Disclaimer: This calls for a particularly subtle blend of psychology and extreme violence. . . .

Much thanks to my beta for the insights

A/N: I used my old mailing list, there's no telling if any of them still work. We'll find out.

Last Time:

Before Rodolphus' stunned eyes, Lucius reached for the crystal.

"NO!" He was across the room and snatching Lucius' wrist back, tearing his hand away. Lucius froze in surprise, eyes flashing with rage. Rodolphus kept his grip on the other man. "Do not touch him, Lucius. Don't ever touch him!"

Lucius rose to his feet, to his full considerable height, and flung his arm back, knocking Rodolphus away from him hard. Rodolphus smashed into the wall and hunched over as several picture frames, a shelf and a decorative blade came tumbling down, crashing to the floor at his feet.

Lucius looked fit to tear his throat out. "Get out."

"If you harm Draco, the Dark Lord will know it!" Rodolphus screamed at him. "You may be his second but you haven't seen the things I have seen. You will live through what he does to you but you'll wish you could die!"

"If it is anything like what I'm about to do to you, then it must be terrible indeed," Lucius said softly, hungrily, ready to fight, ready to kill.

"You've been warned!" Rodolphus cried, slinking backwards, stabbing a finger accusingly at the other man. "Harm Draco and you will suffer. I'll make sure your little wife knows what you did, too. Then I'll kill the bitch."

Lucius' wand was out. "Avada Kedavra."

Rodolphus almost didn't make it out. He slammed the door, backing away as it rattled with the force of the spell.

He had to warn his Lord immediately.

Chapter 19: Hunter Gets Captured by the Game

Let's start out by starting over
What did I expect
You're no good at lying and I'm no good at comebacks
But you're so untouchable
And I'm so terrible at this
I'm terrible at this you know

Don't hold this against me
I've already said I'm sorry

Excerpts from Matchbook Romance—Lovers and Liars

oooo

Harry's school books lay sprawled across his lap. Charms scrolls piled up in a haphazard pyramid on his left thigh and Hermione's History of Magic text, with ripped spine and a hundred tiny multicolored bookmarks, was flat open near his socked feet while he scribbled furiously at one of his Potions essays, trying to bluff his way through an explanation of how rutaberber pod oil reacted with animal fat.

Under normal circumstances, it was difficult to keep up with N.E.W.T. level work. Under current circumstances, it was almost impossible. Harry was far behind, with little time and even less motivation to finish his work. He cracked a cherry cough drop between his teeth and sucked the gooey insides.

The Hospital wing was warm and sunny and silent. Harry had no idea where Pomfrey was and didn't dwell on it, choosing instead to enjoy the rare moment of peace that being the only current patient won him. He had been forced to spend the day abed, both Pomfrey and the Headmaster wanting to be sure that his heart was strong and healthy, and that there would be no more attacks on his mind. He hadn't objected too much, wanting to appear as docile and meek as possible in front of Dumbledore.

It was a wasted effort. The good boy image wasn't flying.

"Harry!" The fierce whisper snapped his head up, and he cracked the cough drop again and beckoned Ron inside, shoving his Potions work away messily.

Ron hazarded another glance around for Pomfrey before sneaking in. Harry's smile dimmed slightly when Ginny and Luna followed. Under normal circumstances Neville would have been with them as well.

Ron had been down to see him earlier with Seamus but Harry hadn't seen Ginny and Luna since the day before. Gryffindor Tower had been in an uproar after Harry's attack, and it had only gotten worse when some of the Sixth Years decided that the Slytherins were behind it. Ron found the dubious honor of restoring order falling squarely and unexpectedly on his shoulders. Only the larger half of their schoolmates hadn't taken the change in power gracefully.

They'd refused to listen to him, the Sixth Years getting halfway through tactical plans for a counter attack when Ron completely lost his temper.

"I mean really lost his temper," Seamus had whispered to Harry gleefully. "I have never seen a Weasley that pissed off before. We were all ready to duck and cover, ya know. It shut everyone up though."

Harry was sorry he'd missed it.

"How are you, Harry?" Luna asked solemnly, sitting at the edge of the bed and patting his leg. "I heard you were attacked by a Dormiriad."

Ginny pulled up a chair on Harry's other side. Harry and Ron exchanged glances, and Ron seemed to be biting his lip on an exasperated groan.

"A what?" Harry asked, amused and waiting for Luna's improbable response.

"A Dormiriad, a dream-beast that eats life force in order to manifest itself in the physical world. They're very dangerous. But it's your own fault for dreaming him up. Don't do it again."

"Er, I'll try not to." He grinned and offered her a chocolate frog. She took it primly.

Ron caught his attention. "Are you okay, mate?"

"I seem to be fine." He bent his arms back behind his head and stretched.

"You had us completely freaked, Harry." Ginny shook her head. "I thought you might be having another vision." Harry shifted uncomfortably, knowing everyone was thinking of Mr. Weasley and his brush with Nagini two years ago.

"Did Ron explain to you what I saw?" he asked to break the uncomfortable silence.

Ginny and Luna nodded.

"I don't understand how it happened." Ginny said. "If it had been Voldemort, that's one thing. But even Voldemort can't influence you the way he used to, let alone hurt you through your dreams. So how did Malfoy do it?"

She had a point. In Sixth Year, Voldemort had taken to Occluding against Harry. Unfortunately, in doing so, he'd inadvertently taught Harry a few useful tricks. Occluding or not, they were still linked, and energy, like anything else in nature, flows automatically from areas of high concentration to low concentration in an effort to balance out. In some ways, Harry was like a black hole for anything Voldemort didn't keep tightly locked within his mind.

The Dark Lord had an awful shock the day he attempted to open the link between him and Harry again and ran head-long into a steel wall that wouldn't budge.

Harry hadn't even known he was doing it.

"Maybe it was Malfoy and Voldemort working together." Ron suggested, plucking up a package of Every Flavour Beans from Harry's pile of sweets without asking and earning a scowl from Harry. Ron looked completely unrepentant as he tore the bag open. "Maybe Malfoy's finally gone and taken the Mark."

Harry shook his head slowly, "My scar didn't hurt." He touched his forehead lightly. "I couldn't feel Voldemort's presence anywhere."

"A new trick of his then." Ron popped a red bean into his mouth and shuddered visibly but kept chewing.

"There was something else there." Harry admitted thoughtfully. "But it wasn't Voldemort. I really don't think Voldemort was involved."

"Then how did Malfoy get into your mind?" Countered Ron.

"Dumbledore suggested that Malfoy used my link to Hermione to get to me."

Ron looked skeptical.

"It doesn't have to be connected to Voldemort," Ginny told them. "I wouldn't put it past Malfoy to be using some really nasty family specialty magic. It's not that farfetched. The Malfoy line is old and there used to be a lot more branches and every one of them was just as nasty as our current one. Draco Malfoy is the last of the line and all the secrets of every branch family are his now. It's likely he has an entire arsenal of one-of-a-kind relics that do worse then kill."

"Well thank you, Ginny, that makes everyone feel a whole hell of a lot better." Harry muttered, flopping back against his pillow.

Ron frowned. "Giving Malfoy a lot of credit there, aren't you?"

"Lucius is every bit as dangerous as Voldemort," Ginny snapped. "More so because there's nothing stopping him from walking into Hogwarts in broad daylight. Don't try to tell me that he couldn't pull this off."

Ron glowered but didn't deny the point.

"Tell us about your dream, Harry." Luna said suddenly. "Ronald said you saw strange creatures."

Harry wasn't surprised that that part interested Luna. He relayed his dream again and afterwards the four of them sat in silence.

"You didn't see Hermione at all, did you? Only Malfoy?" Ginny asked.

"Only Malfoy," he agreed. "But I wanted to ask you and Ron if maybe you've seen Hermione at all in your dreams lately. I've been seeing her a lot, and Dumbledore suggested that she might be trying to contact us."

Ginny frowned. "That doesn't make sense. Dream magic is really uncontrollable and wherever Hermione is, I doubt she has access to the proper scrying equipment."

"It makes perfect sense," Luna disagreed serenely. "If Hermione has been subjected to high levels of wild magic, her soul would be unfettered. Whoosh!" She made a swooping motion with her hands like a bird flying. The headless chocolate frog in her hands kicked its feet pathetically.

The other three stared at her. Luna nibbled on her frog.

"I don't usually remember my dreams." Ron scratched at his jaw.

"I might have dreamed about her once or twice but considering the circumstances I think that's normal." Ginny shrugged.

"Well from now on we need to keep track of our dreams. Maybe we can use Dream Catchers or Dream Diaries. Try to remember anything she tells you or if you recognize your surroundings." He paused, eyes narrowing in memory. "Or if you see trees. I've seen a lot of trees. Like a forest. . . ."

"Heads up!" a voice from the hallway yelled. Harry thought it might be Dean.

Ginny stiffened. "Someone's coming! Ron, quick!"

Ron leaned closer to Harry and pulled a brown folder tied with a thin black cord from his robes. "Malfoy senior was here again this morning with some Ministry officials," he whispered in disgust. "He left really angry. Dumbledore gave him and Snape this folder. We managed to make a copy of Snape's while he was out of his office, but we don't understand what they were talking about. I'll tell you about it when I can." He handed the folder to Harry who quickly flipped it open and froze, frowning at the first page.

He browsed through the first couple of sheets, staring, and then slapped the folder closed and stuffed it into one of his books as the door opened and Dumbledore entered. Snape swept in behind him like a vampire stalking a particularly wily target.

"Good evening, Miss Lovegood, Mr. Weasley, Miss Weasley." Dumbledore smiled warmly at the four of them. Luna smiled happily, waving. Ginny murmured a greeting and nodded stiffly at Snape who only sneered.

Dumbledore beamed. "Ah! Harry, doing better I hope?"

"Yes sir." He tried not to sound suspicious.

"Excellent. Poppy assures me that you will be released first thing tomorrow morning as long as you continue to improve. Now, Miss Lovegood, Miss Weasley, if I could speak to Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley in private, please. Why don't you two nip down to dinner."

Ginny opened her mouth looking as if she were about to argue but a glance at Harry and she knew he would simply tell her everything that was discussed anyway. The girls nodded, said their goodbyes and hurried out.

Snape followed them closely and took up position by the door, leaning back with his arms folded, glaring at Harry and looking aggravated at having to be there.

Dumbledore stole Ginny's chair across from Ron. Ron offered the Headmaster a bean but he declined with a smile and wave of his hand. "I had promised to speak to you concerning Miss Granger," he explained.

Harry stiffened and tried not to look too eager. Ron practically leapt out of his chair. "Where is she?" he burst out.

Harry cringed and asked more carefully. "Have you any ideas, sir?"

Dumbledore stroked his beard, looking into the distance. "This is rather difficult to explain. Lucius had a very difficult time with the concept. I feel that, you, Harry, will have a rather better understanding." He paused to gather his thoughts. "Do you remember, my boy, back before you received your Hogwarts letter, what it was like to be a Muggle, believing that there was no such thing as magic, that your world had been explored and mapped? That there were no secret places left?"

Harry nodded slowly.

"And then you became a Wizard and suddenly places, people, and concepts you never imagined were possible opened to you?"

"Yes sir."

"And you look back on your Muggle brethren and see them walk, completely unknowing, past the Leaky Cauldron, never imagining that it is there, that you are there. They would think you mad if you ever tried to explain our world to them. A world coexisting alongside theirs, in some places even mingling with theirs, but never seen, never touched. They don't see it and therefore, to them, it is not real."

Harry wet his lips as a sinking feeling started in his stomach.

"Now imagine you're a wizard." He paused to share the joke. Harry smiled weakly. "And in your own way you are just as blind as the Muggles, even more so because you have pulled the wool over the eyes of the entire Muggle world. They can't see what you can. You are confident in your superiority . . . believing that your world has been explored and mapped, that if you cannot see it, it doesn't exist, that there are no secret places left in the world."

Harry shut his eyes, understanding.

"Wizards may think they have conquered this world but they have only just begun scratching the surface of its secrets." Dumbledore continued gently. "There are places in our world that were never meant for us, magic we are as blind to as the Muggles are to us. These places are a part of our natural world but we have very little understanding of them."

"And . . . Hermione is in one of these places." Harry finished.

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy are like Muggles that have somehow stumbled through the gates into Diagon Alley. They have no understanding of how they got there or how to get out. They do not understand the world around them. We, on the other side, have no idea how to get ourselves in, or them out."

"W-what are you saying?" Ron stuttered, face having gone from white to mottled red from holding in his temper. "You're saying she's gone? That's it? We can't help her?"

"My dear boy, I cannot think of a single person who is willing to give up searching for them," Dumbledore assured him. "It will simply take time and uncommon resources. We are dealing with something we do not fully understand, something dangerous and unpredictable. Fortunately, we do have a starting point."

"But what happened?" Harry asked fiercely. "Why would Malfoy take her there if he couldn't get out again? Did his plan backfire? If that's the case then Lucius should know something. Malfoy couldn't have done it alone and Lucius wouldn't have let his son take her there if he didn't think he could get his son out."

"He probably planned to ditch her there, and something went wrong," Ron said darkly.

"It is possible, Harry, that Draco Malfoy is innocent of wrong doing. . . ." Dumbledore started patiently but Harry wasn't hearing any of it.

"You said it's like Hermione wandered into Diagon Alley. Diagon Alley is protected by gates so Muggles don't end up there normally, right?"

"Correct." Dumbledore conceded.

Harry continued brutally. "Then someone who knows how to open those gates had to deliberately send her there, or take some sort of premeditated action that resulted in Hermione being lost there. And since Hermione hadn't informed me about planning any summer trips to the Twilight Zone, it must have been Malfoy who planned it."

"I don't like your tone, Potter," Snape interrupted angrily, unfolding his arms and taking a step towards the bed. Harry kept his eyes on the Headmaster, willing him to understand.

"I know you want someone to blame very badly, Harry. . . ."

"Deny it," Harry countered coldly. "Deny that all evidence suggests Malfoy took her."

"That is ENOUGH, Potter! Perhaps the Headmaster lets you get away with disrespecting your betters but you will not do so while I am present." Snape's yellow teeth were bared and Ron was eyeing the Potion's Professor as if wondering if he would have to intervene, but Harry ignored them both.

"That's enough, Severus." Dumbledore murmured. He looked at Harry sadly for a long moment, and Harry felt a swell of bitter triumph.

"What about my dreams?" Harry continued. "How did Malfoy attack me?" A horrid thought struck him as he remembered drooling, vacant-eyed animals and he grimaced. "Oh hell, were those . . . those things I saw real?"

"It is impossible to tell at this point how much was your own dream and how much was . . . something else."

"Something else?" Ron asked.

Dumbledore seemed suddenly much older and much fiercer as he stared off into the distance over Harry's shoulder. "There is something in there with them. And it does not want to let them go."

The words struck something deep in Harry's subconscious and sent a cold jolt straight to his stomach. He took a deep breath, replaying once more the slowly fogging memories of his dream.

Something there. . . .

Throat suddenly too dry, Harry rasped. "What is it?"

Dumbledore folded his hands in his lap. "We're not entirely sure. We only know the stories and legends surrounding it. Some people think it is the beast of Mummelsee, an evil creature at the bottom of lake Mummelsee. The Muggles say that it used to steal women and take them into the lake. The Wizard version of this tale says it was young men who were taken. It names the creature the Devourer."

"But what about Malfoy's plans for Hermione? H-how do we know some old folk story has anything to do with any of this?" Harry stammered.

"Because, Harry, I knew the last boy that was taken." He reached out and slipped the stolen folder from Harry's book.

Snape made an incoherent sound of rage when he realized what it was Dumbledore held. He looked like he was bursting at the seems to shout or take points but Dumbledore remained calm and he wouldn't go against the Headmaster.

The Headmaster flipped through the folder pensively. "It was fifty years ago. A handsome Irish fellow who had just graduated Hogwarts. We never found even a trace of him."

Dumbledore closed the folder and set it in Harry's lap.

"Harry?" Ron asked quietly as Dumbledore rose stiffly as if his joints ached. He did not look at Harry.

"Mr. Weasley, why don't you accompany us to dinner. Harry, I'll see you at breakfast."

"Yes, Headmaster." Harry whispered.

I met a God, and It ate me. . . .

He waved distractedly at Ron and sat back slowly against his pillows to mull over what he had learned. He had been given the bare minimum of information, he knew, and only because what he had learned would dishearten him in his search. Knowing what he knew now, the next logical course of action would be to spend the next month locked in the library where Dumbledore could easily monitor him, and they both knew it. He had no idea where to begin searching for this 'place not meant for Wizards'.

Ironically it occurred to him that Hermione would know.

He rubbed at his scar feeling a slight throb that could have been a tension headache. Though whether it was his or Voldemort's was impossible to tell.

"Mr. Potter." The icy voice made him jump, his strained heart giving a slightly painful squeeze. Snape had yet to leave the room. Harry felt a chill and cursed himself for not being aware of his surroundings. Snape hesitated in the doorway looking at Harry with repugnance, obviously disgusted with himself for having chosen to speak to the Gryffindor boy.

"Y-yes, Professor?" He cleared his throat, surprised to see the Potions Master's troubled expression.

"Knowing the foolish tendencies of Gryffindor and your own particularly loathsome gift for tottering headlong into trouble, I feel compelled, for the sake of those children idiotic enough to follow you, to warn you before you go traipsing off into your next disastrous undertaking that there are three students the Dark Lord inquires after on a regular basis. That is yourself, Mr. Malfoy, and one, Ginevra Weasley."

Harry floundered in his blankets in sitting upright, only managing to upset his Charms scrolls. He grabbed at them instinctively. "Ginny?" he whispered in shock, crushing the scrolls in his fists. "Why?"

"That, Mr. Potter, is anyone's guess. Though I believe the Dark Lord has neither forgiven, nor forgotten the events of Miss Weasley's first year."

And with that, Snape swept out of the room, robes billowing out behind him.

Harry sat there, baffled, until he decoded the thinly veiled message behind the words. Snape was warning him that if he and Ron took off and left Ginny alone at school, she was in danger. And, likewise, if they took her with them on any expeditions, she was in even more danger. This was Snape's way of trapping him into staying put.

But how much truth was there behind the words? What could Voldemort possibly want with Ginny? And why now?

He stacked his crumpled scrolls back up and picked up Ron's folder. It wasn't a particularly thick folder, but the papers inside seemed progressively older as he flipped through. There were nine separate reports inside, all of similar nature, all crisp and official looking. He skimmed the first couple of pages, obviously copies of old copies with a fresh Ministry Seal stamped over the aged one. He went back to the first page and began to read.

It was a missing persons report. In the top left corner was a photo magically glued onto the parchment.

The young man in the photo had wispy black hair, skin almost too fair and dusted with freckles, and haughty green eyes. He peered at Harry slyly for a moment before turning up his nose, which was dusted with un-Malfoyish freckles, and throwing his shoulders back proudly, making his cape flare in an attempt to look even more regal. Harry's eyes narrowed as they darted between the familiar crest on the boy's breast and the name printed below the picture.

"Alekodius Malfoy. 1947."

oooo

It was morning already.

Hermione lay sprawled on her back, staring at the gradually lightening sky, ignoring the smooth river rocks digging into her spine. She watched her breath puff out in a white fog and wondered where the night had gone.

She couldn't stop shaking.

The last several hours had passed in a blur of sound and color. She wasn't sure if she had slept or not. She didn't remember sleeping but she did feel oddly relaxed anyway and seemed to be getting more alert.

She raised her hands and watched them tremble, not from cold or fear, but adrenalin and power. The magical high from the binding spell she and Malfoy had cast had left them both breathless and wild and not a little stupid. She was still warm and giddy, like she had swallowed something fizzy, and some of it still tingled on her tongue and bubbled in her stomach. The effects wouldn't fade fully for another few hours.

She was thinking more clearly now and wished she wasn't. She was absolutely mortified by the way her and Malfoy had laughed and carried on last night. She couldn't remember what they said to each other, only that it had all seemed indescribably funny at the time and neither one of them could stop laughing. She faintly remembered twirling around and around in a circle until she was so dizzy that she fell over, and at one point, they had been in the river together. Malfoy and ground up some of the softer colored rocks into paste and painted himself. Hermione distinctly remembered the words 'Sexual Chocolate' smeared across his stomach between bandages. She had laughed until her sides ached.

Malfoy lay still and silent somewhere across from her. She wasn't sure if he was sleeping and didn't really care.

She wasn't ready to face him yet. Because now she had no idea how she was supposed to treat him. Once upon a time it would have been easy to forget past grudges and treat him like a . . . a respected acquaintance. Maybe. Right now she wasn't sure she could even manage to treat him like a human being let alone a friend. There was no telling how he would treat her either. They had a deal now, but if he acted nice, she thought she might start screaming and not stop.

She slipped into fitful slumber as the sun rose but woke only a few hours later to rustling sounds. Malfoy was in the exact same position she'd left him in, propped up on a large rock next to the smoldering fire. His cheeks were unnaturally flushed.

"About time you woke up," he croaked painfully, and some of the tension inside her relaxed, relieved by his sour tone. They weren't going to pretend to be friends after all.

Malfoy pawed clumsily through their things but gave up in frustration moments later. Instead of helping, she stretched her stiff limbs and cracked her neck before rolling onto her tummy to watch. Her nose was runny.

"Is there anything to eat?" he rasped. "Or drink?" The first sounded skeptical, the last hopeful.

She watched his shaking hands with detached curiosity. "The river's right there. Go get a drink," she challenged.

He glared at her with real hate. It made her smile. He started to push himself up very slowly and stiffly. She watched uncaringly as he fought to keep his face a blank mask. She could see the exhaustion in his limbs, the stiffness and pain in the clench of his jaw, the tight lines of stabbing agony around his eyes. Some of the leaves she'd sealed to his wounds were brown-tinged with dried blood. Some were wet with fresh red.

"Sit down, Malfoy." She said quietly.

He went still and they glared at each other. It was a testament to his weakness that he looked away first, and at this point, she wasn't above silently gloating. She stumbled to her feet, ignoring the momentary vertigo and the rolling ache in her belly in favor of grabbing the small cauldron from their little silk bag and filling it with icy water from the stream. She set it beside him and ignored the hungry way he scooped up handfuls of water and brought them carefully to parched lips.

He was ill.

She knew it without having to examine him further and almost didn't examine him further. In the end, she accepted darkly that it was something she would have to deal with as per their promise. She touched his forehead, and he growled but didn't jerk away. He was clammy and a little warm.

It wasn't a good sign. He was obviously in pain, and it was more than stiff muscles. He seemed to be barely able to move.

She wet her lips. "Let me look at your wounds."

He nodded, concentrating on slow sips of cool water. The leaf-bandages were pretty much ruined, probably from their stupidity the night before. She peeled back one on his arm and he hissed and cringed as the sap took baby-fine hair with it. Waxing Draco Malfoy. She squashed the insane urge to giggle. He kept his eyes averted. The jagged bite on his arm was wet and weepy, the edges an angry, boiled red. Her frown deepened.

The wounds were showing all the beginning signs of infection, but his behavior was already that of moderate to heavy infection. She wet her lips again, trying not to show any fear on her face, and wondered wildly what to do. Infection was usually dangerous. Infection under these conditions was worse than deadly.

And he wouldn't understand.

Infection was almost unheard of in the Magical world. Even Muggles didn't fully comprehend the danger anymore. Had he received these wounds at Hogwarts, Pomfrey would have fixed him up in a few short minutes. Magic infections were worse than regular ones but she'd still bet that Malfoy hadn't had an infection in his entire life.

She'd have to treat him the Muggle way, but she had no means with which to disinfect his wounds, and they had no antibiotics here. Her understanding of the plants in this area was minimal, her medical training was rudimentary. But if Malfoy wasn't treated and properly he would get worse. It was possible that he would grow feverish with blood poisoning and die.

"What's wrong?" Malfoy's voice snapped her back to reality, and she realized he was staring at her.

"We need to get you cleaned up," she said as quietly as before and saw confusion flicker behind his dull, glassy eyes. "Eat first. You'll need your strength."

They ate a meager meal in silence, and Hermione determinedly spent a few minutes hunting the immediate area for food. She found a nest of small, unidentifiable crayfish-type animals under a rocky crevice in the stream and took a chance on boiling and eating them, hoping they weren't toxic. She didn't even feel bad afterwards as she peeled the shells off and munched on the small bits of meat.

After breakfast, she boiled a new pot of water and cut a few more swaths of cloth from their rapidly depleting supply of clothes. They'd have nothing left if this kept up. The dagger vibrated like a tuning fork in her grasp. It had been acting weird all morning and she found that holding it for more than a few minutes brought sweat dripping down her face. She had to put it away repeatedly and sit down to catch her breath.

"What's happening?" Malfoy asked. He tried to touch the knife, and she slapped his hand away.

"I'm not sure," she panted. "Something's different. Just holding it is tiring me out."

He thought about this. "It's probably reacting to last night."

She blushed because the thought hadn't even crossed her mind. "The spell?"

He gave her a long-suffering look. "It got two big doses of foreign power last night. Once when I nailed that Raziel bitch. Did you see I didn't get weak afterwards? Usually when I strike with the knife, the power flows out like it's being sucked from my body but this time I connected with his body, the knife sucked inward. It sucked all his power out. He could barely stand after."

"And then the second time was the spell." She realized and traced the hilt with her fingertips. "So what's happening? If it's fed then it shouldn't bother us, right?"

"We feed it and it only gets hungrier." Malfoy shook his head grimly, poking the fire with a stick. "You knew this would happen, remember? We use it until we can't anymore."

She nodded distractedly and put it out of her mind for later. Malfoy watched her add some herbs to her boiling concoction, and she found herself automatically going into lecture mode, explaining the cleansing properties of the plants she added, though her voice was stilted and unsure.

"Potions." Malfoy had a glazed look in his eyes as he helped her sprinkle in the herbs. "What I wouldn't give for some nasty-ass potions right now."

"I think I could kiss Snape if only he were here right now," Hermione found herself muttering.

Malfoy's eyebrow shot up in a familiar mocking manner, but he quickly shut his mouth and looked away, curbing whatever drawling comment he'd been about to make. "I'd slip him tongue," he said lightly instead, and she frowned at him, the tension in the air thickening.

She almost added, 'I'll tell him you said so' but was afraid to break the peace by starting an argument.

Cleaning Malfoy's wounds had taken longer then expected, and she had to cringe at the sloppy slap-on job she'd done the night before. She'd done it spitefully, vindictively, because he'd been watching her.

Malfoy yelped and cursed as she wiped the wounds with steaming cloths. She allowed the cuts to dry then carefully sealed them again with new sap and leaves. Some of the wounds were worse than others and she suppressed twinges of worry when she cleared away pus-yellow fluid from his back wounds.

It was still a bad patch-up job. Boiling water didn't guarantee complete sterilization. The sap wasn't sterile, and the leaves were worse. She was going to have to figure something better out.

They broke camp a little before noon and tried to get moving. They had no official plan or destination anymore but neither was willing to examine that too closely. It didn't matter in the end anyway because Malfoy didn't make it very far. He was simply in too much pain to go anywhere. They returned to camp again not long after leaving, Malfoy shaking, eyes wet with tears of pain, though none fell.

She tried as hard as she could not to find satisfaction in his weakness.

When she did anyway, she left, unable to look at him anymore. She searched for supplies, leaving Malfoy to rest. He still thought his muscles were just stiff, and she didn't correct him. Disgruntled, she realized she was going to have to provide for both of them, and her half-baked plans to make him teach her how to hunt were ruined. He'd only been able to hunt because he was an animagus.

She spent the afternoon trying to think of ways to catch game, but after her first and only attempt, ending when she swung the knife at a rabbit from a distance and cut the animal cleanly in half, made the guts explode out, the animal flipping in the air with its entrails raining down like hot meat pie and nearly causing her to be sick everywhere, she gave up.

She found nothing to help Malfoy.

The next morning Malfoy was worse. He alternated between fever and chills, and it hurt him so much to move that he choked on small whimpers and screams when she bathed his wounds. The ragged tears in his skin bled pus, the skin fire-engine red and lines of red and black beginning to spider out from them. Nothing she did seemed to help.

Desperate, she left him with food and water and went out again to search for supplies.

The wolves came the moment she was alone.

A red-eyed, black-furred wolf burst out from the underbrush and into her path like a bolt of darkness. Hermione was moving before her brain fully comprehended the situation. Wrenching around to face the threat, she drew the knife and scrambled back a few feet, wondering wildly if this was a real wolf or one of Raziel's pack. Two more wolves, one gold and one reddish-brown, came at her from the sides, and she fled back the way she came. The black wolf tried to cut her off but she swung the knife at him, feeling an icy, painful jolt up her arm as she did so. The wolf leapt straight up, out of the path of the blast. The spin from the blow threw Hermione off balance and she tumbled over a bush, earning scratches and tears but she didn't stop moving. She scrambled on all fours through the brush. Her right arm was now completely numb.

The wolves yipped and leapt through the bushes, crashing and rustling towards her. She flew upright to her feet and immediately had her legs knocked out from underneath her by a golden blur. She screamed as she dropped to the ground. Landing clumsily but catching herself, she barely avoided impaling herself on the knife by accident. She turned so she could swing the knife, this time with her left hand, but wolf jaws caught her wrist and the knife flew from her grasp.

"NO!" She kicked the reddish-brown wolf in the chest and scrambled over the dirt on her belly to get to the blade. She had just enough time to grab it before two strong arms grabbed her and scooped her up.

The black-furred, red-eyed wolf had the same features in human form. She thought of Voldemort and shrieked, kicking her feet and attempting to stab him with the knife. He caught her wrist awkwardly, face set in a dangerous glare.

"Let me go!" She screamed it into his face and saw him wince.

"Put the knife away," he growled, his voice a deep rumble.

They glared at each other, Hermione straining against the inhuman strength. With sudden insight, she adjusted her grip on the dagger so the tip pointed down towards his shoulder. She grinned darkly, power flaring up in the blade. The wolf's eyes widened, and he wrenched her arm back just as the knife flared and a flash of power lanced out from the tip. A gash, half an inch deep opened in an explosion of blood in the wolf's shoulder. He screamed a hoarse animalistic sound of rage and twisted her arm painfully behind her back. Hermione snarled and struggled, but she couldn't budge him. She was now so drained she could barely hold her arms up.

"Put it away!" The wolf ordered furiously, giving her a shake.

Seeing no other option, she acquiesced with a sharp nod and a mulish frown. The wolves watched her slip the knife into the sheath as if it were an angry rattlesnake. The dark wolf gathered her up into his arms.

"Where are you taking me?" she screeched, kicking as he carried her through the trees. She snarled, teeth bared, face flushed an angry red.

This was not happening again. There was no way she'd let it. The last time they'd taken her, they'd stripped her down and humiliated her. She wasn't going to give them the opportunity again. She'd fight them, just like she'd fought Malfoy.

The wolf-man said nothing, offering no reassurance or acknowledgement. Blood spilled down his arm but he didn't seem to notice. The wound was already closing. The two smaller wolves trotted at his feet, looking up at her with wagging tails and joyful doggy laughs.

They hauled her back to camp where the black-haired wolf-man gently dropped her feet to the ground. She took in the scene before her and cried out, lunging forward only to be stopped by strong arms.

Malfoy was on the ground, straining back against a tree trunk and holding very still, his breath coming in hoarse, clotted gasps. The white wolf, Raziel, crouched in human form near their fire, examining their supplies. The brown and cream wolf, Alekos, stood over Malfoy, paws on either side of Malfoy's lap, lips peeled back from fangs that were scant inches from Malfoy's throat. A deep rumbling growl reverberated from his furry chest.

"Get away from him!" she shouted, struggling against the red-eyed man who pulled her against his chest as easily as if she were a small child.

What did they want now? She was doing the best she could! This wasn't fair!

The red-haired wolf-king gave her a small smile and turned his gaze back to Malfoy who didn't so much as twitch.

"You're still here."

It took her a moment to realize that he was talking to her.

"I had thought our agreement was that you would leave my territory. Should I assume you've changed your mind?"

"We're leaving your land as soon as we can," she reassured him as calmly as she could with a strange man cuddling her, his chin on top of her head.

"Really?" Raziel surveyed their site coolly. "It doesn't look to me as though you intend to go anywhere." He set down their silk bag and looked up at her. "Say the word, Hermione. We would be happy to have you."

She tried to jerk free and huffed when she was slammed backwards. "Let me go," she demanded, heart pounding. The red-eyed man snuffed her hair, ignoring her. It made her skin crawl. "Raziel . . . er, your highness? Tell him to let me go, please."

"Ridya," the wolf-king told her quietly.

"What?" Her brow furrowed.

"His name is Ridya. And the others are Moriel." He nodded to the golden wolf, now a small blond boy with gold eyes who beamed at her with gleeful malice. "And Leliel." The reddish-brown wolf was a dark-skinned woman with a shock of black hair and the lean body of a fighter. She scowled but seemed more curious than angry.

Hermione gave up struggling and asked raggedly, "What do you want?" Because really, what else could they give?

"I've given you plenty of time to vacate," the wolf-king said. "You're still here, so I assume you must be staying. I only came to collect."

"No!" she cut in quickly, a bit desperately. "We'll leave when Malfoy gets better."

Raziel gave the feverish blond human a long look which Malfoy returned hatefully, then turned back to her with a knowing gaze.

"You know better, Hermione." He said softly.

She glared back at him helplessly.

"He stinks of sickness," Leliel said.

"He's dying." Moriel wrinkled his nose. Malfoy made a sound of shock, pale face going whiter. He looked at Hermione, but she refused to meet his eyes.

Moriel turned to Raziel and asked casually, "Will you save him?"

"There is only one way to save him now," Raziel murmured, eyes on Hermione. "If he becomes like us."

"No!" Malfoy ground out in a guttural cough. Alekos snapped his jaws at Malfoy's throat and the blond boy went deadly still, eyeing the pearly fangs.

Hermione felt the color drain from her face. "You . . . you . . . ." she bit her tongue on a curse and shouted. "You knew this would happen! You planned it!" She thrashed against Ridya, but he only held her tighter, rumbling softly.

His expression was solemn, almost kind, but there was something underneath that wasn't so nice. "I knew it was a possibility. Weak creatures often fail with just one bite from our jaws."

"That wasn't fair!" she cried in disbelief. "We made a deal! This is your fault! You hurt him, now help me heal him! There must be a way! Something to make him better."

"Why should I?" Raziel asked, tilting his head so violent red hair spilled in his eyes. "I want you both and either way, I will get at least one of you." He was enjoying himself. This was just another kind of hunt to him.

"That's not fair! You said I could choose!"

"And that you shall." He rose to his feet smoothly, and Alekos stepped away from Malfoy, sniffing the boy's wounds. His voice turned cold. "The boy will be dead before the moon rises tomorrow night. You have until then to decide. When he is dead, you will be alone, and then you will have no choice but to accept our protection."

"Choose wisely." Ridya whispered in her ear before he released her.

"You can't do this!" Hermione screamed at them. "Damn you! Help him! Do something!"

Raziel ignored her. "You will be safe as long as you remain on our lands. We will even protect the boy from predators while you are away. But do not stray too far. We will see you again soon."

The wolves turned and vanished into the brush. The cream and brown wolf lingered a moment at Hermione's feet. He whined softly and then was gone.

She stared after them, aware of the eyes boring into her from behind. Her throat closed and she choked on helplessness before she turned to face Malfoy. He was staring at her, his face red as he held in hysteria.

"Is it true? Am I dying?" he asked in a strange, numb voice.

She raised her hands helplessly. "I tried."

"You knew," he accused softly.

"It's infection." She told him quietly. "A magical one. There's not much I can do."

"You knew. You knew yesterday. The moment you saw, you knew." There was a hint of panic beneath the words. His eyes were too wide.

She didn't know what to say.

"So—what? That's it?" He was breathing too hard. "You're giving up? We come all this way and I'm wolf meat? And to think, all this time I thought it was you who was going to die."

"What?" she asked coldly, her hand automatically gripping the hilt of the knife.

He threw his head back to laugh and almost instantly convulsed in pain, whining with the force of it. "I tried so hard to protect you," he gasped, doubled over and shaking. "When it was myself who I should have been worrying about." He giggled.

She looked away, horrified, and said briskly, "Raziel can save you."

Malfoy's head snapped up. "NO!" he screamed, face red and twisted with rage. "No way! I'm going home. I'm not going to become some filthy animal."

Her eyes narrowed, some of her pity for him evaporating.

And there was the old prejudice. Pureblood pride. To him it would be like becoming a werewolf, and many purebloods would suffer death before they allowed themselves to be tainted. Filthy animal. Filthy blood. The sullying of his own body and a lifetime of poverty and disgrace if they managed to escape Raziel. Was it a fate worse than death to him? Is that why he'd tried the night before to make it her fate?

In the end, his fate would be her choice. The thought was bemusing. Save him or let him die. He would thank her for neither.

"You're going to have to choose, Malfoy. Either you're a wolf, or you're dead." She sounded so callous. Merlin, when had she become so cold?

"Don't you fucking dare, girly." He snarled, practically spitting the words at her. "Don't you fucking dare."

She turned away. "I'm going to search for supplies."

There was still time. She had to try.

She left him cool water and something light to eat to keep up his strength and wandered the forest until dusk in stubborn determination. The woods were a cornucopia of magic, more so than any place she had ever been. So why couldn't she find one thing to help Malfoy? Why was she wandering aimlessly and wasting time?

She found a patch of sweet smelling herbs and her heart leapt, thinking it was Enervein, a potent antiseptic and antitoxin. She fell to her knees and scrabbled at the herbs, checking their potency, nearly crying when she tasted one and the familiar numbing sting spread across her tongue. She gathered as much as she could, even going so far as to dig up the roots to peel them.

There was a lot here. She contemplated in excitement.

If she made a paste out of them to put on his wounds and brewed the rest for him to ingest then they might have a chance of fighting off the infection. Could Enervein be taken as a tea? She quickly listed as many of the properties as she could mentally and suddenly remembered that without fermentation and distillation, the weed was useless except for small burns.

She stood still for a heartbeat and then screamed in frustration before throwing the worthless herbs into the brush. When that didn't help, she pulled a Boiboi bush up by its roots, kicked a large stone, nearly breaking her toe, which only made her angrier, and slammed her fists into a tree over and over until they were numb and bruised and bleeding. Tears stung her eyes.

She had no food because she'd spent all day looking for medicine. She had no medicine because she was too stupid to know any of the plants in the vicinity. She should have spent the day making Malfoy comfortable, but she couldn't even feel guilty about the pain he was in.

Why didn't she feel sorry for him? She felt nothing, only a vague, detached pity. If he died, she couldn't even say she'd be sorry.

Merlin, was she even trying to save him? She wondered in horror.

Was she only pretending to search for medicine knowing it was fruitless, while she waited for him to die somewhere where she didn't have to watch? Just like he'd accused her before? If she weren't bound by oath to protect him, would she even be here, or would she have deserted him the moment he was too weak to follow?

What was she going to do when the time came to choose? It would be all too easy in the growing cold stillness of her heart to 'respect' Malfoy's wishes and let him die instead of allowing Raziel to save him. To change him. Not save. He didn't think of it as salvation.

Her legs gave out and she sat on her butt in the dirt and cried great gulping sobs of frustration and fatigue.

No matter what the situation, she had always been able to rely on her own sense of duty and justice. The moral sense that grounded her and guided every decision she made every day of her life. Only it wasn't there now and there was a big gaping hole in her conscience. She couldn't trust herself anymore.

Who was she now?

A sharp crackling rustle made her head fly up. She stifled her gasp, knees jerking as they instinctively tucked closer to her body.

The cream and brown wolf stepped slowly out of the bushes, head down, tail tucked between his legs. She held her breath, heart pounding. Alekos slinked on his belly, like a groveling dog, towards her and stopped ten feet away. The wolf dropped something from his jaws.

A rabbit. She realized. He'd been carrying a dead rabbit.

He gave a soft whine, nosed the carcass towards her. She swallowed hard and opened her mouth to ask when the wolf's head snapped up, ears erect. He loped away into the woods. Hermione let out her breath when he was gone and turned to the rabbit.

It was food and the wolf had obviously been offering it to her. She stared at the carcass like she expected it to attack.

What would the wolf want in return for feeding her?

She left the rabbit where it lay.

When she got back to camp, she found that Malfoy had been trying to move around a bit. He was sweating hard from exertion but had collapsed before she arrived on the other side of the fire. He looked at her expectantly when she appeared.

She shook her head. "I have nothing for you."

His face twisted, and he quickly turned away.

She let him alone and set about making a stew from all the things she had left. It would be something gentle on his stomach but nutritious enough to give him some strength. She found a few more shellfish and tossed them in. The end result was watery but surprisingly tasty. Unfortunately, she'd forgotten that they had no bowls or spoons. Odd that she'd forgotten that. They improvised as best they could, neither protesting when the other tilted the cooling cauldron to their lips to drink.

Hermione cleaned the camp up for the night and sat across the fire from Malfoy as the stars appeared in the sky and some night creature bellowed in the distance. She tensed, but only momentarily. It was strange to know they were perfectly safe. The wolves had promised it. She watched Malfoy as he settle back down to sleep after his painful journey into the bushes to relieve himself. From the look on his face, she knew something had happened.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

He glanced at her and mumbled, "There was blood."

She let the feeling of inevitability settle over her, like another brick cemented into the wall between them. "Is there anything you want to say?" she asked him. "Anything you want me to . . . tell anyone?"

He shook his head slowly, staring at her in disbelief. "You're such a bitch, you know that? I hate to break it to you, but you're not going to make it out of here either."

"I know," she answered softly. "But I was going to try and leave a message somewhere tomorrow."

He shut his eyes and seemed to fight with himself, a muscle in his cheek twitched. "Look, I. . . ." he trailed off, staring at her helplessly. "I . . . Help me."

She caught her breath sharply, eyes flying wide.

"Please. Help me."

She turned away, hating him, and tried not to cry.

oooo

Draco watched the girl doze and tried futilely to keep his thoughts neat and rational. Hermione lay in a heap of matted hair and dirt-streaked skin. She looked exhausted. He took a slow drink from the cauldron. It did nothing to soothe his parched throat.

It was getting harder and harder to think straight, to keep his mind from wandering off on strange, almost hallucinatory tangents. Twice he'd caught himself trying to get up thinking he had to go somewhere, only to realize there was nowhere to be.

His life had already flashed before his eyes. Their lives, really. His brain had taken it upon itself in sort of an obligatory fashion to play out what he imagined her life to be. It involved a lot of books. He would have snorted at the thought, but it wasn't funny at all.

Every instinct screamed for him to get up off his ass and try to save himself. It wasn't his nature to simply lay there while the clock ticked down. Slytherin self-preservation and all that. Unfortunately, he could barely move without every limb burning in agony. He was helpless. He could feel his body dying. The tips of his fingers, his lips and his nose were already numb, as if death was a mist slowly coating his body and creeping through him until it touched every part.

If he died, he was going to die furious with her, blaming her every step of the way.

He knew Hermione wouldn't let him die. No matter how much she hated him. No matter how pissed he was at her that she hadn't produced a miracle cure for him. She wouldn't let him die if she could help it. She would let the wolf turn him. He just wasn't sure that was what Raziel planned. It was Hermione they really wanted. Their desire for him was secondary, a plan easily discarded.

They didn't seem to realize or care that if he died she would probably snap. Really snap once and for all.

Merlin. Maybe it was egotistical to blame her current state solely on himself, but he did. He had really messed her up. She was falling apart before his eyes, holding herself together with her failing will alone. Too much had happened in such a short period of time for them to come to terms with it all. And now she was second-guessing herself, afraid of herself and her own mind.

It was his fault, he told himself. Adversity brought out a person's true character, and he had shown his to be that of a weak-willed bastard. He wasn't the villain he'd tried so hard to be, but perhaps this was worse. He was the mindless, frightened dip-shit who caused the problem for everyone else in the first place.

He was the vicious lackey, the greedy bastard, the sniveling traitor, and never the hero.

It was why he'd turned on Hermione so angrily the night she was taken by the wolves. He'd accused her of hypocrisy and cold-blooded, Slytherin manipulation in her actions towards him during the water monster incident. That was bullshit. She'd had every right to get rid of him in any way she saw fit.

He'd thought she understood that. But that night, she had taken all his words to heart, let them wound her so badly when she had every right to fight for her survival, every right to hate him, and even the right to kill him if she needed to. She had believed every word he'd spewed at her and when he realized she was eating them up and crushing herself with the guilt, he'd kept spewing them, terrified that she'd realize the truth.

He wasn't angry at her.

He was horribly embarrassed and ashamed of himself. Of his inadequacy.

He wasn't the hero. He wasn't Harry fucking Potter.

Yeah, so he'd been right that if the situation were different, she would have screamed at Harry Potter to run and save himself. The difference between him and Potter was that Potter wouldn't have listened to her. Potter wouldn't have abandoned her. He wouldn't have hidden to save himself. He would have done something completely rash and stupid and outrageous, fearlessly risking his own life, and somehow saved her while coming out unscathed, no matter that the odds were forty-to-one.

Harry Potter would have pulled a dragon out of his ass, and a flaming sword out of the dragon's ass and rode in to rescue her.

Draco had left her with the wolves because he believed it was the only thing that would keep her safe. The wolves would take care of her when he couldn't. If they were strong enough to keep the wyvern at bay, then they definitely wouldn't let anything happen to her.

He hadn't, even for a moment, dwelt on why it was suddenly easier to admit that he was doing this for her safety then the fact that this was also his chance to get rid of her. This was his chance to expunge her from his life painlessly, without hurting or killing her, without any guilt whatsoever on his conscious because she was safe and well here and better taken care of then he could manage himself. She'd be gone for good, she'd no longer be around to screw with his life or his world view, and he was relieved.

And when he saw how frightened she was, he tried to tell himself that it was for her own good, but he was still so ashamed. And he couldn't help thinking of Potter.

He wondered helplessly what everyone back home was doing. He tried to spare a thought and a well-wish for each of them. For Pansy and Blaise and Crabbe and Goyle and even that fat cow Millicent, but it was getting harder to concentrate and his mind wandered as the world around him grew darker.

He stared into the flames, watched the shadow of them dance over Hermione's face. His shadow self had promised she would die, perhaps he had averted that. He'd been so afraid when he saw the white wolf, thinking maybe it was his shadow self. His evil half come to kill them both.

Come to kill him for betraying his father's ideals.

The fire flickered and roared up, heating his skin, beating against it like the sun. Like the sun on a vast golden plain.

Orange flames and dry grass. Wolves bounding around in a feral war dance.

Draco gasped and reached for the cauldron, needing water because it was so hot and dry. His lips were chapped, and the inside of his mouth felt like sunburn. The cauldron was gone. He'd left it in the shade of the trees.

He felt his eyes rasp over the backs of his eyelids like sandpaper. Fireants marched over his skin.

The moon blazed down on the vast plains, making the world a bluish hell. But the rabbits were in hiding because the wolves were on the prowl. Hot breath. Hot teeth. Hot, ripping, tearing pain.

The field was on fire. It was burning. The flames were everywhere, smoke choking in his lungs. He couldn't get away. He tried to run but couldn't move. The fire caught on his robes, streaked up his legs and down his arms like liquid agony and engulfed him, melting, bubbling, charring his flesh.

He shrieked as he started to burn.

oooo

Hermione jerked awake from a light doze when the first agonized howl from Malfoy ripped the silence apart. She lost at least ten seconds to complete disorientation before the world righted itself, and she saw Malfoy on his back, arching up, face twisted in anguish as he screamed.

She flung herself clumsily across the distance between them and grabbed his shoulder, screaming his name. He didn't seem to hear her, only twisted and convulsed, clawing at himself. She shook him, slapped him, and then gasped at what she felt.

He was wet, absolutely dripping with sweat, and his skin was lobster-red, so hot it almost burned. Panicking, she grabbed the nearby cauldron and dumped the water over his body. His screams only increased, growing to wails of torture and suffering.

Still screaming his name, and now completely hysterical, Hermione tried the only thing she could think of. She stripped off his wet clothes, moaning in horror at the sight of the angry red streaked lines radiating from his wounds, and rushed to fill the cauldron with more water. Even if it hurt him, she had to cool him down. She poured more water over him, scooped a tiny bit into his mouth, but he only choked and flailed.

"DRACO! DRACO!" she screamed, nails digging into his arms. "WAKE UP! I don't know what to do! Merlin. Oh please. Please! I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO!" She lunged to her feet, "HELP ME! SOMEBODY HELP!"

Draco answered her screams with terrified shrieks and she fell to her knees, propping him up against her body and dolloped water over him.

"I'm sorry. So sorry," she sobbed, trying to hold him still so he didn't hurt himself. He slapped at her, howling, his voice breaking and becoming hoarse. The back of his hand smashed into her eye, and she yelped, dropping him.

He began screaming for his father. Crying hysterically, Hermione reached for the cauldron to dump the contents on him again.

Hands grabbed hers roughly and shoved the cauldron away. "NO!"

She fought the hands, screaming in rage, only to have the hands shove her. She fell back in astonishment, the cauldron dumping to the ground. Green eyes met hers briefly and then Alekos was dragging Draco closer to the fire.

"Stop!" she started weakly, too confused to do more than reach out an arm uselessly.

"Help me!" the man interrupted angrily and pulled a soft cloth from a heavy deer-skin bag at his side. "Dry him off quickly! The water burns!"

Shell-shocked, Hermione scrambled over to help. The two of them quickly patted and rubbed Draco dry, the wolf easily holding the squirming boy down. Draco's screams were dying to hoarse, thin cries, his damaged throat no longer able to sustain full screams. Alekos began wrenching the leaf coverings off Draco's wounds.

"Get them off!" he ordered harshly when she hesitated.

Hermione tore at her makeshift bandages as if they were flesh-eating leeches and the wolf-man extracted a smooth bowl made of polished stone from his bag. It was full of sea-grean paste. Dipping his hands in, he scooped up a handful of the soft, minty-smelling concoction. Hermione sat panting, watching the wolf-turned-man rub the waxy lotion vigorously into Draco's weeping wounds, and, after a stunned moment, she grabbed a handful and helped.

Together they greased Draco's wounds with the ointment and slowly Draco began to calm. His body cooled under their touch, the tears of pain drying up. And the twisted agony of his face smoothing out as his heaving chest slowed to gentle, even breathing. Finally Draco was still and silent in exhausted sleep. They laid him gently on top of his wet robes.

Trembling with exhaustion and adrenalin, Hermione sank back on her heels.

Blessed silence.

She looked slowly up at the green-eyed wolf-man, expression guarded, wiping sweat from her brow with slippery hands. "Thank you." It came out a croak.

Alekos nodded, seemingly examining her just as intently as she examined him. His muscles twitched at every little noise. Hermione realized he was trembling with anxiety, not fatigue. He was afraid.

When he spoke, it was a whisper. "This is temporary. It isn't a cure. It is a balm that will soothe the burning and slow the infection-" He cut off quickly, head flying up as he listened attentively to something she couldn't hear. He ducked his head again and leaned in close to her. "Listen carefully, Hermione, Raziel lied. About a lot of things. There is a way to cure Draco. There is a way out of here."

"But, Raziel said . . . he gave his word. . . ." she stuttered out stupidly.

Alekos shook his head in frustration. "What does a wolf care for human oaths? He will do what his instincts tell him is best for his pack and will be bound by no word or sense of honor or duty should he need to change his decision. That is how an animal's mind works."

"Then what should I do? How do I help Malfoy?"

Why should I trust you? She wanted to ask. He'd just told her—the wolf had told her to her face!—not to trust the word of a wolf. But she was so desperate, ready to cling to any thread of hope that was dangled before her.

It wasn't like he could make this situation any worse.

"You must move quickly. The infection is too advanced to treat by normal means, but there is a way. Go to the borderlands in the North-West. There is a cavern there, a Nefiliod nest. They're expecting you."

Hermione's head was whirling. "What's a Nefiliod?"

"Dark Creature. Mud-demon. A perversion of an Earth sprite."

"I think everything I've seen here is a Dark Creature," she muttered in exasperation. "Are they dangerous?"

"Normally they would tear you apart. But Raziel has made a mistake. He ordered every creatures on our lands to restrain themselves from harming you this night. The Nefiliod will not be happy. They will try to harm you indirectly, but they will not be able to kill you." Alekos searched through his bag. "Take this." He handed her a small cloth bag.

Inside was an empty leather canteen, a shallow stone dish, a small, crudely-made dagger with a wooden handle and a fist-sized rock that glowed so brightly when she uncovered it that she had to look away blinking spots from her eyes.

"Sun stone," Alekos explained. "Take it with you but do not use it unless you have to. Nefiliod don't like the light. Make them an offering. They will give you what you need."

Demons? Offerings?

He was one of Raziel's men, it was stupid to trust him, but it wasn't like she had much of a choice, or much else to lose.

Hermione stared at the fur bag incredulously, feeling about ready to collapse in a nervous fit. "I appreciate what you're doing and you're obviously trying to help but why can't you deal with these demons yourself?"

Alekos shook his head. "I'm sorry, Hermione, truly I am. It is too close to the borderlands. I cannot go there. The God waits for me." The last was a mere whisper and Hermione looked at him sharply but he continued. "I cannot fight the Nefiliod. I could kill them, but they would never bargain with me, it would directly violate Raziel's orders." He rose slowly and looked off into the dark forest. "And, most importantly, it is only a matter of time before Raziel discovers what I have done. When he finds out, he will come straight here to kill the boy. I will fight him for as long as I can but you must return quickly."

Hermione stood, tucking the items into her silk bag. "How will I get there?"

The black-haired wolf gave her a tiny smile. "I told you, Raziel made a mistake." He raised a hand to the woods, and she turned to look, gasping when something gigantic moved through the trees. The huge shadow stepped into the firelight and Hermione's hands flew to her mouth.

"It won't . . . but it. . . ."

"Just for tonight," Alekos told her softly, reaching up to pet the giant muzzle of the Warg. "Hati will not harm you."

The giant wolf was bigger than a horse, taller than Hermione at the shoulder. Almost without realizing what she was doing, Hermione reached for the thick, gray fur. It was beautiful. Intelligent yellow eyes swung on her, and the animal regarded her with annoyance and growled lowly. Alekos swatted the animal's muzzle hard as Hermione jerked back with startled squeak. The Warg grumbled.

"Do not be afraid." Alekos moved up behind her, and before she realized it, grasped her around the waist. She grabbed the Warg with a surprised yelp, instinctively swinging her leg onto its fluffy back when Alekos lifted her. The fur was thick, wiry, and warm. She could feel the animal's sides billow out as it breathed.

Alekos faced the animal, holding its muzzle in his hands and making it look at him. "Take her to the cavern, and bring her back safely. Kill anything that tries to harm her." He looked up. "Hermione, at the edge of the borderlands you may . . . see things. Do not run, do not look, don't be afraid. You'll still be on our land."

The Warg snuffled indignantly and then whined, butting Alekos with its large head. Alekos patted it.

"Go quickly."

And like a changing current of wind they were off. Hermione squealed and lowered herself flat onto the huge body as it lunged into the night. Darkness swallowed them up and she could not even see the thick fur she clung to. The animal beneath her was shifting muscles, panting breath, and furnace-like heat. She snatched at the fur, shifting her legs.

It was difficult to stay on!

Night air bit into her unprotected back. She breathed as hard as the wolf, face buried in the animal's back. She wasn't sure how long she rode, sweaty hands grasping and body perched precariously, when the animal slowed and came to a gentle stop.

Slowly, she raised her head and took in her surroundings. Hati stood patiently, tongue lolling as he panted. They were at the edge of the woods. It was pitch black under the canopy where they stood. She could not even see Hati's gleaming fur. But ahead of them the woods broke up and the moonlight filtered down onto silvery trees not too far in the distance.

Or not silver. White. Thin, brittle white trees with no leaves. Many of them slanted slightly as if the roots had withered and the tree was in danger of tipping over.

She squinted her eyes, clumsily hiking her leg over and sliding off the giant wolf's back. Hati looked at her with neutral eyes as she stared at the white forest. She couldn't decide if it was pretty or not. She took a few steps towards it and the Warg suddenly whirled and placed his large body in front of her so she bumped into it.

"Hati?"

The wolf growled menacingly, and she stumbled back.

The borderlands, Alekos had said. But the border to what?

She didn't have time for that now.

"Hati, where's the cave?"

She felt, rather than saw, the wolf's pointed snout poke her belly and push her backwards and to the side and then. . . .

She shrieked as she took a step to catch her balance and the ground vanished. She tumbled down completely unable to see, wind milling her arms about blindly. It wasn't a far drop, only a few feet, but it was painful. She caught her hand on the side of the cavern wall and scraped it but was able to catch herself slightly and before she came to a jarring halt on the rock floor.

Gasping, dizzy but unhurt, she sat for a moment in a daze and then glanced around until she saw the glowing yellow eyes of Hati a little above and behind her. She couldn't tell if the wolf was gloating or not.

"Don't go anywhere," she whispered pleadingly.

The words were met by a deep, grumbled 'wuff' that could have been a yes or a no or even a sneeze.

Facing forward again, she assumed she was looking into the mouth of the cavern.

"Hello!" she called and waited.

Nothing.

Biting her lip, she crawled forward. It was too dark to walk, and she had no idea how big the cave was. Hati stayed at the entrance, yellow eyes a comforting light that slowly got further away. She felt the moment she was fully inside the cavern. The air turned icy cold and the rock beneath her hand was like jagged ice. Her breathing was loud in her ear, hands numb. Distantly she could hear the steady drip of water.

"Hello!" she called again and this time her voice echoed loudly. She flinched. "I'm looking for the Nefiliod. One of my . . . er, fellow humans is injured." She padded slowly forward. "I came to barter."

Round, muddy-orange orbs blazed to life not ten inches from her face.

Shrieking, she reared up only to have something heavy and long slam across her ribs with the force of a small elephant. Hermione was bowled sideways, the small fur bag knocked from her hands as she skid across the jagged rock. There was a dizzy instant of complete disorientation, and then she lurched to her knees, mindlessly trying to scramble away from whatever had attacked her. Six sets of orangish eyes stared at her vacantly, closing in around her. She scuttled backwards away from the eyes, feeling the crumbly quality of the rock beneath her far too late.

The ledge gave way and she screamed as her legs slipped over the edge into cool nothingness. She flattened herself to the ground, clinging for dear life, terror thundering in her ears. Cold, hard claws sank into her shoulder, another set jammed into her hair and wrenched at it. She cried out in pain and found herself tugged painfully back up onto the rock floor. The claws in her shoulder gave a vicious squeeze. The ones in her hair tightened and gave a hard tug.

Her chin was grasped, and something cold and smooth touched her cheek as her face was tilted down. She just sat there shaking and crying, too terrorized to move. Nothing happened for several long moments and slowly, her numb mind figured out what was going on.

They were collecting her tears. Probably in the bowl she'd brought.

The realization calmed her slightly but another vicious tug on her hair had her forcing more tears from her eyes. The bowl was finally withdrawn with a whisper of movement. She thought they might let her up but the claws in her hair only wrapped themselves tighter and pulled upwards.

"OW!"

Something was set against the stretched strands and began to saw. In horror, Hermione felt the chunks of her hair give way as the knife, the one Alekos had given her, hacked through. An instant later and she was on her knees, feeling wisps curl around her face. With trembling hands she reached up and ran her fingers through short messy curls.

They'd cut her hair off.

"You had no right!" she grit out hoarsely in a voice like a quiet scream.

"It is only your fur," a gravely voice answered coldly, raising the hair on her arms. "It will grow back."

"We made no such bargain! You didn't ask!" It was ridiculous. She was being ridiculous. She should have been happy that the price was something so simple and easily given. Yet suddenly the cutting of her hair seemed the worst violation yet. She couldn't even care that this was some unknown creature that Alekos said could tear her apart.

"We could have asked for something impossible. And really," the voice turned oily with venomous humor, "If we had merely asked, we wouldn't have gotten so many tears."

She gave a shuddery breath, wanting nothing more than to draw her knife and silence that nasty voice. Instead, she held back her scream of outrage and demanded, "Where's the medicine?"

"It is here," the one who spoke to her drawled. "Wrapped up with your rock. Find it yourself."

The orange eyes winked out as the creatures turned away and began moving deeper into the cave.

"Wait!" she called after them.

One set of orange eyes had not left, but watched her, half-lidded and unconcerned.

"Hurry, little human. The borders are shifting again. The dead forest is spreading and the Servants of the God are hunting for you even now. You shouldn't have come here."

Feeling with her hands, Hermione blindly crawled about the cave. She was completely turned around, not sure which way was back and which was forward. She had to find the medicine.

"Look about when you get the chance. Look about with your shiny stone and see the remnants of my people. The ones touched by the God."

Her fingers were freezing as she patted them around, searching for the small fur bag. The orange eyes crept around her, keeping her from being able to tell one direction from another.

"I should kill you," the creature said thoughtfully. "Had it not been for the wolf demon I'd already be sucking the marrow from your bones. It is your fault the God has grown restless. It is your fault Its Servants are awake. You shouldn't have come."

Hermione continued to ignore the beast and tried not to panic, half her mind on searching for the medicine, the other half on watching the creature carefully. It circled her like a shark, still keeping a safe distance away. She could draw her blade, but she still wouldn't be able to see to aim. It would be a race to see who could strike first before the blade wore her out.

"If I kill you, the other human will die and perhaps the God will cease Its movements. Perhaps It will go back to sleep."

She swept her arm across the floor in a wide arc, surreptitiously speeding up, heart pounding in her throat. Her fingers slapped into a wall and she jerked them back with a small sound of pain. The cold making the sting bite. She almost turned away from the wall but an idea flittered through her panic, and she stood slowly, hands groping along the rock.

"Yes," the creature mused to itself. "The Wolf King will be angry but he will forgive me if the God returns to Its slumber." The orange orbs focused on her, narrowed. "Yes. . . . Yes." A strange reptilian growl rose up in the creature's throat.

Breathless now, Hermione flung herself forward, trying to feel with her hands and kick around the ground with her legs.

"Stupid human. It's your fault the others are dead!" And it lunged.

Her hands closed on something soft and furry sitting on a ledge four feet above the floor. Hermione ripped the bag open, catching the now-full waterskin before it fell and the other contents scattered. The sunstone burst out and clattered to the floor, light exploding about the cave.

The Mud-demon shrieked, clawed hands flying up to cover its face.

From only three feet away, Hermione stared at it. It didn't look like mud. It looked like rock. It was not so much human-shaped as gargoyle-like with thick, reddish-brown skin like clumps of clay, as if it were carved from lumpy rock. Its arms and legs ended in claws, a thick serpent-like tail swacked at the air. Its head was wedge-shaped, flatter and wider then a human head with a short snout and heavy rock-like horns.

Its skin steamed and burned in the light. The beast roared at her and leapt back, bounding away to the safety of darkness.

Slowly, Hermione sank to her knees until the rapid cadence of her heart slowed. She gently stuffed the sloshing water-skin in the fur bag and used the bag to scoop the sunstone up so that only one end was visible. The result was something like a flashlight.

She was in a small area about the size of a medium sized room. In one corner there was a hole in the ground. The cave wall swooped down but then turned inward to open up into another cavern beyond. Around her were what looked like several bodies. The bodies of Mud-demons.

Most of them were stuck to the wall or floor and coated in a translucent, yellow rock. Like insects fossilized in amber. In the dark she had stumbled over them but thought they were lumps in the cavern floor. They were all shaped slightly different; slighter or heavier in frame, different shaped heads, some with tails and some without. Their skin, too, was varied. A few had the red-brown of the one that confronted her, others had dark bluish skin or cavern green or gray.

The bodies were decaying inside those yellow shells. Crumbling to white powder and bone.

Gathering her wits, she got up on shaky knees and headed the opposite direction as the Mud-demon and was relieved when Hati's eyes came into view a few moments later. The huge Warg squinted in the new light and cocked its head at her.

"Hi, Hati," she said, her voice high and strained. "I have the medicine."

Several muffled thumps around her made her jump and back into the big wolf. Hati curled his lip, showing teeth, but didn't growl.

"Oh good, you're alive."

"What happened to your fur?"

The human girl blinked and let out a stilted breath. Three wolves in human form stood before her, scrutinizing her with critical eyes. It took her a second to remember their names.

Ridya, Moriel and Leliel. Raziel's favorites.

She was instantly on guard.

"What do you want?" she breathed, one hand going to her blade. Ridya's eyes followed the movement warily.

"Alekos was a fool to let you come to the Dead Forest alone. The borders are no longer safe," Leliel said, hands on her hips.

"The dead forest. . . ." Hermione murmured, glancing sideways at the trees in the distance, standing like white pillars.

"Oh well, it doesn't matter now," Moriel drawled with an air of satisfaction, stretching nonchalantly. "Alekos will be lucky if Raziel doesn't kill him along with the stupid human male."

Hermione's attention snapped to the small blond teenager in panic. "Raziel! Has he found them yet?"

The blond frowned thoughtfully. "He was on his way when we left. No matter. We're to take you back to our den. Our king says you shouldn't witness the killing." His eyes twinkled with mirth.

Hermione stared at him in disgust. The little bastard knew exactly how upsetting the things he was saying were. He was being purposefully cruel.

"Shut up!" Ridya barked, head cocked, "Listen!"

In the distance a high-pitched screaming whinny echoed through the thick forest of dead white trees. The hair on Hermione's neck rose as something deep in her skull ached in painful memory.

The unicorn.

"The Servants know she's here," Moriel said tightly, eyes trained on the forest.

"We have to go." Leliel took a step towards Hermione, reaching for her, but the girl gave a cry and grabbed onto Hati. The Warg lowered its belly to the ground at the same instant and she managed to scramble onto his back.

"No, wait!" Ridya cried but Hati was already shooting off into the forest at full speed.

"Good boy, Hati!" Hermione panted, glancing back into the darkness over her shoulder. She didn't kid herself though, they wouldn't be far behind.

The Warg grumbled, and she felt the vibrations more than heard it as the icy wind whipped past them.

Excitement tightened her lungs when she first glimpsed the campfire light.

"Alekos, I got it!" she yelled without thinking.

The black-haired wolf looked up in shock. He was standing over the unconscious Malfoy, slightly bent over and breathing hard. Blood dripped down from his scalp and trickled down his cheek. Hermione slapped a hand over her mouth in horror, realizing that though she did not see him, Raziel was already here.

The moment of distraction was enough. The instant Alekos looked at her, a blur of red hair and sharp teeth exploded out of the darkness and barreled into the black-haired man. The two wolves rolled to the ground, kicking, punching and snarling.

Hermione slid off Hati in a half tumble, nearly landing in a sprawl. The Warg backed out of the clearing hastily, watching the fighting wolves uncertainly. He wasn't going to interfere.

Hermione stood still, thinking fast, she knew she couldn't help Alekos by trying to break up the brawl, but she could distract Raziel. She sprinted towards Malfoy, pulling out the heavy bag of medicine. The wolf-king instantly leapt off Alekos to dart in front of her and cut her off. Alekos was on his feet a split second later, crouching protectively over Malfoy. He was bloodier than before, with teeth bared.

Hermione eyed the wolf-king warily. He was breathing hard but not in exertion. He was livid with rage.

"You disobeyed me," The white-wolf growled, deep and frothy. His eyes never left Hermione, but he was speaking to Alekos. "How dare you disobey me? I'm your King!" It was a cry of confused betrayal.

Alekos met the red-haired wolf head on in the next rush, unable to back away for fear of giving his king a swipe at the prone Malfoy boy. The two tore into each other.

"You are my King!" Alekos screamed the words back, hands locked with Raziels. The two straining against each other, not giving an inch. "You should have known I would not, could not, stand idly by!"

Raziel punched Alekos in the face and sent him flying through the air. "We're your pack!"

Alekos picked himself up off the ground and spat blood. "And what is he?"

"Inconsequential!" Raziel screamed. "A liability! Meat!"

Hermione circled them from a distance, trying to creep over towards Malfoy, but Raziel managed to cut her off each time.

"Mark my words, if you kill him, Hermione and I will tear the pack apart! You can't take us against our will!" Alekos threatened determinedly.

The mark must have hit home because Raziel reeled back as if struck. Shock on his face. "I saved you! I protected you! We're brothers! How could you choose him over us!"

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Alekos' howled in frustration, flying at his friend. "You don't understand!" He ducked a slash of claws and kicked Raziel in the ribs. It didn't do much, Raziel was much too strong.

"I don't understand?" Raziel asked angrily, catching Alekos by the throat and shaking him. "You're the fool who sent the girl to the borderlands! The God hunts her just as assuredly as he hunts you! It is too late! The boy must die!"

With a scream, Alekos slashed at Raziel's face, freeing himself when his king leapt backwards. "If you kill him the God grows stronger! If you kill him, It will gain power enough to hunt Hermione and I down, borders or no!"

Raziel took a step towards Malfoy. "If I kill him, this ends!"

"You're wrong! Why can't you see what's happening?" Alekos lunged again but three figures burst from the trees and Ridya, Moriel and Leliel bore him to the ground, snapping and struggling.

Raziel slowly walked over to stand over the fallen wolf and said firmly. "If I kill him, the power of his death is lost to the Curse."

Alekos turned his head painfully, until his cheek rested on the earth. "You're wrong!" he groaned weakly. "Didn't you hear the boy? He said it during their blood ceremony. He's the last. . . ."

Raziel shut his eyes briefly and when they opened again, they blazed with determination and anger. "Then it ends with him. And there will be no more humans to stir you up against me," he decided harshly.

"NO!" Alekos struggled wildly against the three wolves holding him down.

"You'll come around," Raziel continued to himself, his gaze steady on the struggling figures in the dirt. "You both will."

Hermione gripped the handle of the vibrating Base, felt the eager hunger licking at her fingertips. With a deep breath she drew the blade and lurched at the familiar, but suddenly staggeringly amplified feeling of incorporeal ice hooks sinking into her soul, sucking at her strength.

It wasn't unbearable. Not yet. But whatever she was going to do; she would have to do it fast.

She stepped once more deliberately between the wolf-lord and his prey.

"Hermione," Alekos begged, fighting to keep his head up while Moriel kept trying to shove his face in the dirt. The blond looked positively vicious, his clawed fingers drawing blood where they gripped the fallen wolf's scalp. "Draco mustn't die!

"She won't save him." Raziel focused intently on the human girl, weighing his next move. "She'll fight because of the oath she swore, but she is secure and even content in the knowledge that she cannot win against me. It will be a great relief to her when he is dead."

"I want to know what's going on." Hermione demanded.

"Please! Hermione!" Alekos cried. "I'll explain, I swear I will. But if he dies, we all die! You saw the Dead Forest! You saw. . . ."

Raziel interrupted furiously. "Yes, Hermione, and do you have any idea how close you came to dying because this fool sent you there? If my wolves hadn't arrived, the Servants would have found you and torn you apart!"

Alekos flushed and looked absolutely devastated with guilt. "She's not a Malfoy! The God has no reason to hunt her!"

"You fool! You still won't acknowledge how greatly her presence has already affected the state of our lands?"

"It can't be her doing," Alekos gasped out defiantly, struggling again against Moriel's painful grip. "Her blood kin are non-magical. She's Muggle-born. She has nothing to do with Drakhan's Curse."

"You know nothing!" Raziel spat and turned his attention back to Hermione.

She wet her lips, her whirling brain trying to process and piece together everything that was being said and everything that was only being hinted at. They kept speaking of a God and Curse and this was the second time they'd mentioned something called, "Drakhan."

"Alekos is right." Her voice cracked but she cleared her throat and met Raziel's curious gaze steadily. "If you turn me against my will, I'll do everything in my power to kill you. That puts us at something of a stalemate . . . so I'll make you a deal. I don't want Malfoy to suffer anymore. You have one hour. If you can kill him, I'll join you willingly."

Alekos made a sound of horror but this time Ridya helped Moriel shove his face in the dirt.

"What's the catch?" Raziel asked with something between suspicion and amusement. It only made her angrier.

She held up the Base. It was glowing faintly. Sweat beaded her upper lip. "You have to kill him with this blade."

The wolf-king's silvery blue eyes narrowed. "That blade is highly unusual. I can't be sure of all its properties. I know I cannot take it from your hand by force. That's not much of a problem. But should I gain access to it, how do I know it will even kill the boy? It's his knife."

Hermione felt a crooked smile curl her mouth unpleasantly. "Oh, it will kill him. It wants to kill him. It's like a starving animal. It wants the energy of our lives. On more than one occasion, it's taken all of my willpower to keep it from killing Malfoy."

Raziel considered her slyly. "Let Alekos hold it. I want to see if anyone besides the two of you can wield it."

Hermione hesitated, thinking quickly, aware of all the wolves watching her expression carefully. She gave a short, sharp nod and marched determinedly over to the pile of wolves. Ridya carefully moved some of his weight so Alekos could stretch out a hand, his panicked eyes trying to convey a message Hermione wasn't willing to listen to. Moriel growled low and dangerous as her hand moved past him, like a puppy about to snap at fingers. She refused to flinch.

Their fingers touched and halted for half an instant, and then Alekos accepted the blade. His entire arm shuddered, the muscles underneath going taut, but he held onto it. Hermione could see the strain on his face.

"Give it a swing," Raziel ordered softly.

Alekos flexed his hand and waved the knife in a steady arc. Hermione could see him consider using it on his fellows.

"I'm satisfied," The wolf-king murmured, licking his lips, and Alekos reluctantly handed the knife back to her, fingers catching hers gently.

"Don't fail," Alekos whispered. "He mustn't die!"

Hermione didn't acknowledge the words. "We're agreed then? One hour. You versus me. And Draco is safe unless you kill him with this blade." And it would be up to Alekos to keep the other wolves from killing Malfoy while they fought.

Raziel nodded, a small smile on his lips. She could see the tips of his fangs. "Agreed." And with that one word tension rose up to smother them all.

She felt her weight unconsciously shift to the balls of her feet. "We start now," she whispered, heart pounding in her throat.

"Then let's not waste time."

His muscles bunched, eyes catching fire with moonlight. She never actually saw him leap. It was more as if she sensed the displacement of air, the flicker of light and color that was there and then wasn't, the rush of body heat and gleaming fangs.

She didn't have time to even comprehend what had happened.

"HATI!" Alekos screamed, straining up off the ground, fighting the three that held him.

The Warg was there with a bellowing roar and Raziel checked himself in mid spring as the furry body appeared between him and his prey. Hermione's throat cinched tight. She wheezed on her next breath and fell into the huge wolf rather then climbed onto him. Then she could only cling as Hati dove into the night once again, Raziel's echoing cry of rage barley heard over the rushing in her ears.

Hati's breath fogged around them. Hermione took a moment to allow herself to calm down enough to think. She tucked the blade into the sheath at her waist, not wanting to hold it any longer than necessary, and patted the medicine bag inside her robes. Everything was still there. She glanced over her shoulder as best she could.

"He can't be far behind us," she said aloud.

Hati answered with a breathless, "Buff." And a whine.

A flash of blue light in the woods behind them momentarily blinded her and a tree to their left shattered in a small explosion. Hermione screamed and Hati dodged the flying rubble.

"What was that?" she cried, shielding her face.

Hati had no answers. His ears were laid back flat and he picked up his pace, tongue lolling out. He tore at the ground, trying to put some distance between them and what could only be Raziel.

A low rumble sounded faintly through the trees, rolled through the air in an invisible wave. The ground quivered. The wind suddenly whipped up from behind them, sending leaves and dust into the air to pelt her back.

"That sounded like thunder. . . ." Hermione whispered.

Blue light glittered in the distance and her eyes widened.

"Oh Merlin!" she glanced behind them in horror. "The Storm-Chaser pack!"

There was an explosive crack, louder than a gun-shot, a faint wiff of ozone that raised every hair on her body, and then a blinding jagged blue flash that struck Hati's back flank. The only thing Hermione could compare it to was the time she'd stuck a fork in the toaster when she was a child, but this was so much worse. It went through her in a shivering, coursing blast, and threw her off Hati's back. The Warg shrieked, knocked off his own feet and spun almost ninety degrees before he collapsed to the ground.

Hermione didn't remember hitting the ground. The world tilted and she swooned, her mind quiet and empty. For awhile she floated blissfully in a place where she didn't even know her own name.

Waking up was painful. Her whole body felt raw, almost burned. Her limbs twitched oddly. She groaned and blinked as light assaulted her eyes. It took her another few minutes to sit up and to slowly become aware of the sounds around her. Her sunstone was lying naked on the ground, providing light. Hati was on his feet though he limped. He was holding his back leg up off the ground. Raziel was standing in front of the giant wolf, its head caught between his hands. He was speaking to it harshly in German but Hati kept snarling and shaking him off.

"I don't understand this," Raziel burst out unhappily when Hati slunk away from him again, massive tail between his legs, to sulk. Raziel noticed Hermione staring dazedly at him. "The Wargs have never disobeyed me before." His face twisted. "Alekos is my second. He has always been loyal! What is happening?"

"Maybe you're being an asshole and pissing everyone off," she rasped, and then was surprised at herself.

Raziel regarded her in equal surprise. He strode over and knelt beside her. "How are you feeling?"

"You electrocuted me," she spat. Unable to add 'You son of a bitch!' because it was too ironic. She supposed she'd just learned what it felt like to be tasered. She had no idea how much time had passed. Her throat was raw and scratchy. She licked her lips and croaked fearfully. "Is Draco dead?"

Raziel shook his head. "The hour is not yet up. Here. Drink this." He held out a water-skin bag to her.

She took it from him and realized stupidly that it was the medicine she'd gotten from the Nefiliod. She shook her head, lowering the bag. "This is for Malfoy."

"There's enough for you as well. Take two mouthfuls."

Hermione hesitated, feeling the weight of the bad, before uncapping the skin. There was no telling what the concoction in the bag was, especially if it came from those awful mud-demons. But Raziel seemed to think it was fine and she didn't have seven years of drinking nasty potions under her belt for nothing.

She scrunched her eyes, plugged her nose, took a large gulp . . . and was pleasantly surprised. The mixture was slightly milky and chalky but there was an undercurrent of sweet fruit. Like pear.

"The main ingredient is a fruit the Cecrops grow in caves deep underground," Raziel told her. "The fruit itself is a lot more potent right off the tree, but doesn't usually survive trips to the aboveground. It also tends to have strange side-effects."

She stared at him. He was imparting his knowledge to her. So certain of his victory that he was already patching her up and trying to teach her how to survive.

She swallowed and the elixir went down her throat like a cool, numbing wave of relief. Another large swallow and she felt her head un-fog and even her sinuses clear. The tense muscles in her back loosened and aches she hadn't even known she had melted away as her strength return in a vivid rush that made her inhale sharply.

"Better?" the wolf-lord asked.

Better than better. She felt stronger than she had since she first arrived.

She drew the blade in one quicksilver slash and plunged it towards his chest at point-blank range. The wolf-lord vanished like a ghost and she ended up having to catch herself before she fell. She knelt there, eyes narrowed, listening as hard as she could. He didn't want to kill her, so she kept the blade close to her body. He couldn't ambush her if he knew she would injure herself.

He reappeared, landing with a muffled thump a few feet to her right. She reacted instantly, sending a blast of power tearing across the forest floor. Raziel lithely swept to the side and right into Hermione's path. She sprang up from her knees, dagger clutched horizontal to spear him, a war cry on her lips.

The wolf-king looked amused.

He caught her arms with a condescending sneer only to immediately shove her away from him hard when the knife straining towards him exploded with light and lengthened, the blade surging forward to stab him in the chest. The wolf-lord shouted and stared down in shock at the line of blood that appeared. Hermione fell hard but kept her grip on the knife and grinned with proud triumph, viciously pleased with herself for wiping the smug look off his face.

The bastard had agreed to this thinking he could play with her like a dog with a chew-toy. He was going easy on her, giving her a blatant target only to dance away at the last second. Perhaps he thought he was being kind. After all, what could a poor, pathetic human do against him if he used his full power? Malfoy had only won because he had the element of surprise. And she—well, the dog was foolish to think he knew all her tricks.

Not wanting to give him time to recover, she slashed at him again only to have him side-step the blast easily. She couldn't do that too many more times. She switched the blade to her left arm. Her right was already numb and she couldn't catch her breath. Sweat poured down her face, her left arm shaking hard and now throbbing even though she hadn't used it yet. Her blasts were still less powerful than Malfoy's had been but the knife was taking more energy from her. Hati was watching from the sidelines, ears pricked, eyes intent. She didn't think she could count on the Warg for any more interference.

She scrambled to her feet and lunged again but she'd completely lost any element of surprise. Raziel grabbed her and swung her around, at the same time tapping her elbow with his open palm. The dagger flew from her hands.

Hermione gaped dumbly at how easily he'd gotten her to drop the blade. With a snarl, she ripped herself from his grip and dove for the knife, but he merely pushed her out of the way and sent her sprawling to the ground.

Breathing hard and face down in the dirt she slowly turned to look up at the wolf-lord standing over her. She was exhausted. The knife had drained her to the point of light-headedness.

"You did well," Raziel told her and his eyes held something like possessive pride. "Much better than I had believed you could. Had I been human, you could have won. But we've spent too long out here. It's time to end this foolishness."

Gaze locked on hers, he reached down to grasp the knife. Hermione couldn't breathe. His fingers curled around the hilt and the knife roared.

There was an explosion of light and Raziel collapsed to his knees screaming as the blade lit up, burning with white and yellow and blue and arcing with electricity. No, the electricity was being sucked into it. The wolf-lord shrieked, clawing at the hand that held the knife, unable to let go.

Hermione pushed herself up and turned over, propped up on her elbows to watch. Raziel bucked and lurched as if struggling against an invisible enemy. He squirmed and fought like an animal caught in a trap. But he couldn't let go. Blood dripped from the hand holding the knife, his fingers locked helplessly around the hilt and squeezing against his will, taut like rigor mortis.

His head snapped forward with a howl of agony and rage. His teeth closed on the knife, biting it the way an animal would bite something that had hurt it. It was odd to see a human being doing it. He ripped the knife from his own hand, snarling and shaking the blade like it was offending prey. The knife let out a metallic ringing squeal, shooting spellfire and burning sparks into the wolf-man's face. Raziel screamed, spitting it from his mouth and scuttling back before collapsing ungracefully.

The blade wasn't finished though and Raziel slapped his ruined hands over his ears as the dagger started resonating a head-splitting, high-pitched shriek like metal twisting and deforming. Hati flattened his ears, sat back on his haunches and howled mournfully. With a last blinding belch of light and magic the blade took its new shape.

Hermione weakly got to her feet and limped to where it lay still shining and sparking slightly. The hilt was now bone, smooth ivory. A thin, clawed paw shaped out of silvery metal wrapped around it and coated the end of the hilt and the flared part just beneath the blade. Two metal rings, one hooked on the other, hung off the base of the hilt. The blade was gently curving, thinner and longer then in its last form. It looked almost delicate.

Hermione wasn't fooled. The hilt was still bloody. Her face remained impassive but her fingers trembled when they brushed the stock. When nothing happened, she steeled herself and grabbed it. The sensation was like frozen wolf jaws snapping onto her arm. She jerked and barely kept herself from screaming. She wouldn't be able to hold it for long.

Her arm held stiffly out to the side, she closed in on Raziel, who lay shuddering and dazed on the forest floor, blood dripping from his lips as he licked his wounds. He was lucky to have been able to break the knife's hold. Had he been anyone less powerful, he'd be dead. Hermione could feel the sickening bloated pleasure and satisfaction from the blade. It was well fed.

Raziel looked up in startled confusion as she put the blade to his throat.

"You said I might have won if you were human. Well you're not human, and I still win." She spoke slowly and deliberately, eyes alight with terrible promise.

The words sank in and rage suffused Raziel's face but he dared not move. "You little fool! If we don't kill him. . . ."

"NO!" Hermione screamed it, cutting him off with all the anger and frustration this whole horrible situation provoked and valiantly covering that part of her that was so exhausted she wanted to collapse to the ground and cry. "I don't want to hear it! Shut up! Shut up or I'll kill you!"

The white wolf shut up, stunned.

She steadied herself, pushing down the overwhelming anger. "We're doing this my way now. You understand? You lost, so you have to let me give Malfoy his medicine. And if you go back on your word, I'll do just like Alekos said I would. I'll tear your pack apart!" the last was a harsh growl spat hysterically into Raziel's face. "No, shut up!" she yelled when it looked like he was going to speak. "Then we're going to sleep and then, you and Alekos are going to tell me every single damned thing you know, or think or thought you knew about this God and this Curse and those awful words and what it all has to do with me and Malfoy."

"Hermione. . . ."

"Swear it." The blade dug into his throat. "Swear it or I'll kill you! I'll slice your head clean off and laugh while I do it!" There was no hesitation now, only a roaring inside her just as mean and heartless and ready for the slaughter as any predator.

Raziel licked his bloody lips, pondering his options. He was too weak to fight at the moment, but he could still press the issue later. If he killed Malfoy and turned her, she'd kill him if it was the last thing she did. She made damn well sure he could see that in her eyes.

"I swear it." He said finally.

"You're going to listen to Alekos, and if he really does have an all-important reason why Malfoy needs to live, you're going to swear never to hurt him." She pushed her short sweaty locks out of her face with her free hand, remembered her butchered hair and fought not to cry. That part was Alekos' fault.

"That is not a hard thing," the wolf agreed.

"And you're going to leave us alone. You're just going to leave us the hell alone!" she screamed.

"Yes" he whispered, watching her eyes with animal stillness. There was no fear on his face and she suddenly and pointlessly remembered some documentary about wolves she'd once seen on the science channel and wondered if she'd just alpha'd the alpha male.

"Do we have a deal? Your life for our safety? Otherwise I'm going to slice your throat. That's the law of the jungle isn't it? I beat you, so I can kill you if I want."

"Yes. We have a deal."

"And Alekos and I will make you sorry if you break your word."

"Put the blade away, Hermione. Before it kills you."

"Shut your mouth!" she screamed. "Don't you patronize me!" Her hands shook like leaves, and she fumblingly sheathed the blade. There was an instant of panic as her fingers remained locked around the hilt and she thought it might be too late, but then her fingers uncurled, stiffly and painfully and she released the dagger. The relief was instant and exhausting.

She slumped to her knees.

"You knew I couldn't hold the blade," Raziel said after a moment, still recovering and almost too weak to move.

Her head snapped up, eyes dark with fury. "Just like you knew what your bite would do to Malfoy!" she hissed viciously.

His eyebrows rose. Merlin, if he laughed now, she'd kill him. Screw morality and not kicking a man when he was down.

She shook her head, sniffling and wiping away tears, though she didn't seem to be crying. "I wasn't sure." She admitted. "Historically a Subtle Knife has had one and only one handler. I think only Malfoy and I can hold it in relative safety. Sort of. I mean, it's not real safe anymore. I got the idea from Malfoy. The other day he told me how it sucked your energy out when he fought you. I figured it had gotten a taste of you, of your magic and your blood, the other night, and I promised it that if it let Alekos hold it without hurting him then it could have as much of you as it could get." She paused thoughtfully. "I don't let it kill, and that's what it really wants."

"You should get rid of it."

"No. Not yet."

Raziel crawled painfully upright and, as if that were a signal, Hati bounded into the clearing to sniff at him, whimpering and whining. "Oh, now you like me," the wolf king muttered, grasping the large muzzle and petting. Hati wagged his tail.

Hermione slowly gathered her things, tucking the medicine and the sunstone back into her fur pouch.

"Come." Raziel held out his hand. "Hati will take us back to your camp."

Hermione tentatively put her hand in his, not sure if she really wanted him to touch her. He drew her forward in a smooth, powerful motion and quickly lifted her as Hati dropped his belly to the ground. He settled her on the wolf's back and slid on behind her, clasping an arm around her waist. She grabbed at the arm reflexively, opening her mouth to tell him to let go but the Warg stood and leapt off into the trees. She grabbed onto its fur instead and just held on.

The Warg's pace was almost leisurely, but she was too tired to complain and tried to enjoy it instead. This was probably the last time ever she'd get to ride a giant wolf.

"Hermione, I have a favor to ask you," Raziel said quietly after some silence.

"What is that?" she asked.

"You've weakened me drastically. I will not recover my full strength for some time. You were right when you told me 'the law of the jungle' as you call it. Had you been a wolf, you could have killed me and taken my place. As it is, some of my younger pack males will see this as a grand opportunity to raise their place in the hierarchy. They are young and stupid and do not have the experience to properly lead this pack. It will not stop them from trying to kill me and they may gather together in a group to do it. If that happens my pack will fall into disarray and we will be easy prey for many creatures that lie beyond our borders."

"Including this God you spoke of."

". . . Yes."

"What do you want from me?"

"You beat me in battle. They will be confused and afraid of you. Allow me and my faithful to bed down beside you for the next few nights, until your Malfoy awakens. Help us fight if the young decide to rebel."

"You're asking a lot."

"It is not just my life on the line."

Hermione considered this. If the young males killed Raziel, they'd kill her and Malfoy next, or change them. "Alright," she agreed finally, knowing it was beneficial to her to keep the pack around until Malfoy woke anyway.

The arm around her waist squeezed slightly in what might have been gratitude. Or might have been a subduing hold, she realized a second later when his other hand tilted her chin gently and the wet swath of Raziel's tongue cut across her throat. Her body went rigid screaming alarm just before razor teeth sank into the side of her throat near her shoulder.

She screamed in distress and pain, fighting, kicking and bucking, against the grip holding her. Raziel shoved her forward, using his weight to pin her to Hati's back before they could fall off. The teeth held as the wolf tasted her then released her as suddenly as they came. Raziel sat them back up, licking the mark soothingly but Hermione reached back and struck his head away.

"What did you do? What the hell did you do?" she shrieked hysterically, voice trembling and breaking. "Oh Merlin, did you change me? Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Did you change me!" She grabbed for the knife, ready to plunge it straight through his heart but he grabbed her hands.

"No. No. Shh. I'm sorry. I knew if I suggested it, you would reject the idea."

"What did you do?" she howled out in anguish.

"It is only protection!" Raziel yelled back, shocking her into silence. He continued in a quieter voice. "You offered me protection, I give it back. It is a physical and magical mark. It is not much, but it will give you a measure of protection against other creatures you may meet. They will think twice about attacking you off hand. Natural and magical wolves will avoid troubling you, they may even help you."

"Is that all it is?"

"Yes." But she heard the moment's hesitation.

"Your word?"

"My word." He assured her.

She nodded finally, knowing if he was hiding something she couldn't do much to drag it from him. "Don't ever touch me like that again," she hissed bitterly.

"You have my apologies, Hermione." He said softly and she thought he might even mean it.

The fire was burning low when they stepped back into the campsite. It was obvious the fight had continued while they were away. Alekos was sporting a black-eye and torn clothes. The other three looked a bit worse for wear themselves but they were still successfully holding him down.

"Hermione!" Alekos wheezed out in despair as he saw the two of them step into view, leaving Hati in the woods.

"Ridya?" Raziel asked.

"The boy lives," the dark wolf told them, stalking over to greet his king. "Alekos tried to take him and flee but we kept him at bay." Red-eyes did a double-take at Hermione, staring piercingly at her bloodied neck for several seconds before the wolf-man settled back on his heels calmly.

"Well," Moriel said, grinning savagely. Hermione could almost see his tail wagging. "Are we going to kill the boy now? Can we feed him to the marsh trolls afterwards?" He glanced at Hermione wickedly. "Maybe we can play with his head."

"We're not killing the boy," Raziel cut in sharply.

There was stunned silence. Moriel's grin faltered. "W-what? But what about. . . ." he trailed off looking between his master and the girl.

"We're not killing the boy," Raziel repeated. "She won." He looked like he really hadn't wanted to add that part.

"She WHAT?"

Leliel sat up quickly in confusion, inadvertently releasing Alekos. She sputtered, "That can't be, can it? How could. . . ."

Raziel glared at them. "Draco Malfoy is now under my protection and will not be harmed. . . ."

"You must be joking!" Moriel roared, suddenly on his feet. "She's a weak little human. She's a field mouse. One bite from my jaws and. . . ."

Raziel backhanded him and the young wolf flew backwards so hard that when he slammed into a tree something cracked. He fell to the ground, grabbing his side and struggling for breath.

"She bested me in battle," Raziel said calmly. "The boy is spared."

Moriel stared at her in horror and confusion.

Alekos sat up slowly. "You're not joking, are you?" he whispered. "She really did it? She really won? How?"

"She set a trap and executed it masterfully."

Alekos seemed to slump in relief. "Then they're both safe."

Raziel nodded and the two wolves looked over to where Hermione had Malfoy's head propped up in her lap. Ridya was holding the medicine bag, tipping it gently to spill the liquid into the boy's slack mouth. Hermione massaged Draco's throat, helping him swallow.

"A little bit at a time," Ridya was saying in his deep rumbley voice. "He does not need to drink it all at once. Perhaps only a third now and another third in a few hours."

Raziel glanced at Alekos. "Your betrayal is not yet forgiven. But you will be given a chance to explain. We agreed on that. I warn you, if you cannot convince both her and me that the boy's life is imperative, he will be killed."

Alekos shut his eyes. "It is more than I had hoped for."

Raziel showed his teeth. "Also we will address the utter madness that prompted you to send her to the borderlands. That was perhaps the most foolish course of action you could have taken. She's lucky to be alive."

Alekos wilted, looking sad and tired. "The God should have no special interest in her. She's not involved."

"She wouldn't be here if she weren't involved," Raziel reprimanded coldly.

Hermione yawned hugely. Hati had come over to investigate Malfoy. He poked at the still body with his nose until Hermione swatted him. The huge Warg backed away in shocked insult and sneezed before making himself comfortable and laying down by the fire. Drooping and eyes already closed, Hermione crawled over and curled up next to the animal, mumbling something about fleas.

"I'll watch over him while you sleep," Ridya assured her.

Hermione nodded without opening her eyes.

Raziel and Alekos looked on.

"We shall see where this leads," the wolf-lord whispered.

-to be continued-

Next Time: A small peek at what happened in the meeting between Dumbledore and Lucius. Draco wakes up. The Servants of the God come to play and Alekos has a whole hell of a lot of explaining to do.

A/N:

Nefiliod are made up

Cecrops is a greek creature

Dormiriad is a made up word. Dormir is to sleep in Spanish.

Hati is a name from Norse Mythology. It's the name of the evil wolf, Skoll's, brother. Skoll forever chases the sun. Hati will eat the moon during Ragnarok

oooo

Optional Amendment Scenes: Sorcerer's Stone: What might have been.

The first potion's class:

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry frowned petulantly. "I don't know, sir. The mere thought of it puts me to sleep."

Snape froze for half a second, then sneered. "Indeed. Just as I would expect from such a lazy, insolent child. Be warned, Potter, if you sleep in my class, the consequences will not be pleasant." He turned away, "Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry made a face, then scoffed, "Bezoar? I don't know, sir. Sounds like something a barnyard animal would cough up."

Snape once again looked slightly taken-aback, before anger darkened his beetle-black eyes and he barked out. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Harry dropped his chin into his hand and gave a tiny smile. "Sir, with all due respect, they all sound the same to me."

Snape went apoplectic. "Twenty-five points from Gryffindor, you little. . . ."

"Oh come on!" Harry cried. "It was funny! Potions humor! Ha bloody ha! You know?"

oooo

Mangled scene plus scattered dialogue lines from the book. Starting on page 182 when Harry goes to retrieve his Quidditch book from Snape and then going all over the place.

Harry made his way down to the staffroom and knocked. There was no answer. He knocked again. Nothing. Perhaps Snape had left the book in there? It was worth a try.

"Can you smell something?" Ron asked.

Harry sniffed and a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.

And then he heard it—a low grunting.

He pushed the door ajar and peered inside—and a horrible scene met his eyes.

Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees.

"Oh, no," said Ron, pale as the Bloody Baron.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape—look."

It was a horrible sight. Half blinded, he staggered backward.

"What are you doing?" moaned Ron, gray-faced.

"I've never seen Snape look so mean," he told Hermione. "Look—they're off. Ouch!"

A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence.

"That's friendly," said Harry.

"Stop moving!" Hermione ordered them.

"Weird!" he said, "What a shape!"

"It is! Look down!"

Ron moaned enviously. "I've never even touched one."

Harry wished he had about eight more eyes.

"I'd give anything for one of these," he said. "Anything."

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Ron finally.

And speaking of Snape . . .

"GOT YOUR CONK!"

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it,"

"How did he get covered in blood?"

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!"

"Foul!" Screamed the Gryffindors.

"POTTER!"

Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his legs. Harry gulped.

"This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!"

Harry grinned back. "Do we—er—have to join you to get across?"

"GET OUT! OUT!"

"All—all three of us?"

"Now!"

"Er—okay," Said Harry.

And they fled

It had been Harry's best Christmas day ever.

. . . . The End

(Yeah, Fax says it's not funny at all. It's probably not but it amused the hell out of me.)