Please note, from here on the story will be Mature - Explicit and we ask you to not read it if you’re under 18! For everyone else; Don’t like, don’t read.
Fight for Life and Death
If I had known what a crucial turn my life would take now, what boundaries would be exceeded today, I would've fled to Grimmauld Place, would've hid in my room, but I didn’t. Thus I faced my fate and it happened as it was destined to be.
I had to hurry to get to my sensei on time. When we finished the training, he said to me: "You are an amazing student and I am very proud of you! You have built up an incredible level of skill and knowledge in the short time available. It was a pleasure to teach you." He gave me unusual compliments, which was not necessarily his way, but I was all the more pleased.
"Sensei, your praise makes me tremendously happy. I have a request: could you continue teaching me once a week, every Friday, from 5 pm to 9 pm?" I asked him inquisitively. A smile spread across his face. "Of course, I had the hope that you would want to continue, because you are able to reach true mastery in combat, Miss Granger," he said very seriously, and this was evident as well on his usually stern face.
"You are too kind, Sensei!" I showed my respect and bowed deeply. "I'm going to ask my bank to do a monthly membership payment, say 500 pounds a month?"
"Do that, that's alright. I'm looking forward to seeing you next Friday," he smiled, very pleased and said good-bye.
It was wonderful that we had agreed on an appointment because I had chosen to continue my training despite the resulting difficulties. I would have to leave the school without permission, but it was just too important to continue my combat training, so I was ready to take that risk. In addition, Hogwarts offered many opportunities to disappear for a few hours. When I exited the centre, the bright blue sky from this morning had vanished. It had darkened, clouds had appeared, a certain humidity had spread over London, announcing a thunderstorm. Thus now, shortly before eight, it was already really dark. As I approached the side street to apparate, I heard strange and suspicious noises behind me!
A somewhat louder, hectic shout, whispers, quicker steps that made me restless and suspicious. I instinctively increased my pace as well, but I didn't dare to turn around, since I didn't want to draw attention to the fact that I was very well aware something was wrong.
Was someone following me?
I carefully raised my arm on which the holster with my wand was fastened. I wore my invisible horus daggers over my jeans, so I felt relatively safe and well protected. One never knew in these times, but nevertheless the uneasy feeling didn't leave. I kept moving swiftly in the direction of the dark alley. My hands were clammy with anxiety, for I still sensed the steps threateningly behind me.
They were still hard on my heels, damn it!
Bloody hell, I could hear their rattling breath. They came closer fast and I was sure that these people were following me! I realized that not only would I not be able to apparate unseen, I also didn't know with whom I had to deal with - whether it was some young muggles, who wouldn't be scared of my wand, since they would be more amused about it than anything else: "What kind of thin stick is that?" But, in the end, I'd have an easy job of it. Or the other alternative, which I didn't want to think about, but with my luck it was almost certain that I got the less desirable alternative.
There was no other choice; I had to turn around, face the enemy and see what or who was following me. There were at least two, I was able to determine based on the sounds they made. Just do it. You can do it, Hermione, I told myself relentlessly. And then I did it, throwing a quick look over my right shoulder from one second to the next...
What I saw made my blood freeze in my veins. I could see two big male figures in dark pants and t-shirts, which were known to me, unfortunately, and so the worst that could have happened, happened once again. Once again luck was on my side. I had the honor of two recently graduated Slytherins who had probably recognized me as Hermione Granger, and could hardly believe their luck.
Okay, where was Snape when you needed him? I'd love to take this alternative, to spread my legs for him, for money or not, but no, I had to get the best part of the cake again. Great, I was a darling of fortune. My mind was working with full capacity. What was the name of the two thugs who chased me? I knew them from seeing, they had been on the Quidditch team, hadn’t they? One I finally recognized as Bole, an ugly guy who had gotten too many bludgers to the head. His long, blond hair was tied in a pony tail. The black-haired man next to him was Derrick. I remembered that he was the other’s partner as beater on the Slytherin Quidditch team, and was rather tall compared to the broader Bole. Both had been unsympathetic bullies already at school. Unfortunately, the sight of these two brutal guys only allowed one conclusion, and I just didn't like it: Death Eaters! Probably marked with quite new and still painful dark marks. I hardly could believe my luck, I, of course, had to encounter Death Eaters in a purely Muggle area. What business could they possibly have here?
And these idiots were, of course, also former schoolmates who immediately recognized me as Harry Potter's friend. Sometimes life wrote really more grotesque stories than any crappy film script. It was enough to drive me crazy. Since they were wizards, I could use my wand - there had to be something good about the whole thing, because they wouldn't expect it. They would also underestimate my defense, as they only saw a little schoolgirl in me. I had to use this to my advantage, because I was outgunned purely by these bullies’ physicality. I should take it as a challenge; I had prepared myself for a long time for this kind of situation: Death Eaters! And also, to stand up to physically distinctly superior people in a fight and to be an equal opponent. Now the time for hesitation was over for me. I wanted to jump into this fight and I did, similar to the situation with Snape, when I just did it and acted like the whore he thought I was; so, I would go through this in the same way.
I currently didn't feel any fear or anxiety. My breathing was normal and calm, the sweat had dried on my palms, so I mentally prepared myself for the expected confrontation and nipped any panic in the bud. I had to keep a clear head and banished my rushing blood into the background with an inner, icy control. I steadily increased my pace, ran hurriedly into the alley, welcomed the darkness there, and saw it as a friend, instead of something terrifying. I quickly ran around the corner and hid behind one of the many garbage cans scattered across the alley. From there I aimed my wand at Bole. Now I needed to be fast and catch them by surprise. As one witch against two wizards speed was my only advantage. Let's do it! The two started to run, too, as they apparently suspected that I had seen them. They had already drawn their wands while in pursuit.
I fired a wordless Expelliarmus towards Bole, who’s wand got ripped out of his hand in the middle of his sprint and flew towards me. He looked stunned, dumb as he narrowed his eyes in disbelieve but stubbornly continued to run, even speeding up. I loudly called out a Stupor against Derrick, who was running a little farther ahead. The red ray from my wand hit him directly in the chest and hurled him violently against a wall. He hit the street hard with his body. One could hear a distinct crunch, before he sank to the ground slowly, unconscious. This happened in a matter of seconds. Haha, I had just knocked out an 18-year-old, but my joy only short lived as his buddy was charging towards me like a giant wild bear. Because I had disarmed him, I counted on a physical attack.
I had been distracted by my fight with Derrick for only a millisecond, but Bole had used it to grab me quickly by my throat and throw me against the wall behind me with all the momentum he had gained. Bang… The way my head collided with the solid stone was excruciatingly painful and I gasped sharply. I saw stars dancing in front of my narrowed eyes. The force of the impact had knocked my wand out of my hand, so now my combat training would have to prove itself. From now on, everything proceeded as in slow motion, because in reality it happened in fractions of seconds and I was fully aware of this. This here, my fight with Bole, would develop into a fight for life and death, as angry and uncontrolled as he was. They didn't seem to have an assignment, and they certainly didn't have enough brain cells left between them to think strategically and understand that I would be worth more alive than dead.
Hence I held myself upright on shaky legs, skull pounding, whilst a mad Bole tried to strangle me in his rage. I could feel each of his fingers on my neck as they tightened mercilessly and tried to stop me from getting air into my lungs, or better, tried to cut off my blood supply by blocking the arteries. If he succeeded in doing so, I would collapse at once. To prevent this, I immediately tensed the muscles in my throat and tried to catch my breath with the snapping movements of my mouth. It was hard to resist the instinct to lay my hands on his and pry them away from my throat, but I had to act quickly. Wanting to pull his hands away from my throat would end in a helpless and hopeless attempt to dissuade him from his intent, so I took my chance quietly, without any emotion, and with astonishing clarity in my oxygen and now also blood deprived brain.
My hands went to my thighs in a purposeful, flowing movement, pulling out my two Horus daggers. I now held them to either side of me ready to strike and didn't hesitate. I stabbed him with my left with all my strength and aimed for his right side and liver. I couldn't see anything, because Bole was too close to me, therefore my thrust didn't really have an impact. But I could feel how the silvery blade of the dagger first went through the black cotton of his shirt, how the material yielded from the sharp blade, and then met with the elastic skin, through which my magic dagger glided effortlessly. I could feel the slight resistance consisting of fat and flesh, which was in the way of the sharp, cold shaft of the steel. But the steel bore further and deeper into Bole through my constant pressure. He let out a bloodcurdling, loud scream. Immediately he released my throat abruptly.
I coughed and gasped for air, needing to get oxygen back into my lungs. Swallowing hurt astronomically. No wonder, as my neck had been squeezed very tightly. The blood rushed loudly in my skull, as it finally flowed again. Bole jumped back, wounded, which tore my dagger out of his torso, as I still held it firmly in my hands. Meanwhile I straightened myself up again. I hadn't managed to punch the whole blade into his side, but enough to get him off me. He looked shocked and disbelieving at the spot, but because of the black cloth you could almost see nothing of the blood which ran out of his wound constantly. He held a hand in front of his face which was red with blood , cried out with rage and looked at me with a mad, pained look. Hate, uncontrolled hatred, seemed to drip out of every one of his pores.
"Fucking Mudblood, I'll cut you into pieces, who do you think you are, cunt?", he yelled angrily, grabbing something behind his back. He crouched down and I saw that a knife had appeared in his hand. Derived from his stance - legs spread and arms wide open like a wrestler - I could be certain that he would go into melee without any style and plan, meaning he would be an opponent whose moves would be difficult to anticipate. But please, this shithead had tried to strangle me. Just come here, drifted through my head and I was almost excited to be able to surprise him. During this time I was still leaning against the wall trying to keep all my senses together. I didn't react to his obscenities and insults, he was free to continue to distract himself. I wouldn't lose sight of my target: Him!
Let the battle begin! And so I determinedly pushed myself from the wall. I held my daggers ready and waited for him to carry out the first move, which he soon did with a loud battle cry. He rushed towards me quickly. I remained calm and cold, controlled, managed a turn, but got a slight jab. I had no time to blink before he stood right in front of me again and hit the dagger out of my left hand. I saw the silvery glitter of his weapon flash threateningly in the darkness, and felt even now how his blade was driven into my flesh with violence and ruthless brutality. Shit, I screamed inside my head!
What an absolutely terrible feeling, how the cold unyielding steel mercilessly paved its way into my intestines. He pushed the blade into me, deeper and deeper, and grinned wickedly at me with more than a touch of insanity. I brutally bit on my lips until I tasted blood, my teeth bit into my own flesh to make the agony bearable. But in spite of the pain I seized the moment, I saw everything sharply and when he stood in front of me so close and lacking any protection, looking at me with a murderous, malicious grin on his face as he took his revenge and drove his knife into me to the hilt, I saw my chance. Without thinking about what I was doing, I raised my right hand and thrust it down, slashing my dagger over his throat. I cut his neck, felt how the dagger cut into the skin, the tendons, and the veins, and severed them with a frightening ease, until I met the windpipe, whose slight resistance reminded me of the cartilage, whereupon I passed through already. He made miserably stertorous and gurgling sounds.
An absolutely horrified, utterly disbelieving expression flashed in his blue, shocked-looking eyes when he came to realize that this was his end. The gaping wound opened with a smacking sound, releasing bubbling noises as he gasped for air frantically and panically, his hands twitching helplessly to his open throat. Truly an absolutely disgusting sight, but the sounds were even worse, able to give you the shivers. Whilst he was wheezing, the blood came out of his increasingly gaping wound in bubbles. It strongly reminded of the wide grin of a clown, or the Joker known from Batman. A fountain of fresh blood spilled over me, soaking me from top to bottom, when the bubbling, warm blood pumped from his heart flooded out of his body. He fell. He fell backwards like a stone to the ground, no, he didn't sink, he crashed ungently to the floor covered with rubbish and now with his deep-red life juice. I had landed in my own little hell.
The big, broad body that lay here in front of me, with its great, lacerated, gaping wound, which had once been his throat, burned itself into my brain down to the smallest detail. I couldn't believe it, I just did, I did, I was a ... stop, stop, Hermione! Pull yourself together, or you can just lie down and bite the dust too. Think and act thoughtfully. The final chapter has not yet been written, I remembered myself resolutely. An icy calm came over me. I felt almost nothing, no conscience, no compassion, no pain, as my ice-cold gaze wandered over the alley which we had turned into a battlefield. I still didn't realise what had happened consciously. I could think about it later. I now looked to the corpse, emotionless and cold. As his chest no longer moved, I was quite sure that he was dead now. I could smell the intense, metallic scent of the still warm blood. It was very intense, because of the sheer volume. I felt slightly sick as I sniffed, but luckily I could quickly overcome this feeling.
I was also stained with Boles blood from head to toe, still holding one of my daggers in my hand, was ready to continue fighting any time, and only now did I regain consciousness that I had suffered an injury as well. I quickly looked down my body. Thanks to the adrenaline rush that the fight had given me, I felt absolutely no pain! I was in shock I confessed to myself with a sardonic and almost sad smile when I saw Boles knife still inside me and was tempted to scream at this sight. But then I recalled all the medical books I've read, which had been at home and which I already finished reading when I was a young girl. Thankfully my parents were doctors, this had enabled me to take a few first aid courses.
My blood rushed pulsating in my ears and the adrenaline pumped heavily through my veins. So, where were we? The knife was stuck in my left side near the back. I knew the spleen had to be there, not a vital, not an essential organ. I cocked my head in thoughts, as I squinted down at myself. I had to suppress the strong impulse to grab the hilt and pull it out, but that wouldn't be good. As it was now, the wound was sealed neatly and I couldn't bleed out, hence I came to the ice cold, calculated decision to leave it stuck inside me because I wasn't very handicapped for the time being.
It wasn't easy, but I had the discipline to consciously leave it stuck, although I was struggling with myself heavily. I lifted my head and took a deep breath. Shit, that had been a near thing. I had almost kicked the bucket. Stop, I told myself to abandon the thought, because there was no time for that. I had to act quickly, because if someone found me, in this more than compromising situation, I would have to explain way too much. I would get into trouble if anyone would discover the corpse, not only with the muggles, but also with the wizards, so I had to tackle everything well planned, in order to get out of it safe and sound in more than one respect. Bloody Death Eaters!
I put my dagger away with a skilfull move, and raised my hand to see if the purchase of the holster for my wand had been worth my money, since it had been beaten out of my hand before, and lo and behold, Ollivander had not lied about his family secrets, my wand was already in its proper place. Very well, the investment was worth it, just like these magical knives, which cut and stabbed wonderfully through everything without too much effort, I thought very pleased. Next, I magically retrieved my lost dagger, which Bole had slapped out of my hand.
Good that I had always been fast in making plans, because I had already something in my mind. First I called both the wands of Derrick and Bole to me with an Accio and let them magically disappear in my sports bag. I had dropped it behind the dustbin before. Only then did I turn to the living person on the ground, Derrick, which I knocked out with a stunner. I could see that he seemed to have a laceration at the back of his head. The rest of him seemed more or less alright. Apparently, the Stupor slowly lost its strength, as Derrick groaned again and agai. I guessed he had a broken skull, based on the sounds when he had crushed into the wall earlier, but I didn't care. Despite this whole grotesque situation, I got a brilliant idea to show Fudge that maybe strange things were happening in association with Death Eaters after all, for how else would two Hogwarts graduates have acquired the Dark Mark?
I hardly moved, instead turning around to and fro with caution. I cut off the shirts on the left shoulder of both of them with a diffindo, and immediately I could see the tattoos of a skull with a snake twining out of its mouth, almost glowing on the white, pale skin of their left forearms. In spite of this surreality, I continued to pursue my quickly devised plan, functioning like a robot. Now I woke him up with an Enervate, brought him out of the unconsciousness of the Stupor. Derrick immediately opened his eyes panicky and wanted to attack me despite his injuries. I expected that and was faster. First I spoke the Incarcerus, whereupon ropes surrounded his body and captivated him. He shouted angrily, just to whimper seconds after, as his head ached painfully.
An Obliviate followed immediately, his eyes grew dull and glassy. I ordered him to forget his name, his family, the Dark Mark, me, the alley, everything, instead I whispered to him, malicious as I was, that he was a muggle and something like magic doesn't exist. Punishment and revenge were necessary and I was really furious. Hell, a knife was sticking out of me! My mood was at rock bottom. When I finished the spell, he still seemed spaced out. Wonderful, now I had practised the complete deletion and re-creation of a completely different life story, too. I was getting better and better for my parents. Next I turned my head and looked at the corpse indifferently. I wouldn't have to invest much effort with him, I thought deprecatingly. What an ass!
My left hand absentmindedly wandered to the knife in my side and ran lightly over it. I grimaced. Not now, stay with the present, you can take care of it later, I motivated myself. I tried to move as little as I could and kept my upper body rigid all the time, as if a board had been strapped to my back. Well, what you wouldn't do when a knife was stuck in you. It couldn't be so bad when my humor came back, I thought resigned, but not really amused. With a Mobilicorpus, with which I spelled the corpse, the lifeless body rose in the air, floated in the middle of the dimly lit alley like in a bad horror film. If one were inclined to be afraid, one would surely pee in one’s pants now. With a wave of my wand, I gently directed the dead man to lie down over his mate. This wasn’t meant as a macabre joke, no, I had a reason to pack the two as a small package. I grinned to myself nastily, maybe even a bit crazy, it was clearly the shock!
Well, then I would go on to break another law of the ministry. Now I would for the first time - somehow I recently experienced far too many first times for my taste - create a portkey. I looked around the alley attentively and discovered a coke can, which I called to me with an Accio. It flew into my hand. I concentrated myself, pointing with the wand to the can and whispered, "Portus, the ministry of magic, arrivals hall," whereupon the can lit up in bright blue, then looked completely normal again.
It wasn't an easy spell, but it wasn't difficult for me either. I floated the can into the hand of the wounded Death Eater and stepped back, watching the events closely, hoping to have done everything correctly, and soon I was alone in the alley stinking of fresh blood and summery, decaying garbage. I had totally forgotten my bloodsoaked look. My thoughts were still dwelling on the two attackers. In consideration of whether I had hopefully created the portkey correctly and what excitement would rule now - if it had worked - in the halls of the ministry in which two Death Eaters had appeared out of nowhere. One was severely injured, more or less left dumb after an Obliviate, and the other a violently mutilated corpse. Well, hopefully there weren’t any small children right now. I would employ Rita to find out everything, because I was way too curious.
But now I had another, much more urgent problem. To get myself out of the mess and without much ado. Since the immediate danger was now gone, I felt a faint dizziness suddenly invade my body. I staggered slightly and braced myself, exhausted, with a hand on the wall. Ah, now that the first rush had subsided, throbbing pain spread through my body. I mean there was a knife stuck completely inside me. How did I deserve that? Had I done anything to anyone?
Oops, well, now I did, but I didn't want to think about it, I wanted to go home. I realized, as my hands began to shake and I let out my quivering breath, that getting home would be a long way. Pull yourself together Hermione, you haven't been through this to collapse now. I could still do that later, I reassured myself with nearly emotionless. Then I called my bag to me and concentrated solely on Grimmauld Place. Home, Sirius, Harry, Help! Concentration ... and jump.
I stumbled forward a few paces, groped blindly for the snake-alike door knocker of Black House, my breathing becoming more and more laboured. Sweat had formed on my upper lip, the effort I had to use to keep my body alert was quickly tiring me. I was lucky enough to have made the leap, which had brought me directly to the door of the city house and not into an alley, but in my distress I didn't care, since I was just glad I had not splinched myself into individual parts. I felt an incredible, heavy fatigue settle in my bones. Not now Hermione, pull yourself together, I chided myself. You've made it this far.
With an unbelievable effort I kept myself on my shaky legs, trembling uncontrollably. I once again looked at the unadorned, simple black wooden handle, which stuck out of my side. I almost lost myself in the sight, it held some incredible fascination for me.
Wow, the desire to immediately remove the foreign matter from my body was really huge. I actually had to use every bit of discipline and self-control I possessed to not do something very unreasonable. As I had said, I had apparated directly in front of the entrance, as I didn't have the strength to not choose the direct way. Now I carefully opened the door. It was just after eight o'clock, almost half past eight, everyone was most likely in the kitchen. Good, that was good for me, I thought, exhausted, and blinked with tired eyes. In less than half an hour, my life had turned by 180 degrees. Tears filled my eyes, I hadn't expected that I would be faced with the decision between life and death or at least not so soon, not that early, nothing, absolutely nothing would be like before!
Trembling I released my breath and pushed a sob back down my throat, where a huge lump was forming and I was tempted to cry loudly and scream for help! Well, there would be casualties in war, that couldn't be avoided, but we weren't in a real war yet. Oh, reality could really rob you of any illusion, I bluntly realised. I had always seen myself as a grey entity, I now had gotten my first black, raven-black holes in this greyness and when all was done, I was afraid that maybe I would be dark through and through.
That genuinely scared me, it scared me stiff. A choked sniff escaped me. I think I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The experiences I gained within the last few months might have been a bit too much for me, because it wasn't easy to handle it all! I always saw myself as tough and strong, but in this instant I felt empty, small, and weak. In any case I didn't want anyone to see me like this, because I was sure I looked terrible. Just now it occurred to me again that there was probably no place on my body that wasn't spattered with blood. I raised both hands and looked at them, but what I saw was sobering. Slender hands, blood stained hands.
So I dragged myself slowly and exhausted through the gloomy hall towards the stairs. One step after the other, I tried to bolster myself up, but it was getting increasingly difficult to lift my legs for the next step. Eventually I stood at the bottom of the stairs. I wanted to go to the library, but looking up through the stairwell at the upper floors of the house made it seem like climbing Mount Everest. I groaned and swallowed heavily, my larynx was unpleasantly scratchy. Gosh, my throat still hurt! I wondered how it looked like.
An uncertain glance at the stairs and I decided that it was no use to stall. Grit your teeth, I told myself. You defied two Death Eaters, compared to that this here is but a joke. I held tightly onto the banister with my right hand, pulling myself up step by step. The pain that swept through me as I raised my legs to climb up the stairs almost made me black out, as the knife scratched inside me with unconscious movements. This feeling would haunt me in my nightmares. My breath escaped loudly, rasping and puffing.
Wow, I felt dizzy, clearly from the blood loss. I didn’t bleed like a pig, because I had let the weapon stuck inside me fore-sightedly, but it seemed like I had internal injuries that bled violently, which really didn't surprise me at all. I had managed it, I was on the first floor. I breathed like a walrus and dragged myself into the library with difficulty. I walked in like an old woman through the door and then my legs suddenly collapsed under my body, devoid of all strength. I sank to the floor with a scream, twisting quick-wittedly to land on my butt, since a knife still protruded from my body. Oh my goddess, who hated me so. I let loose another choked scream. It was hurting so much!
At last tears streamed down my cheeks, leaving trails in the dried blood on my face. I had to look like a monster. The monster I had become today. I drew my wand with an unsteady hand as I sat on the ground like a picture of bleeding misery, and thanked all the gods that I had practiced the Patronus spell here with my books in the last few weeks. After I had experienced the rescue of Harry and Sirius in our third grade, and now, after Harry had been attacked by Dementors in the midst of the holidays, it had seemed very sensible to me. As this corporeal protector could transmit messages as well, it was also suitable as a means of communication. I conjured my Patronus, and sent it away, hoping that he would understand and rush to my rescue, for I couldn’t carry on much longer. My energy reserves were completely depleted, not only physically but also mentally. It was getting darker in front of my eyes, but I didn't allow myself to fall asleep as long as I was alone, so I directed an Episkey towards me, which was extremely weak and didn't really help.
I embraced my maltreated neck with my hands and ran my fingertips over my throat, discovering that I could feel the pressure marks of Bole’s fingers and hands. Goose bumps ran over my entire body. I had only narrowly escaped from death. It made me feel terribly cold and sent my whole body shaking. Next, I called a blood-replenishing potion from my bag, which I had dragged up the fucking stairs. I managed to drink the potion before I couldn't hold myself upright any longer and let myself sink gently to my right side. How would the medics say, stable side position. Then I could feel my last strength flow out of my body, just like my gloriously deep-red blood, which was spreading over my grey T-shirt, which I noticed with blurred sight as I squinted down.
I stared dizzy at the door, my eyelids becoming heavier and heavier...
End of Hermione’s POV
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