Bewitched by You (A Marvel/Harry Potter Crossover) COMPLETED

Chapter Two: Bitter Memories & Midgardian Things

Hermione bit hard on the inside of her bottom lip, keeping her eyes shut tightly and her body perfectly still as she lay on her side on the floor, facing the back wall of the cell. She fought to keep her breaths shallow and even, so he might be fooled.

But every footfall echoing in her ears caused her heart to break further.

"Granger . . . ?"

Even the sound of his whispered voice hurt.

He sighed and hung his head when she didn't stir. This was his last chance, but he didn't know what more he could do. He got her into this, and now the only way out for her . . . .

Well, it wouldn't be pretty for him.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry," he said, pausing for a moment to draw in a shivering breath. "I know that means shit to you after everything that's happened. . . . After everything I've done. It'll all be over, soon. Vol—the Dark Lord has set your execution for tomorrow morning."

Hermione struggled not to react. It had finally come to pass. Voldemort had always said she would be special . . . . Her death would only come after his Curse had done its work.

Only when she was the last dirty-blooded one left.

She forced a gulp down her throat, swallowing her tears.

"I just needed you to know . . . ." Another shuddering sigh fell from his lips as he shook his head. "Even if you hate me until your very last breath, I just need you to know that I never meant for it to come to this."

She heard his steps retreating toward the cell door. The sound of it creaking open jarred her bones.

He spoke again, his voice oddly thick. "I hope maybe, I dunno, in some other life, you'll be able to forgive me."

The door swung shut and she listened to his footfalls until they reached the end of the corridor, dropping beyond the range of her hearing.

Sitting up, she opened her eyes, wiping the back of her hand across her cheeks despite that she'd kept her tears in. She sniffled, shifting to glance around her cage when she realized . . . .

She'd not heard the thunk of the bolt sliding into place.

Snapping her head around, she looked to the door. The light slicing in thin lines through the bars on either side severed cleanly across the space between them and the door.

He hadn't locked it.

She was afraid to go check. This could be a trap. Something to bring her execution all the more swiftly. She couldn't trust him, not after what he'd done.

Yet . . . .

If she didn't move now, if she didn't try, she was dead, anyway.

Wincing at the ache the movement caused in her joints, Hermione stood. The sound of her own footsteps beneath her as she crossed the cell floor seemed terrifyingly loud in her ears. But not nearly as loud or terrifying as the creaking of the door as she eased it open a hair's breadth at a time.

Poking her head around, she glanced up and down the corridor, surprised to find it empty. Not like they expected her to go anywhere.

She opened the door just a little further, enough to slip from the cell.

For a painful moment, she only stood there, uncertain quite what to do. They were all over this place she had no hope of getting past whatever lay beyond the far end of this corridor.