The altitude in the air changed as the Ukrainian Ironbelly flew higher and higher. Until it twirled under, through and over masses of crystallized water. It was like diving, they were completely swallowed by the clouds. With its bleak scales, the dragon was probably barely visible, if at all, from far below. Still, in their escape the Ironbelly had damaged enough roofs and houses to garner the attention of the Muggles; a great part of the Ministry of Magic would have their hands full with Obliviating all the witnesses and victims, not to mention restoring all the material damage that had been done.
At times, the dragon roared its delight, likely celebrating its freedom. It warmed the Muggle-born inside to be a part of this creature's happiness, too be present during its escape. It was free, finally free; likely for the first time in its life. Had she stood on the ground she would have laughed with it, jumped high in the air and scream in triumph, together with the dragon.
Unfortunately, in her current position, she was far too aware of the increase in her fear, even though her fear levels were already sky-high.
After each roar, she felt a shudder of excitement run through the Ukraine Ironbelly's body. And, illogical as fear could be, it made her doubt the dragon's steady body as if it could fall apart right underneath her any moment. Thoughts which made her think of all the possible doom scenarios.
She could feel how its muscles moved with every wing stroke, every little stir or every time it descended or ascended through the air. There were times in which the dragon flapped its wings repeatedly, held its wings at an awkward angle or did not stir its body right and each time these happenings caused a slight hitch in the flight. Much like a toddler that had just learned to walk. And each time several feelings mingled, she felt both affection for this creature and she feared for their lives.
Her natural response was to tighten her grip on Harry.
By now she had a death grip on the poor sod; her arms were wrapped around his torso and her head was buried between his shoulder blades. There were moments in which she tried to settle her head on one of his shoulders or in the nape of his neck for comfort, but then the wind would roughly touch her face and remind her of the heights they were currently conquering and it prompted her to hide her face between Harry's shoulders again.
He was relaxed in her arms and was not bothered by her clinginess at all, in fact, he repeatedly squeezed one of her knees affectionately during the ride.
Still, she did not dare open her eyes once. Despite his gesture of reassurance.
If Hermione was honest with herself, she was disappointed in her (dis)ability to control her greatest childhood fear: heights. But she reasoned that she simply did not have enough energy to control her emotions anymore. Had she not such an intense few hours behind her, of impersonating her worst enemy, battling said witch, losing the first Goblin who had decided to join and help them and then escaping Britain's best-secured bank on a dragon's back, it may have been different. She liked to believe that she would probably have been able to enjoy this amazing opportunity to ride on the shoulders of a dragon and ignore the fact that there were dozens of kilometres between them and the earth.
Unfortunately, this was not the case. She was exhausted. If it was not for the fear that made the adrenaline flow through her veins, Hermione knew she would not even have had the strength left to cling so strongly to Harry.
Through her fear, the Muggle-born tried to focus her mind, on the most basic aspect that came with being alive: breathing. Breathe in, breathe out, in, out. She focussed on the sensations that it caused, just like Harry had instructed her during their Occlumency training. And given some time she calmed ever so slightly. It enabled her to give Harry a bit more leeway for him to breathe and shift his body, her grip on his torso a little less crushing.
Time ticked on. And the Ironbelly did not show any sign of exhaustion or lessening its speed any time soon.
The longer they sat on its back the sourer Hermione's muscles became. Her joints felt rusty, at some point she even imagined they would make creaky sounds whenever she would move her limbs; like she was a machine desperate for some oil in her hinges and sprockets.
Ron, who sat behind Hermione, was the first to breach the silence. He had to yell hard for them to hear what he said, but he managed it, "What are we supposed to do now? I don't think any of us can Apparate, too dangerous."
Harry responded, "I agree. We should look for an opportunity to jump off."
Hermione could not believe her ears, wished she had not heard what he had said, yet after a few seconds knew that she had heard it perfectly well. She did not say a thing, for she knew Harry and Ron were right. It was far too dangerous to Apparate from atop a dragon, for they would take the creature with them, and Apparating mid-air was just as dangerous. So how else were they supposed to stop their hitchhiking, but to jump off from the Ironbelly's back?
She was still pondering about it when Harry's voice cut through her thoughts, "There is a lake ahead."
"Yeah, I see it, let's do this!"
To Hermione's horrified realisation there was actual excitement in Ron's voice.
Her heart skipped several beats as she realized what was about to happen, they were about to jump off a flying dragon. Her grip on Harry tightened again. Could she hang on to him, let him do the jumping so that she could just come along? Hermione was afraid that she would not dare to jump otherwise.
He squeezed one of her hands. And for a moment she was certain that he would gently pry her loose. Yet he did not. Instead, he let go of her hand and wrapped his arms back around her torso, pressing her even tighter against him. Then he yelled at her, "When I say 'now' you have to wrap your legs around my waist." She nodded against his shoulder blade. Seconds later he yelled the demand and she did what she had been told.
How he did it, she did not know, but he did. They jumped and were airborne. It was a relief that she did not have to think, she literally just followed. Though the panic from earlier returned with a doubled force. It was subdued due to Harry being her anchor. She let her legs slip from his waist, whilst her hands kept a hold of his shirt. All this time she had never opened her eyes and she did not plan to open them whilst still in the air. The wind whistled in their ears.
It took longer than she had thought before they finally crashed into the water. Yet, at the same time, it was all too soon that the ice-cold liquid swallowed them whole. At once she opened her eyes wide and let go of Harry to enable them both to swim to the surface.
The underwater world held a spooky vibe to her, ever since the second task of the Triwizard Tournament she had not been able to shake off the feeling of foreboding whilst being in a lake. And the fact that this lake was unnaturally clear only worried her all the more. It was a testimony to the magical creatures that lived in it.
A nervousness settled within her as she grabbed her wand. She was glad to be wearing trousers and no dress, for that would have made swimming all the more difficult. The soreness in her muscles was enough of a struggle.
Meanwhile, she tried to think of spells and charms that could help them in this situation. Would a Confusion Charm do the trick? Probably not, since the creatures likely already knew of their presence the moment they had made contact with the water. But maybe she was being too pessimistic? Maybe these creatures were not as territorial as most mere-creatures were.
Harry was the first to break through the surface and another few seconds later Hermione had her fresh oxygen as well. Her lungs happily sucked them in.
She started to talk even before Ron had joined them, "We should swim - "
A splash was followed by a greedy inhale from Ronald.
" - to the edge immediately, there is somethi-" she was interrupted, for hands had grabbed her by the ankles. She yelped in surprise, the sound caged in bubbles as she was pulled underwater. Whilst she struggled to get free she watched as Harry and Ron were dragged underwater too.
Their assaulters were at first no more than a blur of dark green, with red and blue details here and there. They were fast and had no trouble dodging her arms and legs. As the struggle lengthened the swarm of small creatures grew. They were small and scrawny. Even with their fastness, Hermione saw that they had no scales, but rather a slimy skin. Which was dark, with lighter spots randomly scattered over their body; the perfect camouflage for navigating on the bottom of a lake. The red blur came from their eyes, eyes which flashed dangerously whenever light shone on their faces.
In her fight against the swarm of creatures around her, she had no eyes for Harry and Ron, she lost them out of sight. But fear for losing them gnawed at her, made her movements even more frantic.
Her need for oxygen grew and so did her resistance. She could not see a thing, all around her were those scary eyes, greedy hands and flashes of yellow teeth.
In her struggle to free herself there was not enough time to use her wand. The creatures' hands were everywhere around her, tugged at her hair and clothes, their nails painful on her skin. She did not see it, there was nothing to be seen with so many swarming around her, but she felt the water's pressure strengthen. Hermione was dragged downwards.
The nightmare flashed inside her head. Whenever she opened her mouth... Would she drown after all?
She did not care about the consequences of the spells that were about to fall from her lips, did not care that she could severely hurt herself. There was no alternative.
She. Would. Not. Drown.
A slur of Bombarda's flew from the tip of Bellatrix' wand, all in random directions. Explosions were all around her, all hit a different mark. Some made scratches on the creatures, others blasted a few unconscious and the most fatal hitters ripped a half-dozen mere-creatures apart right before her eyes. A brownish-red coloured the water, intestines drifted around and slowly up to the surface. Yet there was no pause in the attack, in fact, their aggression only grew more heated. Her magic may have worked, but it only worsened her situation.
Then there went a sudden stir through the group of assaulters, they slowed, some halted completely. Hermione did not wait, she hit a few creatures with other spells to create a gap and swam through it as fast as she could. Her sight was already blurred and her lungs painful.
As she swam upwards she noticed the absence of the creatures, they did not follow her. She did not look around to make certain of this, but she was aware of the warming of the water. Was it because she neared the surface?
No, that was not it. It was an external factor. She wanted to understand, but right now oxygen had more priority.
Hermione gulped for air as she broke through the surface, a couch accompanied her greedy inhales. About the same time Harry came up, he was just as eager. Though as they took in the oxygen, their eyes caught sight of who they had thought to have left on its own when they had jumped off.
Clearly, they had been mistaken. For before their very eyes, at the edge of the lake stood the Ukrainian Ironbelly. It had turned back around to drink some water, or maybe to wade around in it and clean itself. For it stood in the lake at one of the banks and splashed around in it, warming it by breathing fire at the water. Steam clouded the air around it, twirled and cloaked the dragon in warmth.
The Muggle-born realised that this was what had caused the mere-creatures to turn tail. She had no doubt that they had disappeared by this point, far into the darkness of the bottom of the lake where the temperature was coolest.
Hermione's eyes were glued to the dragon until Harry whispered urgently, "Fuck, where is Ron?!" He ducked back into the water at once, Hermione hot on his heels.
At first, neither one spotted him, until their eyes caught the red hair that waved at them in the flow of the water. Ron was bound in something that looked like seaweed. His eyes were wide open and so was his mouth...
Horrified shock made Hermione immobile, then she mentally kicked herself into action. Ron needed to be brought upwards at once.
During her shock Harry had already crossed half of the distance, Hermione shot a spell right past him and it hit the mark perfectly: the seaweed. It unwrapped itself from Ron, who did not move. In haste born of fear, Hermione started to swim to the water's surface above Ron, where Harry would drag their unconscious friend to.
Once there she looked around for a good spot at the side of the lake, memorized it before she took one last breath and plummeted underneath the surface once more. And swam downwards to meet Harry. The moment Harry and Ron were close enough she grabbed them and Apparated.
The trio landed on the ground. Two of the three breathed in with vigour, the absence of movement from the third brought an icy dread inside the other two. Harry still gulped for air, whilst Hermione started to murmur an incantation hastily, one that would free Ron's trachea from the water and mud.
The unconscious boy laid on his back. A soft blue glow came from her hands which hovered above Ron's chest and throat. Then - to her obvious relief - his form started to stir. At once she moved Ron so that he laid on his side and he began to cough out the water in his body, inhaling air whenever he was able to. Harry took over from there enabling her to let her shoulders slump, she sat down in a daze.
She closed her eyes, breathed in deeply and did not let it go for a while. Slowly needle pricks covered most of her body, her skin throbbed in a few places. Probably scratches and small cuts from those tiny claws. But she could not care less at the moment. Hermione covered her face with her hands and let go of the air in her lungs, she was so tired.
There had happened too much in so little time. Hermione knew that her body and mind would go into a shock. Her rationality present, even in times like these. She had to make sure a campfire was burning before that happened, they needed a warmth source and a place to rest. Even if sleep was unlikely to come.
From between her fingers, her eyes sought out the Ukraine Ironbelly. Unconsciously she let her hands fall in her lap and just watched the magical creature in tired amazement.
The dragon was still in the water, the steam still twirled in thick swirls around it; it clearly enjoyed the temperature of the water now. A crooked smile appeared on her lips, of which she was completely unaware. The Muggle-born watched the Ironbelly clean itself, much like a bird in a birdbath. At times, when the dragon shook its wings, water droplets even reached all the way where the trio rested.
In its own, mutilated way the Ukrainian Ironbelly was a sight to behold. It had such bleak scales, even more so now that dirt was being washed away with the water. The dragon's scales being of such a white quality that one would almost think it belonged in the tundra.
The Muggle-born heaved a heavy sigh and let her eyes turn back to Harry and Ron, the latter was supported by the other as he threw up what seemed to be all the liquid in his body. Hermione got to her feet and went through the usual wards they had always put up whenever they had settled down somewhere. It did not take her long to place them, she had done it too often. Though the wards seemed to ask too much energy from her now that the adrenaline in her body was fading, it made her head throb. Which was why she set the tent up manually, it was a small one, so it did not take her that much time and effort.
An hour and a half later she laid on a blanket outside the tent. She laid on her side and with her head on her arm while she stared at the fire. Flames danced high in the air whenever Harry poked it with a long stick, who sat with her on the blanket, his back leaned against her stomach. It created a companionable comfort without the need to speak or look at each other. The silence was a blessing for them at the moment. Not having to do or say anything, they just breathed, whilst their thoughts were all over the place.
What they had experienced could not be shrugged off easily and there was still so much to do as well. It was the first time that Harry realised that if they were to survive this God damned war, they should all go through excessive mental treatment, to prevent any form of PTSD to settle in them, if it had not already. Somewhere inside him, a skeptic voice told him they were far too late for that.
Ron was the only one inside the tent, he was fast asleep and snoring. The sound was another comfort to Harry and Hermione. For he was alive. Though he had collapsed the moment his body had retched all the water out of his lungs and stomach. Harry had healed each of his superficial injuries and changed his clothes to dry ones, which Hermione had brought in her shoulder bag.
The hearty leftovers of their meal stood in the pot Hermione had used to cook, besides the fire, for when Ron would awaken. Harry and Hermione had barely eaten anything, so Ron would have more than enough.
From the position of the tent, they could not see the lake. Trees and bushes obscured the sight. Though they had been aware of the dragon's departure. The start of its flight being not too discreet, once again. It clearly had a lot to learn. The absence of the dragon hung heavy in the air, literally; for birds were still too scared to fill the seemingly lifeless nature with their songs.
Hermione wanted desperately to inform Charlie of the Ironbelly's existence but had no idea how. For all she knew, he was still all the way in Romania. And even though she had to thank the dragon for her life, she could not risk contacting Charlie with a letter sent by a bird.
As they sat around the fire the duo decided that they would leave in a few hours, when twilight was upon them. For infiltrating Hogwarts in clear daylight would be a death sentence, even with magic and the Cloak of Invisibility at their disposal. Until then Ron would be left to sleep, he could use all the rest he could get. That way at least one of them would have a clear mind.
The Cup of Hufflepuff stood near the fire, neither Harry nor Hermione wanted it near them, but they could not let it go out of their sight either. It would not melt anyway, only Fiendfyre would be a danger to it.
Harry rubbed his forehead and muttered under his breath, Hermione watched it with growing worry. Every so often Harry stirred or his expression soured, almost as if he was being consistently poked in his middle. The problem was, he was not poked. Which left only one logical conclusion. The Muggle-born knew that visions must cloud his mind whenever he showed his discomfort. She wanted to ask about it, to hear about what he saw but knew that she should wait. Most often, if not always, Harry told Ron and her about these things on his own accord. And she knew from all their years together that Harry felt more at ease when he could tell about things in his own time.
So instead of asking anything, she focussed her eyes on the fire, whilst she let her hand rest between his shoulder blades. To remind him that he was not alone in this fight.
The crackle of the fire and the rustle of leaves in the wind were for a long time the only sounds that fought their silence.
Meanwhile, the fire danced before them and warmed its surroundings. Sometimes it almost looked as if the fire reached out towards the Cup. To touch it, make it melt. The flames grasped and licked at the gleaming metal, but the second it came in contact with the Cup the flames shied away. And Hufflepuff's Cup just stood in its place. Immobile and yet intimidating. Voldemort's aura forever present in the Horcrux.
Harry inhaled deeply, held his breath and then let his shoulders sag as he finally voiced his inner daemons aloud, "I see flashes of His rage, his reaction to the news. Bellatrix is punished, yet ordered to see to the damage that we have caused in Gringotts. He himself is currently on His way to look at the other Horcruxes. Though despite all the proof that we know about His source of immortality, He is still sceptic about the situation. Lucky for us, I suppose. But my guess is that it won't be long anymore. The moment it is dark enough we have to go, we need to end this war before it escalates any further."
"I am with you," she gently encircled Harry's neck with the hand that had laid on his back and softly squeezed it. She caressed the skin with her fingers afterwards.
"Thanks," he leaned into her touch. And they were silent once more. It was always difficult to talk about this for Harry. Though they did not have a choice in the matter, he could not win the war without help.
"Your act was great, Hermione," Harry muttered all of a sudden, whilst he poked the fire and made sparks fly high, "You were the spitting image of Bellatrix, you acted just like her. It was a scary thing to see."
"Thank you, I guess..." She was not wholly comfortable with where this conversation was headed but knew it was inevitable.
"Ever considered a career as an actress?" Harry tried to lighten the mood, but he could not put much humour in his words.
"Please, spare me," she snorted.
Her reaction made Harry smile despite himself. Hermione had a suspicion as to what he really wanted to hear, why Harry had brought this up. And with a sigh, she answered his unspoken question, "I don't know how I did it, Harry. I just did what I believed would have been Lestrange's reactions to all the happenings. Nothing more. I have never met her, nor interacted with her other than the time we fought her in the Department of Mysteries and in Malfoy Manor. Everything else I know about her originates from the newspapers or from... Sirius' stories."
He flinched at his godfather's name, to talk about both Sirius and Bellatrix at the same time likely remembered him of how he had lost what had been the closest bond to that of a father and son.
Hermione felt guilty for bringing him up, but had believed honesty on this sensitive subject more important than a vague answer. Maybe she had been wrong. Yet... She did not want Harry to think her to know Bellatrix Lestrange well, not for a single moment. She did not want anything to do with the woman, not even in someone's else mind.
Still... Her act of the Death Eater had been spot-on. And she knew it. She had seen the fear in everyone's eyes. Had even fooled a true Death Eater, lovesick as he was.
It is not that peculiar for me to know how to imitate her, Hermione reasoned with herself. Being haunted by the woman in your nightmares does that to a mind. At least, to my mind.
And, heck, maybe the Muggle-born had been observing Lestrange all along. During the to and fro insults between students and Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries, and during her own torture session. Hermione's desire to understand anyone and everything was always present, it was who she was, one of her most basic desires. It was not something she could suppress, though she knew that she would not even if she could. And this desire for understanding was not any different regarding the kind of minds people tended to describe as 'deranged, crazy and sick'.
Harry nodded, grateful that he had not needed to ask the question aloud. It would have come across like he did not trust her, and even now he felt a pang of shame for even thinking about it.
He wondered if this was the right time to ask about her experience in Malfoy Manor, they had not talked about it yet. Till now Hermione had always sent him a certain glance that silenced the question on his lips. And he respected that; he knew all too well how horrid it could be to relay a most unpleasant experience. Yet he also knew, from having been told by no other than Hermione herself, that keeping things caged up inside could end badly for one's psyche.
He looked sideways at his living backrest, she had closed her eyes but he knew from her frequent in- and exhales that she had not drifted off. How long would she let him wait, how long would she keep the experience to herself? For days, weeks or months? He would wait for as long as she needed him to. But he also knew from experience that sometimes one needed a little push. And he was not sure what would be best in this situation. It was not often that Hermione was this reluctant to share something with him.
Harry cleared his throat and turned his head to face her fully, the sound prompted Hermione to open her eyes. Her brown eyes looked questioningly at him until they darkened in understanding, then she averted her eyes, to observe the ground between them and the campfire. The words he had wanted to speak were changed in the seconds it took him to voice them, "Whatever Bellatrix has done to you, it may have gotten to you, scarred you physically and mentally, but you will always be Hermione to me. And you... I..." He fumbled for words, did not know what was the correct thing to say, though he doubted that there was any, "just don't shut me out, please." He paused, inhaled and repeated his plea, "Please, Hermione, don't distance yourself from me... You tend to do that lately..."
His last words were not an accusation, he merely wanted her to realize how her behaviour had its effect.
She blinked rapidly but did not look away from the ground. She stayed quiet. He was about to say her name when she gave her non-verbal response, she nodded. Followed by another soft squeeze of his neck. And that was enough for Harry, he settled back against her. The tension in his body lessened. He did not need her to spill her beans, did not mean to push her over the edge; he just needed the reassurance that she would not cut herself off from him. He needed her.
Time passed, in which Harry and Hermione shifted only when their limbs grew heavy with bad blood circulation. When the sky was finally beginning to darken Harry stood up and stated that he would wake Ron up, they had to leave soon. His vacated spot was filled with cold air and made Hermione shiver and pull her knees to her chest.
The Muggle-born listened to the murmurs from inside the tent with an absent mind. Harry asked how Ron felt and got the usual joke in response. As Ron started to sit up, movement accompanied by the creaks of the springs of the mattress, Hermione called out from her place on the blanket, "Harry, there is Pepper-Up Potion in my bag."
She wondered how many more times Fleur's foresight would help them. With all the salves and potions they had already used, the conserved food and the tent. She must be a saint, Hermione concluded in all her seriousness.
Then her mind wandered to where it had wandered ever since she had lied down: Gringotts, Griphook, Bellatrix Lestrange and the Ukraine Ironbelly. Strangely enough, Hermione could not be bothered to think of everything that could go wrong in the near future, by now she had enough experience to know that no amount of planning could ever prepare them for what Voldemort and his followers had in store for them. And she and Harry had already decided what they could do best next anyway.
They just had to wait for the darkening of the sky and for Ron to have eaten his meal.
Harry and Ron sat down not much later, it prompted Hermione to sit up as well. She looked at Ron as he wolfed down the stew that she had warmed up for him. He looked exhausted, if not for the Pepper-Up his cheeks would likely have been colourless. His red hair was a mess, yet not as messy as Harry's. And even though his clothes were dry, one could see that Ron had nearly drowned. Or maybe it is all in my head, Hermione thought. She began to doubt the sanity of her own mind for the umpteenth time.
Meanwhile, Harry explained what little they had planned to do next. Nodding was all which Ron did, he only commented twice. He did not seem to be bothered by the simplicity of the plan at all. Something that made Hermione wonder if all three of them had stopped caring during their ride on the dragon.
"How are you feeling," Hermione asked once Ron was done with his meal, "think you can manage?
"We have to go either way," Harry commented, his eyes showed his struggles with the prospect. He did not like it, he would have preferred for the three of them to have time to recover fully and have some (more) sleep. Alas, this was not the case.
"I guess I feel as horrid as you look," Ron answered with a good-humoured smile and a shrug.
"Ever the charmer, aren't you?" She rolled her eyes.
"You know me, I always got a good word for everyone."
There was an easy banter between them, but soon Hermione let Harry and Ron do the talking, her thoughts wandered instead, to her parents, Viktor and Crookshanks. At times like these, just the three of them sitting around the campfire with nothing substantial as a conversation subject, rare moments when the war was so painfully obvious, her mind always wandered towards them. She could not help it. She missed them and was always worried.
When twilight had finally fallen upon them, the trio demolished their campsite and gathered all their stuff. Fleur had packed two Pepper-Up Potions in total, so the last bottle was shared between the three of them; they all could use the extra energy.
Hermione fought a yawn as Harry threw the Invisibility Cloak over them, she was tired to her core, despite the potion. Though she knew that the moment they would arrive at their destination, adrenaline and mortal fear would kick her mind awake instantly.
She steeled herself as she grabbed them both, one hand of Harry and Ron tightly in one of her own, and Apparated them away, again.
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