An Emphatic No
The floor beneath Hermione's feet quivered. Dust and mortar fell from a newly formed crevice directly above her. From her vantage point at the fourth floor window, Hermione watched the agitated mass of Death Eaters swarm forward. She had barely cleared the sixth level and would have no chance to search the Astronomy Tower, as she had planned. She would never have the time. Grinding the palms of her hand into her temples, she frantically searched for the solution. Of course! The Marauder's Map! Now why hadn't she thought of that first?
She drew the parchment from her pocket and pointed her shaking wand at it.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," she intoned, amazed that her voice was steady even when her hand was not.
A blot of ink spread from her wand tip, stretching its skinny spires into antique writing:
Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers
are proud to present
A Helping hand
Well, that's never happened before. But then, the Map had held surprises before, like when it had insulted Professor Snape. Pushing those thoughts aside with a wry smile, she opened the folds of the map. The dots, normally black and idly shuffling about the parchment were now color-coded. A legend at the bottom of the page told her that red dots were in mortal danger, blue dots were, at present, safe, and black dots were intruders. Shaking softly, she identified her own dot as red. Shaking her head, she traced a route to the only red dots on the floors she was patrolling.
After giving terse instructions to the wayward students, she started towards the red dots of Harry and Ron. Her steps echoed as she rushed down the spiral staircase. With each round she risked a pause to glance out of the windows that lined the East portion of the stair tower. The Death Eaters were advancing quickly. Every few feet they ran into additional, last-minute wards, but all were discarded just as quickly as they were cast. Silently, Hermione wished that whoever was casting the wards would stop. They were simply expending energy that needed to be conserved. Almost on cue, the wards stopped.
She reached the entry-way seconds later. Amassed there stood the whole of the Order of the Pheonix and, surprisingly, Neville and Luna too. Giving them a puzzled nod, she took her place. Ron, standing to her left, put a comforting arm on her forearm.
"I activated the coins from Dumbledore's Army. Thought it couldn't hurt. They're the only ones that answered," he whispered only loud enough for her and Harry to hear.
They must have been checking the coins periodically, Hermione thought almost sadly. She turned slightly and caught Neville's eye. He smiled hesitantly and she winked in return.
"Miss Granger, How many are there?" McGonagall's voice cut Hermione off.
It took her a second to wonder how she should know. Taking the map out she began counting the black dots. The swarming masses kept overlapping each other, making it impossible to count. A list appeared to the right of the map, the title reading simply: Baddies.
As she counted, her eyes skimmed over the names: Alecto, Amycus…Goyle, Greyback – gulp- …Malfoy, Malfoy – damn- Nott, Mulciber.
"23 total," she said, still skimming the map. "Wait, that can't be right. Not all the dots are on the list. See," – she motioned to the map- "here's the dot of Snape, only he's not in the column."
Hermione caught the odd look that crossed the headmaster's face. "Strange" was all she said, her eyes returning to the mass of attackers now only half a Quidditch pitch away.
Harry stood flanked by Hermione and Ron. Distantly, a phoenix sang a mourning, hopeful tune.
The battle raged.
Somewhere to the South, Harry dueled with Voldemort. She could do nothing to help him. The same golden cage that blocked the Death Eaters from going to their master's aid had stopped her from going to Harry's. But Ron, Ron she could help. If only she could find him. Most of the fighting had drifted towards the Dark Forest, though Neville had single-handedly taken down Nott and Amycus by collapsing the Quidditch stands on top of them. When Hermione had hugged him in glee, he muttered something about Batman and minding one's surroundings. She had grinned at him stupidly before running towards another skirmish.
And now she found herself fighting her way through the thick underbrush of the forest and warily avoiding all manners of Dark monsters – creatures and man alike. She didn't want to pick a fight, she wanted to protect. She stumbled on a tree branch. Cursing her clumsiness, Hermione glanced around her, trying to discern if anyone had been alerted to her presence. There! A flash of red between the trees. The fog made it impossible to tell which of the Weasleys stood before her, but it didn't matter. She would risk her life to protect any of them. Hermione ran towards the flash, entirely heedless of the shadow watching her.
"Ron!" she shouted, identifying her friend. His head turned toward her; his face was ashen. A cut above his eye ran red with blood.
"Run, Herm-"
Another flash of green. A streak of red…falling.
"No." Whispered. Belated. Pointless.
Her wand dropped, clattered to the floor, bounced on the cushion of fallen leaves.
No.
A black-clad figure stood over his body and raised its wand toward her. She didn't budge; her eyes were riveted on the red-haired corpse. "Don't you want to live?" the figure drawled, not caring for her answer.
No.
"Avada Ked-" A second figure, clad in black swept past her, towards the first. Second was quicker than First. As First fell, swirling black cloaks blocked Hermione's view and she snapped out of her effigy. The reality suddenly hit her. Ron was dead.
No.
She had stood, unarmed, waiting for death by Death Eater. And she had been saved by a Death Eater.
No.
The Black-clad Demon turned toward her. Moonlight found a hole in the upper story of the forest, casting an eerie glint onto the white mask that stood opposite her. He strode toward her. Hermione trembled. Tears she had been unaware of slid into her mouth, tasting salty. It was too late though; her wand was too far away. He pushed her bodily against a tree, the bark biting through the thin wool of her cloak. What is he going to do to me? Hermione's mind was racing. Belatedly, it registered that perhaps he wouldn't just kill her. Half-formed plans of sinister man-handling, rape, and torture tore through her mind, making her body quake and her teeth chatter.
No.
"What are you quaking for, you insipid – oh" – his hand went up. He would surely strike her, but
no
he removed his mask. "I will not harm you, Miss Granger," the voice of her Potion's Master was cold and cordial. "Now, for your safety, follow me."
"No."
She wouldn't- couldn't- leave Ron. She had seen bodies, mutilated beyond recognition. The thought of Ron's body being similarly abused was almost as painful as the thought that he would never again smile, or tease her about her boggart, or a million other things. "That wasn't a request, Miss Granger." He grabbed her hand roughly and turned to lead her from the clearing.
"No."
She stood, rooted to the spot, with more strength than Snape had given her credit for. Her gaze was once more transfixed. "I see," his voice was ice. He directed his wand toward the body. Mobilicorpus, he concentrated. The effort of wandless magic was prudent he deemed. No need to remind her of her loss with petty phraseology.
"Now will you come with me?" It was a statement, not a question. She would come. But Hermione answered anyway:
"Yes."
