It had all happened so quickly.
They had gotten the stag patronus late at night, shocked by Harry's frantic-sounding message; they immediately flooed to the Ministry.
It all went downhill from there, really. In hindsight, that's the point where Hermione wished she could go back to. But time had made her trusting, and her reflexes slower.
They arrived there simultaneously. It was pure chaos in the atrium; members of the Order were fighting against shadows of Death Eaters.
Hermione was almost instantly transported back to fifth year, before she had been knocked unconscious by the jet of purple light, back when they were still mostly innocent, untouched by the ravages of war. She shook herself free of the memory; she was stronger, faster, and smarter than she had been.
She and her husband of almost five years through themselves into fighting just like the time before that and the time before that. They had been working as partners since they both went back to Hogwarts to finish out their final year. Both of them had been absent for much of it, although for somewhat different reasons.
They worked in tandem, many years of experience and trust had been built, and not without issue. There had been many obstacles, however, now they worked seamlessly, as one. It was beautiful, the way they worked together, two minds, two hearts, two souls merged to work as a flawless one.
The battle raged, they fought. Occasionally someone would stumble over to take cover for a moment while they provided cover. Once their various wounds were patched, sometimes thanks to Hermione's husband, they jumped back into the fray.
Time was immeasurable, but it seemed like an eternity. Finally, it seemed that the Order was pulling the upper hand, and then everything wrapped up fairly quickly. All the Death Eaters seemed to realize that they were beaten; most of them dropped their wands and put their hands up.
Hermione had three in a full-body bind curse, but there were still about five more unsecured. Neville came up to her panting, "Nice to see you as always, Hermione, and him as well." He nodded towards where her husband was patching up some of the minor wounds that had occurred during the fight. He looked up to see them watching and when he was finished her walked over and wrapped his arms around her.
"Does something seem off to you?" He whispered in her ear.
Hermione frowned. "Where's Harry?" she asked Neville, looking over her husband's shoulder.
"I dunno, I haven't seen him, I thought he might be with you?" Neville was frowning now too.
There wasn't even a moment to breath before the three of them had apparated to the Department of Mysteries. In retrospect, this was the second moment Hermione wished she could have gone back to.
They held their wands at the ready, looked at each other, nodded once, and Hermione blew open the door.
No less than seven death eaters surrounded Harry and Ron, who were both unconscious, laying on the floor, looking like broken rag dolls.
The three of them fell into a triangle formation, with the men flanking her. Hermione was on point, as always.
"Greetings, Mudblood. And oh, look you brought the blood traitors as back-up. How touching." She knew that voice. She knew that voice anywhere. Antonin Dolohov. She could almost feel her husband tense behind her.
"Dolohov. It's always nice to see you again." Her eyes darted to the rest of the Death Eaters. None of them wore masks, but very few of them were familiar to her by name. They had been recruiting again.
Seven against three. Not great odds, especially with Harry and Ron out of commission.
"Keep him talking." The two behind her fanned out slightly, but were almost immediately stopped by two jets of green lights narrowly missing the both of them.
"Ah, no. I would refrain from moving too quickly. Zayvin and Gregor here won't like that too much." Dolohov smiled, but there was no joy in it. "Now, expelliarmus!" All three of their wands flew out of their hands and rolled away. Hermione's mind was racing, flipping through wordless and wandless magic that she knew. There wasn't much that would help them in this situation.
Keep him talking. "Was this your plan, then, Dolohov? Fake distress signals to lead us here one by one? Let me guess. It was my patronus that lured Harry and Ron here. Very original."
"Always the brains of the Golden Trio, aren't you, Mudblood? And yet, here you are…"
She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Old habits and all that." Inside her mind was reeling, trying to find any situation that would get them all out in one piece.
"Speaking of old habits…" Dolohov raised his wand, aiming it directly for her chest. "I was thinking this over, in isolation there's plenty of time of think, and I was wondering just how to get to the three of you. And then I thought, the Mudblood's the answer. She's everything behind Potter. Where would he have been without you?" Dolohov started forward, a lion stalking its prey.
"And then, I got to thinking, what's a Mudblood without her mind? What if… I take it away from her? Take away everything that makes her special, and what's left? Nothing but dirty blood." Dolohov was only a few feet away from her now, wand lazily pointing dead center of her torso, unwavering.
Hermione's mind went blank, her eyes darting left and right, but there was no help available from either direction. The closest things to cover were the tall shelves of books that were probably one of a kind and literally priceless. They had thought this entire ambush through. The irony of the memory charm be performed by Dolohov was not lost her Hermione, either, she almost rolled her eyes.
"I won't bore you with more of the details, so now, Mudblood, say goodbye to your memories, and everything that makes you, well, you. Obliviate!"
Time seemed to slow down, she could see everything in slow motion. The jet of light flew from his wand in a path headed straight for her. Two hands clamped down on her shoulders and she spun, the spell hitting him in the back and knocking them to the floor.
No… please, not him. Her old reflexes kicked in and she rolled out from under the dead weight of her husband. Her wand flew into her hand from where it had rolled underneath a bookshelf, summoned by a wordless accio. Curses began flying. Shields were erected in front of her, thanks to Neville.
Harry and Ron began to levitate, but when Hermione hit one of the Death Eaters holding them, Harry dropped to the ground with a thud.
At that moment Dolohov vanished, taking the three others, including Ron, with him.
Hermione quickly put down the remaining Death Eaters and flew to the motionless forms lying beside her.
Rennervate. Harry jolted to his feet. "Hermione?! What's going on, where's Ron? Dolohov! It was Dolohov! He got me while I was leaving the Auror's office, the git. Neville, you alright, mate?"
Hermione had already turned to the other figure lying on the ground. He wasn't responding to the charm she used on Harry. Tears began to flow freely down her cheeks.
"You need to get to St. Mungo's. We'll finish up here, go." Neville put his hand on her shoulder gently.
Hermione nodded and tried to compose herself enough for a side-along apparation.
When they landed in the lobby of St. Mungo's she immediately began screaming for Healer Gwaine.
"Gwaine! Thank Merlin," when he finally arrived, "it's Draco, he's hurt."