Chp. 8

It was like trying to run through water. Hermione watched with a morbid fascination as a rabid panic began to overcome all those around her. Mouths opened to release screams kept caged in chests and nails dug into clothing and skin while people clawed their way through the crowd. Some fell, only to get trampled while everyone attempted to flee. And of course, there were the spells.

Hermione's eyelids fluttered and her brow creased. Was Harry okay?

Hexes exploded around the pitch in spectacular bursts of colours. One singed the side of her arm and yet she stood stationary. A body slammed into her shoulder, making her stagger to the side, but still she did not move.

Her gaze rose, peering into the sky, her eyes searching, searching...

There it was. Innocuous in theory, but in reality...

In reality that skull with the snake slithering out of its dropped jaw had come to signify so much to Hermione. A childhood tainted by something so simple. How could such a silly thing hold such power over everyone? Hermione scowled.

Her eyes drifted down and to the left, locking on Oliver Wood. She could tell that he was seething; his jaw was clenched and his knuckles had gone white from how tightly he had been clutching the handle of his broom. His head whipped back and forth, trying to find a way through the balls that continued to entrap him. Luckily, her spell seemed to be holding up.

She watched as he yelled out a curse and ran both hands angrily through his hair. Hermione knew she had to get to him somehow, had to make sure he stayed safe. But her mind was scrambling, trying to process its way through the shock that seeing the Dark Mark had caused.

Suddenly his head turned towards her and his eyes locked with her own. From a distance, his heated brown gaze drilled into her and she felt her heart pick up speed. Blinking, Hermione shook her head, allowing her mind to clear and her sense return.

And then time sped up.

oOo

Oliver swore loudly as again and again the bludgers, snitch, and quaffle smashed themselves against the shield that someone – probably Hermione, now that he thought about it - had thrown up around him. The balls continued to zip in front of him like a swarm of bees, effectively blocking his view of what was happening in the stands. Even though he could not see clearly in front of him he could still hear the screams, which was worse if you asked him.

His eyes searched around the balls, vainly trying to find somewhere he could fly. He could feel frustration growing, closing his throat and choking him. Each cry the crowd let out made it harder for him to breathe. People around him were suffering because he had been too stubborn to go with Harry and Hermione when they had asked him to in the locker room. And there was nothing he could do about it! Nothing he could do to help any of those in the crowd while he was trapped by these bloody balls!

"Damnit!" He yelled as one of the bludgers came dangerously close to his face. He viciously raked through his hair in exasperation. Looking down, he noticed his hands shaking and his chest heaving. Not good. He focused on his rapid breaths, trying to get himself under control so he could think clearly and figure out a plan.

A niggling sensation disrupted his focus though, and he found himself suddenly gazing off to the right at none other than Hermione Granger. Amidst the sea of confusion and terror she alone appeared calm. People milled and ran around her in the stands. Time and time again she was jostled, but not once did she fall or break his gaze. By some miracle, no Death Eaters stood near her. While throughout the stadium duels were breaking out between Order members and the Death Eaters, in Hermione's area people were just trying to escape.

A frown pulled at his lips as he noticed how vacant her expression appeared. She looked much younger this way...almost frightened. No longer was she the ever composed and controlling little witch. Now she was a lost child in need of help and he had no way of getting to her without getting crushed or killed. Oliver felt like screaming.

But the moment didn't last. Like the rise of a curtain, Hermione shook her head and the vulnerability was gone, replaced once more with the Hermione he knew. He let out a breathe of relief he had not realized he had been holding. He could deal with this Hermione.

Oliver's brow furrowed as he considered the predicament in which he found himself. He begrudgingly admitted that Hermione and Harry had been right; someone was after him. He needed to get to the duo somehow, but to do that he needed to get through the balls. The only problem was he was at a loss as to how that could be accomplished. Oliver sighed.

And that's when it struck him. The question was whether or not it would work...his timing had to be just right. He patted down his robes, searching for his wand while considering just how painful it would be to be struck by all of the balls at once if his theory did not follow through in practice.

"None of tha', just geht yer wand an' do it No thenkin'." he muttered to himself.

This had to work because really, he already spent too much time in the infirmary as it was. Finding and extracting his wand, Oliver stuck a finger in the air, swooped it in a circle and then drew that finger across his throat, gesturing to Hermione to let down the shield.

She shook her head no.

Oliver felt his brow pull up. Again he made the gesture, his movements slow and precise, tension in his frame and again Hermione shook her head no. Oliver growled at the stubborn, uncomplying witch and gestured one final time. At the end he stabbed his finger towards the ground, indicating to her to do it now. He watched as her arms began to flail emphatically, her pointer finger punching the air in front of her as she, no doubt, yelled at him from the stands. Oliver snorted, grateful for the distance that prevented him from hearing a single word of her irate (and rather animated) lecture.

Once she finished (with her hands indicating that she would be choking him in the near future) he gave her a solemn nod, assuring her that he understood completely. He watched her frame stiffen and almost dismissively she turned her head from him and lifted her wand, preparing to drop the shield. Oliver gave her profile an exaggerated salute, sent up a silent prayer to whatever deities were listening, and as Hermione dropped the shield he promptly proceeded to dive off of his broom and hurl towards to ground.

oOo

"-YOUR BLOODY FUNERAL. And if you do die, I will personally turn myself over to Voldemort and request his tutelage to learn all manner of dark arts with the intention of reanimating your ungrateful, impolitic corpse only to have the personal pleasure of killing you, but this time with my bare hands! And, by the by, there had better be a plan!"

With a huff, Hermione proceeded to lower the barrier that was the only thing preventing Oliver from being bludgeoned to death.

Hermione felt her eyebrows shoot up and her jaw drop as she watched Oliver jump off his broom. She had let the shield down like he wanted, expecting him to have some sort of plan. This...this was not a plan. This was pure idiocy!

She watched in horror as Oliver flicked his wand and yelled out some spell while his body free fell downwards. She let out a breath; surely he was trying to cast something for him to land on. Hermione felt her heart drop when nothing happened. She made to conjure a mattress for him, but movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned just in time to see a Death Eater rushing towards her, wand extended.

Growling at the Death Eater's ill timing she rapidly sent out a stinging hex. With ease, the Death Eater headed her way side-stepped her spell. From beneath the mask she heard a deep, masculine chuckle at her failed attack.

Hermione felt her palms become damp with sweat. Oliver was plunging to the ground – presumably towards his death – and this bloody Death Eater was taking up precious moments of her time.

Hermione sensed rather than heard the Death Eater send out a cruccio and she ducked and rolled. The curse soared over her head, missing her by millimeters. Scrambling to her feet, she raised her wand to cast an petrificus totalus when Oliver appeared in front of her, clutching a heavy, open chest against him and grinning like a fool.

Alarm etched across her features, Hermione opened her mouth to shout a warning to Oliver, but before she could he spun and tossed the chest at the Death Eater. Startled, the Death Eater dropped his wand and caught the chest. Oliver then grabbed their attacker by the shoulders of his robe, twisted him around, and ducked behind him just as the bludgers, snitch, and quaffle arrived. The balls, having been headed to where Oliver stood just moments before, slammed into the chest the Death Eater was holding. The force caused the lid of the chest to jolt shut and made the Death Eater stumble backwards. With a resounding snap snap, Oliver, in one fluid movement, locked the clasps on the chest and then slammed his fist into the side of the Death Eater's head. Like a rag-doll, the man went limp and crumpled at the Keeper's feet.

Hermione blinked down at the unconscious Death Eater, momentarily speechless before ire overcame her. She turned to Oliver with a glare, her cinnamon eyes flashing.

"You bloody prat! I was worried senseless that you were going to die and then you just pop up smiling? What were you thinking!" She shouted, marching up to the grinning Keeper with a waggling finger.

Oliver looked down at her with wry amusement, causing her frown to deepen.

"I'm serious, Oliver!" she said with a stamp of her foot.

Oliver arched an eyebrow at her and cocked his head to the side and a deep flush to spread across her face in response. Pursing her lips, she crossed her arms over her chest and looked away, refusing to meet his eyes. The condescending bastard!

"Hermione, I was nehver ehn any real danger," he chuckled.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes at his very obvious lie, causing his grin to deepen, much to Hermione's annoyance.

She scowled as people jostled by her, fleeing the stadium. Every so often an errant spell would zip nearby, but as far as Hermione could tell, their area was thinning out. The only thing left to do was get to Harry.

Hermione's stomach dropped. Harry! How could have she forgotten about him? She worried her lip between her teeth as she recalled her friend racing off to get to Bellatrix and Snape. Had he gotten to them? Was he alright? Hermione felt the blood drain from her face as she began to wonder whether or not Harry had been captured like Ron.

Hermione spun around, finally taking in all that surrounded her. She stiffened at what she saw. Bodies dribbled down the stands, some having died from being crushed in the ensuing panic while others were murdered by Death Eaters. Screams and yells mingled in the crisp night air while Order members and Death Eaters dueled. A dazzling firework display of spells and charms were being hurled at random, unprejudiced in who they took as their victim. The pop pop pop of disapparations matched the tempo of her throbbing heartbeat. Licking her chapped lips, Hermione spun to Oliver, panic in her eyes.

"Follow me! We have to get to Harry," ordered Hermione, all traces of her earlier anger vanished.

And with that, Hermione spun on her heel and hurried off, fully expecting Oliver to heed her orders without question. Oliver rolled his eyes and jogged to catch up.

oOo

Oliver alternated between scanning around the stadium and watching Hermione's back, trying to keep up and keep them safe until they reached Harry. There was no sign of his old seeker anywhere, but there were the remnants of the Death Eaters' victims clogging the stadium. They picked their way between victim after victim in stony silence, neither of them wanting to remark on the carnage that lay at their feet. A prickle, starting at the nape of his neck and traveling down the length of his spine began as Oliver realized that the Death Eaters were winning this battle.

Oliver ran into Hermione's outstretched arm. Glancing down at her, he noticed she had a finger raised to her lips. He sent her a questioning look as she began to hunker down, taking him with her. She tilted her head to the side, indicating a pair of Death Eaters up ahead. They had yet to notice him and Hermione; they were too busy shuffling through the dead, searching for something or someone.

"Get down and pretend to be dead," Hermione hissed at him.

Oliver nodded and laid down on his stomach. He draped his arm over his head, trying to look like a splayed victim while hiding his identity. He felt Hermione spread out beside him, but did not dare glance over to her, fearing that his movements would attract the attention of the approaching figures. He could not see them, but he could hear their quiet steps getting closer and closer to where they lay hidden. Cool, syrupy terror began to sluggishly slither its way down his spine, chilling him and sending his heartbeat off cantering.

"Oi, do you see Wood a'tall?" A gruff voice called out.

Oliver grimaced. They were looking for him!

"No' yet, but I suspect someone'll find him soon." The other responded.

He could hear thunking noises followed by a brief pause and then footsteps. This pattern kept repeating as the men slowly flipped and prodded bodies, trying to locate him.

"Do they have any idea where he went," asked the first one, louder now.

Oliver swallowed hard. His heartbeat was racing, crashing wildly against his ribcage. He vainly tried to stifle his heavy breathing, willing his body to appear dead. The night wind licked at the perspiration soaking his body. He had to bite down hard on his bottom lip while he tried to fight off the shivers that threatened to overtake him.

"We all lost track of him when he dove off of his broom. Strange how he accio'd the ball case, yeah? But well over half of us are searching through the woods around the pitch now. Believe you me we'll find him soon enough!"

Thunk, step, step.

"Why do you think the Dark Lord wants him alive?"

Now the men were only a few meters from where Hermione and he lay. He sensed the witch stiffening as the men began inspecting the bodies that lie closest to the duo. Slowly, Oliver shifted his weight to the left, trying to free his wand.

Thunk, step, step.

What were they going to do? Did Hermione have a plan? How were they going to escape?

"Dunno. Bet he'd be right mad if one of these poor blokes turned out to be him, yeah?"

Thunk, step, step.

Oliver had never experienced such anxiety and fear. He could taste blood as he bit through the flesh of his lip. Slowly, he slipped his arm down a hair so he had a sliver to peak through. He could see two pairs of boots standing near a body not two meters from them now. Their time was running out. They needed to do something and fast.

"Well if we find him, I'm not going to be the one to tell him Wood's dead."

He watched their feet turn away from the body and head towards him. Oliver bit back a groan, willing them to turn around, to skip over him. Each approaching step made his skittering heart skip a beat. Closer and closer they came until they stopped right before his prone form, their scuffed black boots centimeters from his face. He saw their pants crease as they bent over to flip him onto his back. Time had officially run out.

"RICTUSEMPRA! RICTUSEMPRA!"

Oliver shot to his feet at the sound of Hermione's voice. The witch had sprang up when the men had their backs to her. The two men collapsed in a heap, rolling around on the ground in front of Hermione and him. Before he could do anything, the witch had him by the cuff of his shirt and was dragging him towards a stairwell.

The pair dashed down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Adrenaline was coursing through his body as they whipped around the corner to descend the next flight.

"A tecklin' charm?" He gasped out while they hastily made their descent.

They pushed and shoved their way between the people still trying to make their escape.

"It was the first thing that popped into my head!" Shouted Hermione between breaths.

"Ya fight dehrty, Ms. Granger," Oliver shouted back at Hermione with a wink.

Oliver smiled at the giggle his comment produced.

Oliver took the lead, being more familiar with the layout of the stadium than Hermione. He mentally calculated in his head how many more flights they had to go before they reached ground level; they were halfway there.

"There he is! And he has the Granger girl with him!"

Oliver pumped his legs faster, dragging Hermione behind him at a reckless speed. He focused on keeping them from tripping while she haphazardly fired spell after spell over her shoulders.

They skidded around another corner, banging roughly against the metal banister, only to be greeted by a group of four Death Eaters ascending the staircase. Oliver swore as the group noticed them and began firing spells at them. His instincts kicked in and he cast a quick shield around them. Jaw clenched and mind racing he began to retreat, pushing Hermione back up the stairs.

"We can't go this way, Wood! They'll catch us!"

Chest heaving and head whipping from side to side, Oliver tried to figure out where he could take them while Hermione skillfully held the group of Death Eaters off. He could take them onto the stadium level they were at now, but they would only be met with more Death Eaters. He was too distracted to successfully apparate them away; he didn't want to risk hurting Hermione. The stairs were clearly off limits. And then his gaze alighted on the open window at the end of the hall to his left.

"What are yer though's ahn flyin'?" He shouted at Hermione over the hissing sounds of the spells being shot at them. He quickly fired down some freezing and body binding charms at the Death Eaters.

"I would rather die a thousand deaths!" She yelled back at him.

He gave her a roguish smirk.

"Aye, I was hopin' you'd say tha' lassie," he said, his burr making his words come out as more of a growl.

Before Hermione had a chance to respond, she was thrown over his shoulder and he was racing towards the window.

"WOOD! IF WE LIVE THROUGH THIS YOU WILL BE WISHING YOU HAD BEEN CAUGHT BY VOLDEMORT!"

Hermione's screams drowned out his accio.

oOo

Hermione's heart was in her throat as she clung to Oliver, willing him not to drop her as they tumbled out the window into the night. Her hands fisted into his shirt and screams tore out of her throat. Glancing over, between the strands of her hair whipping into her eyes she saw the ground rapidly approaching.

"What exactly is your plan here?" She shouted, terrified.

That is when she saw them; zipping towards Oliver and her were two broomsticks. Tears began to prickle in her eyes and slide across her temples as the wind tore at her face.

"They're not going to reach us in time you oaf!" Hermione yelled.

"Och, they will," Oliver yelled back.

Hermione calculated that they didn't have long before crashing into the ground.

"No they won't! I'm going to die here with you tonight. I will be remembered not as the brightest witch to walk through Hogwarts, but as the idiot who allowed a stupid quidditch player to toss her out the window!" She cried in dismay.

Hermione buried her head against his back and her eyes clenched shut. She felt the rumble of his chuckle against her, amused at her behavior. Hermione muttered angrily into his back in response.

"Now Ms. Granger, tha's no' a verra nice thing to say! Ahn It's reahlly no' tha' bad. You should open yer eyes ahn' look ahround ye."

"Are you daft?"

That was when she noticed they were no longer in free fall. At some point between her screams and her swears, Oliver had managed to snag one of the brooms and pull them safely on top. They were currently hovering in mid-air. That was also when she realized the only thing keeping her from finishing the descent to her death was Oliver and a very tiny stick of wood. With a yelp, Hermione tightly wrapped her arms around Oliver's neck.

"Oi, lass, do ya thenk ye could loosen up ah bit? I'm havin' dehficulties breathin,'" Oliver gasped.

Hermione begrudgingly obliged, concluding that his continued breathing was necessary for the general success of their night escape.

"Alrigh' listen. I cast a disillusionment ahround us. Now I'm gonna slowly move ya ohver tah the other broom. Thenk you kan manage?" Oliver asked softly, as though her were talking to a cornered animal, his hand running up and down her back soothingly.

Hermione muttered incoherently into Oliver's shoulder.

"Wha' was tha'?"

"I can't fly," she whispered softly. Once again she felt he chest rumble as he chuckled at her.

"Och, Hermione, I'm sure yer a fine flyer."

Hermione lifted her head off of his shoulder.

"No, Oliver, you don't understand. I can't fly. I don't know how!"

Hermione could feel her face flush with embarrassment at her confession. Oliver just blinked at her, a puzzled expression flickering over his face.

"But yer a witch. Ya went tah Hogwarts. Didntcha learn?" He asked, clearly confused.

Hermione felt her face get even hotter. Turning away from Oliver, she looked at the area around the pitch. From this height, she could see little dots of light wandering all around, weaving between the trees of the forest and pacing around the stadium. Probably the Death Eaters searching for them. Hermione sighed. They had to get to safety. They had to figure out what happened to Harry. And they had to find a way to rescue Ron. This was the first time in a long time that she was without the boys and she felt completely lost on her own.

"No I didn't, okay? I didn't learn," she grumbled, "It was the one class I wasn't good at."

Oliver laughed heartily at that. Hermione scowled at the ground, refusing to look at Oliver.

"Now tha's rich! The great Hermione? No' good aht school?"

Hermione stiffened at his words, feeling the beginnings of a violent anger flicker inside of her. She realized that he was just teasing her, but her nerves were frayed. All of the night's emotions were finally catching up with her; her fear and worry over Ron and Harry, her multiple near death experiences, her anxiety over Oliver possibly having fallen to his death, and then to top it all off, being thrown out a window and onto a broom were all manifesting itself in a very unpleasant manner. Had she taken a step back and thought about the events, she would have come to the conclusion that, given the circumstances, the two were bloody lucky to be alive. However she was beyond stepping back and thinking rationally.

"I will have you know that I was spectacular at school; a far cry better than you, at the very least," she snapped. "But I suppose that wouldn't be a hard thing to achieve. Everyone knows that the one thing you were ever good at is flying, which doesn't really amount to much, does it? Now why don't you do that one thing and get us down from this stupid stick and put us somewhere safe!"

Abruptly Oliver stopped laughing, all signs of mirth and joking gone. Hermione yelped as he hands wrapped around her waist, picking her up and placing her roughly onto the broom beside him. Nervously she clutched to the polished wood of the broom, unsure as to what was happening. She glanced over at Oliver, but could read nothing in his expression. His lips were pressed into a firm line and his eyes were hard and cold. Wordlessly, he held onto her broom and flew them into the woods, ignoring her cries of protest. He quickly entered the forest, intentionally going faster than usual, zipping wildly between trees until the forest became too dense and he had to lower them to the ground.

Before she could open her mouth to speak, Oliver had spun on her. Anger rolled off of him in thick waves, making the air around them crackle with energy.

"You are the most frustratin', ungrahteful little witch I have ehver meht! You should be bloody thankin' me fer ghettin' us out uhf there alive!"

"Thanking you?" Hermione bit out, incredulity lacing her voice. "You almost got us killed! None of this, and I do stress NONE, would have happened had you listened to me in the first place! All of this could have been prevented, Wood, had you and Harry listened to me! How many times do I have to be right until you all listen to me!"

Hermione's words caused Wood to stagger back. She saw pain flash across his face, but then he blinked it away. His expression became cold and hard once more and his breathing became erratic as he continued his advance. Hermione blindly stumbled backwards, gaping at the intensity of Oliver's fury. His chocolate coloured eyes darkened and his head dipped down. She could see a tick forming in his strong jaw, keeping time with his anger.

"Nay Hermione. Ever since ya showed up, ehverythin' has gone tah hell. Ahn the worst pahrt is tha' you dohn' ehven care. Or have the decency tah apologize fer how you treat those ahround you, as though you were so superior."

Hermione felt bark bite into her back through her jumper and snag errant strands of her hair as she backed into a tree. Refusing to be bullied, she scowled up at Oliver, having to tilt her head back to meet his gaze head on.

"Back aht school, ehveryone would complain abou' how overbearin' and self-righteous you were, but I ahlways stood up fer ya. Now I know they were right awl ahlong. Bein' ahround ya is a chore, lassie. I'm surprised ye have friends a'tall. Quite frahnkly, I thenk Ron an' Harry only stayed friends with you out of either pity or because they were usin' ya tah geht good grades," he bit out.

Hermione blinked rapidly at his words as he played on a lifetime of insecurities. His tongue cut through her, exposing every vulnerability she had. It had always been hard for her to make friends. She had always been the outcast in both the muggle and wizarding world. One because she was slightly different and the other because she was not a pure-blood. So she buried herself in her books and studies, trying to prove herself worthy of her magic to both her family and her peers. It was not that she thought of herself as superior, she was just trying to show people that she belonged. All she wanted was to belong.

Hermione's jaw worked and tears began to fill her eyes. A startled look overcame Oliver at the sight of her tears. His head bowed and he ran a hand through his hair.

"Merlin, Hermione, I dinnae mean -" Oliver began, but then cut of mid sentence, his hand shooting out to cover Hermione's lips.

She gasped beneath his hand as he pushed himself against her. Affronted, she opened her mouth to protest, but then she heard the snapping of a twig from up ahead. Hermione stiffened, realizing that they were no longer alone in this part of the woods.

Hermione and Oliver stared silently at one another, their argument dissolving. She knew the disillusionment charm was still on them; so long as they stood still and kept quiet, no one should notice their presence.

Hermione tried to tug her wrists free, but his calloused hands squeezed them together more tightly and he shook his head no; he obviously didn't trust her enough to let her go. Hermione wiggled, trying once more to break free of his hold but still Oliver held her tight, his jaw clenching and his eyes darkening. He leaned forward, his lips finding her ear.

"Stop yer squirmin' Hermione, they'll hear us," he whispered softly.

Frustrated, she did the only thing she could think of to get him to release her; she nipped at his fingertips. At her bite, he sucked in a breath and pulled his hand away, eyebrows shooting up and lips twitching in amusement. Hermione's breathing hitched when placed his now free hand on the tree beside her head, boxing her in. His head dipped towards hers and his gaze scorched her as his eyes trailed down her face to her mouth. Tension rolled off him in heady waves. She felt her heart pick up and she nervously licked her lips.

Back when they were both in school, girls were always fawning over Oliver. She never quite understood why. Granted, he had a tall, athletic frame with broad shoulders and a masculine jaw. And she supposed that that his brown eyes were always sparkling mischievously and his hair...Hermione bit down on her lip as she wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through his shaggy locks. So, yes, he was attractive...if you liked that sort of thing. But to be honest, he had never been her type. Hermione would choose intelligence and humor over looks and athleticism any day. Besides, back in school she had been interested in Ron. But standing here in the forest now, adrenaline coursing through her body from their argument and the nearby Death Eaters, she had to admit those girls had been right. Oliver Wood was bloody gorgeous.

More snaps sounded and she thought she could make out voices in the distance, startling her from her very blatant appraisal of the man before her. She would have yelped had it not been for Oliver quietly whispering a shushing noise in her ear, his lips brushing against the sensitive shell. Hermione gulped as his nose lightly grazed along her temple and he inhaled deeply. At her shivers, he shifted forward slightly, offering her more warmth. Not that she needed it; she already felt as though she were on fire.

They stood like that for what seemed like hours, bodies brushing as they strained their senses to pick up any noise that would indicate the Death Eaters had found them. After long, tense moments of silence, Hermione spoke up.

"I think they've gone," she whispered, her voice hoarse.

And then he quickly released her and stepped back, as though he could not get away from her fast enough. Hermione's heart dropped and her ears began to turn red. She shook her head, angry at herself. Did she think he was actually attracted to her? He had just finished pointing out how completely unappealing she was. She was being foolish. Completely flustered and a little wounded at the sudden loss of contact, Hermione gave Oliver a disdainful look.

He just smirked in response.

"Next time just say be quiet and I will!" She snapped sullenly.

"Somehow I doubt tha' lassie," He snorted.

"There they are!"

The shout came from behind Oliver and he swore. This whole night had been a complete and utter disaster. Just when they thought they were safe...

She could hear the pounding of feet coming from all directions, moving to surround them. Hermione fumbled for her wand and spun in a circle, arm outstretched, unsure from where the first attacker would appear. The pounding feet became louder and Hermione thought that this would be the end of their escape, but then everything faded away to black as Oliver grasped her hand and turned on the spot.

In a moment they were away from the woods, standing side-by-side next to a brown leather couch.

Hermione blinked as she took in their surroundings. Over to the side was a white washed table. Hung high on the wall was that outrageous clock. And of course, there was the telli.

As realization as to their location dawned on Hermione, she began to slowly clap. They were in Oliver's flat.

"Brilliant, Oliver. Really perfect. Why, they'll never think to look for us here." she said dryly.

Help me out here folks! Review. This was a difficult chapter to write.