Chapter 1
Hermione rubbed her cold aching hands together, trying to return some feeling to her fingers. Next to her the large black wolf whined softly.
“I know Cerberus, I’m freezing my bollocks off too”
She took her wand from its holster on her thigh and cast another warming charm on herself and the wolf, who then nuzzled her side affectionately. Winter was coming to an end, but the nights were still bitter. She desperately wished she had remembered to pack her gloves. Sliding her wand back into place she returned her attention to the task at hand which currently was to watch two complete arseholes stand around and do absolutely nothing for hours. Hermione had been sent on a last-minute recon mission with two others to watch a suspected deatheater safehouse. They always seemed to have some important “recon” assignment for her during most battles or raids. When she pushed back and demanded to be sent with Ron and the others, Kingsley would remind her of just “how valuable her brain was to them” as if all she was good for was healing and designing new weapons for the order. She was sick of feeling as if she was sitting on the sidelines watching everyone else take the real risks. Sure, they used her archery skills from time to time but always guarded (babysat more like) and from a” safe” distance. She was “never to join the battle and to portkey out at the slightest risk” Kingsley would always state before allowing her to leave. It had taken her ages to convince him to even let her do that. He had begrudgingly agreed, not able to deny her skill with a bow. She reached back and pulled her longbow from her back. Hagrid had surprised her with it about three years ago. “Made it meself I did” he had said as Hermione had clung to the midnight blue longbow, holding in her tears. She smiled at the memory, rubbing her thumb over the place she had carved Harrys initials. She leaned the bow against a tree and stretched her arms out, twisting from side to side to relieve the strain of standing for so long. They had been watching the house for over twelve hours now and nothing really of note had occurred. A few deatheaters came and went. They had switched guards four hours ago. Though to Hermione the silver masks were all starting to look the same, so maybe they were actually the same two men.
“Seen one then you’ve seen them all, ay cerb?”
The large black wolf at her side turned his face to her making eye contact then returning his attention to the two men. She reached over to scratch behind his large ear, she didn’t have to bend down because the dogs head was level with her shoulder. He was massive. Most of the order steered clear of him. On more than one occasion Ron had likened him to the grim, and always found reasons to leave the room when Cerberus entered. Hermione knew he was no bad omen, though that hadn’t been her initial feeling upon seeing him for the first time. five and a half years ago, After the fighting had ceased at the battle of Hogwarts Hermione had come too, laying on the quidditch pitch. She had laid there bleeding and certainly dying. When she had first seen him across the field, she was sure he was some form of reaper come to take her to the afterlife (which is why she now lovingly called him Cerberus) there was a blazing fire all around her. The deatheaters had burned the castle to near ash. smoke and the smell of blood permeated the air. He had come from the haze almost as if conjured there. She hadn’t been able to lift her head, it had simply been too heavy. She gazed at him sideways, watching the large black mass of him stalk closer. She knew she should have been afraid, but she honestly hadn’t been able to bring the feeling forward. She had watched helplessly as Hagrid had parted the crowd of deatheaters carrying Harry’s limp body. Saw countless others being massacred, before waking on the pitch. She didn’t want to survive this. She hadn’t even known if anyone remained alive other than herself. She had been confused about where she had woken, with no memory of making her way to the field. At least she would die under the stars she had thought, she had grown up studying them with her father. The stars had always made her feel at home. The wolf had stopped a mere few inches from her, looking down into her face with unreadable black eyes.
“Hello beasty, come to see me to the underworld, have you?” Hermione had rasped out in his direction.
He had merely continued to stare. Hermione coughed a long-ragged sound that left blood running from the corner of her mouth, pooling in the grass under her. The large dog had whined then and closed the short distance between them, surprisingly gentle for a beast his size, he had carefully laid his large body across hers. Hermione had weakly lifted one bloody hand to the dog’s fur and began to slowly stroke his side. The next thing she had remembered was waking to the sound of someone yelping and low growling.
“Bloody Hell I’m trying to help her” had come a familiar voice.
Then she faded back out and woke some time later in a hospital bed. The wolf sitting beside her. It had been over five years, and he hadn’t left her side for a single day. Cerberus nuzzled Hermione’s hand and brought her back to the present. She ran her hand in the fur behind his ear one more time and smiled over at him.
“I know Cerb, I hate recon too, bloody boring” she brought the binoculars to her face and looked down at the two death-eaters still standing on the porch of the dark house. One of the men pulled off his mask and took a pack of cigarettes from his front pocket. He lazily lit one and smoke began to billow around him. Hermione knelt and withdrew the camera from her pack. Popping off the Lens cap, she brought the camera to her face snaping a few pictures of the man’s unknowing face. She didn’t recognize his dark features, though he appeared to be about her age. He must have attended durmstrang or one of the other wizarding schools. As she studied his face, searching his features for anything familiar, a large, cloaked figure stepped gracefully out of the shadows as if conjured from thin air and slowly made his way up the steps. He stopped on the top step appraising the other two men, whom Hermione had noticed had gone stalk still. The newcomer sauntered to the right to stop directly in front of the unmasked death-eater. The young man remained still, cigarette dangling limply from the corner of his mouth. For a few moments there seemed to be some sort of tense standoff between them, then ever so slowly the cloaked man reached up and gently took the cigarette from the young man’s mouth. The large, cloaked figure reached around the man and crushed the cigarette into the side of the house close to his side. Hermione was transfixed on the cloaked figure. He exuded danger. Darkness seemed to curl around him like a second cloak. The young man cowered and said something to the large man, but she couldn’t hear from this distance. With a speed that was barely perceptible the cloaked man brought up his hand and slapped the young man sending him sprawling to the ground.
Hermione couldn’t contain the startled little yelp that slipped past her lips. The large man’s head suddenly snapped in her direction. His masked face turned up towards her. He scanned the area of forest she was hidden in. his gaze stopping where she was standing.
“shit” she gasped, letting the binoculars fall to dangle from her neck and pulling her wand from its holster at her thigh. She braced herself. For what she didn’t know, after all, there was no way he could see her at this distance and through her cloaking charms. But her spine tingled all the same. She could swear he was looking directly into her eyes. After what felt like an eternity, he turned back to the young deatheater. Bending at the waist, he picked up the mask the original man had dropped on his way to the ground. After straightening he placed the mask back on the young man’s face with slow, precise movements. Hermione brought the binoculars back to her face watching with rapt attention as the large man clasped his hands behind his back, leaning over to say something in the young man’s ear to which the young man nodded vigorously. Bloody hell she wished she could hear what was being said. The large man then turned his attention to the second deatheater who had backed away during the whole ordeal. He presumably said something to him for the second man nodded. Hermione reached for the camera, bringing it to her face once more she adjusted the long-distance lens to zoom in on the large man’s profile. She began snapping pictures. The large mans face slowly turned in her direction again. She snapped a picture of his mask straight on. Turning on the spot, he smoothed the front of his cloak and ambled back down the stairs and into the darkness he had come from. She watched the spot he had disappeared into for a few more moments before loosening a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Placing her wand back into its holster and setting the camera back into her pack. She pulled the walkie from her tactical vest. Pressing the green button on the side she brought it to her lips
“Come in Blaze” Hermione softly said into the little plastic square
“Blaze here, archer clear to speak” came Seamus’s voice
“Did you catch that?” she replied
“Yes, bloody weird, yeah?” Seamus whispered
“Yeah….” Hermione whispered back
“Sound off, all clear section one, Archer out” Hermione softly said
“All clear section two, Blaze out” came back through the walkie
“All clear section three, Cosmo out” came grants clear voice
She snapped the walkie back into its spot at her shoulder. They were magically spelled so only those wearing them could hear them. A little genius on her part she thought. George and herself had magically altered all sorts of muggle devices to aid the order, from walkies to guns to tactical vests whose pockets were spelled to hold many useful things. She found that muggle clothing was much more practical in battle than wizard robes. Her favorite muggle weapon had to be her long bow though. A bit more skill involved in its use than a gun. Also, a lot more personal. Instead of carrying her arrows in a quiver like she did when she needed quick access to them, the arrows she carried on recon missions were spelled to fit in the pockets on the front of her vest. She simply needed to pull one out and it grew to its normal size. She found that this allowed her to move more silently. Hermione reached down picking up her bow and strapped it into place at her back before returning her attention to the two death-eaters on the porch. Both of which seemed to be taking their jobs as lookouts a lot more seriously since the mysterious man’s arrival. They stood stalk still on either side of the door, wands in hand. She settled back in for a long night.
After an hour or so Cerberus’s attention was drawn to the woods behind Hermione. He sniffed the air, ears pricked up. He began to growl and placed himself between her and his point of attention. She turned her fully to scan the dark space between the trees that Cerberus was so intent on. Nothing, just darkness.
“Cerberus what is it?”
The dog just backed up sitting himself between her and the inky expanse of forest, continuing to growl at the darkness. Hermione pulled her wand with a shaky hand and aimed at the tree line in front of her. Nothing happened. No green light of an Avada came for her. No movement at all, But the hair on the back of her neck prickled and she couldn’t shake the sensation of being watched.
Just as she was about to chalk it up to a paranoid brain running on very little sleep and way too much caffeine, the large, cloaked man stepped out of the pitch black and into the moonlight. Shocked as she was, she was momentarily unable to move. Hermione took a deep, steadying breath and with a shaky hand she leveled her wand at him.
“Not another step” she gritted out past her clenched teeth. She had hoped to sound threatening, but it had come out quietly.
He simply cocked his head to the side, studying her. His eyes combed languidly across her face and down her body. Paying extra attention to her vest. When his eyes finally landed on Cerberus he straightened, bringing his hand up and with his fore and middle finger he signaled for the dog to lay down. To Hermione’s immense shock Cerberus did just that with a low growl, though he kept his attention fixed on the man.
The deatheater took a few steps towards her and she sent a hex flying that he wandlessley sent careening into a nearby tree. Splintered wood fell all around them, but he continued to prowl forward till he was directly in front of her. Her wand pressed firmly into his chest. He didn’t seem to notice. Cerberus snarled at their feet but made no move to harm the man. This close she could see the detail of his mask. Most deatheaters masks were plain silver faces meant to convey menace. This mask had very detailed thorny vines crisscrossing it, with little gold accents. As her eyes made their way up the intricate vines they found his dark ones. He just observed her for a long moment before his eyes slid to the pack near her feet. He stooped to open the pack; her eyes followed his movements. Coming back to his full height, her camera now in his hands. He leveled her with a dark stare as he rubbed a thumb across the small screen, Bringing his other hand up to rest one finger vertical across the mouth of his mask. He then tossed the camera down to rest near her pack. Cerberus let out a low snarling growl which brought Hermione out of her stupor. Realizing she had dropped her wand hand to her side, she quickly brought it back up to point at his chest.
“Move away now or ill Avada you where you stand” she grit out
He plucked her wand from her hand so quickly it took her a moment to understand what had happened to it. Tucking her wand into his cloak he stepped over Cerberus, coming to stand boot to boot with her. She quickly backed up, but he closed the distance again until she was backed into a tree. Merlin’s bullocks if he breaks my bow I will crucio him was her first absurd thought, the second thought was more sobering. why hadn’t he just killed her already? He probably intended to take her back as some bloody prize for the dark lord she thought.
Not bloody likely. She would Avada herself before she would let him cart her back to be imprisoned as a plaything for deatheaters. She’d helped heal the few witches they managed to rescue. Heard their cries at night as the nightmares plagued them. They remained so fragile they couldn’t step foot outside the safehouse. She Knew what they did with order witches and worse muggle born ones.
He stepped impossibly closer, looking down at her from a towering height. She ground her teeth together and considered her chances of being able to snatch her wand from his cloak. Her hand twitched towards the front of his robes. His dark eyes locked with hers, with a small condescending shake of his head he made a deep tsk tsk tsk noise in the back of his throat.
He reached down towards her, she flinched and made to shove at him, but before she could make contact, he had both her wrists encased in an impossibly large hand. The deatheater thrust her arms above her against the tree causing a pained whimper from her. Pressing his body to hers, firmly holding her against the tree. Her pained sound and his sudden closeness caused Cerberus to begin to snarl again behind them. He paid no mind to the large wolf. You won’t be so confident when he takes a chunk out of your bollocks, she thought. how was he able to control Cerberus? This man might have the strongest wandless magic she had seen since Dumbledore. That thought had her stomach summersaulting. Hermione swallowed nervously when she realized the position she was in.
“If you don’t release me, my wolf will attack” she croaked through suddenly dry lips
A deep chuckle came from behind the mask. His eyes stayed locked on hers as he reached his other hand between them, placing it on the front of her vest. Hermione’s heart sank. She fought against his hold on her arms with renewed vigor. The deatheater tightened his hold and a growl vibrated through his chest. His eyes narrowed and with another slight shake of his head he popped open a button on one of the pockets. His eyes didn’t leave hers as he slipped one of the arrows out and leaned his upper torso slightly back, keeping his hips firmly in place. he finally looked away to study it. The shaft of the arrow propelled out; he watched with wrapped attention as the fletching feathers materialized at the bottom.
He ran his thumb across the tip, her eyes followed the movement. He pricked his finger purposely and rubbed his fore finger and thumb together, smearing the blood. He inspected the bloody digit closely then slowly his eyes came back to hers. Recognition sparking there.
Good I hope he enjoys the vampire venom the arrows are impregnated with she thought. Jutting her chin out she stared up at him with what she hoped was a withering look. He returned his attention momentarily to the arrow; with a skilled hand he flipped the arrow around to inspect the other end. The deatheater ran his bloody thumb across the fletching feathers and the arrow returned to its smaller state. Placing the arrow into the same pocket that contained her forgotten wand, He leaned down leveling his head next to hers. she could almost feel the cold of his mask against her cheek. She took in a sharp breath, inadvertently bringing in his scent with the air. He smelled like earth, like earth after a storm. And something clean she couldn’t quite place.
“Careful little witch, you don’t belong here” came a husky deep voice
Hermione tried to hold back the nervous shudder that took over her body. She practically vibrated with fear. He pulled back keeping their faces level and close. Slowly appraising her face again. She could feel the heat radiating from his body. She shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. His pupils dilated and she felt like a rabbit caught in a snare. What the fuck was he doing?
“Well get on with it then! Kill me already and get this over with” she quipped
A small humorless laugh came from behind the mask “if I intended on killing you little witch, I would have done so while you watched my men.” Was his gravely response. How long had he been watching her? The thought was unnerving.
The portkey in her pocket began to vibrate. The signal that she was being called back to base. She had a minute to use it before it would deactivate. Her eyes flicked down between them towards her pocket, his followed the movement. The deatheater unhurriedly pulled away slightly, standing to his full height, looking down to her pocket then back to her face. He carefully withdrew her wand from his cloak, grazing her torso as he reached down between them to slide it back into the holster at her thigh. His eyes never left hers, the one hand still holding her arms tightly. He cocked his head again in that peculiar way, giving her one last penetrating look. The air began to ripple around him and then he was gone. Hermione stood against the tree, arms still above her for a moment, trying to compose herself.
She took in a long-ragged breath “what the bloody Hell was that”
Why hadn’t he killed her? Why had he returned her wand? And what the fuck was wrong with Cerberus? She shook her head to clear the fog. Bending to stuff the camera back into her pack, she slung it over her shoulder then fixed Cerberus with a hard stare.
“Where going to discuss this later” she stated.
Putting a hand to his head as he whined apologetically. With another irate glance to the spot the deatheater had disappeared from, she roughly stuck her hand into her pocket and wrapped her fingers around the coin that served as the portkey. Feeling the familiar tug behind her belly button she was propelled back to the order base.