Warning: It was negligence on my part to have forgotten to give you proper warnings about violence, languages, mature contents, including non-consensual sexual behaviors, both implied and explicit, particularly strong in this chapter. My deepest apologies!
Danger in the woods
His calls were carried by the winds which were whipping relentlessly on her face, but she kept running, her vision terribly blurred, her lungs crying out for oxygen, her mind utterly haunted with the forlorn look in his eyes. It bewildered her how he could still crush her heart, after all those years of acceptance and appreciation for what had materialized in his love life, with one single look, a look that crumbled any remnant denial in her heart, yet placed a huge barrier between them at the same time. Her rational mind had trembled furiously at the depth of his gaze, breaking all her resolve to continue her charade of a tough, sensible and upright girl she had always tried to appear in front of him.
She ran headlong through the border of their disillusionment charm, as far as her feet could carry her, and didn't stop until she tripped over a fallen tree, consumed with muscle fatigue and mental exhaustion. She curled into a fetal position and bawled in the heart of the dense woods, getting consolation from none other than lamentations of blustery winds and occasional hoots of a hungry owl on that moonless night. Reminiscences of what had transpired in the tent flooded through her sentience as a wave of self-loathing rose up to swallow her whole at the memory of inflicting both physical and emotional pain on him. She scraped mercilessly at her left chest, wanting to pull her heart out of her rib cage to stop the torment that radiated from there to wrack her entire being.
Several hours or merely a few minutes had elapsed, she didn't know, but when she began to recollect herself and looked around, she was greeted with ominous darkness, undergrowth looming like shadows of unknown stalkers, giving her an involuntary shudder. She shook her head to clear her mind. It dawned on her that they were in the middle of a war, going on a crucial Horcrux hunt, and thus supposed to stick together, staying vigilant at all times, yet here she was sulking due to some selfish needs of her heart.
Her eyes sore and puffy, she sniffed hard and chuckled humorlessly, feeling childish like a little girl crying over her lost teddy bear. The Hermione Granger, who had pledged her life to keeping one certain raven-haired wizard on his toes and taking care of him, came back to her all at once, suffusing her with energy and motivation.
Concern pooling in her stomach, she instinctively searched her pockets for her wand as the image of his injured hand crashed into her mind. She could find no relief when she remembered leaving her wand in the tent. Feeling an imperative need to see his face and fix his havoc, she inhaled deeply before pushing herself up, yet a jolt of pain shot through her ankle made her fall heavily back to the ground. She ignored the burning sensation up her leg, biting her lips to hold back a moan and preparing for the second attempt, suddenly caught off-guard when she was pulled up to her feet this time, her arm locked behind her back, the cold tip of someone's wand pressed to the nape of her neck.
"Over here! Got one," yelled a disembodied voice right behind her, presumably to one or more companions, before it hardened in a quieter, threatening tone, "who are you?"
"Penelope Clearwater. Half-blood." She lied, trying to keep her voice firm, hoping against hope that these Snatchers would not recognize her in this darkness.
"Hold on! I know this smell!" The familiar intense glow dazzled her eyes before she came face to face with the werewolf Fenrir Greyback, whose crystal blue eyeballs scrutinized her face, making her blood run cold. The beast thrust his snout in the crook of her neck, snuffing deeply several times, the feel of his whiskers on her skin sending chills down her spine. Greyback continued to inspect her face. She looked back dispassionately, though she was jogging her mind furiously for some means of escape, her stomach on fire, painfully aware of her disadvantages.
The werewolf suddenly leaned in, his hideous face breaking into an evil grin, baring his yellow, pointed teeth that made her automatically back off, as the same wand was wedged in her throat.
"Why, isn't this Potter's Mudblood? We have the luck of the devil tonight, Scabior."
Her stomach instantly dropped. She started to feel very irritated, unable to scrape up any plan while troubles were imminent.
"Does that mean Potter is nearby? Should we take her to the Dark Lord?" asked the gruff voice of Scabior, its gleeful undertone unmistakable.
"No hurry! You go scour the area thoroughly for Potter," ordered Greyback as the werewolf coiled a strand of her hair in his long-nailed finger, running his tongue over his maw, "while I can do with a bit of entertainment here."
The subordinate snatcher released her abruptly, leaving her collapsing to the ground under her protesting ankle, and apparated away with a small pop. Anxiety clutching at her heart, she was sharply reminded that he was in too distressed a state to be on the alert. Greyback was hovering directly over her face, and she was consumed with a torrent of outrage at the beastly creature for keeping her tardy, while Harry might be in danger, her eyes flashing brightly with resistance. Invisible voices screaming at her to think fast and get away to make sure Harry was safe, she surreptitiously dug some earth with one hand, the other grasping a stray twig, as the werewolf indulged himself in smelling her neck and her hair.
"Tsk, tsk. What a waste…" The brute licked at her right cheek, forcing her to close her eyes in disgust."Delicious smell, sweet skin, mouthwatering but a mere Mudblood." Greyback tilted his head to look at her, red flushing his horrendous glazed eyes. "In pain? Don't worry, baby! I am freeing you from all agonies of the world."
The werewolf seized a fistful of her curls, and raised his arm to strike, fingernails lengthening like sharp claws. Her thudding heartbeats were the last thing she could hear before she threw the grime in her hand at Greyback's face, pierced the blunt twig into his shaggy chest with all her might, and jumped to her feet, limping away as fast as possible, swallowing down the throbbing pain in her sprained ankle.
An enraged howl from the werewolf rang in her ears, followed by his thunderous incantation of the cruciatus curse. She fell prostrate on the spot, writhing on the ground in unbearable pain. There was no blood, but it felt like thousands of knives were cutting every part of her body simultaneously, and someone were lashing brutally at those gaping wounds, doubling the pain. Tears automatically overflowed her eye sockets, spilling onto her cheeks, down her neck, her throat parched with too much screaming, yet she couldn't stop the ear-splitting screams bursting from her subconscious.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she recalled that Harry had to suffer the similar curse back in 4th year, and the pain increased by tenfold. Excruciating physical pain intertwined with utmost heartache, climaxed by a swell of yearning for him gave her a sickening sense of contentment for being allowed a taste of what he had to go through, helping her to embrace his anguish more truthfully.
Soon, her mind was totally shut down, all sensory neurons in her brain freezing with an insurmountable deluge of pain signals, only tears and screams mechanically working in tandem, preventing her from passing out to stop feeling the pain. As sudden as it came, the white-hot pain was lifted altogether, rendering her conscious of rivulets of blood trickling from her nose to her mouth, a dull ache in her head, the gloomy arch spiked with leafless branches spinning in front of her eyes. She thought she could finally faint, but a burly body, out of the blue, was oppressing her, as Greyback's face swam into her vision.
"You. Filthy. Mudblood. Slut." snarled the beast, each word punctuated with a tight slap in her face, his claws making various scratches on her cheeks and chin.
She heard her clothes being torn harshly, biting night chills seeping through her skin. She reflexively hugged her arms to her naked chest, but the savage werewolf pinned them down to the ground, sharp boulders buried into her skin painfully. Greyback tried to pry her bare legs open, and she resisted so hard that her lips was bleeding. Mortification stung every inch of her skin as all rays of hope deserted her soul. Jumbled images of his lopsided grin and his haunting eyes flashed through her mind. She found herself muttering his name repeatedly in delirium.
"The Dark Lord will destroy your precious Potter, but you won't live to see the day. Now, shut your filthy mouth and obey me!" Greyback's voice was dinned into her ears.
With a sharp pain in her pelvis, her legs were forced spread wide, blood dribbling from long gashes in her thighs. She would have preferred a quick, painless death with a lethal bite at her throat to this torture and the worst of disgrace. At that hopeless point, she could wish for nothing except obliteration of this shameful memory in her afterlife, her heart filled with regret about her last moment with Harry ending up the stormiest throughout their steadfast friendship.
However, before anything she had fully expected could happen, the werewolf stood up, his wand brandished in fighting stance, seemingly forgetting his delectable prey lying on the ground, as she heard someone yelling curses from afar. She had some unaccountable belief that the interloper was well-intentioned, so she mustered all her remaining physical strength to silently drag herself closer to Greyback towering over her, snatching the hem of his robe from behind while a bolt of red light was aimed directly at his chest, hurling the beast to the forest floor with a dull thud.
She gratefully slumped back to the ground, her battered body totally spent. She could hear more curses in the same voice, and her heart stopped at the recognition. Within seconds, she could feel his warm tears falling down onto her bare chest.
"No, no, no! Hermione?" He swiftly wrapped a thick quilt around her, stroking her hair lightly, his voice dripped with panic, "Hermione? Can you hear me?"
She wanted to nod and respond to him, but she was too tired to even open her eyelids, darkness still swamping her vision. He held her in his lap and rocked her lightly, fingers softly grazing her face as more salty tears fell on small gashes in her cheeks, making them sting slightly.
"Hermione? Hermione?" He shook her shoulder lightly, his voice wholly cracking, "please, don't leave me, love!"
Inside her chest, her heartbeats turned irregular at his fervent plea. She inwardly shook her head sympathetically at his daftness, her consciousness making one last push through the surface. Brown orbs were locked in emerald; though rendered obsidian in the dark, both could discern slivers of uniqueness in each other right away, the latter ablaze in an explosion of relief and gratitude.
"Hermione! You're alive!" he squeezed her in his chest, pressing desperate kisses on the top of her head before gazing fondly at her, his hand trembling over her face. He repeated as if to reassure himself rather than talking to her, "Hermione! Thanks Merlin, you're alright! You're alright!"
She shook her head imperceptibly, her vision swimming at the effort.
"How am I supposed to drill it in your head?" she said weakly, yet still managed to lace a chiding undertone, "Didn't I tell you? I won't ever leave you, Harry."
She could read marvel glistening in his tearful eyes, her hand finding his and clasping it as tight as she could, wordlessly promising him her loyalty. He guided their joined hands to his right cheek and leaned into her small palm. She gently wiped a lone tear at the corner of his eye, letting it trail down her thumb, the ghost of a smile touching her lips.
"Harry," she rasped, her chest heaving rapidly as sudden apprehension streamed through her mind. Her other hand lifted up to search his face of its own volition, instantly producing a sharp pain in her breastbone. She gave an involuntary groan before wondering out loud, "Greyback? Scabior? You're not hurt, are you?"
"Hush…don't push yourself too hard! I am perfectly fine," he murmured softly, tucking a stray lock behind her ears. "I followed Scabior to track you down," he paused before carrying on, his voice thrice hardened, his hold tightening around her waist, "Greyback. I erased all his memory, the bastard will wake up suffering severe amnesia, and can never touch you again, ever!"
She heaved a small sigh of relief, allowing considerable ease to wash over her. He was rubbing her arm up and down through the thick quilt, infusing warmth in her heart. Mesmerized by his soft eyes, she momentarily wished his charming affectionate gaze were only for her as she heard him coax, "c'mon, Hermione! I cast a patronus, the order should get here soon. You are freezing now. Let's get back to our tent, okay?"
She nodded dutifully, her eyes transfixed to his endearing face. He sent her a radiant smile, kissed her forehead lightly and picked her up off the ground, moving away from the ill-fated fallen tree. Her lips unconsciously pouted as she secretly hoped for something else.
Before she could stop herself, she said petulantly, "I missed you."
He looked at her, and she was instantly gratified with the same tenderness and affection in his eyes, in which she longed to revel for the rest of her life.
"It was the longest, most devastating and agonizing eternity for me. I thought…I thought I really…" he said hoarsely, a flicker of horror in his eyes as words failed him.
She frowned at him, pursed her lips and grabbed his shirt collar, daring him to finish that train of thought.
"Alright, I missed you too, Hermione, if that's what you want to hear," he chucked softly and fell silent, his eyes lingering on her briefly before shifting straight ahead. He added quietly, yet she could still feel his voice quivering in a strong gust of wind, "just…don't scare me like that again!"
"Harry, did I f-fail you?" she asked timidly, innocent fear swirling in her eyes
"No!" he objected too fast for her liking, "not at all!" Perhaps he was attuned to her insecurity for he felt it necessary to look deeply in her eyes, conveying ardent passion in his luminous eyes, instantly shattering all her doubts. His whisper made her heart flutter, "you were incredibly brave, great and amazing! You are bloody effin' brilliant, Hermione!"
He flashed her a hint of his trademark grin, and she was too distracted to notice his obscene language. She could only nuzzle her head deeper in his chest to hide her blush, hearing a soft laugh humming beneath his rib cage.
The night was getting colder. He hugged her closer and whispered soothing words into her ears, every time she was caught with spasmodic coughs; scattered wounds felt like complaining again, yet she took no heed of them, entirely engrossed in cherishing the solid feel of his chest and the rapturous beats of his heart. She earnestly had little clue how being a fragile, weak girl could reap such a heavenly blissful feeling, her heart soaring up the moon as she was being nestled snugly in his protective arms. In that particularly secure moment, the extraordinary certainty in her heart rendered her extremely prone to some sort of confession.
Indeed, she called him with one clear-cut intention in her mind, "Harry? One last thing."
"Anything, Hermione" was his prompt response as he turned to look at her, solely expecting.
Time froze. She gulped inaudibly, her heart beating in her throat. She truly admired everything about him, especially, his rectitude, which she embraced wholeheartedly as a mirror for her own action. Her nobility gleaned from him over time had given anchorage for her facade, and eroded the once vehement feelings deep inside her heart, allowing her to thrive on camaraderie and fidelity instead.
Her head hurt from excessive rumination, her eyes burning hot and drooping heavy, doziness mounted in her senses. He tightened his arms around her, concern written all over his face, but he didn't put it to words, continuing to watch her anxiously. Before she could lose consciousness again, she threw both arms around his neck, planting a feeble kiss just below his lips, smiling weakly against the stubble on his chin, despite a chorus of pains from every part of her body
"Please forgive me, Harry!" The softest of a whisper fell to her ears, detached from her rational mind, drowned in the sound of gravel crunching beneath his feet.
His firm hold became a near crush around her body. She might have heard he say something under his breath, yet she was not positive since silence suddenly prevailed. Even the howling winds were muted. Her soul felt as light as feather, content that she had betrayed what she wanted to say without crossing any lines. True to her heart or not, she would need all of his forgiveness to keep going. She was blissfully unaware of the surroundings. His scents of fresh-mown grass blended with pinewood were the last thing wafted to her consciousness before everything went black.
She was running blindly in a deep forest, with a provoked werewolf hot on her heels, but stopped dead in her track upon reaching a fork. While contemplating which direction to go, she heard a sinister laugh behind her, catching her by surprise. She unwittingly turned around and was dead horrified to see him struggling beneath the bestial leader snatcher. Unable to believe her eyes, she remembered he hadn't been with her earlier, too stunned to move until a sudden draft gave goose bumps all over her skin. The werewolf looked up to the sky, and she automatically followed his gaze, her stomach sinking low at the sight of a gloomy silver sphere perching on top of a grey fluffy cloud.
Before shock could wane in her system, she was unaccountably stripped off and all three of them were besieged by a circle of Death Eaters. Unaware of figures in black robes approaching her from all directions, she was rooted to the spot as the hulking snatcher was being morphed into the true form of a werewolf, his muscles inflating into four strong limbs, tearing at his death eater robe, his nose protruding into a grotesque muzzle of a savage animal. She tried to race towards the young man sprawling helplessly under the claws of the werewolf, but was held back by two faceless death eaters, forced to watch the beast bury its fangs in his neck several times.
He could barely let out a gasp of surprise before rendered completely motionless, blood spurting from the deep gashes on his neck, seeping into the milky white snow ground. It was snowing heavily, vibrant red snowflakes alighting on barren tree branches, appearing as if red flowers were to grow without buds. She couldn't recall when it started snowing, yet it was of no significance. Everything had vanished, including the full moon, the werewolf, and death eaters, except his lifeless body indenting on the vermilion snow.
She flung herself at him, tumbling a few times before being able to finally reach him. She cradled his head to her bosom, her body wracked with sobs. "No! No! No! It's all my fault! My fault! I'm a selfish coward. I haven't even told you yet. I'm not allowing you to go, Harry! You can't… " She laid him back to the ground, caressing his pale face, and kissing him full on the mouth. "I love you," she wailed, setting her head against his chest, "I love you. Come back to me, sweetheart! I love you."
"Hermione!" Someone was shaking at her shoulder. She looked up, startled to find herself all alone in the middle of a snow-topped plateau, only a dull white stretching beyond her vision. His body was nowhere to be seen, and she was beginning to get hysterical when the familiar voice rang in her ears again, tinged with urgency this time, "hey…Hermione! Wake up! Hermione!"
All of a sudden, the sparse trees shifted around her, the dazzling snow white was replaced with somber darkness. She was lying in bed, covered with three layers of blankets, her shirt damp with sweat, her head feeling as if thousands of bees were buzzing in her skull, one of her hand clutched at her chest, the other grasped tight in his fists. He brushed his lips against her flaming fingers, calling her name over and over again. She opened her eyes, too impatient to wait until his blurred face came into focus.
She took a ragged breath. "Harry? Werewolf, Death Eaters, you—"
"It's okay, I am right here, Hermione." He leaned in closer, carefully placing a cold, damp washcloth on her forehead, and squeezing her hand lightly. "It's just a nightmare."
"Nightmare?" she echoed his word as if in a daze.
"Yeah, merely an inane nightmare," replied he softly. His voice getting firm, he added more pressure to her hand. "We're both safe, Hermione, but…" he faltered before letting out a half- whisper, "you've been ill."
Squeezing his hand back as a means of reassuring both of them, she slowly cast her eyes around to recognize the roof of their shabby tent, everything in neat order, the fixed oil lamp hung on the pole exactly the way it was before, now emitting a dim yellow light onto the ground free from any broken shards. She fluttered her eyes shut, overcome with a tide of relief, a sob bubbling from her chest, leaving her choked with a burst of coughing.
"How are you feeling?" He was gently wiping tears off her feverish cheeks and sweeping her matted tangled hair away from her face. He rearranged her pillow to make sure she was comfortable and began to inundate her with a chain of questions. "Are you hurt anywhere? Do you need anything? I made some porridge, would you like to have some?"
She wrinkled her nose as the thought of food brought queasy feelings to her mouth.
"Alright, but you'll have to eat something later. Would you like anything to drink?"
He was so adorably flustered that, if possible, she felt heat flood her already flushed cheeks.
"Cold," she uttered frailly, and added to make it sound more convincing with the hope that he would pamper her for a little while, "very."
"I'll go apply more heating charms right away. I'll get more—" She held on to his hand, wordlessly nudging him to stay, as he was about to leave her bedside.
His eyes widening behind his round-rimmed glasses in recognition, he gripped both her hands tight, rubbing them soothingly, his voice rather croaky, "Hermione, I know a way to help, if you don't mind?"
She gave him a small smile then, physical ailments giving way to a delightful sense of gratification. It seemed that he had been always sensitive to her feelings, so it all came down to whether he chose to act upon them or not, and that very moment, she, resolutely pushing aside past events, could only feel intensely grateful that he did. He got into the small bunk bed beside her, his right arm pillowing her head, the other circling around her waist, pressing her burning body against his side.
"Better?" he tentatively asked as he alternated between stroking her hair and rubbing her back, helping to relieve her muscle soreness.
"Loads." her lips curved in a contented smile in the crook of his arm, her throat swelling, her heart floating in a dulcet ballad of his pleasant touches and his soft kisses. Lulled with his intoxicating scents, she soon drifted off into a peaceful sleep.
That night, she dreamed of the victory celebration ball. He looked ravishing in his dark green dressing robe, his demeanor wholly relaxed, his eyes filled with gaiety. He courteously led her to the dance floor, and they swayed along the melodious music in each other's arms, enfolded in an aura of euphoria that none could invade.
a/n: Hermione's dream in italics.
tbc.