Disclaimer: Nothings mine writing for pure enjoyment.
Hermione held her breath as Ron's freckled hand wrapped around the closet doorknob. The courage she'd felt just moments before seemed to be slipping away. I don't know if I can do this., a panicked voice echoed in her mind.
Ron quickly ushered himself through the open door, pulling Hermione rapidly behind him. As the door latched silently, Hermione found herself enveloped in icy darkness. A shiver ran the length of her spine, and her teeth threatened to chatter. The loving warmth of the Burrow was gone. It was hard to believe this home once held such happy memories. There was no life, no movement. The silence of their surroundings was maddening. Every scrape of their shoes, every intake of breath, echoed threefold.
Hermione's awareness of her senses was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. Every whisper of sound, every smell, any hint of movement set her heart racing, loosening her grasp on her self-control. It was hard to fathom that minutes before now she'd spoken so bravely and forcefully. When she and Ron had been alone, standing so close to one another bathed in soft moonlight, anything had seemed possible. Stepping out into the fight had seemed natural, expected. But now, Hermione feared it had all been an act. Some cheap illusion of strength she'd created for herself. Now that the danger was so tangible, so salient, she feared she wasn't up to the task. There were no books here. No easy answers, no absolutions. Hermione could only depend on was herself, and she feared that wouldn't be nearly enough.
Ron's hand suddenly wrapped more tightly around Hermione's, as if he'd heard her thoughts. Hermione squeezed back in response, thankful that she and Ron were together. His presence grounded her, forcing her to stay on track. It was almost mesmerizing to see how focused he was, his determined gait leading her steadily on. She willed herself to remain focused, demanding her harried breath to slow and racing heart to be still. They could get through this, so long as they had each other.
At the base of the stairs, Ron released Hermione's hand, motioning for her to stay where she was. Hermione covered Ron from behind as he slowly made his way around the stairwell, searching for any sign of hidden Death Eaters. Ron's attackers from earlier still lay unmoving at the base of the stairs, one small yellow bird remaining, perched quietly on one of the Death Eater's heads. Ron approached them carefully, nudging one Death Eater aggressively with his foot, and, much to Hermione's surprise, Ron roughly kicked the other. When neither stirred, Ron signaled the 'all-clear' and began moving steadily towards the kitchen. Hermione followed close behind, warily staring at the fallen Death Eaters as she passed.
They paused in the kitchen doorway, unsure of their next move. Hermione's gaze pierced through the darkness around her, examining the remains of a once loved and well-used kitchen. Her stomach turned slightly as she noticed the family clock lying broken on the floor, its many hands bearing the names of the Weasley family scattered and damaged beyond repair. Hermione quickly turned away, seeking Ron's eyes for comfort.
He met her gaze, a hardened look forming on his face. Ron inclined his head towards the door, indicating they should make their way outside. Hermione nodded in agreement, walking precariously across the rubble filled kitchen. Ron reached the door first, peeking cautiously through the window. Hermione felt like her heart might explode it was beating so fiercely against her chest. She wet her lips nervously, glancing about the kitchen, her wand poised to strike. Ron turned his head slightly towards Hermione and nodded encouragingly as he reached for the doorknob, though Hermione felt far from reassured. The two of us against a countless band of Death Eaters? The very idea was absolute lunacy. But they had no other options left.
Ron opened the creaking door exasperatingly slowly as Hermione held her breath. Suddenly she felt her hair stand on end as a soft rustle of sound was made somewhere behind her. A whisper of a sound, one that would normally have gone unnoticed. But not today. Today it was enough to raise the alarm, to bring Hermione to full alert: The gentle sound of a bird taking flight.
She turned her head, her body moving painfully lethargic, as if time had slowed down. All Hermione saw was the rush of darkness and a flash of steel. Then her senses were completely consumed by an anguished scream the rent the silent night.
Ron could feel his hands shaking slightly as he pulled Hermione from their hiding place. A deep sense of fear was winding menacingly through his stomach, threatening to consume him. He'd never felt so afraid in his entire life as he desperately clung to Hermione's hand, leading her soundlessly through the Burrow. Ron wasn't afraid for himself or the unknown fate that lay in waiting somewhere in the distance. This fear was for Hermione, a feeling unlike any Ron had ever experienced. The memory of her battered body lying on the ground just that morning kept chocking at his composure. He wasn't sure he could handle that again. His bravery had its limits.
His heart ached as he looked around him. This was no longer his childhood home. This was a battlefield, stripped of life. The anger and hatred of so many was tangible, poisoning the very air. Ron grimaced as an undeniable thirst for revenge swelled in his chest. He squeezed Hermione's hand more tightly. He needed her sensibleness to keep him steady. Too much was at stake to be consumed with a lust for vengeance.
As they neared the stairs, Ron paused, eyeing the fallen silhouettes of Malfoy and the unarmed Death Eater. He pressed Hermione's hand lightly and then released it, motioning for her to stay back. He made his way around the stairwell, warily approaching the two men lying on the ground. One lone yellow bird sat on the first Death Eater's face; merrily ruffling its feathers and hopping about ridiculously. Ron extended his foot and shoved his attacker roughly in the side. The lifeless body rocked violently, setting the small bird twittering in annoyance.
Ron then turned to Malfoy, the will for revenge bubbling like acid in his throat. On a whim, Ron hauled back and kicked Malfoy as hard as he could, taking care to smash Malfoy's wand to bits as he brought his leg back down. Feeling immensely satisfied Ron turned towards Hermione, motioning for her to follow as he ducked his way towards the kitchen.
Ron berated his stomach as he stood in the kitchen doorway. Leave it to him to feel hungry at a time like this. He turned his head towards Hermione, her outline barely visible amongst the shadows. I should have locked her in the closet, he thought to himself. She was too damned brave for her own good. Once again the memory of her bloodied face and scorched dress robes swam unbidden in his mind. He shook the thought away angrily, pushing onward before his fears fully surfaced.
He stepped towards the window, pulling the drapery back just enough to gaze outside. It was a cloudless night, the nearly full moon illuminating every corner of the backyard that Ron could see. There was no sign of his family, and not a Death Eater in sight. Ron feared the worst, suddenly anxious to press on. He inclined his head towards Hermione, nodding to show his intentions of opening the door. His hand tightened around the knob, pulling it open as careful as possible. The door was halfway open when Ron heard Hermione gasp. There was a sudden rush of sound, frenzied movement, followed by unadulterated pain in his right shoulder.
One shout left Ron's lips before he was able to muffle his cries. He whipped around wildly, searching the darkness for his attacker. A black robed figure loomed ominously, one of Mrs. Weasley's cutting knives gripped solidly in his hand. He lunged at Ron again, the knife thrashing angrily through the air. Unexpectedly the Death Eater was thrown back, his head hitting the floor with a sickening thud as he crashed to the ground.
Hermione was now standing before Ron. Anger and protectiveness radiated from her body, as she raised her wand in preparation for another attack. Ron saw her tremble slightly as the man before them didn't move, his body disturbingly still. Without hesitating, Ron reached for Hermione with his uninjured arm, pulling her away from the kitchen and out into the moonlit night. He moved as fast as his body could take him along the edge of the house, diving lithely into an overgrown thicket of bushes.
His shoulder throbbed angrily as he kneeled on the ground, Hermione panting softly beside him. Tears swam in her eyes as she wordlessly conjured a tourniquet and hastily wrapped it around Ron's wounded shoulder. He stiffened physically as she pulled the bandage tight, forbidding himself to utter even one sound of pain. His silence was likely in vain; the damage had already been done. His screams upon being stabbed were enough. Every Death Eater within earshot would soon be descending upon them.
Hermione acted without thinking. An acute anger resonated into her very soul as she watched the Death Eater stab Ron in the back. Mechanically she leapt forward, putting herself before Ron. The powerful hex she released from her wand shocked her. Fury of this kind was an emotion Hermione was not used to.
She waited anxiously for the man to stir again, gazing fixedly at his prone form. An eternity seemed to pass, and still the attacker remained motionless. Hermione felt her stomach drop, her heart began racing out of control. Nausea rose in her throat as Ron tugged at her arm, propelling her away from the kitchen and into the backyard of the Burrow.
The world was a blur, her eyes unfocused as she scuttled in Ron's wake. She hardly noticed where they'd ended up as she sat quietly on the ground, desperately gasping for air. The realization that she might have killed someone was sinking in slowly. You didn't do it on purpose, Hermione tried to reason with herself, her insides squirming uncomfortably.
She felt Ron stir beside her and turned her head slightly. Her stomach turned again as she saw the blood seeping from the wound at Ron's shoulder. Tears of anger flowed into her eyes as the bandages fell from her wand. It might have been Ron, she thought as she wrapped him shoulder tightly. It might have been him instead of the Death Eater.
Ron clasped Hermione's hand in his, kissing her palm and caressing her knuckles, expressing his gratitude in silence. His gaze was calming, reassuring her, though their situation was desperate. There were voices coming from the trees. Ron's shout of pain had called the Death Eaters out of hiding. Ron and Hermione watched as the black figures scurried across the yard, circling the perimeter of the house cautiously.
Ron's body shifted fluidly, placing himself in front of Hermione as one of the Death Eaters crept closer to where they were hiding. It was a sweet but highly unnecessary act of chivalry. They would both be exposed soon enough. Hermione hardly dared to breath, every beat of her pounding heart sounded like an explosion.
Ron looked as though he was ready to pounce, balanced on the balls of his feet. Hermione placed one of her hands on his back, positioning herself in a better stance for fast action. She could feel the muscles in Ron's back tightening in preparation. His free hand briefly touched her ankle, squeezing it affectionately.
The Death Eater was upon them. Hermione could see the deep contours of his masked face, the hollow blackness of his covered eyes. His feet and robes were rustling the overgrown branches of a bush, mere feet away. Her mind wiped clear, her instincts to fight taking control. Refusing to let fear consume her, Hermione followed Ron's lead, launching herself forward and into the fray.
Author's Note: Wow, this chapter has been in queu FOREVER! I apologize, something screwed up with my formating and I had to re-post. Next chapter will hopefully be up much faster. Also, I have a new story on the site. It's a one-shot called, "Iduna," that I wrote for a challenge, and I'd really love some feedback if you'd read it! Thanks to all my lovely readers!!!
Senses by Gryffinpuff
Chapter Notes: Fear not the future, weep not for the past.
-Percy Bysshe Shelley