Chapter 113: Saturday, October 19, 2002 cont'd

"Of our most dreadful suffering, I am the cause."

-Euripides, Electra


* There is a content warning for this chapter. Please scroll to the ending author's notes to find the warning (if you need it) before reading.


The dusty light given off by the rapidly setting sun is consumed in an atramentous blanket. Hermione swallowed thickly, her nerves firing off with the memory of the last time she was covered in such darkness, the night Dumbledore died. Hermione whispered an incantation, the tip of her wand pressed to the sphere in her palm and pulled her arm back, launching the ball as far as she could into the camp.

"Fuck, it's dark," Blaise whispered from her side.

She felt the sleeve of her jacket shift against her arm as he lifted his own and she put a hand out, groping in the dark until it landed on his forearm, pressing his wand downward.

"Lumos won't work in this," she murmured. "Fred and George designed it specifically to black out light, magical or otherwise."

"That's bloody inconvenient for us. Genius, but how the hell—"

The explosions from the boggart bombs interrupted Blaise's words as they began to erupt in the center of the camp, blowing craters into the earth and sending rocks and mud in every direction. Hermione casted a shield charm and tugged on Blaise's sleeve, pulling him forward. Her hearing muffled, ears ringing from the blasts.

"Careful," Hermione warns, stepping over a tree root.

"Do you think this will work?" Blaise asked, clutching her hand to help guide her through what feels to be a sea of debris.

"It's the best idea we have," she said, hoping that her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

Soon, screams of terror begin to sound around them and Blaise chuckles, "That'll be the boggarts, then."

Hermione hummed, her foot slipping in the mud. Blaise grasped her elbow to keep her from tumbling sideways.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Do you think Charlie or Remus has—"

Blaise's voice died in his throat, his grip loosening on her before he's sent, hurtling backward into a tree with a sickening thud.

"Blaise!" Hermione yelled, stumbling backward from the force of him being ripped away from her. She spun on her heel and began to rush toward where she thinks he may have landed, her wand held tightly in her hand as she felt around with the other.

On paper, the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder was a wonderful idea. Blind the enemy, confuse them—the only oversight being that they, too, were blinded. And now, Hermione is feeling furious that she agreed to this, knowing they wouldn't be able to make heads or tails of their surroundings until the blackness lifted.

In every direction, spells began to fire off at random. Sizzling jets of light, seen dimly through the weakening darkness, zoomed past, leaving singed leaves and low hanging branches in their wake. Hermione called out for Blaise again, met with a moan of pain somewhere ahead. She feels around in her pocket for a pepper-up potion, thanking what little foresight she did have to line her jacket with easily accessible, low-level healing potions.

She muttered, over and over, a series of shield charms. Firing hexes off at random would not help the chaos of the situation. She could hit one of their own and they could not afford to lose anyone, for any amount of time, to friendly fire.

"Get off me!" Blaise hollered, his voice strained.

"It's the fucking Order!" A low, gravelly voice called out. "Get Dolohov!"

"I can't fucking see!" A woman's voice. "They put up an apparition block!"

"How many of you are there?" The man growled at Blaise.

"Enough to kill you," Blaise spat. "Impedimenta!"

A shout, another thud.

"Blaise!" Hermione whisper-yelled into the dark. "Blaise, stop! We can't—"

"Crucio!" A thick Russian accent called out, sending a streak of red past Hermione.

Blaise screamed.

"No!" Hermione cried, picking up her pace to a near run.

She waved her wand, dropping her shield charms to cast a series of hexes. Conjuring a flock of swallows with razor sharp beaks and sending them in the direction of the voice she knows all too well. A voice that had been the source of many nightmares in her past.

"Bitch!" He shouted. And, as the darkness began to dissipate, Hermione could make out his arms waving wildly above his head as the birds pecked violently at him.

Dolohov let out an angry shriek and Hermione heard Blaise yell her name, telling her to leave him and run.

"Granger! GO! I'll be fine!" Blaise shouted, the tree near him rustling as he began the sing-song incantation that forced a branch to twist and stretch, grabbing hold of the large Death Eater that stood to Blaise's side and bracketing him against the rough bark.

"It's Potter's Mudblood," the man yelled before his gravelly voice was cut short by the tree, crushing him to itself.

"Confringo!" Hermione shouted, sending an explosion beneath Dolohov's feet. Praying that the earth would open up and swallow him whole.

She watched as his leg buckled beneath him and heard Blaise yell again before the words died on his tongue with a grunt of pain and a thud. Hermione could just barely make out the other form hovering over Blaise, she shot off a few hexes, hitting the woman and dropping her to the ground like flies.

"I'll kill you, Mudblood!" Dolohov screamed, his voice shaking with fury as he pulled himself up from the ground, rushing toward her.

"Hermione?" Remus' voice came from nearby.

No! No, that's not right! He's supposed to be at the tent! He's supposed to be helping Charlie!

The moment of panic from hearing Remus' yell caused her to falter, giving Dolohov an opening to grab hold of her arm.

"Reinforcements?" He laughed, a horrible, sinister sound. "They can't help you!" His fingers tightened around her arm and he leaned closer to her, "I'll dismember you. Piece by piece."

Hermione reared her head backward, spitting in his face. "Fuck you."

Hermione tugged and twisted around, yanking herself from his grip. He wiped his face and laughed, pointing his wand to her chest and shouted "Crucio!"

The moment the curse burned its way into her chest, she hit the ground with a shriek of pain. She felt her mouth fall open again and willed herself to stay silent. To not give Dolohov the satisfaction of hearing her scream anymore, as her bones seemed to turn to glass and shattered only to stitch back together and shatter again. She could feel her muscles coming apart, fiber by fiber, flaying themselves from her skeleton, lighting her nerve endings on fire. Her eyes opened as her back arched, nearly folding her in half and then just as abruptly as the pain began, it stopped.

"HERMIONE GO! GET UP AND GO!"

For a fleeting moment, she believed the scream she heard to be her own. Until, finally, she blinked the residual pain away, her muscles spasming as she brought herself onto her knees and saw Remus.

His chest was pressed to Dolohov's back, his left arm hooked around the front of Dolohov's throat. Remus' face was pure fury, his eyes cutting through the dark with gleaming, gold irises. Dolohov thrashed wildly, jerking his wand arm to try and gain the upperhand. She watched as Remus' hand covered Dolohov's and squeezed, a shout of pain and anger echoing past the man's lips.

Hermione felt frozen, rooted to the spot, as she watched Remus tumble backward and deliver blow after blow to Dolohov's face. His own dripping with blood from a broken nose and busted lips. His rage was palpable and—if Hermione were being honest with herself—terrifying. Remus was seething, his eyes wild as his fists rained down onto Dolohov's body. Each crack of his knuckles cutting through the air with a nauseating crunch.

Hermione finally came to her senses and began shouting for Remus to stop. She didn't care if he killed the bastard, but he had a mission. He was supposed to be with Charlie getting Tonks out of the tent! Hermione was grateful he had interrupted the torture Dolohov had put her under, but this wasn't what they had come here for. And, the quicker they got Tonks out of captivity, the quicker they could get the hell out of here.

The thick curtain of darkness was now a lingering, smoky, fog and Hermione looked around wildly. Trees were uprooted and blasted into smithereens. Death Eaters were battling boggarts and Order members alike. Seamus was nearby, firing a string of nasty looking hexes at a tall, thin Death Eater. She could make out a scream from Ginny, a blasting curse from Harry, the glittering protective shield charms that were unique to Luna…

She whipped back around and saw Remus with his face pressed close, nose to nose, with Dolohov. She could tell Dolohov was speaking but couldn't hear him. She could see, however, Dolohov's hand inching toward his wand that lay beside him.

"REMUS!" Hermione shouted, trying to warn him.

"Hermione, what's—"

Hermione turned to see Seamus sprinting toward her, blood smeared across his face from a cut on his forehead.

"Seamus! Blaise is unconscious over there," she waved her hand frantically behind her. "Dolohov and Remus—"

"OI!" Seamus bellowed, bringing attention onto him. "You big Russian fuck!"

Seamus raised his wand, moving it in a complicated pattern that Hermione did not recognize when a jet of purple sizzled through the air, hitting him square in the chest.

"REMUS GO FIND TONKS!" Hermione screamed as Dolohov shrieked with laughter and then disappeared in a whirlwind of blue light and black robes.

Seamus' face screwed up in pain and he gasped for breath, his hands clutching at his torso as he looked down and back up again. He fell to his knees and Hermione moved toward him, digging in her pocket for something, anything, that could slow whatever curse hit him. Just long enough to get him back to the Shack, long enough to undo whatever was happening to him. As she began to close the space between them, a horrible, foul smell permeated the air. She gagged, pulling her jumper over her face in a futile attempt to staunch the rank stench.

It smelt like death.

"Hermione, NO!" Remus shouted, jumping back onto his feet as Hermione reached out to Seamus.

Seamus' eyes landed on hers, wide and terrified before a loud burst sounded.

Hermione watched in horror as Seamus exploded mere feet away from her. His insides rained down, slapping the earth with thick, squelching sounds. She felt a hot, wet, pulpy substance splatter against her face as chunks of flesh and gloop soaked through her clothes. She could feel the heat of blood as it ran in rivulets from the top of her head down her back, soaking her completely in amorphous lumps of eviscerated organs.

She was shaking, her breath came in tiny, panting inhales as she blinked rapidly to expel the blood from her eyes. Slowly, she pulled her trembling hand back toward her and vomited onto the forest floor.

"We've got to go," Remus' voice was distant, despite the fact that she could feel his hand clasped around her wrist. "Hermione, we have to go."

She couldn't speak. Couldn't look away from the pile of sick that mixed with the gelatinous reduction of Seamus.

"Hermione," Remus' voice was loud—too loud— to her ears and she finally looked away, her eyes locking on him. "We have to go."

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head furiously. "No, no. We can't—Tonks. We have to get Tonks—"

"They've got her," Remus said, now tugging her wrist. "Charlie's just sent the sparks up. We have to go."

"No. I can't! I can't! We can't just...We can't leave him here."

"There's nothing to do, Hermione. We can't stay here! They'll kill us, too." He stared at her, his eyes pleading for her to concede, "Please."

His voice broke and Hermione then realized the shake of her hand wasn't hers alone. Remus' chest was rising and falling rapidly. His face was coated in blood and dirt, small clumps clinging to his hair...he looked as if he may pass out. Finally, Hermione nodded.

"Blaise—"

"Harry's got him," Remus said.

Hermione nodded again and gently pulled her arm from Remus' grip. "His...his wand…" she muttered, "he dropped it…"

Her eyes searched the ground until they landed on the wand. She stooped over to pick it up, using her sleeve to wipe it clean before stowing it in the inside pocket of her jacket. She grabbed Remus' arm and disapparated in a dizzying swirl.


Hermione's fingers scrubbed at her scalp until it ached.

Her curls still felt matted with congealed blood and she had already washed it twice. She reached out of the shower, shoving the curtain out of her way to grab her wand. Forcing the water to a nearly unbearable temperature, she squeezed a thick handful of shampoo into her palm and began scrubbing again.

Tonks was alive.

She needed medical attention but Draco had elected to begin without Hermione, ushering her to the showers, wordlessly. Remus murmured something about telling everyone what happened and then cleaning up. She wasn't sure how long she had been under the stream of water when she heard a gentle knock on the door.

She ignored it, scrubbing at her hair some more, watching the pink suds fall from her soapy head and swirl down the drain.

The door creaked as it opened and she could hear the click of it closing. Still, she continued working the lather through her hair.

After a few moments of rustling, the curtain pulled back just wide enough to allow Remus to step into the shower. He was caked with mud and dried blood. His hair plastered down to his head and his face streaked with the tell-tale signs of a sloppy scourgify. She stared at him for several moments before her chin began to wobble and she leaned back, letting the water rinse her hair.

"Hermione," Remus' voice broke on her name, his hands reaching out to wrap around her shoulders, tugging her forward to press her chest against him.

She wished she could let out a scream. A wail. A string of creative expletives. Anything to cut through this silent, insensate bubble of numb shock she found herself in. She wrapped her arms around Remus, digging her fingers into the muscle that lined either side of his spine. She felt the puckered knobs of scar tissue beneath the pads of her finger and pressed to her chest. His arms tightened around her shoulders, holding her firmly in place as the water continued to spray them.

After a few minutes of clinging to Remus, using him to ground herself, she realized that he, too, was shaking rather violently. He was mumbling something, the sound of the words lost to the spray of the water, his lips moving against the top of her drenched hair.

"...my fault…"

At this, Hermione pulled back and stared up at Remus. His eyes were closed, tears leaking down his face to cut through the remaining grime coating his skin.

"You did not cast that curse," Hermione said, evenly.

The adam's apple in his throat bobbed as he swallowed, "I lost control. I knew the plan, I-I knew...what my job was and I lost control, anyway. If I wouldn't have—"

"We didn't expect Dolohov to show up, that was poor planning on our part."

Even to her own ears, the words sounded mechanical. And as badly as she wanted to offer him comfort, to tell him he held no fault, she couldn't. Because Remus was right. He had lost control. She had seen it in his face, in golden eyes that cut through the darkness, he had not been in control of himself. It had been Moony that made the decision to intervene.

Remus opened his eyes and stared at her and Hermione swore she could feel his heart beating in her own chest.

"I shouldn't have gone," he whispered. "The moment I realized I forgot to take my potion, I should have...I should have stayed behind. I knew Moony was present, I knew. And I still went. I put everyone's life in danger and I got Sea—Seamus killed." He scrubbed at his face with his hands, the steam from the water causing the dried dirt to streak the sides of his cheeks and neck. "He wouldn't have been there, if it weren't for me."

"Maybe," Hermione agreed. "But, we don't know that. Blaise was unconscious, I was getting tortured—" As if the mention of the cruciatus was a cue, her entire body trembled ferociously. "We didn't plan on them calling for Dolohov to come."

They stayed in silence for several minutes, the water pelting against their skin and splashing on the porcelain tub the only thing to drown out the small, ragged breaths they took. Finally, Hermione stepped backward, pulling Remus into the spray. She reached up to press her palms onto the tops of his shoulders, guiding him to lower himself to his knees. She let the water saturate his hair before turning to grab the bottle of shampoo and squirting a handful of it into her palm, she began to work the soap into his hair.

As her fingers began to dislodge the filth, her nails scrubbing roughly at his scalp, she reflected on what he said. He hadn't been completely wrong. If he hadn't lost control and tried to take Dolohov on, Seamus probably wouldn't have heard Hermione screaming. He probably wouldn't have made his way over, trying to find the source of the chaos, trying to help. He probably wouldn't have attempted to curse Dolohov.

Probably.

But, then, Seamus had always been an unpredictable dueller. It wasn't unlike him to charge in, head first, and begin throwing explosive curses into the mix. On more than one occasion, Seamus had found himself dueling with far more fearsome duellers than himself. He had always made it out, usually with a few injuries to show for it, but it wasn't a completely foreign idea to Hermione that one day Seamus' recklessness might cost him more than a couple of weeks on intensive healing potions.

The knowledge of that possibility didn't make the actuality of it hurt any less, though.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and the image of Seamus' face, contorted with fear and pain flashed through her mind and she bit the inside of her cheek, giving her head a small shake as if the motion would dislodge the image that had been burned into the back of her eyelids.


It was nearly four in the morning.

Draco had finally gone to bed a few hours prior, only after making a list of supplies they needed to begin brewing more blood replenishment potions in the morning. The low hum of voices carried from the open bunk room on the upper floor. A low, buzzing of conversation between others who had been at the ambush; adrenaline still far too high to allow anyone to actually sleep.

Below, in the kitchen, Hermione could hear George weeping. The soft voice of Ginny offering nondescript words of comfort to her brother as he mourned the loss of his closest friend in the Shack. A gentle clinking of a spoon against ceramic explained the calming draught Ginny had asked Hermione for only forty minutes ago. She assumed Ginny was mixing it into a cup of tea, more than likely to George's ignorance.

A quiet whimper of pain from the adjoining private room next to the bookshelves pulled Hermione's attention from the book in her lap, that she had opened, but not read. She waited a moment, staring at the slightly open door, to see if she needed to enter the room. It was still too early to administer another pain potion, but she could give Tonks another calming draught if Charlie asked her to bring one in. The squeaking of the thin mattress alerted Hermione to Charlie's movement in the room, before she heard him whispering to Tonks. A few minutes later, the bed squeaked again and silence fell once more.

"You should probably get some sleep," Harry murmured from behind her.

Hermione twisted on the sofa and saw him standing nearby, a steaming mug in each hand.

"You should, too."

He offered a thin smile and a weak shrug, rounding the sofa to plant himself next to her. He pushed a mug into her hands and pulled the book from her lap, tossing it onto the side table.

"We both know no one is going to sleep unaided tonight."

Hermione hummed, taking a sip of the chocolate espresso, thankful for her friend's thoughtful gesture.

Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his chest, placing a swift kiss to the top of her head. They sat together, sipping quietly on their drinks and listening to the movement in the Shack slowly fall to slumber as the inhabitants finally succumbed to their exhaustion. When the first rays of orange, morning sunlight crept past the sliver in the drawn curtains, Harry spoke.

"Blaise and Ron went to Ireland," he began. "Took Seamus' wand to his mum."

"Do you think we should move her to a safehouse?" Hermione asked.

She felt—rather than saw—Harry shake his head. "I don't think it's necessary. There hasn't been a lot of movement in Ireland and she lives in a muggle village. They'll put up wards just in case, though."

"Okay."

She could tell there was something else on his mind. Harry was never very good at hiding his feelings, let alone from her.

"Is Blaise okay?" she asked, instead. "I know he was knocked unconscious."

"He'll be fine. Bit of a bump on his head, a few bruises, tremors from the cruciatus...but nothing too terrible. He wouldn't have offered to go if he was banged up too badly."

"That's good to hear."

"Yeah," Harry said, pulling away from Hermione slightly so he could see her face. "Remus has locked himself in the attic. He let Luna fix his nose when you guys got back, but his lip is still busted. Pansy tried to take him some of that murtlap salve you made but he wouldn't open the door. She said she thinks he moved the desk overtop of it."

Hermione sat up, nestling her back against the arm of the sofa and tucked her feet under Harry's thighs. "He's decided it was his fault."

"Seamus?"

Hermione nodded.

"Why?"

Hermione inhaled deeply through her nose, slowly blowing it back out before looking up to the ceiling for answers. "He didn't take his Wolfsbane like he should have this month. The wolf is always present in his head, he talks to it sometimes, I'm sure you've noticed…?"

Harry grunted, "Yeah."

"He said he lost control and Harry, I know he did. I could see it. Dolohov crucioed me and Moony took over the second he heard my scream."

"He said he and Dolohov had an altercation?"

Hermione sighed, "That's putting it lightly. Remus didn't even use his wand, just beat the piss from him with his hands."

"I don't blame him. I'd love to knock that stupid goatee right from his fucking face, too."

Hermione snorted and shook her head, "Remus doesn't go around fist fighting people, Harry."

"Oi! I resent that. I haven't hit anyone in years!" Harry chuckled, taking the last of his espresso down in one swallow and setting his mug on top of the discarded book on the side table. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, picking up the mug with a pointed look and setting it on the floor. Harry rolled his eyes but smiled fondly at her, "I see what you mean, though. If you told me that Remus Lupin was caught in a fistfight with a death eater a year ago, I would have never believed you."

"He thinks it's his fault because had he not lost control, he wouldn't have veered from the plan. He would have beelined for the tent like he was supposed to and Seamus wouldn't have gotten caught in the crossfire."

Harry ruffled his hair, letting his hand come to rest on the back of his neck. "It's not entirely untrue, but Seamus was erratic in dueling. There's no way to know for sure and dwelling on what might not have happened isn't going to help anyone."

"I know that," Hermione snapped. Harry's eyes widened a fraction and she huffed out a breath, shaking her head. "Sorry. It's just—I know. I know that we have no idea what could have happened. But, part of me…" she trailed off, running her thumb over the edge of the mug.

"Do you agree with him?"

Hermione pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and nodded, "Is that bad?"

"No," Harry said, simply.

"He's spiralling, if he's gone and locked himself up there," she stated, matter-of-fact. "It's just another death he thinks he could have prevented and—"

"Another? Who else did he think…?" Harry's face fell the second it dawned on him. "My parents?"

Hermione nodded, "I don't think he'll ever not blame himself for that. There was nothing he could have done, nothing any of us could have done. I think this time it's different."

"Because he was there."

"Yes. Dolohov had pulled his wand and Seamus was trying to protect him. And then he…" Hermione swallowed, her eyes stinging. "It was horrific, Harry."

"Are you okay, Hermione?"

Hermione shrugged, "I will be."

Harry brought his hand down from his neck to squeeze Hermione's anke. "Tough as Goblin steel, you are."

She hummed, blinking heavily despite the espresso she had just drank. "I think we'll go to the Yorkshire cabin for the Moon. I've been trying to figure out the best place to go and I think that's our safest option."

"You can't go with him."

"Moony won't hurt me, Harry. We're mates. And I don't want Remus to be alone, not after what happened tonight."

"Take Pansy with you, just in case?"

Hermione nodded. "Will Tonks be okay if I go?"

"We've got Malfoy," Harry shrugged. "And you know Charlie won't leave her side. She'll be okay for a few days, she's safe now."

Harry stood from the sofa, stretching his arms overhead before bending to pick his mug up off the floor. He stole Hermione's nearly empty mug from her hands and kissed her head again.

"There's a lot to go over. But, it can wait until you get back. Get some rest."

Hermione's lips tugged up in a ghost of a smile, "You too."

"I love you, Hermione. You know that, yeah?"

"Of course I do, Harry. I love you, too."

He smiled, "Good. Remember that when you come back."

Before Hermione could ask what Harry meant, he turned around and left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

.


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A/N: CONTENT WARNING: This chapter features some graphic depictions of violence as well as gore/blood. Please take care of yourself.

Well, Tonks made it out at least?

Comments are super appreciated! 3 Let me know your thoughts/theories

xo