The Unfortunates

SO sorry for the late update! Long story short: No internet, family issues, the heat\'s driving me crazy (I swear the house is slowly melting), and I\'m trying to spend a bit of time with my beloved before he goes away... Ah, but here we are at least, anyway. :)

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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: A THIRD OF A TRIO, OR: FLIGHTS


There was a second during which nobody spoke a word. For an outsider, it would look as though the entire scene had been frozen in time: There wasn’t a single movement, save for the slight raising of chests as the three people within Mandy Brocklehurst’s brothel room breathed, barely, each one of them taking in the sight before them.

Then suddenly, the three of them – all of which knew more or less how to deal with a challenging situation – reacted as one. Both Hermione and Severus reached for their wands, but Malfoy, who seemed beyond human sense, didn’t even think to use magic and acted on pure instinct: He threw himself, chest first, straight at Severus, exclaiming a grunt of fury whilst doing so. There was no common logic left in his mind now; all that stood in his head was pure anger and hatred, and the boy who had set out on that day to prove to his father that he was a true Malfoy was long gone. In that boy’s place a distorted young man was, throwing himself at a hooded stranger with the instincts of an animal, never once stopping to think like the human he supposedly was.

Unfortunately, the Muggle-like attack served its purpose: Severus was so taken aback by the unexpected, physical assault that his wand flew from his grasp as Malfoy crashed into him, and they both stumbled, landing in a giant heap on the floor, both struggling mindlessly for control. This, in return, caused hell for Hermione; they were nothing but clothes and limbs now; it was impossible to take true aim and hex Malfoy, as she might very well end up hitting Severus instead.

She was just about to body-bind them both – just to have Malfoy immobilized – when Severus caught her gaze for a mere second, and he bellowed:

“Get out of here! NOW!”

Undoubtedly, all he wanted was for her to be safe and away from the raging Draco Malfoy, but his cry accomplished the opposite: Malfoy, who’d been thrashing at Severus like a common beast, seemed to be experiencing almost a jolt of recognition at the shout. His head jerked in Hermione’s direction, catching sight of her; before Hermione could even move he reached inside his robes, pulled out his wand – and by sheer luck he’d hit Severus straight in the face with his elbow in the process – and screamed furiously: “Expelliarmus!”

Hermione’s wand flew from her hand across the floor and made a small crash against the wall right next to the still half open door. Instinctively, Hermione threw herself towards it, but Malfoy had finally regained his human (and wizard) senses, and he quickly rammed his elbow into Severus’s face again – he had an advantage over the older wizard because he was practically sitting on top of him – before scrambling quickly to his feet, shouting yet another nasty-sounding curse in Hermione’s direction.

Within seconds, Hermione had jumped to her feet to avoid the curse, but she had not been able to grab her wand in the process. Malfoy threw a curse towards her again, and as survival instincts took over Hermione grasped for the door handle, jumped out into the corridor and pulled the door shut behind her so as to block the spell. Thus, she obviously locked herself out of the room in the process.

There was such a calm in the hallway outside, compared to the havoc in Mandy’s room, that Hermione felt overwhelmed with the unreal feel of it all for a second. Drawing a deep breath, it was then she realized her mistake: She couldn’t go back inside now – she’d be too easy a target for Malfoy. His fury was controlling him still; there was no way he’d think sensibly enough to stop himself from cursing her. Later on he’d probably regret doing so, but that was of little help to Hermione now.

And still Severus was on the inside with this madman.

Hadn’t Hermione’s hand still been on the door handle, she might not have noticed that at that moment, someone suddenly tried to wrench the door open. She resisted, yet again on instinct, struggling with all her might to keep the door closed as she could feel Malfoy’s strong hands pulling at it from the inside.

Then suddenly, she could hear Severus’ strong voice:

“JUST GO!”

Hermione didn’t even stop to consider his order; it was blatantly obvious he had a good reason for wanting her to get the hell out of there.

Without hesitation, she let go of the door, the effect of which was that Malfoy was thrown back into the room, and she fled straight down the corridor, down the spiral staircase, out through the door and straight through the pub. A sudden, furious scream behind her told Hermione that Malfoy hadn’t given up his hunt.

Why was he after her? Why didn’t he stay to deal with Severus?

Perhaps he already had...

Despair rising, because she had no idea what had happened to Severus and hated herself for abandoning him, Hermione still ran as fast as she could, fleeing on foot like the Muggle-born she was from Malfoy, who was by now running close behind her, casting hexes every other minute in her general direction, apparently to senseless to attempt to stop her otherwise.

A thousand questions spiralled through Hermione’s mind as she ran down Diagon Alley, dodging obstacles in her way as she desperately made for the outskirts of the small Wizarding community: What had happened to Severus? How had Malfoy found them? What would he do, were he to catch her?

It was all too clear to her now, this insanity of the Malfoys (and Death Eaters in general) that Severus had spoken of... Draco was beyond reason; he was chasing her like a crazy stalker, for the gods’ sake, aiming to kill as she escaped his frequent curses by mere inches.

Turning a corner near the end of Diagon Alley, Hermione pushed herself up against a wall in the shadows of an alleyway, heaving for breath and scanning the environment for any possible means of escape. She wouldn’t be able to outrun Malfoy forever, and she had to get away from him; there was nothing else for it.

Then suddenly, she overheard a conversation between two rather nervous looking witches a few meters to her left:

“...this’ll take you straight to Fort George, just two minutes or so from now, in fact...”

“Wonderful, thank you so much for arranging it – Portkeys are hard to come by nowadays, with all these restrictions...”

Without thinking, Hermione threw herself at the witches, grasped the little wooden box from the hands of one of them and ran on, just as Malfoy turned the very same corner she had seconds earlier and shouted: “Mira!” after her at the top of his enraged voice.

The witch had spoken true: Only a minute or so later, still whilst running through some street or other completely unknown to her, Hermione felt the familiar tug from somewhere behind her navel as the little box Portkey sent her off to Fort George and the safety that awaited her there.

She spiralled wildly, feeling nauseous and quite ready to vomit, but before she got as far as that the spiralling stopped and her feet were planted firmly, if a bit shakily, on unknown, grassy grounds.

Glancing around, Hermione quickly took in her surroundings and found there were no immediate threats awaiting her in Fort George. She was standing on what looked like a grassy field, not ten meters away from a small cottage, one which Hermione suspected was the destination of the witch from the alleyway.

Well. The witch wouldn’t be getting there with this Portkey, in any case, Hermione figured as she threw the little box away with irritation, rubbing her eyes with her fingertips.

What to do now?

She couldn’t very well return to Malfoy Manor. That would be the death of her, surely; and she had no idea how to get to Killengreen from Fort George either. Perhaps there was a Floo somewhere she could use, but she didn’t dare to risk it. The Malfoys were powerful wizards, after all; if they decided they now wanted Mira Gideon on the “Most wanted”-posters there was no chance in hell she’d get to borrow anyone’s Floo in the nearest future.

Hermione gazed across the grassy fields and spotted a rather big forest at the end of it. Sighing, she started walking, like a woman defeated, in its direction, deciding she might as well stay out of sight whilst deciding upon what to do next.

Gods, what a mess.

Hermione reached the security of the forest just as the sun slowly announced its leave; evening was near. Sitting down with her back against a tree about a hundred meters or so into the forest, Hermione gave in to tiredness as she felt sleep creep its nasty way up on her.

If nothing else, here at least she’d be safe from Malfoy’s wrath.

For the time being.

---

He awoke to the sound of people rustling about around him, going about their simple business in the very limited space this secluded place offered, as they did every morning.

There was little else for them to do, after all. They couldn’t step outside, not unless it was night and they had planned it carefully; that would simply be too dangerous. And if one of them was exposed, then soon, so were all of them.

He scratched the back of his head absentmindedly, yawned, stretched and made to stumble to his feet, his back aching from sleeping on too hard a material for too long a time. Standing up and looking around, he was greeted with a few smiles and nods in his direction, as was common. He smiled and nodded in return, appreciating the understanding they all had between them.

Some of them, he didn’t even know. He’d never even seen them before they’d all been thrown together in these unfortunate turn of events, and yet he felt as though no one could understand him as well as they could: Because they all had that one, simple thing in common. He treasured it, knowing it was one of the few, little things that could keep him going.

There was no hope. Of this he was certain.

Yet, he was still alive, wasn’t he? And that was something.

And surrounding him there were other people like him; they were alive and, though hurt and defenceless, they meant something. Without them, he would be long gone by now – not because they’d saved his life or taken care of his wounds, nothing like that.

No, their mere presence was what was keeping him alive. Because on his own in this world, helpless and without hope, he would never have made it.

Of course, there were other people here besides the strangers; people he knew. People he’d spent years getting to know, and some he’d only just met, but familiars nevertheless. They offered him comfort too, though the real comfort, he knew, was from the togetherness of the entire group, not just of those familiar to one another. It was the mere fact that they all had certain, vital things in common, and this was what kept them together and would continue to keep them together until they were faced with their inevitable deaths.

Because, as he’d discovered months ago and kept repeating to himself: There was no hope.

Others there disagreed with him. They were still waiting for a wind of change; something that would show them the world still could be saved. Something that proved Wizarding Britain hadn’t completely succumbed to the will of Lord Voldemort.

But he knew otherwise. He knew they were wrong, and silently he cursed them for keeping their hopes up. What good would it do? They were all done for, and he knew it. All that kept them going now, was the togetherness and the fact that they were, after all, still alive.

But for how much longer, no one knew.

---

She was far from home.

That was the first thing Hermione realized as she woke up that morning.

The second was that she still had no idea what had happened to Severus, and this was what fully brought her back to consciousness.

Where was he? Was he alright? Was he perhaps upset with her for leaving?

No, that he couldn’t be – he’d asked her to leave, for the gods’ sake! No, surely he wasn’t upset. More likely he was worried.

If someone like Professor Severus Snape ever worried about anything or anyone, that was... Hermione still knew too little about him to be certain.

But there was no arguing that Hermione herself was worried. Scrambling to her feet, she looked around at the forest around her as its plants and inhabitants slowly came to life in the early morning. The frosty air coming from her mouth as she breathed made Hermione suddenly realize that she was freezing – she hadn’t even thought of that until this very moment.

It was November, after all; of course she was cold. Her cloak wasn’t of much warmth, and sleeping under a tree surely hadn’t helped either. She decided she should probably get moving again, if only to stay warm and keep her blood circulation going.

She started trotting through the forest, not really knowing nor caring where she was heading off to. As things were now, her future looked bleak.

She knew she was in a forest near a place called Fort George, but not where that was nor how she could get away from there. She had no broom, no wand and no other possible means of getting to somewhere familiar. Things looked bad indeed.

She probably walked for about twenty minutes without any particular destination before realizing she had reached a small hill. The forest was still as thick as ever; all the plants had apparently just decided they could grow their way across this small stone hill as well, as if solid rock and lack of soil couldn’t stop them.

Hermione glanced around for an easy climb to the top of the hill when suddenly, she thought she saw something:

It was hardly a something at all, really; just a movement, like the unnatural twitch of a branch and shadows where there shouldn’t be shadows, but it was nevertheless something. Just three or four meters to her left, by the foot of the hill.

Treading carefully upon attentive moss, Hermione moved closer to where she’d seen the unnatural occurrences. She saw nothing of the ordinary as she closed in, just the oh so familiar forest nature.

But wait.

Wasn’t there a slight concavity in the moss just there, right by the foot of the hill, half hidden behind a rather enormous tree stump? And a rather unnatural looking concavity at that? Surely nothing you would notice unless you looked closely, but it couldn’t have appeared there by accident, could it?

Hermione moved closer yet, and she had to climb a few boulders to get to the hollow moss surface that crept for meters from the ground and up along the cliffy hill. Reaching out to peer closely at it, Hermione could clearly see this moss had not decided to grow in this fashion on its own accord; someone had arranged for it to grow straight across these boulders and this hill.

But why?

And why was there a concavity just there?

Feeling too daring for her own good, and being angry with herself for ignoring the fact that she really should be getting back somehow, Hermione reached out a hand tentatively to touch the hollow moss.

It immediately caved in, causing the concavity of moss to part on the middle and fall to each side, revealing a huge, black tunnel underneath the hill in its wake.

Hermione had just discovered a hidden cave.

So well hidden, in fact, that whoever hid it had even gone to the length of having arranged for moss to grow across it. If this was done by Muggles, then they hadn’t used this entrance to the cave for months, as the moss hadn’t been torn.

But if it was made by wizards...

A wizard, and especially one gifted with Herbology, would easily be able to make that moss grow across the entrance again with super speed every time someone had entered of exited through there. For a witch or wizard, this would be a brilliant hiding place...

Hermione was no longer hesitant. Though the tunnel ahead looked long, dark and rather scary, she wasn’t particularly afraid.

If this cave indeed had been sealed up by Muggles, then they had arranged for this moss to grow across the entrance months ago and would be nowhere near here now. And if it had been sealed up by wizards, then that could mean they were still in the cave, hiding from something...

And any witch or wizard who hid in these days, Hermione knew she could trust.

Any witch or wizards who hid nowadays was a supporter of the light.

Her courage and spirit renewed, Hermione quickly climbed her way down the entrance to the cave and started the long and arduous walk down the dark tunnel, her anticipation building as she drew closer to the other end, wondering what on earth she might encounter there, if anything at all. She knew she could be heading towards a dead and black end, with nothing of interest at all, and that she really should be trying to get to Killengreen...

But how to do that? She had no idea where Fort George was, nor how to get from there to Killengreen on the Black Isle.

If there were wizards in this cave, perhaps they would be able to help.

Hermione had to walk slowly with careful steps down through the dark tunnel. As the light from the entrance faded away in the distance, it became increasingly more difficult to walk, as the path was rocky and rather treacherous.

After having walked for about five minutes, the darkness was so overwhelming that she stumbled over a large rock sticking up from the ground and fell straight forwards, crashing down in the soil with a nasty thump as she yelped in surprise.

The fall wasn’t too painful, and something caught Hermione’s attention just as she was climbing to her feet again:

Voices.

Whispering voices, coming from somewhere ahead in the tunnel, and they sounded frantic. Continuing her walk, Hermione felt the tunnel turn a corner and suddenly – there was a flicker of light, going out just as she rounded the corner, and the voices were heard easier now.

There was most definitely someone here. And they had just blown out whatever lights they might have, which meant that they had heard her fall. They knew she was there.

Stumbling her way further down the cave in the darkness, Hermione listened intently as she closed in on the whispering noises from ahead. As she got close enough, she could actually see the contours of people ahead of her, moving carefully in the dark – and there were many of them. A jolt of nervousness hit Hermione as she caught sound of one of the whispers:

“They are very near... Quiet!”

Who on earth were these people?

Yet again feeling more daring than what could be sensible, surely, Hermione gathered her courage and spoke aloud into the darkness before her:

“Who’s there?” She hesitated, then added: “I’m on my own, and I’m not here to hurt you.”

A few more whispers were exchanged between the mysterious creatures in the cave, so quietly that Hermione could barely hear they were communicating at all. Then a voice suddenly spoke, as loudly as Hermione had.

“Who are you?”

The strong, male voice echoed through the cave and revealed that they had to be in a kind of hall underneath the hill now – there was a great acoustic.

Hermione hesitated; she wasn’t particularly keen to speak her name aloud just yet.

“Please, bring your lights back, and you can see for yourselves,” she replied hesitantly.

There was a moment of silence. Then, somewhere very near to Hermione, there was a sound of wood on rock and the sight of a spark as a torch was lit, not two meters away. The very first thing the torch revealed to Hermione, was the rocky environment and the size of the stone hall she had found her way to.

The second was the man holding the torch.

It was Ron.


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A/N: Ah, okay! So what do you think?! From what I\'ve been told on other sites where this story\'s posted, it was only to be expected that he would make an appearance... \"Oh no, of course Ron\'s alive!\" and all that. Well, there you have it - he is! Ah, and what might be up next, I wonder... ;)

As always, a huge thanks to all the wonderful reviewers! Love you!