40 Days

December 1, 1997

We had been walking on eggshells around each other since Harry realized he couldn't compel me to answer without actually hurting me yesterday. When he told me in the afternoon, he was going to take a walk, despite my reservations about him being alone, I said nothing, knowing we both needed a break from each other.

After he left, I went to my bag, digging through my books until I found the one I wanted. A worn large black volume with Secrets of the Darkest Art lettered in gleaming red across the leather cover. Even touching the book made me feel slightly nauseous.

I had stolen it shortly after Dumbledore's funeral from his study. The headmaster had left us too little information to understand what we were supposed to do next and needed to understand Horcruxes in order to help Harry.

I knew enough now.

I whipped out my wand, muttering my favorite fire incantation and blue bell flames spread out over the book I had suspended in air. Tossing my wand back on the couch, I sat on the floor and watched the book burn. Little black ashes pulled free from the blue flames and evaporated into the chill air.

The smoky smell of the burning book drifted through the tent, stronger than it should be, but it didn't bother me. When I smelled it I felt a strange sort of victory, as if by burning the book I had prevented what my logical mind told me would happen, regardless.

I felt and heard nothing before it happened. There was no crash, no warning tingle from my magic, no scream. The flap of the tent pulled back and a large man stepped in.

A death eater.

Mr. Crabbe, Vincent Crabbe's father. The man who had tried to kill me during fifth year in the Department of Mysteries. Who would have killed me if Harry hadn't tackled his knees.

He gave me a dull sort of smile as if he was surprised to see me too and I threw myself for my wand a few feet from me on the couch, but his spell hit my back and I fell to the ground.

"Well... well... well..." Crabbe muttered to himself repeatedly as if he didn't know how to speak any other words. His heavy, slow steps approached me, making my skin crawl. I couldn't even turn around to watch him.

"Expelliarmus! You bloody fucking idiot. You couldn't even fall into a trap correctly." Harry's irate voice cut through my shock.

"Well–" Crabbe sputtered.

"Shut your gob and get out of the tent." I heard footsteps and then Harry released me. I flipped around just in time to see Harry following Crabbe out of the tent. I grabbed my wand and jumped up to dash after them.

Harry stood about fifteen feet from Crabbe, and without looking away from him, pointed his wand at me, disarming me and casting a protego that pushed me away blocking me from interfering.

"What are you doing!" I screamed at him.

"Hermione, allow me to introduce Mr. Crabbe." Harry smiled, not taking his sharp gaze from Vincent's father. "I've met him a few times. The night Cedric died he was trying to hide from sight behind Goyle while his master ranted. And more recently, in the Department of Mysteries."

His gaze flicked over to me, noticing my lack of reaction. "You recognize him."

"Yes." I whispered.

Crabbe looked between the two of us, clearly unsure what action to take. "Well-argh!" He cut off with a small scream as a cut opened up across his chest.

"Say 'well' again and see what I cut off." Harry's threat was all the more chilling for how casually he issued it and Crabbe looked between us. It seemed to finally penetrate his thick skull that he was actually in trouble.

With an almost comically slow motion, Crabbe turned, his cloak barely lifting as he started to trot away at a pace that a toddler could keep up with.

Harry started laughing so hard he could barely cast. "Levicorpus!"

With a grunt, Crabbe was hung suspended in air, twirling slowly, his mouth opening and closing. "There are so many things I've had to accept. But this? You almost dying from this pathetic sack of flesh? I've decided no."

He brought Crabbe closer, dropping Crabbe onto the ground with a loud thud and tossed his wand to him. Harry looked at Crabbe, puzzled. "I want to know exactly what inside you made you think that you could murder my Hermione."

"Cru-" Crabbe began.

"Diffindo! Expelliarmus!" Crabbe and I screamed as his left hand was severed, hitting the ground with a grotesque splat.

Harry silenced Crabbe before turning to me. "You should probably go inside the tent. I didn't mean for this idiot to get close to you. But despite his stupidity or because of it, he manages to be a dangerous git."

"Please stop, Harry, let's leave–we can leave!" I said my eyes unable to look away from the puddle of blood with Crabbe's hand in the middle.

"We'll leave tomorrow." He told me before turning back to Crabbe. "Now stop screaming. Isssalah ." Harry hissed, and the blood stopped dripping from the stump of Crabbe's wrist, the skin knitting together.

"Don't run or it will be worse." Harry said pleasantly tossing Crabbe's wand to him again and removing the silencing spell. "Again."

Crabbe shuddered, his eyes moving wildly around looking for help, but there was none to be had. "Avad-"

"Diffindo! Expelliarmus!" Crabbe's ear hit the ground, blood rushing down his neck and he fell to his knees.

"Harry please, please stop."

He didn't spare me a glance. "Go inside the tent Hermione."

I didn't fight his command and the curse carried me away, back into the tent. I climbed into bed, pulling the pillow over my head.

I won't admit it.

Screaming sounded outside the tent, I clutched the pillow over my head tighter.

I won't admit it.

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily...

Down the stream...

Life is but a dream...

The screams outside cut off with a scary finality.