member of the Crown, once our nuptials are guaranteed."
Ron weighed his options, before nodding jerkily.
"It's settled, then," the Princess said happily, rubbing her hands together.
A few hours later, Dolores and Bellatrix strolled through the castle grounds in the moonlight, entering a grove as they chatted victoriously about their plans.
"Your Prince is quite a winning creature," Bellatrix gushed, picking a leaf off a tree idly and shredding it as she walked. "A touch naive, perhaps, but his appeal is undeniable."
Dolores giggled. "I know! My people are quite taken with him. I thought I was so clever when I hired Lucius to murder him on our engagement day, but it will be so much more moving when I kill him on our wedding night." She sighed happily, staring up at the stars. "Once Guilder is framed, the nation will be truly outraged. They'll demand that we go to war."
Now deeper into the trees, Bellatrix began to search the trunk of a massive willow, patting its bark occasionally. "Where is that secret knot?" She murmured. "Ah." Upon pressing the right spot on the trunk, a door opened amongst the roots, exposing a staircase that led underground. She looked expectantly at the Princess. "Are you joining me in the Shack?" She purred. "Hermione has her strength back. I was going to start her on the Cruciatus Curse tonight."
"Oh Bella," Dolores answered endearingly. "You know how much I simply love watching you work." The Countess nodded. "But I have my country's 500th anniversary to plan, my wedding to arrange, my husband to murder, and Guilder to frame for it." She shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "I'm swamped."
"Get your rest," Bellatrix said sympathetically, placing a hand on Dolores' shoulder. "If you haven't got your health, you haven't got anything."
She shot the Princess once last grin, then hurried down the stairs, the secret doorway closing slowly behind her.