Hermione's eyes locked on the edge of the anti-apparition ward.
“The wards end in eighty feet, we just have to reach the centre of the field,” she told Ron. Her voice was shaking but she tried to sound assured
They were twenty feet away from the house when the air broke with cracking sounds. The field just outside the anti-apparition ward suddenly filled with Death Eaters.
Hermione froze. There were possibly a hundred Death Eaters, and they immediately advanced through the ward, blocking the escape, a wall of curses streaking ahead of them.
If she tried to turn and run with Ron, they'd be mowed down. The closest edge of the anti-apparition wards was through the Death Eaters.
The strengthening potion had kicked in for Ron, and he was no longer leaning heavily on Hermione. The spare wand they'd brought for him still drooped slightly in his hand.
“Stay down, Hermione,” he said as he straightened and moved forward to his place beside Harry.
The Order had nothing left but excellent fighters. The speed and accuracy with which everyone fought was remarkable. Considering the steep odds, it was unbelievable that they didn't all immediately die. The disparity in firepower was tremendous.
Tonks and Fred were the only ones using truly dangerous spells as they fought.
The 'strategy' for the escape rapidly dissolved. Ron was nowhere near Hermione.
The Death Eaters attacking didn't seem particularly talented; there was a notable lack of finesse and coordination in their attack. However, the difference in numbers was staggering. There were more than ten Death Eaters to every one of them.
Hermione steadied herself behind the shield she had cast.
She cast a slicing hex at several throats. Tiny little cuts. Simple. Permanent.
Her aim had grown precise.
Three Death Eaters dropped, one after another.
She tried a few more, but other Death Eaters had the sense to keep their shields up.
She slipped low severing charms toward their feet. Quite a few of the Death Eaters' shields weren't comprehensive.
There were screams as more Death Eaters fell, their Achilles tendons cut through, dropping their wands as they went.
Hermione followed the severing charm with more lethal spells to ensure they all stayed down.
Her shield charm was beginning to wear through from the number of spells that had struck it. She dove and spun rapidly to the side as she avoided a Killing Curse. She felt it burn through the air near her cheek as it nearly grazed her. She recast her shield as she fought to move toward the boundary of the anti-apparition wards.
She looked for Harry and Ron and the others, but the Death Eaters were so close.
Everyone was spread out.
Hermione turned sharply to avoid an unfamiliar curse. As she did, something struck her left wrist. The pain was searing.
She stumbled back, glancing down, and found she'd been hit where her shielded shirt had ridden up on her wrist. Cruel, deep pustules were welling up along her arm. The acid curse. If they burst, they'd spit their acid and spread.
It was so agonising that it was hard to rasp out the counter curse. She was forced to stop and dodge or drop to avoid new curses.
On the third try, she managed to get the counter-curse to stick. The pustules subsided, but the pain was still indescribable.
She fell back, gasping raggedly, trying to find a more defensible spot.
It was so open. Nothing to hide behind but bodies.
She couldn't stop herself from calculating her injury, like a ticker running in the back of her mind. Non-lethal but severe. She'd scar, but she was not at risk of losing her hand. The spots where the acid had eaten away at the bones in her wrist would never recover until she removed and regrew them. She'd have to be careful not to fall on it; the bones were pocked with holes and highly fragile.
She cast a powerful confringo to force back the Death Eaters closing in on her. Where were the others?
Remus and Tonks were fighting back to back. Holding their own but nearly thirty feet away, pinned up against the wall of the house.
Harry was closest to her, furiously battling dozens of Death Eaters. His glasses appeared broken, and it looked like a slicing hex had hit him on the forehead. There was blood streaming down half of his face.
Fred, Charlie and Ron were fighting their way toward him.
Hermione tore her eyes away as the flash of a knife caught the corner of her eye.
She dodged instinctively and grabbed the wrist of her attacker, using their momentum to carry them on and bury the knife into the stomach of another approaching Death Eater.
The wielder snarled with rage and spun to attack her again.
Close proximity wand combat was difficult, trying to get the motion right when she hardly had room to move her wrist.
Simple.
Deadly.
With the tiniest flick, she cast upward. A tiny thread of scarlet bloomed beneath the jaw of the Death Eater before his head toppled off. Blood spurted across Hermione's face.
It was in her eyes, and she could taste it as she heard the knife clatter to the ground.
Hermione wiped the blood from her face, spitting, and watched as a huge, unmasked Death Eater grabbed hold of Ron and sank his teeth into Ron's shoulder.
Harry, Fred, and Charlie all shot stunners, but they bounced off the Death Eater. Werewolf.
Ron was screaming in agony as he tried to wrench himself free. The werewolf jerked his head up, tearing Ron's shoulder open.
The full moon was a day away. The spell power required to take down a werewolf at that point would be considerable. At least seven more stunners.
Too long for Ron.
Spells to bring down a werewolf; Hermione scrambled to think of one.
She reached deep inside of her magic and hissed, “ Carbonescrere .”
Something in her twisted.
The black curse shot from her wand. It was like a cloud of black smoke that zipped across the field and exploded around the Death Eater. The werewolf froze for a second and collapsed into dust. Ron dropped to the ground.
As Hermione stared, everything inside her went cold and dark.
She stumbled and gripped her chest.
As the world swam back into view, she noticed something moving toward her. She turned, jumping back.
It felt like being punched violently in the ribs.
Hermione gasped, trying to inhale and looked down. There was a knife driven to the hilt in the right side of her chest. If she had turned a split second later, it might have gone into her heart, but — as she studied it with surprise — she thought it had probably missed anything immediately vital.
Her healer mind couldn't turn itself off.
Her wand slipped from her fingers, and her hands darted down to close over those of the Death Eater who was still holding it. Stopping him before he could try to twist it, or pull it out and stab her again.
She felt the bones in her left hand crack as she gripped his hands in hers tightly and — without letting herself stop to think how much it might hurt to move with a blade still inside her — drove her knee viciously between his legs.
He crumpled to the ground, his hold on the hilt loosening. Hermione stumbled away, gasping raggedly.
Where had her wand fallen? There was blood in her eyes. She shook her head, trying to clear her vision.
She looked down at her chest again. Her right lung was punctured, and she suspected her liver had been nicked. From the angle she was looking down at it, it was hard to tell.
She saw her wand. She tried to reach for it without bending her torso. As her fingers closed around the handle, she felt someone dig their fingers into her braided hair and drag her up onto her feet until she was dangling in the air, her toes barely touching the ground.