Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or The Maze Runner, unfortunately. Please refrain from suing me.
Author's Note: If you're still reading this story, you have no idea how grateful I am. It's been a busy couple of months, and I am so, so incredibly sorry for not updating. While this chapter may be short, just know that I have plans to keep writing.
In other news, I've begun a novel! I'm 20,000 words in and it is exhilarating — but also very draining. I hope you'll consider reading it if I'm able to publish it.
In this chapter, I began to stray a bit further from canon; changing interactions and shifting characters.
Please enjoy the story!
Thomas pulled the door open, his eyes darting about nervously.
She grabbed his arm as he neared. "What did you bargain?"
"Everything should work out," he said simply, pulling free from her grasp. "You just have to trust me. Please."
Hermione shrugged, pushing down a wave of fear. "It's not as if I've any other options."
She slipped back into their ever-shrinking cluster of travelers, ducking her head away from the Cranks.
Jorge brushed his hands together, a slow smile spreading across his face. Whatever Thomas had promised him, it was clearly valuable. "You kicked me," he smirked, turning toward Minho. "And you have no remorse. But you will, soon."
"Doubt it," Minho simpered, folding his arms across his chest. "I stand by my actions."
Drop it, Hermione wanted to scream at him, her hands balling into fists.
Jorge's hands drifted to the knives strapped to his belt. He chuckled, running a fingertip across a dirtied blade. "A shame," he smiled. "I'd have been merciful."
Minho tilted his chin toward the ceiling. "Would you?"
The Cranks hissed at him, baring their teeth and yelling.
"You'll pay!" a balding man cried, wiping a slick of sweat from his forehead. "We'll all see to it."
Jorge held up a hand. "I've got this one, mis amigos. I want to make him beg."
Minho staggered to his feet. "You won't get so much as a word from me."
He laughed, the hollow sound echoing throughout the room. "Brenda, grab them. It's chop time."
A young, pretty girl stepped from the mass of Cranks. Her clothes were dust-stained but intact, and her weapon —a small knife— had been wrapped in leather and looped through her belt.
"You got it," she said, snapping her fingers. "Move," Brenda added, giving Newt a shove as the others began to file after Jorge.
Hermione pursed her lips and glared at Thomas.
He didn't make eye contact with her, keeping his line of sight set straight in front of him.
They pushed into a large wooden building, its sides etched with the remains of peeling white paint.
"Sit," Jorge commanded, pointing to the floor.
Hermione folded her legs, gently lowering herself to the ground.
Brenda disappeared behind a corner, Jorge following after her.
When they returned, their arms were full of cans.
"Finally, some shuckin' food," Minho breathed.