From Wiltshire, With Love

Chapter 82

Terrified, Hermione and Ron raced down the corridors towards the Great Hall. After methodically isolating and disarming dozens within Voldemort's army, they became separated from Hannah's group sweeping the castle. Now Bellatrix was at their heels and she didn't fuck around. Red and green streaks of light from Killing and Cruciatus Curses flashed around them from behind. They pummeled the floor, pounded into the walls and hit the ceiling – cracking stones, pictures and tearing tapestries on impact.

One curse narrowly missed Ron's leg. The two leapt over fallen bodies and nearly tripped on broken paintings lying strewn across the floor in their mad dash for safety.

The only reason they weren't dead now was because Bellatrix came to the fight wearing heels. And even then they could barely outrun her while dodging her curses. Every time they cast shields, a curse would obliterate them with a crackle of static and glittering gold light.

Thighs burning from running so hard, Hermione wildly looked around, trying to figure out where to hide and recuperate. Suddenly Ron yanked on her hand, pulling her bodily towards a pile of rubble blocking the broken entrance to the Great Hall. They quickly scrambled over the sharp rocks of the destroyed arch, trying to squeeze through a small opening in the pile where the large door used to be.

"Come on!" he egged her on anxiously. "Hurry!"

With one last glance down the corridor to ensure Bellatrix hadn't turned the corner yet, Hermione struggled behind Ron. Not wanting to waste any time, he grabbed her wrists from the other side, straining to pull her through. The hard rocks scraped her stomach and she fell forward, collapsing in a heap on the floor.

Adrenaline pumping through her veins, she pushed herself up after Ron and they plastered their bodies against the wall inside the blocked doorway. They made it. Bellatrix hadn't seen them. Maybe they could hide here. Her lungs felt like they would burst after sprinting for so long.

Breathing heavily, Ron's eyes were wide with terror after racing for his life through the castle. "She hates you!"

"She hates everybody!"

Hermione searched the Great Hall, gasping for breath as she took in the carnage of the second strike. Over two dozen dead and injured Death Eaters were strewn about the floor in the room they once dined in as children. If the Death Eaters weren't dead, they were incapacitated, restrained, and had their wands broken. Blood was splattered on the walls and she watched a small dark red rivulet flow between the stones under her feet.

The room stank of copper, and she fought the compulsion to retch.

"I don't know if she'll find us in here," Ron's voice rose in panic. "But she'll get us in the hallways. What now?" he asked, wheezing for breath.

"Harry gave me his invisibility cloak," she panted while digging inside her shirt for the fabric. "I didn't have a chance to use it before!"

Tugging furiously on the fabric, her heart pounded in her ears and they heard the echo of Bellatrix's cackle slowly approach the Great Hall.

She's coming.

"Quick! Give it here!" Ron whispered frantically.

Hermione's hands started to shake and she fumbled with the cloak. "Maybe she'll pass by?"

Stiletto heels clacked on stones in the corridor and she froze as she remembered a dark cell, screaming for help as her body was carved up.

"Come on, Hermione! We've come this far!" Ron yanked the cloak out of her hands and huddled next to her, trying to pull it atop their heads.