Dedicated to the lovely Sam (MissingMommy) courtesy of the Gift-Giving Extravaganza 2014. I really hope you enjoy this!

Author's Note: I originally wrote a 200-300 word version of this scene in my story 'Remembering', also from Lisa's PoV, but I've always wanted to expand on that moment since I adore writing about the Ravenclaws. (I've also changed the timeline, as in 'Remembering' this occurred in April '98).

Her Fault

Lisa&Stephen

December 1997

It was freezing cold.

Lisa supposed it probably wasn't that much colder than it usually was in December, but the temperature was so much more noticeable now, when she was actually outside. She longed for the warmth of the Ravenclaw common room; she missed sitting by the fire, talking with Su or Padma or any of the others. If she had been pureblood - or even half-blood - she could have been there. But being Muggle-born in this day and age only gave her two choices: to become a fugitive or to go in front of the 'Muggle-born Registration Commission' - whatever that was - and prove that she was worthy of having magic.

Both she and Stephen Cornfoot - the other Muggle-born Ravenclaw in her year - had taken the first option.

For a little while it had been okay. They had been able to find a witch - Alessia Shacklebolt - who had exchanged their Wizarding currency for Muggle money, and the two of them also had extra Muggle currency, taken from unsuspecting family members or saved up over the years. The Muggle money had bought them a few months' worth of nights in cheap motels, scavenging in grocery stores for the cheapest items, but eventually, it had all run out, and now they had nowhere to go.

Lisa sighed as she tried to warm her hands over the small fire. They couldn't make it any larger, for fear of attracting attention or burning something down, but Lisa was freezing. Damn Stephen - he tolerated the cold so much better than she did, and he was currently sitting with his back up against a tree, looking far too comfortable.

"How are you doing?" Stephen asked. "I can get maybe three or four more pieces of wood - the fire is smaller than it was before." He came over to her, his movements smooth. Stephen was the son of an Oxford professor and a rich socialite who had placed importance on how he presented himself; he moved and spoke with an elegant grace that probably hadn't been seen since the previous century. After so many years of knowing him, Lisa was used to it.

"Yeah." She nodded. "That'd be nice." She moved her hands a little closer to the flames, and Stephen gently tugged her wrists.

"I know you're cold," he said, "but setting your skin on fire isn't going to help at all." He nodded to his pack, sitting on top of his neatly-rolled-up sleeping bag. "You can put on another layer, if you'd like. I have an extra jacket in there."

He disappeared into the trees to look for dry wood - easier said than done, when a layer of snow an inch deep covered the ground - and Lisa shuffled over to his pack. While Lisa had originally been hesitant about the idea of going on the run with Stephen - he could be a know-it-all at times, and she had never been as close to him as she had been to, say, Padma or Anthony - it had turned out to work quite well. When Stephen wasn't lecturing and showing off his knowledge, he was actually quite a nice bloke. Despite the circumstances, Lisa liked spending time with him.

She smiled as she opened his pack and saw a neatly-folded jacket sitting there. She pulled it on over the layers she was already wearing; it was big enough so that it wasn't too tight. Stephen wasn't tall or wide, by any means - but he was certainly taller and wider than Lisa.

It was a gentlemanly thing to do, giving her his coat, and despite herself, she smiled. She had always been the type of girl who enjoyed gestures like that, and she thought Stephen was being particularly sweet today. And even though there was a war on all around her, and she really should be focused, she couldn't help but wonder if there was a reason for Stephen's niceness.

Lisa was just heading back to the flames when a shout rang out from a few dozen yards away. She grabbed her own pack and fumbled it on, slinging Stephen's around her chest, her wand already out. Stephen barreled into the clearing, nearly sliding into the flames. "Snatchers," he gasped. "Run!"

The two of them took off, side-by-side. Lisa was still carrying both packs, and although she panted from the extra weight dragging down her small frame, there was no time for them to switch. Occasionally, she heard shouts and curses from somewhere behind them, and although both she and Stephen shot spells behind them, she didn't dare look back to see how close the Snatchers were. Running through woods was far easier in the movies than it was in real life, and she didn't want to trip and get herself caught.

She could feel herself slowing down, though, and her breaths came in harsher gasps. Stephen was in better shape, having nothing to carry, but he was starting to tire as well; she could hear his own panting breaths alongside the sound of her heart pounding in her ears, and finally she couldn't help but slow to a walk. Stephen tugged her along. "Come on," he panted. "They're catching up."

"I know." She could barely get the whisper out. "I can't run anymore." She grabbed Stephen's hand and tried to Apparate, but it didn't work. "Damn it," she growled, tears welling to her eyes. These Snatchers had thought of everything - or, at least, they had thought of the possibility of their targets trying to Apparate away. It was impossible to break through an Anti-Apparition Jinx - at least for a teenager who hadn't even finished Hogwarts.

"Go," Stephen said, pushing her forward. There was a fierce determination in his eyes; they were shining brightly. "I can slow them down. Get to the edge of the forest and Apparate away."

She stood there, stunned, for a moment, and then Stephen pushed her forward. "Get the hell out of here, Lisa! I'll hold them off long enough!" He turned and started running back, the way they had come, and she could hear him yelling. "I'm right here, you buffoons! Come and get me!"

Lisa hesitated, and then took off again, in the opposite direction from Stephen, shouts and curses still echoing in her ears. Even with adrenaline, she couldn't run as fast as she had before, but it was enough - she made her way out of the forest and into open ground, and, with Stephen's face still in her mind, she Disapparated.

o0o0o0o

She spent the night in a church located in the town closest to the forest; although it was brisk inside, it wasn't as freezing as outside, and she was able to settle down without fearing frostbite or hypothermia. The pew wasn't comfortable, but she knew that the discomfort wasn't keeping her awake - it was the thought of Stephen, left to the mercy of the Snatchers.

Did I do the right thing?

Am I a bad person?

She couldn't help but wonder if it had been wrong for her to save herself - if she should have insisted that Stephen come with her, or if she had gone back with him to fight them. He could be dead right now, all because of her. He could be in Azkaban now, and it would be her fault. She had made it safely away - but at what cost?

The next morning, she ventured out again, Apparating back to the forest. This time, she was more careful; she Disillusioned herself before she got too far into the forest, and she moved slowly and cautiously, careful not to disturb anything as she slipped through the trees. She was beginning to think that she wouldn't find any trace of Stephen or the Snatchers, and she didn't know whether this was a good thing or a bad thing.

Then a scream echoed through the air, and Lisa jumped, her heart pounding as she forged onwards, faster now, caring less about quiet and more about speed. She came to a small clearing and stopped short, for there were seven Snatchers there. Stephen was tied to a tree, and one of the Snatchers was standing there over him, merrily cursing him.

"Where is she, eh?" he asked when Stephen's screams had quieted down enough so that the Snatcher's questions were audible. "Where's that pretty little girl you were with?"

"I-" Stephen spat out blood. "I-I don't care what you do to me. I'm not helping you find her."

He muttered another curse, and Stephen cried out in pain, twisting in his restraints; Lisa turned away, pressing her back against a tree, unable to watch. She could feel the tears streaming down her cheeks, her body shaking with silent sobs as the Snatcher continued to torture Stephen. More than anything, she wanted to go in there and fight them all, but she would never even come close to winning a battle with seven adults - and what was the point of getting herself killed, anyway?

"'E's not gonna tell us anythin'," one of the other Snatchers said roughly.

"You've been at it for nearly a day," said a different one. "Come off it. We're not going to find the girl by questioning him any longer. He's useless."

The Snatcher standing over Stephen turned to look at them. "Fine," he said. "You want me to do the honors? It's not like this one'll last in Azkaban anyway, not in the state he's in."

"Go ahead."

"Avada Kedavra."

A flash of green light lit up the clearing, and Stephen slumped completely in the ropes holding him up. Lisa backed away, slowly, still crying silently, unable to fathom the cruelty she had just seen - and even more unable to fathom the possibility that it was her fault Stephen had ended up like this.