This Bitter Earth

TWENTY SEVEN

A/N: Surprise, bitch. I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me. Would you believe me if I said I've missed you? And I know you've missed our poor, tortured characters. So I won't keep you, but there is some good news for you at the end of the chapter.

Thank you, as always, to the wonderful Bree who has somehow managed to not murder me yet. We will see how that plays out though, as the story progresses. And also thank you to AdAsttra who did some last minute editing for me. This chapter is happening because of them.

Trigger warning: gore and... corpse mutilation?

Soundtrack: "Demons" by Missio and butterf(lies) by ALYSSAD

TWENTY SEVEN

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Hermione huffed out white puffs of breath as she ran. She should have gotten warmer as she moved, but the further she went, the colder it got. The icy air hit her lungs, making her seize and slowing her down, still; she forced herself on. She couldn't stop, not now.

It was right behind her.

Her nightmares had shifted and changed over time and somehow had found their way back to their earliest formation—Hermione, running away from a persistent foe. Only there were no smooth tiles from the Department of Mysteries or well worn stones of Hogwarts castle. These were crudely carved passageways that seemed almost as if they had been hewn from the rock.

And they were cold.

She had never felt cold like this before—not when she went skiing with her parents and not even hiding in the woods with Harry last winter. This was the kind of cold that seeped down into bones, stealing the warmth from the very marrow. This was the kind of cold that felt like once it got in, she would never be able to get it back out. It felt like...like hopelessness.

Like hell.

She came to the end of the passageway and saw a small set of winding stairs leading up. Taking a risk, Hermione glanced behind her. She couldn't see very far in the dark, but she could hear it.

A slow, but steady shuffling followed by a low and heavy groan.

It sounded almost... human. Almost.

Hermione's stomach tightened and she darted up the stairs. Near the top she slipped on a patch of ice, hitting the landing hard. The top step knocked into her middle and pushed the air from her lungs. Stunned for a moment, she watched it cloud and mist in the space in front of her. She needed to get up, to move. She couldn't stay here.

Hermione pushed herself up, tenderly breathing in and wincing when a sharp pain hit her side. It felt like a shard of frozen steel stabbing into her. Looking down, she didn't see any blood. A broken rib then, maybe a punctured lung. She braved the pain as she forced herself to get up again. She would be able to assess the damage once she was—

Something icy encircled her ankle and pulled her down hard. Hermione cried out as she hit the stairs again, hot tears springing to her eyes only to freeze before they even made it halfway down her cheek.

She struggled, trying to pull herself back up, but whatever had her was holding on tight.

It wouldn't let go.

Hermione kicked out at it wildly, but even the kicksones that made contact did nothing to stop what was holding her, what was pulling her back, pulling her down.

She let out a frustrated scream as she clawed at the frozen stone, ripping the skin from her fingers as it tugged her back down a step. There wasn't anything to grab onto, nothing that could help her. Hermione struggled and pulled herself back onto the top stair by leaning on her elbows, but as soon as she took a breath, the stabbing pain was back. She recoiled, falling back to where she was before.