Rhythms

A/N: I'm not giving all of the plotline away in this chapter. As I told one reviewer, I'm giving it to you in rather detached bits and pieces, and relying on you to put it together. I'm hoping they're clear enough that you can understand what they mean, but subtle enough that you have to look. If you have any questions, I'll answer them as well as I can! I'm still new to this kind of writing, so any constructive criticism is welcomed and appreciated!

~*~

Harry sat in the darkness, listening to the roar of the river only a few yards away. Hermione lay curled in his arms, finally fast asleep.

How he wished he had never allowed her to convince him…

He glanced down, watching watery beams of moonlight glisten darkly on the bloody wound on Hermione's forehead. Matted hair clung to the congealing blood, and he cringed, jaw tightening unconsciously.

He'd been stupid, he knew that. He was supposed to have been in charge, in control—and one thoughtless slip had lost them what little ground they'd covered.

But he couldn't think of it, not now. It would be better to focus elsewhere, on dark, unseen threats that he imagined on the edge of the forest, closing in on them…

But what good would it be?

Hermione's logic had backfired—it had left them wandless.

He knew he was angry, but it was a dull throb in the back of his mind, barely there and never answered. He would focus on keeping her safe, regardless of what she had done, what her argument had cost them…

How many times had she done the same?

~*~

Malfoy's taunts fell on deaf ears; the hard, pointed object smashed against her forehead, and she knew at that moment that without her, Harry would be discovered—she flung out an arm and shoved, willing him to swim without looking back…

But as she spun around, she saw his half-invisible body flailing madly about in the waters—suddenly she was frozen, and the waters were closing around him, dark and inexorably dragging him down, deeper and further away—and his mouth was open in a scream, his eyes were fixed on hers, deep, sea green pleading with her to save him… the breath had left her, and she was screaming, too—someone had seized her, kept her from leaping in after him…

~*~

“Shhh!”

Hermione's eyes snapped open, her skull throbbing sharply and hands clawing desperately at the strong arms around her. Harry's face slowly came into focus, and he dropped his hand from her mouth.

“You okay?” His voice was quiet, steady but rather uncertain. Swallowing hard, Hermione relaxed her hold on his arms, shuddering and sucking in great gulps of pine-scented air. She could feel sweat trickling into her cut, causing it to sting.

“Bad dream. That's all,” she managed to say tightly, “Did I hurt you?”

He shook his head.

“I'm fine,” he said quietly. “Go back to sleep.”

Hesitantly, she scanned his face. She could feel herself blushing fiercely—silly of her, to get so worked up over a nightmare…

“Are you sure you wouldn't rather let me take watch?”

He shook his head again.

“I'm fine,” he repeated. “You need to rest more than I do.”

She decided not to dispute this statement. After all, look where her `logical' argument had landed them…

“Would you rather talk about it?” he offered awkwardly, examining her face. “It seemed like a pretty bad one.”

She flushed again.

She couldn't help but think that had Ginny been the one in Harry's arms, she would hardly be in such a vulnerable state at the moment.

If it weren't for Ginny, you might have never been here, whispered a voice in the back of her mind. She refused to listen, however…

“I—I'll be all right,” she lied feebly. “It was just a dream.”

Her mistake, however, was a horrible reality.

Part of her wished he would at least get angry at her for landing them here. This clumsy but sincere concern made her guilt weigh even more heavily upon her mind.

“You know it's for the best, Harry! We've got to take her back; it's the only way to keep her safe!”

“We can't go back, Hermione! The Death Eaters will know she's gone by now; they'll be waiting for us to bring her back!”

“You yourself said it was for the best, not to let her get involved—“

Hermione shut her eyes quickly, desperate to block out the echoing remnants of the memory that now haunted her.

It was impossible for her to block out the hand that cautiously took hers and exerted a soft pressure. Nothing she did could make her mind ignore the quiet, “Hermione, relax. Just get some sleep.”

It was a dangerous place to be, Hermione thought miserably, when sleep and reality matched each other in pain.