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"We are only as strong as we are united,
as weak, as we are divided."
~"Albus Dumbledore" Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
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They emerged by a frozen pond, sending a group of birds flying off the branches of a dormant, sleeping pine trees. A doe gazed at them from a fifty foot distance, ears up in high alert, body tense to spring should it deem them predator.
Hermione released Harry's hand and stumbled back behind one of rough feeling pine trees, dropping to her knees and vomited thin, yellow noxious bile into a white handful of snow.
The doe shot off into the tree line with a thumping of hooves.
"Hermione!-"
Harry called her name just as a streak of red blood slipped from her mouth, splashing the white snow with its redness.
Harry knelt in front of her, his eyes wide at the blood mixed in with the vomit. "Hermione-" his voice was as wide and scared as his eyes. "What?- What do I do?!-"
"My bag!" Hermione says this as she spits a mouthful of blood onto the snow. "There's a green bottle inside, stoppered with red wax-"
The bag is still clutched tightly in her fingers, Harry has to pry them off the fabric and searched inside until he finds the bottle she described, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand.
"Open it!-" Hermione swallowed like she was trying to keep knives from erupting out from her throat.
Harry fumbled with the wax that sealed the bottle shut, the sweat from his fingers sliding over the slick wax. He jammed the tip of his wand into the seal and it broke through, coating the tip of his wand in a sticky, honey colored liquid.
Hermione reached out and took the bottle from him tipping it to her mouth swallowing. She choked a second later when her swallow comes back up in a spew, the bottle dropping from her hands.
Harry grabbed it up from the ground and pressed it to her lips. "Hermione, you have to swallow this-" his mind escaped to a dark cave surrounded by a murky lake, forcing Dumbledore to swallow mouthful after mouthful of the potion that would let them reach the horcrux that he wore. He tips the bottle up "Please! It's going to help-" He doesn't know what kind of potion his was forcing down her throat, he only hoped that it didn't kill her.
He heard another mouthful go down and she spluttered, but swallowed, then one more time before she jerked back from the bottle with a choking gasp for air. Her legs buckled underneath her, and she fell backwards.
"Hermione!-" He grabbed her before she landed on the ground.
Her lips were coated in dots of crimson and the amber stickiness of the potion she had just drunk. "The enchantments, you have to do them-" her voice was shaky and her skin looked deathly pale.
"I will, once I get you sorted first Hermione-" Harry said. "You're very ill."
Hermione shook her head, quickly, watching as Harry removed his wool coat and lay it over her like a blanket. "Harry, no! The enchantments have to be done, or they'll find us!-" her head was becoming increasingly heavy and weighed down and her grip on consciousness was going down with the weight.
"No, Hermione," Harry shook her. "Don't close your eyes, you need to stay awake with me!-" He watched her eyes roll up in her head and close, her weight going limp against him. "Hermione!-"
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The world was a gray stillness when her eyes opened. She found herself staring up at the canvas flap of the tent that dropped under the weight of the iron lantern glowing with the amber light of a half melted candle.
Her clothes were damp from still melted snow, but her boots weren't on her feet and she felt a clean pair of thick wool socks on them that were too long to be hers. She turned her head, making the camp bed's wooden frame creak.
"Hermione?-" Harry's voice was just to her left and she saw him rise from a folding chair he had been sitting at and drop to his knees beside her. "It's alright- you're alright, you're safe-" his words sounded like he was trying to convince himself of them as well. She felt his hand go into her hair which was in a thick tangled mass of dirt and leaves. He brushed several dirty locks aside, green eyes holding to hers.
She felt like she had swallowed nettles and her mouth lingered with the coppery taste of blood. "Water?-" the one word was a question and a moment later, Harry carefully pulled her head up and was pressing a tin cup to her lips.
She grasped the cup in one hand, pushing herself up to sit up on the cot, taking slow, tentative sips. It was then that she noticed that the hand holding the tin camping cup was wrapped twice in a bandage that leaked a few dots of blood from the material. The water was just shy of being hot, no doubt from Harry melting a pile of snow over the fire, but it tasted clean. She took slow sips, even though her thirst was ravenous to keep herself from being sick again. She drank half the cup this way before handing it over to Harry when he offered to take it.
Harry set the cup down on the canvas floor of the tent, eyes never leaving hers. "Do you feel any better?"
At his question Hermione took stock of herself. She wasn't nauseous anymore, but her stomach hung with a queasy feeling just below the surface, and her muscles felt like they had been pulled apart. "Not really."
"Do you think you could eat anything?" Harry asked. "I salvaged enough ingredients for a half decent vegetable stew, it's outside on the fire." He pointed to the closed flap on the tent to indicate what was behind it.
The queasiness in Hermione's stomach crept up a notch at the mention of the stew. "I don't really think I could keep anything down-"
"You have to have something-" Harry insisted. "You've barely eaten anything in weeks-"
"Harry please, stop mentioning food," Hermione set a hand to her stomach to try to dispel the queasiness.
Harry wasn't blind to her gesture. Guilt crept into his gaze. "Sorry."
A burst of a laugh escaped Hermione's mouth, one borne from sickness and exhaustion. "I actually wish I could have some tea-" She said it like something she had long given up on.
"You can," Harry said. "I found a patch of Roman Chamomile when I was looking for the vegetables. I was going to use it in the stew, but I haven't put in in yet. I can make you some if you like." He climbed back up on his feet and walked over to the wooden bench style camping table where the tin bucket they used for collecting water sat. He reached inside and pulled out a small bundle of yellow centered flowers with small white petals that resembled field daisies. He lifted the lid off of the blue camping coffee pot, dropping the flowers inside of it one by one, pouring water from the bucket into pot.
Hermione looked at Harry in bafflement that stole the words from her mouth, watching his hands close the lid of the coffee pot with a rattled 'snap' of the enamel; his eye rose up and found hers. "I'll be just to heat this up- The enchantments are all placed, I won't be gone long-"
The air between them hung in a pause like a sweater caught in a nail before Harry vanished through the tent flap.
Hermione lowered her legs carefully off of the cot, pulling away the layers of blankets until she was down to Harry's black wool coat. The ground felt frozen under her feet and the air squeezed her skin tightly in a cold chill. She picked up Harry's coat and slid her arms into the sleeves, draping the too big width and length of it around her, standing up from the cot with bracing hands that rattled and creaked the wooden frame. A momentary dizziness enveloped her. She had no idea how long she had been lying down, but it must have been a long time because her head felt heavy and her mind slow and thick like maple syrup. She closed her eyes against this feeling for a moment before pushing forward, wrapping the excess length of Harry's coat around herself like a bathrobe.
She walked through the tent flap that separated the small sleeping area from the 'living area', descending down the small set of steps She spied her wand resting on the camp table next to the empty water bucket. She walked slowly over and picked it up white colored Vinewood. It did not appear to have suffered any damage in their escape from the Snatchers. Her beaded bag sat a few inches further on the table top surface, the folds of cloth smelling of melted snow and mud. She pulled it towards her until she found an empty preserve jar she had taken from the Weasley kitchen before the wedding. She pulled the metal claps off the glass lid and cast a spell into the jar that caused a thin warm flame to erupt from her wand and fill the jar in a flickering ball, illuminating the tent in an orange warm light, adding more light to the single hanging camp light above her head.
Her thumb traced the bottom of the vine and budding leaf overlay that wound its way up the entire tapered length of the wand, drawing out one slow breath before holding the wand in a full grasp and reciting a whispered spell into the open air.
She set the wand on the table top and reached back into her bag, pulling out a pair of her boots that had dark mud clinging to the weather proof leather. But the insides were still warm and dry and she slid her feet gratefully into them. She pulled out one of her coats that like the boots, was speckled with dirt and mud, but still smelled relatively clean and was dry. She shook it out and stood up, glancing over to her wand as she moved to slide out of the black wool coat.
The flap of the tent opened and small snowflakes found their way inside as Harry did. He was holding a chipped blue bowl that smelled like cooked greens and vegetables, and the coffee pot with its small glass percolation dome steaming from heat.
Hermione's hand stilled as she felt him watching her, realizing that she was still wearing his clothes. "I'm sorry, I found a clean one of mine in my bag-" she slid out of the black wool of his coat and pulled her arms through the tan insulation of her own jacket.
"No it's fine," Harry reassured. "You were cold-" he came into the tent and set the two items he was holding on the camp table, setting the bowl at the opposite end of the camp table to keep the smell of cooked vegetables as far away from her as he could. "Here-" he picked up a tin cup from where Hermione stacked them on the bench seat, tipping out a bit of dirt inside it before pouring the steaming pale yellow contents of the coffee pot inside it.
"I never really learned how to do a proper tea, so you might end up feeling worse rather than better," he handed her the tin cup hearing her say a quiet 'thank you' before watching taking a slow, questioning sip. "How bad is it?"
"It's actually not," Hermione answered, taking another sip, feeling her stomach actually want to keep it down. "It's better than you think it is Harry."
A bit of a smile pulled across Harry's face, like something unsure if it belonged there. "I use to cook all the time- at home. "The word home dropped like a skimming stone plunked into a river. "I sort of had too, or I wouldn't have had much. Plus Dudley never bothered to learn and he was really good at knocking me round to do it."
"What about your Aunt and Uncle?" Hermione realized how ridiculous her question seemed the moment that it left her mouth. She had never outright spent much time with the Dursley's if she could help it. But, from what she had seen, they weren't about to win Foster Parents of the Year.
"They were really good at it too," Harry said, watching Hermione's expression in the white space left by his statement. "They never did much, boxed my ears once or twice, but they left me alone after I threatened them with magic."
"Harry-"
"It's done Hermione," Harry said. "I'd rather not talk about it."
Hermione closed her mouth on the silence, the tin mug warm in her hands. She took another, larger sip than before, her eyes lowering to the clear yellow liquid in the mug as she swallowed. A speck of nausea pushed upwards, wanting to uproot the tea. She kept her mouth closed and her head down until the urge became weaker. "Where are we?" She remembered landing outside with Harry only barely. She glanced around the canvas of the tent, the material bore several marks that weren't there before and a tear in one of its sides that had been patched up with a piece of utility tape. No doubt all of this was from when she had been forced to shove the tent inside the bag. A light wind flapped the material around.
"Horsford Woods," Harry answered over top the light noise of the wind. "Dudley went camping here with Uncle Vernon once—at least that's what I heard."
This time Hermione didn't try to interject, instead holding his gaze. His blue eyes looked faded, like over washed denim, and they were lined in redness from an exhaustion that extended over the rest of him. "How long have we been here?"
"Since last night," Harry said, looking away as he did so. "You weren't waking up and I thought-" He couldn't finish, not wanting to tell her was afraid the potion he had given her, even if she had asked him too, had gone wrong and killed her. "No matter, you're okay now." He glanced down at the bowl of stew on the table that had grown cold. He sat down and drew his legs up under the table.
Hermione reached under the table and undid the small snap lid of an old chocolate tin where they kept their small amount of silverware. She dug a stainless steel spoon out and held it out to him.
"Thanks," Harry took the spoon from her, moving aside the wild carrots and onions floating in the pale brown broth with it, scooping a small bite to his mouth. The vegetables were now soggy and tepid, but he hadn't eaten since the night before and his body relished the food. He took several more bites, looking almost guiltily at Hermione, afraid that he was making her sick. But she didn't say anything. He spied her wand on the table. "Is something wrong with your wand?"
"No," Hermione shook her head. "I thought there might be after the Snatchers found us, but I checked it and it was fine."
"Good," Harry said. "We could use a bit of happy news-" he still felt her watching him. "What?" The hazel in her eyes were cloudy and lined in a thin spider web of red. "Maybe you should go and lie down again," he suggested. Even with her warm jeans, sweater, and coat, she still looked cold and sick.
"I've lain down too much Harry," Hermione responded, her voice sounding weary. "I really want to go wash up, I can't just use perfume all the time-" Her voice went quiet at her stupid mistake. It was what had nearly gotten them found before when Ron was still recovering from being Splinched. She wasn't vain, she just hadn't felt clean in such a long time.
"Snatchers have been scouring places for weeks, Hermione," Harry said to the guilt he knew she was ladling on herself. "They would have been out here either way." He watched her give him only a moment of pause before she swung her legs up over the bench seat and stood up slowly, bracing a hand against the camp table as she did so. "Did you need any help?-" he stopped after realizing what he said. "I didn't mean-"
"I'm fine Harry," Hermione insisted with a smile that pulled at cracked lips, she reached out and slid a hand into his hair, and watched the contact as it was felt by both of them. She picked up her wand and walked around the table to the beginning of the little set of wooden stairs that led up to the flapped off bedroom. She bent down and picked up the empty bucket, pushing aside the tent flap.
She stepped out onto crunching snow into a clouded sunlight, finding herself dwarfed by massive silver fur trees that extended from her sight for miles in every direction. They extended upwards 30 feet into a sky the color of gray wool hung with low clouds. Their branches were naked of leaves, the white colored wood of their long trunks scarred black in some areas where the bark had begun to flake off. Snow drifts clung to the high branches, one of them flurrying away with a soft whoosh as the wind passed over it, falling down in a sticky whiteness onto her hair. She bent down to the ground and scooped up snow with her bare hands, making them sting from the cold. She was only able to gather several handfuls before she reached the brown frozen earth beneath. She raised her head up and saw the movement of water from a river that hadn't been frozen over completely. It wound a thin line through the trees before disappearing into them.
She stepped fully outside the tent, the pail handle cold in her hands. She had no idea how far Harry had cast the enchantments. It was invisible to the naked eye unless it was compromised, the way she had stumbled upon it before was when the Snatcher was trying to break it. She walked with slow steps until she came to where the river was closest, about ten yards or so in front of the tent. There was ice on the water, but it was thin and she could see the current still moving underneath.
She removed her wand from where she had pocketed it, raising it above the water with a whispered: "Diffendo!" A circle of ice cracked exposing the water in the river. She bent low and laid on her side, trying to make her weight distribution on even in case the ice started to crack. She carefully lowered the bucket into the water, her hand and arm going needle like with numbness as she drew up a bucket full, she raised it up high in an arch and set it down beside on the frozen bank of the river. She pushed herself up with her hands, moving backwards onto the snow with her palms.
The ice under her weight split apart with a sudden crack, and because most of her weight was on her hands, she fell forward, her body summersaulting onto the ice. For a moment, she felt the breath knocked out of her before the ice cracked fully and she plunged into the water.
The needle like pain that had gone up her arm now swallowed her whole body. The water was murky, much deeper than it was wide. She kicked upwards, but the water had soaked through her boots and all the layers of clothing, pulling her down like she had stones in her pockets. She had managed to hang on to her wand even when she had fallen. She barely raised it upwards, saying an Ascension spell that shot a mouthful of water into her lungs as she spoke. She shot upwards like a cork.
She broke the river's surface with a choking gasp, half blind for a moment from opening her eyes underwater. She crawled up on the shore fell into a heap on the riverbed and glanced into the woods, head moving furiously back and forth hoping that no one had heard her. She vomited the murky river water she had swallowed.
"Hermione!" Harry was running towards her over the snow bank, his wand grasped in his hand. He reached her and dropped to his knees beside her as she continued to cough up water. "What happened?!"
"The ice broke-" she coughed a rattled after burn from the water that she had just vomited up. "The ice broke when I was trying to get water- I'm fine-" Hermione's voice shook from the cold that was squeezing her whole body. She tried to climb to her feet but found her legs were shaking too much.
Harry reached an arm around her and drew her up. "You're not, you're freezing. Come on you have to get warm, now-"