EDITED: 02/21/2015

Chapter Four

Olive had no concept of time.

She wasn't sure how many hours or days had passed. She thought she remembered it getting dark once - or was it twice? The more she thought about it, the less she could remember.

When she'd first landed, naked, in the freezing woods, she watched the snow around her face melt away into scarlet mush. Olive grew tired after a while and closed her eyes. Some amount of time later, she opened them back up, noticed the sky was growing dark, and drifted back to sleep. She remembered opening her eyes again to the blinding white snow. She remembered closing her eyes. She remembered opening her eyes once more, noticing her left eye didn't quite open all the way.

'That's funny,' she thought. She closed her eyes again.

Olive was dying. Exposure, blood loss, it didn't matter. She was dying.

The amount of strain it put on her to apparate, with another wizard's wand no less, had drained what little energy she had left and purged more blood than she could spare. Her eyes didn't open again while she laid, half-buried in snow, and welcomed the deep waters surrounding her.

Far away from Olive, in some unknown wood of Scotland, Scabior stared ahead of him, bitterness twisting his mouth down in a scowl.

He was more infuriated now than he'd ever been. That was twice now that she'd tricked him - and the second had been a much more personal blow to his ego. Taking a wizard's wand was like taking his arm and Olive's wand was proving a poor replacement. He'd splinched himself twice trying to apparate with her wand, but refused to ask for a side-along from one of his men and risk them asking questions. For two days now he'd searched for her in secret, telling the men that Xavier was ill and in St. Mungo's. He began to feel, after the fifth location they'd checked, that this simple task was becoming more impossible as they went. Not one trace of her scent had floated through the air and each hour without it was making him more and more angry.

He looked back down to the muggle fairytale book he held in his hands, opening the front cover and reading her father's note for the hundredth time. A dark smile twisted over his features. "I'll find you, little kitten," he promised to the wind, cracking his neck and readying himself for a new day of Snatching. Someone mentioned loads of mudbloods hiding out in a new forest they hadn't checked yet and, as long as rumor proved true, it would be a wonderful opportunity to blow off some steam.

Back in the unknown forest, Olive thought she was hearing footsteps crunching toward her, then someone yelling. She couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. Then she sunk back under the surface.

When she woke the next time, she opened her right eye, her left not responding, and saw trees passing under a darkening sky. Or maybe it was getting lighter? She couldn't tell - didn't care. She remembered hearing voices talking back and forth, but she couldn't distinguish individual words. Darkness wrapped around her chest, her neck, clutched around her ankles, pulling her farther under the water. Down and down she went, deeper into the waters, so deep she could barely see the light reflected on the surface. And then - nothing. Olive was gasping for air, sputtering, trying to breathe in the terrifying blackness and finally light flooded her vision. She sucked a long, wheezing breath, clutching her heaving chest, happy to have air. Then, the pain started. It was unimaginable, worse than anything possible, and only after the pain set in did she realize her surroundings were unfamiliar.

She'd only just been floating under the trees - where was she? How had she gotten here so quickly?

"Blimey! She's awake!"

Her eyes snapped to the source of the voice and found a young man standing in front of a toppled chair, as if he'd stood up too quick. Olive wasn't sure why, but she thought she recognized his face. There was a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach when she realized they were under a canvas tent.

What had happened to her? The last thing she clearly remembered was - what was it? Her brain was too foggy and she couldn't think straight. Why was she in pain? Why had she been laying on the ground in the snow? Why had she been flying under the trees? She didn't know the answer to anything.

Another man burst into the room, his dark hair long around his face and wand pointed to her chest. She'd seen him somewhere, too, but she wasn't sure why it was giving her an even worse feeling than the tent.

"What's your name?" he demanded, his words filling the air with caution.

What did he ask? Her name? What was her name? She scrunched her eyes tight for a few seconds and tried to recall. "Olive," she said as if unsure, then gaining confidence, "Olive Westin."

"Hermione was right, then," the first boy said, his red hair falling into his face.

"What is your allegiance?" the second boy asked in an unforgiving tone, wand still drawn.

Allegiance?

"Pardon?"

"Which side are you on?" he asked, "In the war?"

War?

Yes, that sounded right. They were in a war, weren't they? How had she forgotten? What was the name of the evil lord?

It nearly smacked her in the face as things were coming back to her bit-by-bit.

"Not the Dark Lord," she said, something inside of her keeping the wizard's real name from crossing her lips.

Taboo. That was right. Voldemort was Taboo'ed. In the back of her mind, she wondered how she knew that, but the pain throbbing in her head was beginning to make her feel nauseous.

"What is your blood-status?" the dark-haired boy asked next.

"And what does that matter?" a furious voice interrupted, bushy-haired girl entering the room. "You're as bad as them, Harry!"

Olive knew her face more than the others. She strained her mind, but the headache only worsened, accompanied by an ache over her entire face.

"I was just making sure she's not luring us into a trap!"

For some reason, Olive kept picturing the girl next to her in a classroom. Where did she go to school again?

Hogwarts.

Things were coming back to her a bit quicker than before. The more she thought of it, the surer she was that this girl had sat next to her in Muggle Studies.

"She's a muggleborn, Harry! Honestly! I go out searching for mushrooms and come back to an interrogation!"

Olive seemed to remember the girl smiling over at her in class, them both getting a high score on an exam.

"It could be polyjuice potion!" he yelled back.

"That lasts this long? Twelve hours, Harry?"

Twelve hours? She'd been out for twelve hours? It had only seemed like seconds. The boy went silent, pausing to look at Olive before he stalked out of the room. The red-haired boy followed, shooting the girl an apologetic look. It hit Olive like a ton of bricks.

Granger. Her name was Hermione Granger.

"Olive?" she asked quietly, coming to kneel at the side of the bed. "Are you alright? I'm sorry about Harry. What happened to you?"

Olive was quiet for a moment, but nothing came to her.

"I don't know," she said in reply. As if her body mocked her, she winced as she rose to sit up.

"It doesn't surprise me that you don't remember. You were in quite a state when I found you."

Olive's eyebrows shot together.

"Was I? How so?"

She hoped it might help her remember how she had come to be where she was. Hermione gave her a wary look, unsure of how to answer.

"Well, you were beat to pieces, face down in the snow when I found you. Your nose was broken, but I fixed it while you were asleep, I figured it would be less painful. Your eye has gone down quite a bit, but it was swollen shut when we first got you here. You've got a nasty black eye, though. If I had a mirror, I'd show you. You'd also splinched. I'm surprised you made it, to be honest, the wound was already healing on its own, you'd have to have been there for a few days. I patched up where you splinched the best I could, but it was beyond magical intervention. You're going to have a scar."

Olive swallowed, the room distorting for a moment in front of her eyes. "Where did I splinch?" she asked, grimacing in pain as she lifted her hand. "Let me feel."

Hermione took her by the wrist, as gentle as a breeze, and lifted Olive's fingers to the left side of her neck. Olive had to hold down the bile in her throat. Surely it just felt bigger because she couldn't see it - the marred skin covered a large chunk of her neck, snaking over her jaw and running up her cheek. She would have to change her appearance for the rest of her life to hide the disfigurement.

"Your lip is still pretty swollen, too. I cleaned you up as well as I could," Hermione said, trying to change the attention to something else and dropping Olive's wrist. "And you," Hermione started, pausing to look down at her lap, "You were naked."

Olive's gaze darted to her, eyes wide. That ignited something in her brain.

"Don't worry!" she added hastily, not sure what Olive's expression meant, "I put my jacket over you before I yelled for Ron! I made sure everything was covered. I grabbed your wand, too."

That last bit ran through her mind over and over. She remembered being panicked as she'd apparated. She'd remembered not being sure where she was going. She'd remembered watching her blood stain the snow around and she remembered going numb. But, she didn't remember having her wand. In fact, she was absolutely sure it had been left behind.

"Are you sure? I don't remember having my wand."

She looked at Olive oddly.

"Yes, I'm quite sure. I had to pry it out of your fist, even unconscious you wouldn't let go."

Olive clenched her eyes when Hermione stood and pulled it from her pocket. It was longer than her own - thick, with sharp edges cut deep into the dark wood. It looked cruel.

She remembered everything.

Her father.

Him.

The rape.

Everything.

Somewhere, her wand was being held captive. A sick feeling coated her stomach, wondering if he'd grown frustrated and snapped it in two yet. Olive looked down at his wand in horror. He was everywhere. Even now, as she sat in the seemingly safe tent with Granger, Potter, and Weasley.

Potter?

"Olive?"

She gave the bushy-haired girl a quick glance, then tore her eyes back to the wretched wand.

"It's nothing. I've just started...remembering things."

Hermione nodded and allowed silence to stretch between the girls.

Olive's mind was reeling, cogs spinning as fast as her pounding head would allow. She wasn't sure of many things. She had no idea where Scabior was. She had no idea where she was. Or how much time had passed since then.

But, she knew one thing for sure.

She had to get the fuck out of there.

No offense meant toward them, but being with Potter was a death sentence. They would attract the Death Eaters like flies to honey. She had to leave - she had to get out of there.

"I - uh...I don't want to intrude," Olive began, attempting to be civil. "I'll just -"

"Nonsense," Hermione interrupted with a smart tone. "You're still weak. We're...I'm not going to let you back out for whoever to find you. At least not until you're completely healed."

Olive stood from the bed, wand and legs shaking in equal amounts. Someone, Hermione she hoped, had changed her into a pair of men's pajama bottoms and a baggy flannel shirt. "No, I - I don't think it's right," she said, walking toward the common area of the tent, where the boys sat and eyed her with distrust. "I don't really feel welcome."

Hermione huffed at Harry, grabbing Olive by the arm and leading her outside. Olive never knew Hermione well and she knew her the best of the three, which made the situation awkward. She'd sat next to her during third-year Muggle Studies, them both being top of class, and that was the extent of their interactions.

"You don't have to leave," Hermione whispered under her breath, leading them to a rather large tree where the girls both sat, though Olive's body was aching in protest. "It's just, Harry's had the -," she stopped herself, her hand resting on her neck. She quickly put it down. "Harry's been in a sour mood."

"I -er," Olive started to say, trying to think of an excuse to leave, "Hermione, I'm being tracked. I don't think it's the best idea that I stay."

Well, it wasn't a lie. Just another reason Olive shouldn't stay. She was as much danger to them as they were to her - and she didn't want to tell her that she was terrified to be around Harry. How could she offend someone that at least had the humanity, in times like these, to take her in?

"Olive," Hermione started, "What happened? Was it Snatchers?"

Olive noticed the sudden somberness in Hermione's face. She ducked her head and became absorbed in picking at the fraying material of the pajama bottoms while the fuzzy-haired girl eyed her down.

"I know you don't know me well. And I know you never talked much at all in school, but you can talk to me if you want," Hermione continued.

Olive sighed, balling the fuzzy fabric up under her fingers. There was something about telling someone these things that seemed appealing. It made her feel she wasn't all alone after all.

"Uhm," she began, uncertain where to start, "Well, they showed up a few weeks after the Ministry fell. They had decided to go for the muggleborns first, but I'm sure you already know that."

Olive's eyes stayed on the thread between her fingers, not seeing Hermione shake her head.

"No," Hermione said, realizing Olive didn't see her, "We've been on the run since the night the Ministry fell."

Olive nodded, scorning herself for not doing the same. Maybe then her father would still be alive - maybe she should have been braver. Left home. He might still be sitting in his wing-back chair and listening to Frank Sinatra. But she couldn't change the past, she had only the present. And the present was filled with darkness.

Back in Scotland, Scabior closed the book as one of his men walked near.

"Camp's packed, sir. You almost ready?"

Scabior nodded.

"Where to, then?" the man asked his leader. Scabior sighed, absent-mindedly rubbing his thumb over the book cover.

"There's a bit'a forest that had some sightings. Get everyone together because I'm only givin' instructions once."

The man nodded and began rounding up the Snatchers. Scabior sighed, his breath puffing out it a white cloud. Time to kill something.

While Scabior was telling his men where to go, Hermione was looking at Olive in horror as she told of her father being killed before her eyes.

"So, then what did you do?"

Olive stopped picking at her trousers and turned her attention instead to scraping at a hang-nail.

"Well, I...I killed them. The two that were still there. And I stole one of their identities. Caught up with the others."

Hermione was dead quiet as she talked, but nodded, impressed the girl had it in her, though it was a shame it had come to homicide. She knew Olive would always be affected by taking another life.

"And I waited. And waited. But, the perfect time never came. He figured me out before I had a chance and then...this happened."

Olive pointed to her face for emphasis and was quite glad that Hermione hadn't noticed the gaping hole in her story - that she'd been Snatching muggleborns, half-bloods, and blood-traitors while disguised. Or maybe she had noticed and didn't say. Or even thought she was secretly helping the muggleborns. Either way, she didn't say a word and for that, Olive was thankful.

"What did they do?" Hermione breathed, captivated by her story of escape. She'd never known this quiet girl from school could be such a strong survivor.

"Well, I'm not sure if everyone knows who I am or not. I know he does. By he, I mean our unit leader. He, uhm...he. He tricked me into cornering myself in our tent. Disarmed me. Aperio'd me." She glanced at Hermione, but wasn't surprised to see that she understood the spell. It wasn't exactly common knowledge, but she was very bright for her age. "Then, he, uhm. He. Well, he knocked me out. And he - well. You found me with no clothes, so..."

She glanced at Hermione, but didn't need to see the repulsed look on her face to know she was clever enough to understand what she was trying to say.

"He's still out there and I've got his wand. You don't know him, I can tell you right now he's hell-bent on finding me and making me pay. I shouldn't be here. I'm putting you at a higher risk."

Hermione nodded, her eyes telling Olive she was not quite there.

"Olive," she started, as if everything depended on it, "What's his name? Your unit leader? So, I know. I'll know who he is if we ever come across some Snatchers."

Olive stopped picking at her hang-nail and looked Hermione dead in the eye.

"Scabior. Dreagan Scabior. And if you ever come across him, you get out. Away. Don't stay for your friends. I've seen...terrible things. I can't even count how many women I've seen him force himself on to. He rapes them, Hermione. He rapes them in front of our entire unit, while they laugh and jeer. And when they stop struggling, or stop fighting back, he kills them. I watched him finish with a dead body once. A dead girl. She wasn't even sixteen yet."

Hermione gave a quick nod, averting her gaze, and Olive felt an instant rush of remorse. She knew she shouldn't have worried her like that, even if it was true. She also realized that Hermione must want to talk too - she knew what it felt like to be the only girl among men for months at a time. It was rather lonely after the first few weeks. Olive had been so caught up in finally getting some things off her chest that she hadn't realized they hadn't once spoken about Hermione's life. Normally, Olive wouldn't care, she never bothered with making many friends, but she was cherishing these few minutes of girl-talk she had. They might be her last.

Scabior closed his eyes and took a deep breath as his men set up camp. It was faint, but there was the slightest trace dancing through the air. Honeysuckle.

The girls chatted quietly for a while, growing more and more comfortable with each other. Hermione was telling her how she'd erased herself from her parent's memory - how they didn't even know she existed. Olive thought this was even worse than losing a parent. At least she could pretend her father was looking over her - guiding her, even. She didn't think she could handle how isolated Hermione must have felt.

"I just...I would do anything in the world to go see them. Just to watch them from outside the window. Just to make sure they're okay."

Olive felt miserable for her. She knew she'd be the same way if her father was alive and she was on the run - which is why he was dead, anyway. She wasn't strong enough to leave as Hermione had done. She'd condemned him. Hermione was the bravest person Olive had ever met.

"So, why don't you go? You'll feel better," Olive asked. A small smile perched on Hermione's lips.

"I've talked about it, but they don't think it's such a good idea," she replied, nudging her head toward the tent.

"Rubbish. Just go. They don't have to know if you leave," Olive said, the smile broadening on her face bruised face.

"It's just the three of us. They'll notice if I'm gone."

"No, they won't."

Hermione began to protest, but Olive was too busy concentrating on the girl's face. She started with her nose, crafting her own into a smaller, sharper shape. Then, her eyes - she could feel her skin tightening as they became smaller, flooding with the muddy color. Hermione watched in awe as the girl in front of her transformed to her twin.

"Just go get a quick peek. I'll stay out here and act like I'm reading or something."

Hermione sat, dumbfounded.

"I-I. This isn't right. Why?"

Olive didn't know.

She was just suddenly consumed with making sure Hermione saw her parents. She just...had to.

"I can't imagine what it feels like, Hermione. To not know if they were alright or not. Just do it. Please. I'm in your debt."

Hermione was quiet for a moment, but Olive knew she was seriously considering.

"Go on. Quickly. Trade me clothes. Just go take a peek and be back in ten minutes. They'll never notice."

Still, she hesitated.

"I promise you. This is not a trick. You can take the wand with you if you want. I'll be useless against two grown boys who are armed with wands without one myself."

Hermione looked over her shoulder toward the tent before reaching into a tiny, beaded bag and pulling out a pair of jeans. Olive watched in pure amazement.

"How'd you do that?"

She looked up to Olive before catching on.

"Undetectable Extension Charm."

Olive gave a small laugh. Absolutely brilliant.

"Do you - do you think you can find a spare bag? And do that for me? I need to go back to my house for more things and it would help to have more than one change of clothes. I won't have to stop as often for wash."

Hermione nodded and Olive hastily changed into the jeans, glad to get the loose pajama bottoms off. Hermione turned the other way out of respect for Olive, since she had nothing underneath her borrowed clothes.

"I'm going to tell them I'm seeing you off," Hermione told her, headed toward the tent. While she was gone, Olive felt an even larger pang of sympathy for the girl when she ran a hand through her hair, feeling how frizzy it was.

Hermione returned with a quick step and held out her hand to Olive, who placed Scabior's wand in her grip. "Just a precaution," Hermione said apologetically.

"No, I understand. I'd do the same. Just please make sure I get it back."

She smiled, nodded, and with a crack was gone. Not two seconds later, Olive heard a twig snap behind her. She spun wildly and her heart stopped, seeing two men from her unit struggle with an unconscious body. The men walked right past her and Olive realized there must be protective enchantments around the tent and she was standing right near the barrier. They continued as if they hadn't even noticed her, Scabior slowly slinking behind supervising. His head turned from side-to-side, eyes wild, and Olive stiffened.

"What's that?" Scabior asked, knowing it was her. But, where was she? He eyed each direction, but there was nothing. It was so strong, she had to be right there.

"What?" one of the men asked.

"That - that smell."

Olive stood dead still and held her breath. Scabior didn't understand - she should be right there.

"I don' smell nuffin'," the same man roughly replied, the sound warped from the other side of the barrier.

Olive closed her eyes and blocked them out – trying to remain calm. When she opened her eyes, they weren't there. As if she'd imagined it.

Harry stood behind Olive, thinking it was Hermione.

"Snatchers. See what sort of lot that Olive brings about?"

It was real. They'd stood face-to-face, not a foot between them. Her scent...he'd known it was her.

"He smelled it," she said to herself, biting the inside of her cheek as she remembered Harry thought she was Hermione. She thought quickly on her feet. Just as Harry was about to ask her what they smelled, Olive added, "My perfume."

She didn't want to give herself or Hermione away. But, she knew one thing - Hermione needed to hurry. She had to get out of there now. Or else they all might be captured.