what if the world suddenly ended?
Her face is shrouded, hidden in the folds of her cloak and hood. She hobbles and her footsteps are quiet - so quiet, in fact, that Hermione can barely hear them at all. Only the swish of fabric brushing the floorboards beneath them whispers, mingled with their deep breaths (hers and Ron's and Harry's) and the occasional squeak of wood disagreeing with the sudden weight of three extra bodies.
There is a foreign odour in the air, something so pungent it makes Hermione's nose prickle. It's terrible - a sharp, sour scent that reaches her tongue. And it is everywhere, soaked right into the woodwork and the peeling wallpaper.
Hermione tugs on Harry's arm but he doesn't seem to notice her at all. She might as well yell in his ear, for all the good it would do. His bright green eyes are focused solely on the woman leading them through the hall of her dusty old house. Behind her, Ron mumbles something about the smell.
She is Bathilda Bagshot and as far as Hermione is concerned, she is their best chance at finding the sword of Gryffindor - and the other horcruxes. (Now, she isn't too sure.)
A moment later, Bathilda stops where she is. She beckons towards a door, waving a pale bony hand. She hisses again and in a voice that sounds far off, Hermione can hear herself say: 'Harry, I'm not sure about this.'
Harry's body doesn't turn or shift at all, but an echoed voice rings back, 'Look at the size of her; I think we could overpower her if we had to -' before the door opens on its' own accord.
And then there's a loud hiss and the crack of a wand being snapped into pieces, bits of wood flying every which way. Hermione immediately drops to her knees, arms over her head while she peeks through the bushy curls of her hair for any sign of her best friends.
'Harry! Ron!' she cries. 'Harry, where are you -'
A series of dimly lit faces suddenly appear, surrounding her in a claustrophobic circle, closing in on her shrinking figure. Each one of them is wearing a mask made of bone.
'Looking for your friends?' one of them asks, his voice deep with sinister mirth. He tears off his mask and it clatters to the ground but there is no smile on his face. Not even the slightest twitch.
Through her hair, she nods her head. She can feel entire body grow cold as she attempts to look away.
'Weasley's right here,' the leading Death Eater says calmly, pulling a shorter figure forward by the collar, his entire body limp, rather like a heavy ragdoll. His red hair is plastered to his pale skin, the freckles on face all the more prominent.
Hermione gasps. 'Let him go!' she calls out, feebly.
'Oh, we will.'
The rest happens so quickly, a blur of colour and light and pain before her eyes.
Ron awakes, eyes snapping open to reveal a desperate, ripping fear that shakes her very resolve. 'Get out of here, Hermione! Get out!' he yells.
'Wait, Ron -'
And just like that, with no warning, the loud and confident shout of the killing curse (Avada Kedavra!) fills the room with a flash of light and death. Hermione watches Ron fall.
'Your turn, Granger.'
But she wants to know where Harry is. What'll happen to him? Will he know this was their end?
'No,' she says, shaking her head, scrabbling for an escape plan. Her eyes spill tears until she can barely see. She squeezes them shut, repeating over and over, 'No, no, no, no, no...' until behind her eyes, she can make out a bright light.
*
She is thrust from her nightmare, gasping.
Next to her, awake for his night-shift, Harry turns.
'Hermione? Are you all right?' he asks.
There is a foreign odour in the air, something so pungent it makes Hermione's nose prickle. It's terrible - a sharp, sour scent that reaches her tongue. And it is everywhere, soaked right into the woodwork and the peeling wallpaper.
Hermione tugs on Harry's arm but he doesn't seem to notice her at all. She might as well yell in his ear, for all the good it would do. His bright green eyes are focused solely on the woman leading them through the hall of her dusty old house. Behind her, Ron mumbles something about the smell.
She is Bathilda Bagshot and as far as Hermione is concerned, she is their best chance at finding the sword of Gryffindor - and the other horcruxes. (Now, she isn't too sure.)
A moment later, Bathilda stops where she is. She beckons towards a door, waving a pale bony hand. She hisses again and in a voice that sounds far off, Hermione can hear herself say: 'Harry, I'm not sure about this.'
Harry's body doesn't turn or shift at all, but an echoed voice rings back, 'Look at the size of her; I think we could overpower her if we had to -' before the door opens on its' own accord.
And then there's a loud hiss and the crack of a wand being snapped into pieces, bits of wood flying every which way. Hermione immediately drops to her knees, arms over her head while she peeks through the bushy curls of her hair for any sign of her best friends.
'Harry! Ron!' she cries. 'Harry, where are you -'
A series of dimly lit faces suddenly appear, surrounding her in a claustrophobic circle, closing in on her shrinking figure. Each one of them is wearing a mask made of bone.
'Looking for your friends?' one of them asks, his voice deep with sinister mirth. He tears off his mask and it clatters to the ground but there is no smile on his face. Not even the slightest twitch.
Through her hair, she nods her head. She can feel entire body grow cold as she attempts to look away.
'Weasley's right here,' the leading Death Eater says calmly, pulling a shorter figure forward by the collar, his entire body limp, rather like a heavy ragdoll. His red hair is plastered to his pale skin, the freckles on face all the more prominent.
Hermione gasps. 'Let him go!' she calls out, feebly.
'Oh, we will.'
The rest happens so quickly, a blur of colour and light and pain before her eyes.
Ron awakes, eyes snapping open to reveal a desperate, ripping fear that shakes her very resolve. 'Get out of here, Hermione! Get out!' he yells.
'Wait, Ron -'
And just like that, with no warning, the loud and confident shout of the killing curse (Avada Kedavra!) fills the room with a flash of light and death. Hermione watches Ron fall.
'Your turn, Granger.'
But she wants to know where Harry is. What'll happen to him? Will he know this was their end?
'No,' she says, shaking her head, scrabbling for an escape plan. Her eyes spill tears until she can barely see. She squeezes them shut, repeating over and over, 'No, no, no, no, no...' until behind her eyes, she can make out a bright light.
*
She is thrust from her nightmare, gasping.
Next to her, awake for his night-shift, Harry turns.
'Hermione? Are you all right?' he asks.