Chapter Three

For the umpteenth time since they'd started down the tunnel, Hermione found she had to pull her gaze from the way her wand's light danced across the muscled lines of Fenrir's back as he walked along ahead of her. She hoped the musty air of this hidden corridor would dampen any telling scent from her, but he was not mentioning it one way or another.

Either she was right, or he was amusing himself by keeping a second observation quiet under the guise that she'd 'already told him to shut up.'

"You really can see all this without light?"

He shrugged, if he was surprised she was striking up a conversation, he hid it well. Though she did have a moment of wanting to kick herself for even asking, as the way he shrugged was a beautifully fluid motion of all those muscly lines she couldn't seem to stop herself from appreciating.

"Well, wolves are nocturnal creatures by nature. I can't see great, or anything, right now, but definitely better than a human's eyes in the dark, yeah." Fenrir paused, holding up his hand to signal the witch to halt, as well. He turned his head and took a long sniff as he looked about. "Sort of like the way a cat's eyes don't really see in the dark the way people tend to think, they use what low light is around to see. In pitch darkness, they'd be as helpless as any other sighted creature."

She ignored the ripple of surprise that ran through her to realize he was more educated than she'd given him credit for. "Any other sighted creature with the animal senses of hearing and scent, sure."

The werewolf snickered as he nodded. "There is that, sure."

"Why are we stopped?"

He shook his head. His eyes narrowed, he leaned forward a bit, peering into the passageway ahead of them. "Because I think I see something."

"What?"

"Shhh."

Swallowing hard, she only watched as he again looked about, as he took another deep breath through his nostrils. This time, he raised his head. From the angle of his gaze, she could tell he was looking toward the ceiling above the section they were about to enter. In her wand light, she noticed the way his eyes widened.

She had to force herself not to follow his attention. "What is it?"

"You're going to need to let me carry you."

"Are you mad?!"

Gritting his teeth, he looked over his shoulder at her. "Put out that light, come here to me, and close your eyes."

Completely gone was his flippant tone from earlier and the serious expression that had overtaken his features spoke volumes. Her eyes wide and watering at the uncertainty screaming through her, she said, "At least tell me why?"

Opening his mouth, he winced, closed it and then shook his head and tried again. "How do you feel about arachnids?"

"Spiders?" Was there a big bloody nest, or something? "I'm not especially fond of them," she answered, the bridge of her nose crinkling in distaste.

"Uh-huh." The werewolf nodded, frowning thoughtfully. "And how would you feel about one the size of my entire upper body hanging over our heads?"

Her jaw fell and for a moment it seemed she could not form a response.

"Okay, perhaps honesty was not ideal just then. Do not panic; it's sleeping. I can slip us through the webbing that's lining the next section of this tunnel without getting stuck, but we also need to move silently and without the light from your wand drawing attention to us."

"But you just said you can't actually see in pitch darkness. How are you going to navigate?"

"Bastard that big? I can smell the spider silk."

"So you . . . ?" She forced a gulp down her throat and shook her head. "So you just expect me to trust you?"

He shrugged. "It's me or the spider." Fenrir held his hand out to her.

The witch fidgeted in place. She didn't want to be that close to him for, well, certainly for reasons she hadn't had before finding herself trapped with him. But she didn't want to be a massive arachnid's next meal, either.

Placing her hand in his, she extinguished her wand's light and closed her eyes. The next thing she knew, she was being cradled in his arms. Blindly ducking her head down against his neck, she found herself doing something she shouldn't in order to distract herself from the creature hanging over them. Oblivious to her train of thought, Fenrir started through the passageway, once more.

As he moved, shifting and turning this way and that he while walked, he alternately leaned backward a bit—holding her tighter to him—and curled forward over her. She focused on the feeling of his body curved around hers, of the sensation of his muscles pressing against her limbs with each motion.

By the time he halted, letting out a relieved breath, she realized what a mistake her choice of distraction tactics had been. When he set her back on her feet, she stood immobilized for several heartbeats. She could not even seem to unlink her hands from behind his neck.

Which was even more of a mistake, because as he straightened to his full height from letting her down, her continued hold on him pulled her up against him by sheer happenstance of their height difference. She could tell by the way his stomach shivered that he was holding in a laugh.

"We're clear. You can let go, now."

The darkness made her more acutely aware of the sensation of his skin against hers and the way his breath brushed her face ever so slightly. "I know, I just . . . I just need a moment to let my nerves settle."

With a sigh, he slid one hand up over the hand behind his neck that clutched her wand. Pulling it down, he closed his fingers around hers so that he was holding the weapon, as well. "Lumos."

Hermione gasped as flickering light bloomed around them. She couldn't be sure if her startled sound was because it had never occurred to her to attempt to use someone else's wand while they were still holding it, or because of how her pulse hammered beneath her skin to find him staring down into her face so intently.

For a moment, it seemed he couldn't find anything to say, none of his usual snark or irreverence rearing its head. "I think you really might want to put some space between us, now, Skönhet."

Swallowing hard, she nodded, something about his tone sending little chills across her shoulders in harsh, but oddly enticing, contrast to the warmth she could feel in her cheeks. Dear God, it seemed suddenly hard to breathe for a few seconds, there.

She wasn't certain why, but she couldn't help the way her gaze searched his as she slid her other arm down from around his neck. He hadn't relinquished his hold on her hand, yet, and she had to force herself to drop her free hand from him—the urge to let it linger against him, to press her palm and splayed fingers against his chest was as overwhelming as it was surprising to her.

A sensation like a feather brushing across her back forced a trembling shrug out of her and she finally managed to peel herself way from him.

Furrowing her brow at her own behavior, Hermione shook her head. She was scrambling to breathe normally as she pulled her gaze from his. "I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking just now."

"I've a theory on that," he said, his voice husky in a way she hoped—dearly—to never hear again.

In spite of herself, her attention shot back to him. "Oh? Do enlightened me."

Smirking, he leaned down a little bit, bringing his face just a hint closer to hers, as he stepped around her. "You don't know what you were thinking, because you weren't."

Stunned, she found herself only able to watch him as he turned away and started down the tunnel, once more. Somehow she pushed her legs into motion to follow him.

For minutes, they walked in silence, but she felt compelled to question his observation—which, if she considered it at all, likely was correct, it only unnerved her so because that would mean she'd been ruled by instinct for those few moments. She didn't want to think what it meant that her instincts had told her to touch him, to not put space between them.

"Are you saying I think too much?" Not that it would be the first time anyone had ever said that about her.

He shrugged, and though she could not see his face, she had a flash through her mind of that thoughtful frown of his gracing his lips. "Well, I don't know about that—that big brain of yours is what makes you who you are, isn't it?—but there are times when things are better when we stop thinking. Let our minds wander and have our instincts take over."

Her steps almost faltered as she tried to process his words and how they'd seemed to echo her own thoughts. If she'd let her instincts take over when they'd stood like that . . . . I think you really might want to put some space between us, now, Skönhet. She realized when he'd said that, he was probably holding himself back. A creature so ruled by his animal nature as he was, how hard must it have been to deny his instincts, just now?

"When . . .when you say 'we' and 'our,' you mean people in general, right?"

He halted just long enough to look back at her over his shoulder, that smirk reappearing, as he answered, "Sure, let's go with that."

Letting out a scoffing laugh, she shook her head, deciding to let the subject drop as they continued along the tunnel. She didn't know what she could possibly contribute, anyway. The last thing she wanted was for him to say something that would have her again rethinking her response to his closeness.

After a time, Fenrir slowed to a stop. He tipped his head to one side, obviously listening to something.

"Please God, tell me it's not another giant bloody spider," she whispered, her voice barely a thread of sound so she would not distract him.

Catching her gaze as he listened, he shook his head. "No. It's faint, but I think I hear water lapping."

She blinked a few times in rapid succession as she processed that. "That must mean this leads to an open spot in the outer wall of the prison. They put you in a cell that could lead to your escape, if only you knew where to look?"

His brows pinched together as he shook his head. "I wouldn't have looked, though. And we only broke through into the tunnel because you had a wand. They probably thought that I wouldn't be able to get out, even with the tunnel there."

The witch nodded, but her face scrunched in thought.

"Why do I feel as though I already know that look?"

"Because you've met me more than once," she said in an airy tone as she shook her head. "Probably just my imagination, but something feels wrong about this whole situation."

"I've the same feeling, but it's probably for very different reasons."

Again, she couldn't help but laugh—how on earth was Fenrir Greyback able to bring a smile to her face while barely even trying?—and shook her head. "You really need to stop that."

Turning to face her, he grinned. "Oh, you going to make me?"

Once more shaking her head, she moved to step around him. "Let's just keep moving, shall we?"

His grin faded in a blink and he darted his gaze about, a frantic glint in his eyes.

"Greyback? What's—?"

She couldn't even get the words out before he grabbed her by her shoulders and threw her down the tunnel, toward that sound of water. It was as she was flying through the air, trying not to scream, that she heard it. That terrible grinding and scraping of stone falling.

"Go!"

She braced to hit the ground, his shouted word the last she heard from him as stone crashed down between them. Yet, her impact with the tunnel never happened.

There was an unmistakable twisting in her gut and she recognized she was being Apparated against her will. She reappeared with a distinct popping sound and landed with a dull thud on the floor of the Warden's office.

Trembling and wincing against the blinding wash of light in the room, she breathed in little shivering inhalations as she looked about. Mr. Krist and the warden both stared back at her.

Madam Guir ran to her, throwing her arms around the younger witch as she babbled at her through relieved tears.

"What . . . ?" Hermione had to force a gulp down her throat and start again, her eyes watering from her own confusion. "What just happened?"

"Some moronic notion of the Ministry," her mentor said with an angry frown as she took off her cloak and wrapped it around Hermione's quaking shoulders. "Testing prisoners to see if they're worthy of rehabilitation."

"What?!"

The warden winced at her pitch, but she had the right to be enraged. He shook his head. "We're under orders, Miss Granger. Put the prisoners into a situation where they must chose between their own life and someone else's. I assure you, you were in no danger at any time. Not truly."

"That's totally barbaric! The spider large enough to swallow me whole? The portion of tunnel coming down on us?" She was too angry to be placated by the elder witch's attempts to comfort her. Struggling to her feet, she stared daggers at the warden. It escaped her notice that she didn't lump being trapped with Fenrir in with the dangers mentioned. "At what point did you consider me safe?"

He held up his hands, sighing. "You were not let to know about this because it was an experiment. Greyback's criminal record had him listed as beyond rehabilitation. With no family or friends, his fixation on you during the War made you the ideal candidate to test if there was anything in him worth saving." He shrugged. "But had you known that this was all a test, you might've felt compelled to tell him so and that would defeat the entire purpose."

"Again," she said, looking him over as though she thought he might just have all the intellect of an empty rucksack, "at what point did you consider me safe?"

"When you entered the prison, a ward was cast over you to bring you directly here if you were in imminent danger of coming to harm."

"I'm so sorry I could not tell you what was happening when I came back down to the solitary wing. I didn't know anything until after you'd been trapped." Madam Guir was sobbing as she spoke, she hadn't risen when Hermione had, leaving her kneeling on the floor at the younger witch's feet. "The paperwork from the Ministry's new Prisoner Oversight Division forbid anyone from informing you of the test."

Hermione swallowed hard, Fenrir's voice as he'd shouted at her to go echoing through her head. "What about Greyback?"

Pulling a scroll across his desk, the Warden suddenly appeared all business as he snatched up his quill. "When you were initially trapped, I understand you were uncomfortably close to the security wall?"

"Yes, it would've come down right on top of me. If he'd not pulled me out of the way, I'd probably be dead. Provided your ward hadn't kicked in, I suppose."

He nodded, scratching away at the scroll. "And the spider you mentioned?"

"He . . . he protected me so we could slip by without alerting it to our presence." She was too stunned by the situation, by the change in demeanor as he asked these questions to do anything but answer.

"And finally, the portion of tunnel that collapsed?"

She shook her head. "He realized what was happening before I did and he forced me further along the tunnel to avoid the collapse."

"Further along, not back the direction you came from?"

"Correct."

"Leaving himself trapped?"

Dropping her gaze to the floor, she nodded. "I would have to assume so." It hadn't occurred to her until the warden said it that Fenrir's action had been to, well, to literally throw her toward potential freedom, while leaving him behind.

"Did the prisoner, at any time, attempt to subdue you or evade you?"

"No." Her voice was strangely numb as she helped Madam Guir to her feet.

"Well, everything seems to be in order. I'll have the guards—"

"What about Greyback?"

"He has likely sustained some injuries, yes, but in my experience, most prisoners are willing to forgive a bit of pain if it means they may have a chance at eventual freedom. We had no way of knowing that would happen, so I do apologize for that. However, as I had been about to say, Miss Granger . . . . I'll have the guards retrieve Mr. Greyback from that tunnel. He'll receive any necessary medical treatment, and—thanks to your account of his behavior during the test—have him moved out of solitary confinement."

Hermione nodded, turning on her heel to walk out of the office with Madam Guir. She wanted to fight; she wanted to scream bloody murder. She wanted to raise hell about this, but it would do no good; the matter was not the warden's decision. She'd have to take this directly to Kingsley and have the Minister of Magic, himself, do something about this appalling ruling by that blasted Prisoner Oversight Division.

A pair of guards entered as she and the other witch neared the door.

In the background, she could hear the warden giving them the same instructions he'd just told her he would. Retrieve Greyback, get him medical attention, move him back to general population.

She would pretend she didn't feel a trickle of fear wind through the pit of her stomach as she heard him tack on the words, if he survived.