The Fallout by EveryThursday (reposted)

Thirty-Five

Day: 1501; Hour: 17

She can feel the girl's mouth open against her palm the second she puts her hand over it, and her voice comes out more like a hiss than anything comforting. "Sh! I'm not going to hurt you. Don't move and be quiet."

She had been Apparated into the wrong side of the town center, but it still only put her about twenty shops over from the yelling she could hear. They had had no Portkeys to the location when they were called in for backup, and it had taken them an unacceptable fourteen minutes of Flooing the Ministry before they found someone who could bring them there. Hermione had been the first person Apparated in and, after informing her that he would Apparate the rest to the other side, the man had left her on her own.

After running past one store front, Hermione had spotted the young girl in a small alley between two stores while idly walking toward a clothing shop. Hermione had wondered if the girl was deaf as she grabbed her, just three paces from hitting the main road and exposing herself to the fight. Perhaps it was the indifference of being fourteen and feeling immortal. Hermione hadn't known ages of that, but she had moments of it. Of feeling like the world could never touch her.

The girl raises her shaking hand, pointing to something in front of them. Hermione swings her wand in that direction, pulling them two steps back while searching for what the girl sees, before her wand is yanked out of her grasp. Hermione freezes, her vision blurring in surprise just as an elbow slams into her stomach. She coughs over the expulsion of her breath, releasing her grip for just a second, but it's long enough for the girl to jerk away from her.

Her surprise is quickly replaced by her anger as she lunges toward the girl, the younger female clutching the wand and grinning. "I tol-- Shit."

The girl's grin is matched by the Death Eater that steps out from the shadows at the side of the alley, realization and fear bursting in Hermione's chest. How did she not see that? How had she let herself be so distracted by the girl, like she is new to this, like she doesn't know better. Hermione throws herself forward at the girl, but only manages to grab her sleeve, the material ripping under her grip as the girl shoves herself back. Hermione curses viciously, screwed without her wand.

"Don't touch me, Mudblood! I'm already going to have to burn my clothes and scrub my face off!"

"I suggest you do as she says." The Death Eater waves his wand at her, as if she hadn't already seen it. His voice squeaks over the middle word, and she takes in the smoothness of his face and the small height he has over the girl who now stands next to him. He can't be older than seventeen, if that.

Fantastic. Everyone is on the other side, she has no wand, and she is stuck in an alley with two young teenagers with the upper hand. Her only real hope is to distract them, hope they couldn't cast anything too damaging, and then attack them the Muggle way until she got her wand back. Or run, if nothing else.

Fear is churning in her gut and her heartbeat is static, the adrenaline pulsing along her limbs. She expects to feel dizzy with panic, but she isn't. Instead, her senses are sharpened, everything clear and vivid. She is taking in every movement they make, and for a moment the girl looks uneasy, until she remembers they are the ones with wands.

"I can't believe that worked," the girl laughs out, handing the wand to the boy, and Hermione wants to punch her in the face.

She can't believe it worked either. How could she be so stupid? She had faced hundreds of Death Eaters with decades of magical education and plotting, and only one had gotten the best of her. Had Stunned her from behind, injured and hectic, and new to war. Now, here she is, with years of hard experience, cornered by children. Granted, she is only a few years older than the Death Eater in front of her, but war made them animals – they lived years in just one.