Chapter Text
27th may 1998 - Twenty Five days after the battle of Hogwarts. | Hermione
Hermione always tried to find hope in the darkest times, but she held so tight to that rope that she didn't even notice when her hands started cracking. If she had noticed sooner, she wouldn't be here now. She could have prevented Harry's death. Ron being dragged away. Ginny's screams falling silent.
The last one had been an act of mercy.
She lifted her gaze toward the metallic walls. Her body was numb from staying still too long. Not that it had much space to move either. Besides it all, she had a spot — a small breach where light trespassed, touching her face. She inhaled sharply as the wind whistled through the vehicle. The light moved, her eyes closed.
Hermione had less than half a minute to Apparate from the moment the convoy halted. A nearly impossible mission.
She chuckled at herself. The wizards among her didn't even blink at her sound, as if breaking down there was routine. Waiting for the next one to descend into madness while being transported somewhere she doubted they would survive long enough to see.
Funny, really.
How easily conviction bent when it needed wheels. Transporting Muggle-borns, blood traitors, and half-bloods. Trusting their machines. Hermione wondered how long it would take before they started transporting Muggles themselves.
It was never truly about blood.
It had never been consistent. Nonsense.
She turned her head, taking in the hopeless expressions, silently weeping, already accepting their fate, the lives they would never have.
Yet they had been too close. After all these years, she wouldn’t die in vain. Nor should these people.
She filled her lungs, drawing in as much air as she could.
“Listen.”
All heads lifted toward her.
“If you want to escape, you’ll need to move to the forest as fast as you can and then apparate,” Hermione said in a sharp tone. “The moment it halts is our chance.”
A murmur rose, but all she could hear was silence. Uneasy glances exchanged around her. Hermione shifted her weight, trying to maintain what little control she still had.
None.
A man beside her shook his head. “You’re mad,” he said in a harsh whisper. “They’ll kill us.”
Another witch furrowed her dark brows in response. “Are you a troll? Don’t you see?” she said casting a pitying look at the man. “From the moment we entered this hell, we were already dead.”
Among them a boy hissed, his fist clenched. “I won’t wait to die.”
Hermione didn’t hesitate.
“I — don’t try to fight,” she warned, lowering her voice. “Just run.”
For the first time in weeks, they looked awake. Some heads nodded, others grunted.
For her, well… It was enough.
The convoy groaned, slowing. A muffled order echoed from the front. Death Eaters.
All the wizards waited silently by the door, unable to hear a thing, breaths held. The ward line stretched for 250 meters across open ground.
Hermione knew it would be hard, but she prayed to any god that might be listening. Just one shot.
Their magic restriction potion was already wearing off. Any minute now, it would be gone.
A sharp metallic click resounded. The rear doors of the truck began to open. They didn’t wait. They moved as one, running.
For a moment, there was confusion. No. Chaos.
The first ones out were sacrificed immediately. Horror struck Hermione as she jumped over the young witch. It was her fault, but she had no time for guilt.
Her legs moved on instinct. One after another. Muscles burning, as if her body were tearing apart.
A flash of green light flew toward her. Hermione threw herself down, her ribs slamming against the uneven soil. As she got up, her lungs burned. All she could do was bolt—desperately, stumbling forward.
Leaves crunched beneath her as she pushed deeper into the forest.
Sweat stuck messy curls to her neck. Hermione didn’t know if it was the forest or herself. The humidity. The panic. Or not feeling anything at all. Nothing but blurred shades of green and brown…
Think of a place.
“THE MUDBLOOD’S HERE!”
Any place.
A crack split the air.
First, her ankle twisted as she landed. Then, the buzz snapped on the ward limit.
Hermione lurched forward, hardly catching herself against a tree trunk. Her breathing came in sharp, rough gasps.
No… Her eyes darted through the trees, trying to force herself to focus through the dizziness.
Another crack — behind her.
The tip of the rough wooden wand skimmed at her nape. Her stomach sank, heavy. Her mouth suddenly flooded with saliva.
She turned.
“Well, this is interesting.” A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. The eyes barely visible in the shadow. “Rather convenient to have Potter’s old toy, huh.”
His dark robes rustled. Circling her, slowly.
Outrunning him was against the odds.
Her wandless hands trembled uncontrollably.
Maybe…
She flicked her fingers slightly.
“Ac—.”
“Crucio.” He spat.
Every muscle locked at once. Her breath vanished before it could become a scream, as if her body had forgotten she was alive. Something inside her twisted so violently she thought she would become nothing else. Hermione’s face scraped the dirt. Back arched off the floor.
A broken sound escaped her throat. The trickle of saliva and blood slipping from her lips.
Wet, viscous droplets hit her face. Not her own. “Dirty Mudblood bitch.”
Tears blurred her eyes as a silent plea. Her fingers clawed uselessly against the soil, twitching as the curse ripped through her nerves again.
But this time, it vanished.
Hermione’s body screamed long after the pain itself had stopped. Long after she could understand.
A heavy mass collapsed over her body. She froze, breath hitching in panic beneath the corpse pinning her. Warmth soaked through the Death Eater’s robes. Red and slick. Too much blood.
“I think I got one of them!”
Hermione’s heartbeat thundered, roaring inside her ears. The distant voice getting closer. Her hands shoved weakly against the man draped over her.
Nothing. The dead weight barely shifted.
The swifting sound of leaves was almost ethereal. Almost lyrical. Was she dead?
“These filthy heads will get me paperwork.”
Her eyes snapped open.
Don’t panic.
She dragged in a shaking breath through her nose and tucked her chin against the Death Eater’s shoulder, forcing a small pocket of air between them. Mud smeared across her skin. Somehow she felt his soulless eyes mocking her after death.
A sting shot through her twisted ankle as she planted her feet harder into the ground. She jerked her body upward, nearly choking on the sound clawing its way up her throat.
The body shifted.
Just enough to move.
Hermione rolled and forced herself upright.
Her entire body screamed in protest.
Home.
“YOU.”
Crack.
She didn’t even feel herself land. Whether she had made it home or not, it felt wrong somehow.
Dark dots covered her vision.
Her body spun as if gambling if she would hit the ground next round.
Suddenly all went black.