A Safe Place to Hide Chapter 1, a harry potter fanfic

A/N: While avoiding doing some serious writing that could actually earn money, I decided I missed Tom...to the extent that I decided to start a new multichapter fic. This first part is very short, because it is. The following chapters will be longer though. Weekly updates, every Friday (it is Friday in good old Blighty...just) and...well...enjoy!

A Safe Place to Hide.

by Flaignhan.

Her arm was broken, she was wand-less, and the cut in her side had already soaked her t shirt with warm, wet blood. Hermione's breathing became heavier and heavier as she ran, looking for somewhere she could find refuge.

She tripped on a large chunk of rock that had fallen from the ceiling and landed painfully on her knees. She cried out as she felt her left kneecap shatter. A masked figure appeared at the end of the corridor and looked at her curiously. He laughed, and walked swiftly towards her.

Through her tear filled eyes she could see Barnabus the Barmy, watching from his tapestry as though it were a light entertainment programme on the television taking place before him. The vacant smile on his face made her feel sick, and when she looked back at the masked man approaching her, the feeling of nauseousness increased tenfold.

She was going to die, in the seventh floor corridor, unable to put up a fight. She was going to die right here in this sorry looking part of the castle. They probably wouldn't find her for hours, maybe even days.

Hermione supposed it didn't matter though - it was only Nagini left to destroy now, and Voldemort himself. Harry could do that, she'd done her bit, and now she was no longer needed, so it was perfectly all right that she was about to die on the seventh floor corridor, while Barnabus the Barmy merely looked on in interest.

If she'd been physically able, she would have kicked herself. She was sitting in the seventh floor corridor, opposite the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy, which meant the wall behind her was...

I need a safe place to hide.

The door opened and she was swept inside by some invisible force. She landed gently on a soft bed, and the sheets were immediately stained with the blood that had seeped through her t shirt. It felt almost as though she was a toddler, being picked up in a great swooping motion by her mother - time to go to bed now, it was very late.

But how had she got inside?

She had no time to consider this, however, because the handle of the door was turning.

Lock it!

The Room of Requirement followed orders, and the handle shook frustratedly as the Death Eater on the other side tugged at the handle.

Keep me safe.

The Room of Requirement followed orders, and Hermione fell back, onto the pillows, her last morsel of energy leaving her body.