Disclaimer:

I do not own the worlds and characters featured in this Harry Potter X Final Fantasy VII fanfiction, nor do I have permission to use them. The settings and characters from the Harry Potter universe are owned and trademarked by JK Rowling and the many licensors of her work. The settings and characters from the Final Fantasy multi-verse are owned by Square Enix (I think) and the many licensors of her work. I do not make money through this story.

AN:

My creative juices have been unhappy with the fact I couldn't find a story that dealt mainly with my favorite characters from each universe: Hermione and Sephiroth. So I ended up planning one. And then writing it. I welcome all kind of feedback: constructive criticism help me improve my craft; nice comments keep me writing when times get hard; and flames are printed out and I use them in the winter to keep warm ;)

Trigger warning:

This story deals with dark themes and though I have tried to avoid graphic depictions, it involves violence, rape, death, and the fallout of these events. Please read with caution.

On with the story…

CHAPTER ONE

Seize and Evade

#

Hermione Granger was no ordinary fifteen-year-old, young woman. She was a self-acknowledged swot, who regularly borrowed encyclopedias from libraries for some 'light reading'. She possessed an eidetic memory, which helped in her academic endeavors. She was also the best friend of a boy named Harry Potter, who had been slated since he was a toddler to kill an evil wizard. And yes, Hermione was a witch. A powerful one, according to most who knew her. The brightest witch of her age.

But it seemed that counted for nothing as a large ball of fire crashed through the front window of her house. Her father shouted in a mix of surprise and fear as the attack missed him by only a few feet. And Hermione froze in the doorway she had just been walking through, eyes wide as she watched the spell wreck though the TV set that sat in the corner. And she had no doubt about that point: this was spell fire. But even as her mind acknowledged this, there was only two words circling around inside her brain, 'what now?' It was her mother's terrified screamed that kick start both her father and herself into action though. Hermione turned on her heels to rush back to the kitchen, dropping the tray of hot drinks she had been carrying and drawing her wand. For the corner of her eyes, she saw her father vault over the back of the couch. But pain exploded inside Hermione's body and she collapsed on the floor in a twisted heap, legs twitching on the linoleum-covered floor. Bizarrely, Hermione noted she was facing the hallway now.

"Hello, little mudblood."

The voice was sweet and Hermione shivered as she felt a hand petting her hair. The sensation was far from pleasant, as the fire from the previous curse was still spreading across her nerves and even that soft touch was enough to make the young witch moan in pain.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

Her father's shouting was cut short as a shadow moved behind him and struck him down. Hermione gasped as tears filled her eyes.

"There, there, poor little mudblood. Auntie Bella will take good care of her new pet."

The young witch choked on her cries as the witch above her pushed the handle of her wand into her ribs. A sadistic little smile played about of the woman's face, curly black hair framing a pale face with gleaming black eyes. And Hermione suddenly realized just who she was staring at. She may not have met the crazed witch, but she had heard and read enough about Bellatrix Lestrange to recognize her.

"Now, you will be a good little pet. And you will come with us quietly. Or I can promise you to make your stay with us extremely long. For you as well as your parents."

Hermione moaned as the older witch pulled her head back, forcing her to look at her mother lying on the ground beside the kitchen counter, silent and unmoving. The young witch swallowed hard then deliberately forced her spasming fingers open. Her wand dropped from her shaking hand and it rolled away.

"Good pet," cooed the demented witch above her, as she reached to pick up the slender length of vine wood.

"Bellatrix? What do we do with the Muggles?"

"They're going to come with us. This way, Miss Granger will know to keep on behaving herself. Won't you, pet?"

Hermione let her eyes close, unwilling to watch the Death Eaters manhandling her parents. She gasped as someone pulled her by her hair, forcing her to stand. Through the tears streaming down her face, Hermione looked into the brown eye of her captor.

"Greyback, please carry my pet back to the Manor."

Hermione stumbled as Lestrange pushed her towards a man standing by the back door. He grabbed hold of her upper arm in a tight grip, fingernails digging into her flesh. Fire coursed through her body as her nerves fired, still overstimulated from the curse. Her moan made the Death Eaters laugh, and Greyback pushed his face near her own.

"I like to hear you moan, girl. I wonder if I could make you scream."

Hermione tried to pull away, but the werewolf was too strong and moving was too painful.

"Let's go," Lestrange said. "I want to show off my new pet to our Lord."

The mad witch pointed her wand at the skies and a jet of green flew into the cloudy skies. The skull-and-snake symbol that was the Dark Mark imprinted upon the sky. It was the last thing Hermione saw as Greyback Apparated away with her along.

The young witch stumbled and fell to the ground gasping as the werewolf appeared wherever it was they now were. The fall inflamed the effect of the curse once more, and Hermione stayed on the ground, trembling and whimpering softly. There was only silence all around, and Hermione was afraid to look around. Afraid that she would see exactly what she feared. The Gryffindor witch bit on her bottom lip and kept her eyes closed. Maybe if she didn't look, it would be real.

"What do you have here, Bella?"

"I have a new pet mudblood, my lord."

Lestrange sounded just like a toddler with a new toy, and Hermione had to swallow hard against the bile rising in her throat.

"One should not bring strays home without permission, Bella," the monster chuckled.

"I think you will like this one, my lord. It's Potter's."

And just like a child showing off a new toy, Lestrange shoved Hermione under the nose of Voldemort. The younger witch stumbled and fell, bringing a round of sound laughter out of the gathered Death Eaters. The tip of a wand slid under Hermione's chin and pressed up, and the Gryffindor gritted her teeth and raised her head. A detached part of her brain told Hermione that although Harry's description had been fairly accurate, something about the fear those red eyes and non-existent nose could inspire had been lost in the telling.

"Indeed, Bella. I think you have done a marvelous job."

Two thumps sounded right behind Hermione, and the witch startled but didn't turn. Voldemort was no doubt the most dangerous of the lot. Better to keep him in her sights…

"And what's this?"

"The filth that birthed my pet. I'm told that a pup should not be separated from its parents until they are of age. Because it could cause them distress."

Voldemort laughed outright, his red gaze fixed directly on her, and Hermione gritted her teeth as her hands curled into tight fists by her sides. She reminded herself was discretion was the better part of valor. Dying right this minute would not help her parents.

"Do you know who I am, girl?"

"I do," Hermione replied, her voice growly from the strain of the curse on her vocal cords. "Though you go by many names. One, you'd kill me for uttering. One, your followers would take offense to me using. Another, I simply refuse to use."

Voldemort chuckled slightly. Then he pointed his wand squarely at Hermione's chest.

"Crucio."

Pain zinged through her limbs, and Hermione screamed and fell, twisting and shaking on the floor. And they laughed as the curse pressed upon her, white-hot agony dancing along her nervous system, tormenting her until nothing else existed but misery. Hermione lost track of time and space, shuddering on the floor, as wave after wave of pain rushed through her body. Her vision blurred and red spots danced across her field of view. The last thought that crossed her mind was that death could not come soon enough.

#

Hermione coughed violently, and choked on a shout as white fire rushed down her spine, the pain ebbing and across her limbs. She tasted blood in her mouth, and her vision dimmed for a moment. The young witch let her eyes close, hoping against hope.

"There you are, my pet."

Hermione sobbed once as she recognized the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"You know, the Dark Lord was rather disappointed when you skipped out on the fun. But you have been useful to my lord, and he has rewarded me by letting me keep you."

The mad witch petted Hermione on the head forcefully, and the young woman moaned as the movement reawakened the after-shocks of the Cruciatus curse.

"The Dark Lord told me that he was proud of me."

The delighted giggle that followed this announcement drew Hermione's gaze, and the Gryffindor stared at the reverent look on Lestrange's face with fearful disbelief.

"My lord decided that I would go to the Ministry, when the time comes. And though Lucius will be leading our little group because he knows the terrain better, I get to kill your little weasel friend."

Hermione gritted her teeth and tried to push herself to a standing position. But she had barely planted her hands to the floor that Lestrange kicked them from under her, sending her sprawling to the floor once more.

"My lord said that you belong to me now."

Hermione swallowed the cuss word that threatened to pass her lips and made another attempt at standing. She made it to her hands and knees, huffing and puffing against the pain signals that traveled the length of her body. Above her, Lestrange laughed.

"Come on, little pet. You can do it."

Hermione growled her defiance, her arms trembling beneath her weight. She was tempted to let go, just because the witch said to carry on. But Hermione dragged one foot beneath her. With a deep breath, she pushed herself to a standing position, leaning against the wall behind her for additional strength.

"There you go, my pet," Lestrange smiled.

And Hermione glared at her.

"What do you want?"

"Oh, don't you worry about that, pet. The Dark Lord has already got what he needed from you. The memory of you being tortured at his wand tip is going to allow us to lure Potter to the Ministry of Magic. There, he will retrieve the Prophecy that concerns my lord. And my lord will learn how to defeat your precious Order once and for all."

"You'll never get past Dumbledore."

"You're forgetting that your Headmaster has been chased out of office by the Ministry. He's in hiding. What can he do to stop us now?"

Hermione swallowed as she felt her throat go dry. She leaned more heavily against the wall. At the back of her mind, she noted that Bellatrix Lestrange - a little crazy or a lot - was an exceptionally gifted actress. It wasn't everyone who could act so deranged one moment, and so very nearly sane the next. The Gryffindor witch let her head fall forward, trying to gather her senses. Pain came and went in sharp bursts all over her body, stopping her from concentrating on her situation long enough to come up with a plan.

"What about me?"

"Like I said. You belong to me, now. You are my pet mudblood."

"I am not yours anything."

The laugh that left the older witch was chilling in its darkness.

"But you are, witchling. However, I did not have much use for the filth you came from."

Hermione froze then.

"What the hell did you do?"

Lestrange chuckled, as if the profanity delighted her.

"Your father rolled around in his filth as we were having our fun. And your mother moaned like the whore she was while my brothers were having their turns with her. She begged and screamed to the heavens for more."

Hermione couldn't move for a minute. But then the rage took over and she screamed as she launched herself at her tormentor. But she was to weak, and Lestrange simply side-stepped the attack, laughing all the while as Hermione ended sprawled on the filthy stones, crying.

"Oh, little mudblood. Do you feel jealous of the bitch who birthed you? You really shouldn't."

The young witch heard the sounds of booted feet on flagstones. And she suddenly knew exactly what was going to happen. Lestrange grabbed a chunk of her hair, pulling her head up to face the door of her cell as several Death Eaters entered.

"You see? My lord says it's nice to share my toys with my brothers."

Hermione swallowed hard and wished for death. But it would not come.

#

The memory came unbidden. The summer preceding her eleventh birthday, her parents had surprised her with a vacation to Sicily. Magic at that time was still the stuff of fantasy and dreams, something that could not possibly exist but was a nice thought anyway. Her parents had known that the following summer would be busy. Their practice would be expanding, and they would not have the time for holidaying as they usually did. They also knew that year would see Hermione going to high school. They had then decided that rather than not do anything due to time and commitment issues, they would simply celebrate a year early. And so, John and Jane Granger had quietly booked flights and hotels, and spent the summer with their daughter touring the largest island of the Mediterranean. They had visited the cathedral and the Teatro Massimo in Palermo, taken a walk around Mount Etna, spent days relaxing by sandy beaches, and visited several vineyards where her father had sneaked her a sip or two from his glass – her first taste of wine.

It was that last image that had entered her mind. Because the sensations she felt now were somewhat similar. She had floated on her back in the warm waters of the Mediterranean Sea. And she floated now in a sea of green light, warmth surrounding her as it has then. She couldn't feel the pain anymore. And as she lifted a hand in front of her eyes, she found no trace of her blood on her skin. No open, bleeding wounds either. It was puzzling, to say the least. But Hermione was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. She let her hand drop back beside her and closed her eyes. She breathed slowly. Maybe this was death.

"I'm afraid not, little one."

Hermione frowned, her eyes still closed. She supposed it would have been too good for the Death Eaters to be left out of his dreams. At least, it wasn't Greyback. Or Rookwood. Or any of the others. She was pretty sure she would recognize the voices of her rapists anywhere now.

"What should I call you then?"

"My name is Sephiroth."

Now Hermione opened her eyes. Sure, the purebloods had some strange naming traditions. But usually the names came from Latin or Celt traditions. Not from the Hebraic lore.

"So you are an attribute of the divine?"

The silver haired man smirked. "So I've been led to believe. But you should not be here, little one."

Hermione looked around her, the darkness illuminated by the flow of green light.

"I assume that this is not Death."

"No."

"Pity," Hermione sighed as she closed her eyes once more. But she was still a know-it-all. "What is this place?"

"This is the Lifestream."

"Lifestream?"

The man hummed for a moment, obviously looking for the best words.

"Every living thing on the planet is connected. Because everything is born of the Lifestream. And everything comes back here, eventually. Although never while still in their physical form."

"Ah! So I'm special," Hermione laughed without humor.

"It would appear so."

Silence descended between the two. It was strangely restful to the witch. She couldn't exactly remember how long it had been since she'd been kidnapped. She knew she had tried counting at first. But the light of the sun had not once penetrated the dungeons where she was kept. And her guards had taken to bring food and water at widely different intervals. When they even remembered to do so. Although they always seem to remember the other use they had found for her.

Something tingled at the back of Hermione's mind. Something that had been said. Several somethings actually. She tried not to care. To care was to feel. And numbness had become a far more preferable alternative to her now. But she could not get rid of the persisting sensation.

"You said this isn't death."

"Not to you, it appears. Or at least, not at this moment in time."

"Then what is this?"

Sephiroth went quiet for moment, and Hermione had the distinct impression that this was the most words he had spoken in a very long time - far longer than his rather youthful appearance suggested.

"The will of the planet is often shrouded in mysteries. But I would guess that this is an opportunity."

"An opportunity?" Hermione repeated. "For what? And for whom?"

"Depends. For you. For me. Both of us even, maybe. As for what, I think it depends on what you want to do."

"I want to die without having to go back to the Death Eaters."

Sephiroth hummed but said nothing else. Hermione closed her eyes. The color of the Lifestream reminded her too much of that of the Killing Curse. She'd cast the curse. The Death Eaters had brought a little girl back. Hermione chose to spare the girl the best way she could. At the first opportunity she could create, she'd snatched a wand, avada'd the child, and taken the rapes and crucios that would have been hers. She was already broken. At least the girl had gotten to die with what was left of her innocence. Yes… Green as the Killing Curse… Green as the Lifestream… And green as Harry's eyes.

"Harry!" Hermione's eye snapped open.

"Who is Harry?"

"My friend," Hermione groaned. "They were planning to use me against him."

"They have," Sephiroth said.

Hermione's head turned so she could look at the man beside her straight on. She noted that his own eyes were green, the exact same shade as Harry's and the Lifestream. A wave of his black-clad hand had a swirl of the Lifestream crystallized into a screen.

Let's watch TV, Dad! I need to catch up on the X-Files. Have Mulder and Scully finally gotten to kiss?

Hermione shook the incongruous thought from her head. She watched as images appeared on the screen. Her friends running to the Headmaster when she didn't return from the half-term break. Their worries at the lack of news. The smirks and taunts of the Slytherins. The OWLs. Harry's vision of her torture, the memory somehow modified to show her in the Department of Mysteries, deep in the bowels of the Ministry for Magic. The fight. The loss of a prophecy as Lucius Malfoy snatched the orb before he Disapparated away. Harry's continued grief over her disappearance.

"He doesn't deserve that," the witch said through gritted teeth.

Sephiroth glanced sideways at her.

"I am far from the nicest of men. In fact, you would definitely qualify me as a Dark wizard. I would however say that you did not deserve what happened to you either."

"And how would you know what happened to me?"

Sephiroth waved vaguely at the screen in front of them.

"I am a… spirit, for lack of a better word. I cannot directly interact with the physical world. However, the Lifestream will provide for my desires. I desired to learn more about you. It obliged me."

The silver-haired man now turned to face the witch.

"Your world is on the brink. And I wish to feel once more. I would lend you my strength if you would lend me your body."

"I'm sorry?"

Sephiroth smirked and turned once more to the screen. More images started to flicker on it as the man spoke.

"Once upon a time, I was SOLDIER. The elite fighting force of Shinra. But one day, I discovered what I really was worth to some of them. What they had sought to create through me. I obliged them and became the monster they wanted me to be."

Hermione watched the burning of Nibelheim with nary an emotion showing on her face. And Sephiroth smiled.

"Would I change any of it? No. I would fight Genesis again. I would become the Nightmare once more. And I would have Cloud stop me as he did. But your story is not yet written."

Now the witch turned her head slightly to look at Sephiroth as the man stepped away from the screen.

"Are you seeking redemption through me?"

"No. As I said, I would not change my story. I was not strong enough to defeat Cloud. And I needed to learn that lesson. Although Cloud was the only one with the physical strength and the mental fortitude to withstand me, he never fought me alone."

"Then what is it you want?"

"I want to present you with the opportunity to take your revenge."

He extended a hand in front of him, and a long sword shimmered into existence amidst green swirling light.

"This is Masamune. It is more than just my sword. It is an extension of me. If you accept my offer, I will give you my strength, my knowledge, my skills, my powers, everything that is me."

With practiced ease, Sephiroth reversed the grip on his weapon before extending it to Hermione, handle first.

"Why would you help me?"

"Because I have more to learn. And I think that you and your friends will teach me what I lack."

Hermione looked back at the screen. She had seen a lot of what that man was capable. He was ruthless, a killing machine, malicious to a fault. And yet, he had once been good, and fighting for justice.

"If this is not redemption, then what is it?"

"As I said, Hermione. This is my opportunity to learn what I need to."

Hermione sighed. For all her hesitations, she had already chosen. And so she took up the sword. And her body was washed away in the sea of the Lifestream.

#

Hermione came to in the dark, lying on her back beneath a ceiling of rock.

Where am I?

London. Beneath Gringotts to be a bit more precise.

Sephiroth? Hermione thought, startled.

Yes. It will be somewhat of an adjustment for both of us.

The witch made to move but cried out and stopped immediately. Her limbs were twitching, as they always did in the aftermath of being exposed to the Cruciatus.

What's going on?

I used my brand of magic to get you out of Malfoy Manor. The Death Eaters seemed unhappy to watch you disappear from their midst.

Hermione snorted, and even the pain it caused her was not enough to stop her from enjoying that thought.

I went searching for more.

More what?

Knowledge. Power. Sifting through the Lifestream for this is never easy, but it can pay some nice dividends for us. Sadly, this is something I will now not be able to do anymore.

Why?

Because my spirit is now anchored within your body. Until you die, I cannot access the Lifestream directly anymore.

And indirectly?

That I can. It's how I got you out of the manor. It's how I use my own brand of magic.

Your brand of magic?

The power of the Lifestream was condensed and injected into me while I was still in my mother's womb.

That's how you can use the Lifestream.

Yes. Now get up.

Hermione groaned but she rolled on her side. She wasn't even surprised to find that she still held Masamune in her right hand. The sharp edges of the rock beneath her dug painfully into her exposed skin, and she realized she was quite naked.

Wait.

Hermione stopped moving, frowning. She felt something moved beneath her skin. Warmth grew slowly in the pit of her stomach and spread to the rest of her. It was both similar and alien to the feeling she got when casting with her wand. She felt her own magic rise with the feeling, pulling in the opposite direction. The tension between the two forces within her was enough to make Hermione moan, feeling light-headed. Finally, green light shimmered into existence, swirling around Hermione and coalescing onto her skin. When the light faded, she was dressed in loose, navy blue trousers, along with a woolen, sleeveless top of the same color. A large belt of brown leather cinched her waist and straps of leather connected the belt to rounded silver shoulder guards. Black, heavy-duty boots coming up to mid-calf and short leather gloves completed the look.

You are now SOLDIER, Third Class. We'll see if you are deserving of advancing further.

Hermione frowned as the fatigued quality in Sephiroth's voice.

Are you all right?

It would appear that using my brand of magic will be somewhat harder to do as well.

You mean, while you're riding in my brain.

Yes, Sephiroth huffed.

His voice sounded… Weak was definitely the wrong word. But maybe distant, or tired.

I will rest for now. You should re-introduce yourself to your body. You will notice changes. I'm afraid it was inevitable. And for now, I want you to practice rule number three.

Rule number three? What's that?

Conserve your strength.

Hermione shivered as she felt Sephiroth's presence fade from her mind. But she could still feel him, somewhat. It was as if he had curled up into a little ball, nestled safely within her mind. With a little groan, she rolled her shoulders back and forth. Zings of pain shot up and down her arms and back. The young witch folded herself into a sitting position on the rocky ground before she let her gaze wander around her.

Flickering fire light was shining from one side of the cave. On the opposite side, a small trickle of water seeped through the rock, pooling into a little pond. And now that she could concentrate on her surroundings somewhat, she could hear the rumble of carts flying up and down the tracks now and then. She wasn't sure how she would explain her presence here to the Goblins. She would just have to hope they would be reasonable. She hadn't chosen to end up here. If anything, it was the Death Eaters' fault.

The thought of the dark wizards brought Hermione back to her situation. She was an orphan now. Just like Harry. And her friends probably thought she was long dead. She had no wand. But she had a sword. Hermione brought Masamune in front of her. The blade sang as it moved through the air. And although it was made of a different magic, the young witch could feel the power emanating from the blade. And along with that weapon, she had the general who had once wielded it into battle.

Sephiroth was most definitely a dark wizard. As long as you defined a wizard as any man who could wield some kind of magic. He had been created to fight, designed to have enhanced strength and speed, and powers beyond the imagination of mortal men. He had done as he was bid, wielding his blade in service of his creators. But soon Sephiroth found they had betrayed him from the very beginning. They had killed his birth mother, and hidden away the one who had shared her cells with him. And he had rampaged through his world to find her. Twice.

Time passed. It still seemed to have little meaning for Hermione. Thirst eventually made her move to the pond. Placing Masamune delicately on the ground next to her, she took her new gloves off and cupped her hands in the water. It tasted fresh, and a far cry better than what she had been given at Malfoy Manor. Once finished, she stayed kneeling by the pond, watching her reflection. Her hair was longer than she ever remembered it being, and it was a lot less frizzy, the curls both looser and more defined than they used to be. Her natural brown locks were now liberally streaked with a silver gray she could see was a perfect match to Sephiroth's own hair color. The other glaring change was her face. A long scar ran diagonally down the left side of her face, starting near her hairline and cutting across her eye before stopping just below her cheekbone. It was still red, and now that she thought about still hurting too. But then again, it was rather recent… Her left eye had lost his natural brown color. Instead, it now shone the same green as Harry's and Sephiroth's.

Closing her eyes, she remembered how she had acquired the wound. The Death Eaters had taken a young Muggle family. They had raped the mother in front of her husband and their young daughter. When the mother had passed out, they had revived her and tortured the father to death in front of her before they'd finished her off. The daughter had been crying through it all, and Hermione had done her best to stay between the girl and the gruesome spectacle, all the while screaming her rage and hopelessness at their abusers. Greyback had taken offense when she had cast aspersions on his virility. He'd backhanded her, his claw-like nails raking across her face. She'd fallen to the ground and away from the girl. The child's sudden shrill screams had snapped the chains of her control and Hermione had launched herself at the werewolf, bitten his hand, and she had picked up his wand and cast the Killing Curse at the girl before any of the others had had the chance to react. Voldemort's Cruciatus had cut her down before she had the time to turn the wand on herself. But Hermione had laughed hysterically through the punishment that followed, continuously taunting Greyback even as he ripped the clothes from her body and very nearly strangled her as he took his pleasure.

Hermione jerked her head sideways, trying to dislodge the memories from her mind. Finally, she pushed herself back to her feet. Her muscles twinged, but the protest was rather muted. Hermione wasn't sure whether it was because she was growing used to it or because her body was now healing. With a shrug, the young witch put her gloves back on and picked Masamune off the floor. The sword gleamed even in the low light of the cave. Hermione knew just enough about bladed weapon to recognize the design as being Japanese. Although the blade was longer than any image she had ever seen. The size of the sword alone was daunting - the weapon was taller than she was for Merlin's sake. And while the tall Sephiroth may wield it easily, Hermione would certainly have troubles. The very strange fact was that the sword was very light for its size. The witch knew that it was a characteristic of Japanese weapons compared to European blades: the Japanese had long ago developed alloys and smelting and forging techniques to make their weapons lighter and more durable.

What are you doing?

"Ah, someone's awake."

I was not really asleep, little one. And you do not need to speak out loud.

"It makes me feel better, Sephiroth. And to answer your first query, I'm going to get us out of this cave. I will need food before too long."

Fair enough. Do you intend to keep Masamune?

"Did you not lend it to me? I'm not going to leave it here, you know."

But maybe you will want to make it so you can carry the weapon.

"And how do I do that, oh great general?"

Concentrate. Visualize your SOLDIER weapon.

Even as Sephiroth spoke, the image of a shorter, slightly broader, and double-edged sword popped into her mind. Hermione focused onto the image and she felt the warmth rise from her stomach, her own magic once more coming to the fore to match Sephiroth's. This time, Hermione controlled it, shaping it to push along with the General's efforts rather than working against him. Masamune shimmered within the green light of the Lifestream for a moment before it shifted shape to match that of the basic weapon of SOLDIERs.

Well done, Hermione.

"You sound better this time."

Maybe because you made your magic help mine.

Hermione shrugged.

The harness you're wearing has a powerful magnet just between your shoulder blades. It can be used to fix your sword on there, to keep it out of the way.

Hermione place the weapon behind her, smiling as she felt the pull then heard the click of the magnet against the blade.

"What now?"

That's up to you, Hermione. This is your world. Do you intend to save it?

Hermione gritted her teeth, the visions of two pairs of eyes flitting across her mind: one pair red, cold, and snake-like; the other green, sad, and yet full of life.

"Yes!"

Well then, I suggest you continue with your initial idea. Get us out of this cave and assess our situation.

Hermione couldn't help but smile as Sephiroth included himself in the conversation. Although, since he was now stuck with her — literally — it was rather impossible for him not to. And so Hermione started on her way back to the wizarding world.