A faint whisper of wind stirred the trees, brushing away the words of the head Death Eater until the camp was filled with utter silence. It was like they had all been frozen, his dreaded statement somehow causing the very earth to still in its motion.
Ron's lungs were screaming. He'd been holding his breath, waiting for them to choose between Hermione and himself. Now that a choice had been made, he’d forgotten how to breathe. The Death Eater's words kept echoing through his mind, cruelly mocking him. Both. They were going to take them both. He couldn't wrap his head around the situation, the meaning behind those words. He had just barely prepared himself for his own decision to take the fall in Harry's name; he couldn't accept this new information, or fathom what this decision might truly mean for him and Hermione.
As a Death Eater swept forward and pulled him roughly off the ground, Ron took in a sharp gasp, flooding his body with blessed air. He felt his mind clear slightly, allowing him the clarity to process the scene around him. He took a moment to look at the clearing, quite likely the last time he would ever see his home. He stared at his family, their ginger heads turned in his direction with disbelieving looks on their faces. After a moment he forced himself to turn away, knowing he'd lose his resolve if he focused on their worried energies any longer.
"Watch the others until we return," Ron heard a voice behind him say as the Death Eater at his arm tightened his grip. Quietly he lifted his eyes to meet Hermione's as he prepared himself for the journey ahead. Her eyes were wide, and their brown depths had a pleading look about them, as though she were begging him to forgive her, like she'd failed him in some way.
Funny, Ron thought to himself as he was Apparated away from the Burrow. I feel like I’m the one that let her down…
Though she'd never admitted it to Ron or Harry, Hermione wasn't very fond of Apparating. The feeling of being squeezed through a narrow tube was not one she fancied; no matter how many times she tried it. But, at that very moment, she would take Apparating any day over what she'd just experienced. The Death Eater that had grabbed her had proved to be a less than desirable Side-Along traveling companion. Along with being rather ungentlemanly with his grip, he'd obviously not mastered his three D's. Hermione had landed beside him feeling like she'd almost been torn in two, gasping for breath and immensely shocked to find she hadn't been splinched.
Not skipping a beat, the Death Eater had roughly grabbed her arm, pitching her forward just as Ron landed somewhere behind them. She swayed and stumbled, tripping ungracefully along the unknown path. Her eyes grew wide in the enveloping darkness, searching in vain for anything familiar, for some assurance of their location. All that she found was a forest of gnarled yew trees, their aging branches coiling as one, blocking her view of the clouded skies.
Hermione jumped as a bird screeched in the distance, a piercing call that set her senses screaming. With every step she felt her body tensing, the hair on her arms standing at attention in preparation for some unseen attacker in the darkness. But Hermione didn't need her eyes to see what was coming. She knew she was walking towards her mortality, each unconscious step leading her closer to her own demise. She could feel it looming, mocking her in the scream of the unseen bird, through the aggressive touch of her captor. She and Ron were on a death march.
Yes, she knew she'd taken this task willingly, but it didn't mean she was ready for what lie ahead. The thought of she and Ron's soon-to-be shared fate sent icy shivers down her spine. She could only take solace in the knowledge that the Death Eaters still didn't have Harry. Wherever he was, for the time being, he was safe. Out of Voldemort's grasp. She and Ron were giving him a chance to keep going, to keep fighting. Tonight will only strengthen his resolve, she thought sadly, thankful that at least she could give the world that much.
Ron tripped and stumbled, his feet catching on roots and loose bits of earth as he scampered through the darkness. Hermione was walking just ahead of him, her darkened outline just noticeable in their morbid procession. Ron saw her tremble slightly. There was a chilled crispness in the air, but he doubted she was cold. His own body was shaking terribly that very moment, complete dread consuming him as he labored forward. He was finding it impossible to prepare himself for the minutes that lie ahead, to make his heart stop racing, to stop the sweat forming on his palms. Even after months of mentally readying himself for his mission with Harry, he felt completely unable to deal with this unexpected situation. It was one thing to die in battle. It was another to lay yourself out for slaughter.
Ron sighed and continued gazing at Hermione. He wanted to be angry at her with every fiber of his being, to be livid and beside himself with annoyance at her actions minutes earlier. But somehow he couldn't feel anything but admiration. She'd acted bravely, selflessly. Her actions had been no different than his own. He couldn't be angry with her.
Right now, all he could really feel was fear. Fear of watching her be hurt, or tortured. Of seeing her in pain, far more extensive than she'd already experienced that day. Afraid of seeing her die. Ron wasn't sure he was strong enough for that. He could put on a brave face and walk into the unknown with his own life hanging in the balance, but he knew he wouldn't survive seeing anything happen to her.
He couldn't stand the thought of losing her. They'd only just become something more, just admitted they had feelings for each other beyond just friendship or Gryffindor housemates. It would be a cruel twist of fate to bring them so far, only to pull them apart now. But he couldn't see a way out of this, no saving grace on the horizon. No one knew where they were, there was no hope of rescue. He looked weakly at the black trees around him, hoping blindly that perhaps somehow, miraculously, someone might come to their aide before it was too late.
Hermione huffed uncomfortably, the ground beneath her feet becoming increasingly steeper as she trekked forward. The trees were becoming sparse now, breaking into open space as she ascended a small hill. Strange shapes were emerging in the distance, shadowy figures looming up from the ground. As she drew closer she realized they were gravestones, deteriorating with age, waiting in vain for a possible visitor, their inhabitants long forgotten.
As she crested the top of the hill her eyes fell on a massive monument, a large stone angel on a marble pedestal. Her wings were spread wide, as though she were about to take flight from the desolate cemetery. Her open arms were stretched high, reaching towards the heavens, a look of hope in her eyes. Hermione couldn't tear her gaze away, captivated by the angel's almost ghostly image. Her eyes drifted lower to the pedestal, focusing on an inscription carefully carved along its base.
Hermione gulped and tore her eyes away from the angel, her heart racing at the irony of the words in the inscription. She was completely terrified, practically beside herself with dread. And yet she felt rather poised given the situation, walking with her head held high, keeping her doubting heart well hidden.
She reluctantly allowed the Death Eater to steer her towards the middle of the graveyard where a small assembly of hooded figures stood in waiting. Their wraithlike masks were turned in her direction as she entered their midst. She could feel their eyes drifting over here, studying her every feature. She brushed aside the desire to be self-conscious as they roughly shoved her to the ground with a thud, pulling Ron up beside her before closing ranks around them.
Moving as one, the robed Death Eaters turned, drawing attention to a dark figure descending through the headstones. Hermione's heart plummeted to her knees as she watched the new demon approach, suddenly terrified beyond reason at who might be hiding beneath the hood. Almost unconsciously she stirred, sliding her body a few inches until she was pressed against Ron's side. He leaned into her in response, whether out of protectiveness or the desire for her comfort in return she didn’t know.
The Death Eaters parted, allowing the robed figure to enter the circle before tightening together once more. Hermione could see naught but blackness around her, not even in the towering figure looming over her head. She licked her lips nervously as the figure raised its arms, revealing pale hands from the overly long sleeves of the robes. As the hands lowered the hood, Hermione gasped and recoiled despite her best efforts. She stared at the man before her, a mix of fear and utter hatred churning like bile in the pit of her stomach. Thousands of angered words begged to drip from her lips as she glared at him, but she knew better than to lash out while surrounded by Death Eaters. She settled for a vindictive stare as she awaited his word.
Ron glared at the headstones as he made his way through the cemetery. Judging by their decay, he guessed that this cemetery was at least two hundred years old, if not more, and it appeared to still be in use. There was a section towards the center with newer plots, some even decorated with fresh flowers. It was in this place that Ron found himself flung once again to his knees, gazing side-long at Hermione as the Death Eaters closed in around them.
In the distance another figure has appeared, moving intently towards where he and Hermione had been thrown. An almost respectful silence befell the Death Eaters as their newest member approached. At that moment, Ron was forcibly reminded of Harry. It had taken Harry so long to finally tell he and Hermione exactly what happened the night Cedric died. After knowing the truth, Ron had found it impossible to look at Harry the same as he could before, knowing the torments he’d survived. He couldn’t forget the haunted, hardened look that had formed in his best friend’s eyes as he’d recounted the experience. Seeing someone die… Being tortured and taunted by Death Eaters… As the black hooded figure entered the circle, Ron couldn’t help but think he was about to relive that same horrifying experience, though he doubted the outcome would be the same.
The robed figure loomed nearer, drawing closer to where they were kneeling until Ron felt Hermione shudder and move closely to his side. He automatically responded, leaning into her protectively as he gazed ahead, a defiant look on his face. Finally after a moment, the figure raised his arms, grasping the edges of the hood and lowering it with a steady hand.
Ron’s face slid into an angry grimace, his hands automatically thrashing against his bonds at the sight of the man before him. He wanted to launch off the ground and tear him limb from limb, pay him back from the wrongs he’d committed. The betrayal. Somehow he managed to calm his rage, glaring with vile hatred at the pale faced man before him.
“You’d do well to wipe that smug look off your face, Mr. Weasley,” Severus Snape, their former potions master sneered down his greasy nose. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”