Our Constellation--Dramione

Chapter Six

Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, plotlines, characters, places, events (etc.) all belong to J.K. Rowling, she is the rightful owner. When a character is created by me, you'll know right away ;)

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26 March 1998

Ron was down. He'd been hit with a spell that sent him flying forward.

She was running, faster than she'd ever before--her primary school physical education teacher would've been over the moon with joy to see the nerdy child run this fast. Except she was no longer a child.

She skidded down the hill and came face to face with a circle of snatchers.

Hermione pivoted in her step and faced Harry who was following in tow. Even with a look of determination, they both knew they were going to be caught sooner or later. She mustered her thoughts together for one coherent, brilliant moment.

Thrusting her wand into the air, she cast a nonverbal. Bright white light flashed from the point of her wand and hit Harry square in the face. With the force of the spell, he flew backward, and she watched from afar as the muscles under his skin began to swell and inflate uncomfortably.

At least this way, the dimwitted snatchers might think Harry was an imposter pretending to be Harry. They wouldn't know whether they were truly bluffing or not.

She rushed to his side and gazed at his inflamed face.

"The Hallows exist, but he's only after one of them--the last one. He knows where it is! He's gonna have it by the end of the night. You-Know-Who's getting the Elder Wand."

Hermione couldn't piece together the information in time before the snatchers were at the base of the hill, prepared to take them hostage. She stood up, but a pair of meaty hands cuffed her biceps, cutting off blood flow to the rest of her arm.

"Leave her alone!" Ron cried.

Hermione protested back at the mistreatment of her friend. He looked to be in a great deal of pain. "Leave him!"

"Delicious treat... I do like the softness of your skin." Her stomach flopped and she recognized the voice. Fenrir Greyback. And he had her trapped with no possible way to escape. Using her wand would be too risky, and almost meant certain death.

"Let's see now... ooh, what happened to you, ugly?" another snatcher, Scabior, directed at Harry.

"Stung. I got stung."

"Name?"

"Dudley... Vernon Dudley."

"And the pretty one?"

Hermione shrieked from the pain that was erupting in her lower abdomen. The strike of the hit she'd received from one of the snatchers bruised the exact spot on her stomach that had she still been with child, she might have miscarried.

Fenrir lifted her chin. "And what's your name, girly?"

"Penelope Clearwater," she said in a rush of words.

"Blood status?"

"Half-Blood."

Fenrir delved into her scent by sticking his wolf-like nose into the crook of her neck. It was as if he were taking in her delicacy and opting to treat her carefully until he was free to do whatever he wanted. It sent several unpleasant signals in each of her nerves. And she craned her head to dodge the closeness of his face.

She didn't like this. She didn't like this one bit.

"There's no mention of anyone by the name of Vernon Dudley on here!"