Not Yet (A Hermione Granger fanfic)

Chapter 6

Orev pretends not to notice Hermione for several miles. He climbs wooded slopes, clambers over rocks and streams, and generally finds the most difficult paths possible. By the time he turns around to confront her, Hermione is panting with the effort of keeping up with him.

He sends a hex her way, which, even in her current state of physical exhaustion, Hermione easily blocks. Orev's attempt is lazy.

"Maybe I didn't make myself clear," he calls. "Get out."

"I have questions," she says, slumping down on a fallen tree.

"I don't answer questions."

"Why are you here?"

Orev snorts. "Why are any of us here?"

"You know what I mean—why are you living in a Romanian forest hunting down Dark wizards?"

"You just answered your own question, didn't you? What's wrong with you, anyway?"

"What's wrong with me?"

"I tell you to get lost, threaten you even, and you follow me through dense forests to ask me questions? Are you looking for someone to finish you off, or what?"

Hermione glares at him. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Orev stomps back to her, sliding down a needle-covered slope to stand on the other side of her log. His robes are dustier than ever. A strand of hair has fallen out of his ponytail and is sticking to his face.

"Why else does a witch go to the forest alone, to hunt down someone she's never met, without any plan at all for catching him? Sounds like a death wish to me."

"I have a plan."

Orev rolls his eyes. "Use something you found in one of those books of yours? Dark Magic isn't something you just pick up along the way, you know. You have to practice and feel it to really master it."

"Sounds like you have some experience, then."

Orev's silence is affirmation enough for Hermione. She rises and brushes off her robes. "When was the last time you were in England?" she asks, making careful eye contact.

Orev doesn't blink. "Five years ago."

"Any contact with anyone living there?"

"No. None."

"Who's your family?"

"I'm not going to answer that question."

"Thought you weren't going to answer any at all?"

"My turn—"

"Oh I'm not done." Hermione straightens. "Do you have any particular knowledge about cursed objects? A specialty, maybe?"

Orev snorts. "I have some experience, yes. Now—"

"And have you at any time in the last—oh, let's say ten—years made contact with a cursed object that you knew would end up in the hands of an unsuspecting victim?"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"There was a War on, remember?"

"So you were there!" Hermione pushes her way into his thoughts, looking for evidence, for anything that might connect him to Ron's death.

"Legilimency won't do you any good with me, little Wren. But go ahead and try. I'll wait."

Hermione breaks eye contact herself. "Stop calling me that."