Hunter and Prey

The Diviner Harry found was an old woman. Hermione listened to her speak and was surprised moths did not fly out of her mouth. Witches and wizards lived a long time but by the end of it they looked as desiccated as mummies. She listened closely however, trying to keep her expression neutral. This was all so teacups. The witch, Esme, droned on about harmonies and clearing the mind until their eyes drooped then she spoke quite placidly.

“You kissed once. It tasted like butterbeer and strawberry lip gloss. And felt like incest.” She paused, humming softly to herself. “It doesn’t always work, dears. But when it does, it does.” Esme laughed softly. “Said the countess to the plumber.”

Harry and Hermione both blinked and looked guilty though they had no reason to be. Just the one kiss. It had felt like snogging a sibling. Neither had been game to repeat the experiment. Esme circled the room, throwing salt in the corners while murmuring to herself. Crookshanks watched her with lidded eyes.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Harry asked quietly.

“With Basingly not talking and the barn unplottable, we’ve got no choice. The Aurors and the SMS field teams have been over the north with a fine-toothed comb.” Hermione was sure. Not thrilled or happy but she was certain. “I can do this. I need to do this. I want to be able to get on with my life.”

Harry made no further comment as she got into bed. The Mediwitch on duty cast a few charms so she could monitor Hermione and Esme did something with incense before settling into a chair. Crookshanks sneezed. It took a while for her to get comfortable as the triplets were Cossack dancing but eventually she slipped into sleep within the dream ward.

Hermione drifted. They had debated using a sleep charm to put her under but had decided against it. She needed to be able to rouse herself to escape the dream. The witch was expecting trouble and had practised visualising herself. When she came to in the cell, she was not naked. This time she wore fatigues, a long sleeved shirt, boots and a ponytail; her usual field outfit.

She strode out of the door to stand in the middle of the barn and focus herself. Esme said it would take time to find her in astral space. Hermione considered picturing a broomstick but her dislike of flying was here in her head with her so she elected to use her wand to make enough fireworks for Chinese New Year in the ghostly silver sky.

“You want my attention, bitch?” The low growl prompted her to turn around quick. Fenrir ignored the pyrotechnics to watch her, his eyes narrow and predatory. Hermione marched up to him and kneed him sharply in the groin. She was the strong one here. Her mind was disciplined. She jumped back as he bent double. His close-combat skills would be ingrained therefore nearly as fast as thought. Don’t get too cocky, she warned herself.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Hermione bared her teeth at him in a smile he would understand. The longer she could keep him here, the better her chances of being found as two minds created much more psychic pull than one. She was willing to try anything and Esme was orders of magnitude less vague than Trelawney so it might work.

Fenrir leapt at her. They fought on pure viciousness, less and less encumbered by physics as they battled. Hermione was more adept though the werewolf was near tireless as he poured his rage into mental action. She could feel the intensity of his spirit; a wild, mad thing. The witch leapt up to land on a rafter as he shifted to half-wolf. It was like a kung-fu movie with the fireworks still bursting overhead.

“Not so virile here, are you?” Hermione taunted, trying to make him so angry he lost himself in the dream. She was tiring herself but she had studied through the night before and was confident she would last longer than he did. He launched himself into the air damn near foaming at the mouth. A last minute scramble got her out of his reach. They both landed panting on the flagstones.

Hermione imagined him hogtied. She put everything she had into those bonds, wanting it more than anything. Fenrir tripped up as he charged her. Ropes bound his wrists behind him and tied his ankles together. Bright, multicoloured climbers’ rope.

“Payback, asshole!” Hermione exulted. She paused for a long moment then carefully thought through a Body-Bind curse, flicking her wand at him. He stiffened to immobility. Only after she was sure he was paralysed did she approach him to roll him over onto his back so she could look into his eyes. “Scared yet?” She hissed. “I should make you suffer.”

There was no fear in his gaze. Perhaps he could not feel it. He was more than reckless. Hermione kicked him but it was not enough. She stepped back to consider what she could do to make him feel what she had felt. To make him understand what he had done to her and settle the debt between them because even Azkaban was insufficient.

An angel descended from the heavens on a trail of sparkling quicksilver. Hermione levelled her wand at the new arrival as the fireworks died. The shimmering being waved a hand at one of the barn’s walls and it dissolved to show a hospital room. Her room, with herself in the bed and Esme dozing in a chair.

“My dear, you are very good but you do not understand you need to free your mind.” Esme laughed liked a pixie, all tinkling bells and merriment. She looked at Fenrir who could do no more than snarl. She snapped her fingers and he turned into a puppy. “Nasty sort.” The seraphic witch dismissed him. “Come now, dear. Wake up. This little jaunt took rather long than expected.”

Hermione nodded, weariness pulling at her. She willed herself out of the dream by walking towards the hospital room. Her legs gave way as she neared the image and she fell into it with an exhausted sigh.