“With a bloody harp.” Ron tried to push Hermione away and stand. “We have to get out of here.”
“Swallow this,” Hermione forced a potion to counter his internal organ damage down his throat, followed by a restorative and then a strengthening potion.
“We need to go now,” Ron said as Hermione smeared bruise paste down his face to reduce the swelling so he could see.
“Let me fix your wand hand,” she said, pushing back the shackle still encircling his wrist in order to drip Essence of Dittany into the deep laceration that cut to the bone. She repaired the fractures as fast as she could.
As she was performing the spells, the ring on her hand suddenly burned red hot. She gave a choked gasp as she kept working. The sensation had barely faded before it burned again.
“That's enough,” Ron ripped his hand away from Hermione with a wince. “We have to get out. Did you bring me a wand?”
Harry pulled one out, and Ron gripped it limply and made to stand. He got halfway up and then sank back to the ground.
Hermione pulled his arm over her shoulder. “You're with me,” she said. “My job is to get you out.”
“You bloody idiot, why the hell did you let Harry talk you into this?” Ron sagged against her, and she helped him down the hall.
“You keep Harry alive,” Hermione said quietly, “and you're my best friend. Of course I came.”
She got him up the stairs as her ring burned again. And again. And again.
Fred and Charlie were at the top of the stairs, waiting for them.
“Nine minutes, we need to go.” Charlie's voice was practically vibrating with tension.
Charlie, Harry, and Fred went out first, followed by Hermione and Ron, with Remus and Tonks covering the rear.
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.