Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his whole world belong to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Warner Brothers, and possibly a few others I've forgotten. No profit is being made and no harm is intended.
Author's Notes: This story is not for the faint of heart. This story is the product of a nightmare I had, and is set in a nightmarish world. If you're looking for a feel-good happy ending type of story, you'd best go look somewhere else.
Purgatory
Harry Potter was dead. Voldemort laughed in triumph, a high-pitched evil cackle that rang over the battlefield. For a moment, both sides paused, and turned to watch as Harry's body fell limply at Voldemort's feet.
Ron froze, his wand falling to his side. Beside him, Hermione gasped, "No," and took a step forward. They were too far away; Harry and Voldemort had drifted to the center of the fight, while Ron, Hermione and Ginny had been forced back.
Death Eaters, Aurors, and Order members alike stood in shocked disbelief. The moment stretched into what felt like an eternity, and then Ginny screamed, "NO!"
All hell broke loose. Ginny lurched forward, and Hermione and Ron fought to catch up with her. They dodged around fighting combatants, ducking spells and jumping over fallen comrades and enemies. They neared Voldemort, where he stood at the crest of a hill, levitating Harry over his head.
His magnified voice carried over the field. "Harry Potter is dead. The same fate awaits you if you do not surrender immediately."
The fighters for the Light side ignored him and fought on, and Ron shouted an obscene suggestion that was lost in the noise of the battle.
A curse slammed into Ginny and she shrieked in pain, falling to her knees and clawing at her chest. "It burns! It burns!" she wailed, her breathing becoming labored. "It hurts… hurts…" she whimpered, panting. Ron caught her as she tipped backwards, her head lolling limply on her shoulder. Her eyes had gone vacant.
Ron shook her roughly. "Ginny!" he called, as he grabbed her head and tipped it forward so he could look at her face. He didn't think he could bear it if he lost her too. She stared through him, her mouth working helplessly.
Rage unlike anything he'd ever felt erupted in Ron. Hermione dropped to her knees beside him, crying out as her wand exploded in her hand, hit by a Reductor Curse. She tossed aside the shards of her wand, her eyes wide and terrified. She grabbed hold of Ginny and helped Ron lift her to her feet. Ginny sagged limply against her.
"Ron!"
Ron swiveled around, spotting his father running toward them, blood smeared on his face.
"Duck!"
Ron yanked Hermione and Ginny down as a Curse ripped through the air over their heads. Arthur sprinted past them, spells erupting from his wand as he traded blows with the Death Eater that had targeted Ron, Hermione and Ginny.
"Go! Ron, go! Take Ginny and run!" Arthur yelled over his shoulder. Ron opened his mouth to protest, grief and despair and rage pulsing through his veins with every desperate beat of his heart.
It couldn't be ending like this; Harry was supposed to win. Harry was the only one who could win, so Harry couldn't be dead. But Harry was dead, and so was hope.
Arthur never heard Ron's protest: the Death Eater he was battling took advantage of his distraction, and the green light of the Killing Curse slammed into his chest. Arthur fell to his knees, and then rolled onto his side, his eyes behind his askew glasses blank and unseeing.
Ron's protest froze in his throat. He lunged forward, letting go of Ginny, intent on having vengeance for his father's death. A hand closed around his wrist and held him back.
Hermione, tears streaming down her face, held tightly to Ron's wrist, all the while struggling to hold up Ginny, who hung like a broken rag doll against her.
"Please, Ron, we have to go. Ginny needs help," Hermione cried, her voice cracking.
"Look around!" Ron roared, gesturing helplessly to the field around them. "There's nobody left who can help!" He tugged on his wrist, but Hermione held on stubbornly. "We're all going to die anyway, may as well get on with it."
Hermione's face wobbled piteously.
"Please," she begged quietly. Ron could not hear the word over the sounds of the Death Eaters celebrating as Voldemort eviscerated Harry's battered corpse, but he could see her lips forming the plea.
Ginny slipped lower in Hermione's desperate grasp. Hermione released her hold on Ron to hold up the semi-conscious girl. They were defenseless, and just in time, Ron conjured a shield in front of them. The curse bounced away harmlessly.
Cries of pain and agony echoed through the laughter and the cheers, and Ron spared a long moment to gaze at the destruction of the Light. The field was littered with bodies, and those that were able were fleeing. Cracks and pops of Apparation sounded the death knell of the Order of the Phoenix.
Ron looked back to Hermione and Ginny, who rolled her dulled eyes up at him. They would die without him. He growled in frustrated impotence, and stepped forward to take Ginny from Hermione.
"Let's go," he said darkly. Taking one last look at what was left of Harry Potter, Ron thought of the Burrow, grabbed Hermione's arm, and then they were all three gone.
"We can't stay here," Hermione said, pacing in agitation in Ginny's bedroom. She kept looking out the window, waiting, watching. It had been several hours since they'd fled the battle, and the waiting was almost more than Ron could bear. With every passing minute, Ron became more and more certain that the rest of his family was dead.
"I know," Ron said again, sitting slumped on Ginny's bed, his head in his hands.
Ginny remained unmoving on her bed. She stared at the ceiling, her breathing short and irregular.
"Nobody else is coming back," Hermione continued, putting a hand on Ron's shoulder.
"I know," Ron replied quietly, not looking up.
"The Death Eaters will look for us here."
"I know."
"I don't know where else to go," Hermione admitted, the fright in her voice becoming evident.
"I know."
"And Ginny…"
Ron reached up, gripping her hand tightly. "There isn't anything that can help her, and you know it."
Now it was Hermione's turn to say, "I know."
The Curse that had hit Ginny was one of the Darkest Curses, one that hadn't been used in centuries. The Curse had burned out Ginny's Magical Core, destroying her source of magic. Ginny was as good as a squib. She was also nearly catatonic, and unresponsive.
"I just don't know how we're going to run with her," Hermione fretted, sitting down on Ginny's other side and taking her hand. Ginny didn't react; she just continued to stare at the ceiling, unblinking.
The alarm wards began to ring, and Ron jumped to his feet. He joined Hermione at the window, and they watched the Death Eaters creeping toward the house.
"We'll go to Shell Cottage," Ron said in a hurried whisper. As one, they turned away from the window and rushed to Ginny's bed. Ron scooped up his smaller sister in his arms; she hung limply, her head rolling to the side, and he rushed down the stairs, Hermione on his tail. They made it to the fireplace in the sitting room, which was sputtering weakly, and Ron threw a handful of Floo Powder onto the embers. The green flames roared to life and Ron nudged Hermione.
"Go," he said. "We'll be right behind."
Without protest, Hermione ran into the flames, shouting, "Shell Cottage!"
As soon as she was gone, Ron repeated the process, this time shoving Ginny through. As he threw the last bit of Floo powder into the flames, the back door exploded inward, and Ron didn't wait around to see who came through. Stepping into the flames, he called, "Shell Cottage," and felt himself whirl away in a blur of ash and smoke.
As he fell out of the Floo, he scrambled to his feet. Without pausing to think, he sealed the Floo so no other travelers could come through, and then he turned back to Hermione, who was sprawled on the floor, cradling Ginny against her.
"I called and called," she gasped. "There's no one here."
Ron nodded. They were alone now.
Hermione sat next to Ginny's bed, holding the younger girl's wand. Ginny still stared blankly at the ceiling, her face pale and crusted with dried tears. Neither girl spoke; Ginny hadn't said a word since she'd been hit by the Curse which had reduced her to a squib. Ginny barely functioned, only moving to eat or use the facilities, and this she did slowly and with fumbling motions, like she was groping around in the darkness.
Hermione wasn't sure Ginny was even aware that Harry and all of her family except Ron were dead.
With a sigh, Hermione pocketed Ginny's wand. Ginny couldn't use it anymore and Hermione's wand was in splinters somewhere on the battlefield, and she certainly couldn't go to Diagon Alley to buy a new wand, not when Voldemort wanted her and Ron dead.
At least the cottage's location was unknown to anyone still alive.
The first few days after their arrival at Shell Cottage, neither Ron nor Hermione had slept much, taking turns. Every time Hermione awoke those first days, she'd found Ron either sitting beside Ginny's bed or staring hopelessly out the front door, tears streaming down his cheeks. He never cried in front of her, and she never cried in front of him.
The clock struck six times slowly, and Hermione glanced out the window at the path leading up to the house. Ron had been gone for a very long time, this time. Normally he would leave for just a few hours, and then return before the daylight started to fade. He was out gathering information, listening discreetly at the pubs and shops, and on the streets, for any news of a Light rebellion.
But the few survivors of the Order of the Phoenix and its sympathizers were being extremely quiet. It was the only way to stay alive; Voldemort's minions relentlessly hunted the shattered remnants of the Light. Hermione knew Ron was beginning to despair that there was any Light left in the Dark new world.
He came back after each excursion with grim news of wizarding life under Voldemort's reign. At first, the changes had been relatively minor. The Death Eaters continued their infiltration of the Ministry, and soon, Lucius Malfoy was the new Minister of Magic.
Then, the orders became official. Surviving members of the dissident group Order of the Phoenix and anyone suspected of giving them aid were dispatched quickly, efficiently, and without mercy.
After that came the death camps for the Muggleborns. They were systematically rounded up, their wands were snapped, and one by one, they were subjected to the same curse which had destroyed Ginny's Magical Core, leaving them in similar catatonic states. Then they were left to die.
Hermione shifted in her chair, feeling achy, hungry, and tired. She felt far too old and beaten down for being just nineteen years old. Nineteen was far too young to be verging on such all encompassing hopelessness. She longed to see her parents, but knew they were better off in Australia, unaware that she existed.
"I wish you'd say something, Ginny," Hermione whispered in the silence. "Anything to tell us you're still in there."
At the sound of Hermione's voice, Ginny's gaze drifted from the ceiling to focus on Hermione's face, but her expression did not change.
"Anything at all," Hermione said quietly.
Ginny stared at her for a long moment, her eyes unblinking. Then she returned her blank gaze to the ceiling, and two fresh tears slipped down her face into her matted red hair.
Hermione's eyes welled with tears and she ducked her head. The waiting was killing her: waiting for Ron to come back, waiting for Ginny to speak, waiting to die.
A sharp tingle at the base of her spine alerted her that someone had crossed the alarm wards, and she wiped her eyes quickly with the back of her hand. She stood and went to look out the window.
Seeing Ron's dark, hooded shape approaching wearily, Hermione turned and rushed out of the room and down the stairs. She waited at the door, listening for the sound of his voice through the thick door.
"Hermione," he said.
Ruthlessly ignoring her urge to rip open the door and throw her arms around him, she asked, "What did I give you for your last birthday?"
"Agrippa's Chocolate Frog card," he answered at once. "The only one I still needed."
"Now ask me," Hermione directed.
There was a short moment of silence, and then he said, "What's my emotional range of?"
"A teaspoon," Hermione answered, flinging open the door. "But not anymore." Ron caught her as she bounded forward into his arms, kissing him fiercely. "You were gone so long," she protested, pressing her cheek to his.
"I'm fine," he assured her, ushering her inside and shutting the door behind them. He pulled down his hood, revealing his jet-black hair and pale, freckle-free face. Going outside looking like a Weasley was dangerous and possibly deadly, given the fact that he was a wanted man.
"Did you find out anything?" Hermione asked, helping Ron out of his heavy cloak. With the dementor's breeding out of control, the climate was one of constant chill, even in last days of summer.
Ron sat down and pulled off his boots, his dyed hair hanging down in front of his face. "Yeah," he said, his voice sounding hollow. "They raised the bounty on our heads to fifty thousand galleons, dead or alive. Preferably dead."
Hermione nodded, not surprised.
"Only pureblooded children who can prove their blood line for three generations are attending Hogwarts," Ron continued. "Halfbloods are being encouraged to leave the country."
"What else?" Hermione asked, knowing from the drawn look on Ron's face that there was more.
"I saw Remus," Ron said flatly.
"You did?" Hermione gasped. She sat next to Ron, hope flaring in her chest. "What did he say? Has he seen anyone else?"
Ron shook his head sharply. "He's taking Teddy and leaving the country. He encouraged us to do the same."
Hermione sat back, deflated. "Oh," she said softly. "Where did you see him? What about Tonks?"
Ron closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and gazed at her gravely, the blue almost grey. "Tonks is dead," he announced.
Hermione closed her eyes, fresh grief weighing down her heart.
"They strung her up outside the Sleazy Weasel. That's where I saw Remus. He couldn't cut her down or cover her up or do anything or they would have known who he was. He had to leave her there."
Without a word, Hermione leaned against Ron, putting her head to his chest where his heart throbbed against her ear. She wept quietly for Tonks. Ron's arms tightened around her.
"I think we should listen to Remus," Ron said at last. "Get out while we still can."
"So there's no hope? Hermione asked, looking up at Ron's weary face.
"Not here, not now, not for us."
Hermione sat up. "So we give up? Run away?"
Ron gave her a hard look. "There's nothing we can do here anymore. Harry is dead. The Light side is destroyed. They're all too scared to fight. If we stay, we'll be killed."
"But we can't just give up!" Hermione protested.
Ron shook his head. "It's over, Hermione. We've been beaten. We've lost. It's over."
"Is it?" she asked in a small voice.
"It is." Ron softened the blow with a tender kiss. "Remus is right. It's time for us to get out."
At last, Hermione nodded haltingly. "Where will we go?"
"Australia," Ron answered at once. "We'll find your parents.
Later that night, after they'd thoroughly discussed the preparations they'd need to make to get out of the country, Hermione drifted through the ground floor of the darkened cottage, looking out the windows into the night. If all went according to plan, this would be their last night here; tomorrow they would be on a plane to Australia.
Ron and Ginny were both asleep, and the cottage was silent. Outside, the nearly full moon lit up the lonely cliffs. Hermione sighed. She's seen no one but Ron and Ginny for nearly three months. The idea of seeing her parents again filled her heart with tremulous hope she hadn't dared to feel in some time. And Hermione hoped against hope that the medi-witches in Australia could help Ginny.
And she couldn't help but think of Tonks, and Remus, and Teddy. She remembered Remus, so patient, so kind, teaching her about hinkypinks and grindylows. She thought of Tonks at Grimmauld Place, changing her nose into a pig's snout to make them laugh. Her eyes blurred with tears. It wasn't fair. It wasn't supposed to be this way. She was so angry suddenly, so angry at Harry.
He wasn't supposed to die. He had been their only hope.
Then Hermione felt terribly ashamed. Harry had done his best, with odds stacked horribly against him. It never should have been asked of him, and he knew he was no match for Voldemort, but he'd tried nonetheless.
She pictured Harry's face, his vibrant green eyes lit with laughter. In spite of everything, he'd had hope for the future. Even knowing how outmatched he was, he'd still held hope for the future. Hermione missed him painfully. She should have told him more often how much his friendship meant to her, how she'd cared for him.
"Oh, Harry. I'm so sorry," Hermione whispered.
"Hermione?" Ron whispered, startling her. She turned away from the window, finding Ron standing behind her. He held open his arms and she fell into them, drawing comfort from the one person she had left who still gave her strength.
"Ron," she said, wiping her eyes and looking up at his shadowed face. "I want to tell you something – something I should have told you before – just in case something happens, I want you to know…"
"What is it?" Ron asked, his piercing blue eyes looking concerned.
"Ron," Hermione said, standing on her toes and kissing him. "I love you."
Ron's arms tightened around her and he kissed her again. "I love you, too," he mumbled against her lips.
They clung to each other in the moonlight. Hermione placed her ear against Ron's chest, letting his heartbeat soothe her into sleepy complacence. "Tomorrow, we'll be far away from all of this," Ron said after awhile. "And you won't have to worry. Now come back to bed."
And so she did.
The next morning, Ron left for Gringotts, his disguise firmly in place, and Hermione set about making Muggle identities for Ron and Ginny. It was slow going with Ginny's wand; it still felt foreign to her, and she vowed to get a new one once they got to Australia. Eventually, however, she'd created all necessary paperwork for their trip. All they needed now was money and airplane tickets.
Ron hadn't yet returned, so Hermione quickly packed their few belongings into one small suitcase and set it next to the door. Then she went up the stairs to wait with Ginny.
Ginny was sitting up in her low bed, looking out the window.
"Ginny?"
The younger girl did not move, nor did she take her eyes from the window.
Hermione became aware of a quiet, high keening, and Ginny leaned closer to the window, putting her hand against the misty pane.
"Ginny," Hermione said again, moving closer. "What's wrong?"
Ginny did not answer, but her anxious keening grew louder, and she edged closer to the window, nearly falling from her bed.
"Ginny!" Hermione called over the anxious girl's noise. This sudden change in behavior frightened Hermione. She felt dread building in her chest as she went to look out the window, expecting the worse: a squadron of Death Eaters closing in on all sides.
The garden outside and the field beyond were empty, however, and Hermione knelt next to Ginny, attempting to keep her from falling off her bed.
"No!" Ginny cried, shoving Hermione away.
Stunned, Hermione stayed where she'd sprawled on the floor.
"They're all dead," Ginny wailed. "I'm dead."
Torn between relief that Ginny had spoken and the fear that her words inspired, Hermione began, "You're not – "
"You're dead! Ron's dead!"
"No, Ginny," Hermione protested. "We're alive."
"We're in Hell," Ginny moaned, going limp and falling out of bed. Hermione scrambled to catch her, and eased the distraught girl back into the bed. "I'm dead," Ginny whispered again, falling back into her pillows.
At that moment, Hermione felt the tickle of the alarm wards against her spine, and she straightened, looking out the window. To her relief, she saw Ron's lonely figure coming up the path, the wind blowing his dark traveling cloak around his legs. Making sure that Ginny wasn't going to move again, Hermione rushed down the stairs to wait at the door.
Ron knocked.
Hermione held her breath, at once sensing something was wrong.
"Hermione, let me in," he said.
Feeling her heart threatening to break, Hermione asked through the door, "What did we plant in the garden in March?"
"Flowers," Ron answered at once.
Hermione wilted against the door, thinking of Dobby in his quiet grave in the back garden. Ron would know that.
When Ron had first started going out looking for news, he and Hermione had come up with a system of questions, safety questions and bogus answers Ron would give to an imposter if he'd been captured and tortured into giving up information.
"Your favorite Quidditch team?" Hermione tried again, pulling Ginny's wand from her pocket.
"Puddlemere United," the man on the other side of the door answered confidently.
Hermione started to shake uncontrollably. They'd been so foolish to think they could run, that Ron could go into Diagon Alley undetected, that they could get away from this. She tightened her grip on Ginny's wand, feeling grief and anger and panic coursing through her with every breath.
She opened the door slowly, and the imposter hurried in, closing the door behind him. When he turned again, he found the wand in Hermione's hand trained at his heart. "Incarcerous," she incanted. Ropes wrapped around the startled imposter and Hermione quickly summoned his wand. Then with a quick Levicorpus, she hung the man upside down.
"Now then," she said darkly, "who are you, and where is Ron?"
"I am Ron!" he insisted.
"Ron's favorite team is the Chudley Cannons," Hermione informed the inverted man as his face began to grow red. "So, again, who are you, and where is Ron?"
But just as she finished her question, she felt the telltale tingles of the alarm wards being crossed. Knowing she was out of time, Hermione advanced, pointing the wand at the man's throat. "Where is Ron?" she hissed. The alarm wards continued to go off as they were crossed by multiple people. "TELL ME!" she shouted desperately.
"He's dead, or will be soon," the imposter grinned. "Just like you."
Not allowing herself to react, Hermione slashed the wand across the man's throat, and his blood began to pour from the wound. As he made helpless gagging noises, Hermione turned and hurtled up the stairs. She threw herself onto the bed with Ginny and grabbed her. Ginny submitted meekly, her eyes vacant once more. Hermione ripped the portkey from around her neck that Ron had made weeks ago, and pressed it into Ginny's hand, wrapping their hands together.
"This is Hell," Hermione conceded to Ginny just before the portkey took them away.
In her bedroom at her parent's abandoned house, Hermione wept. She knew that she and Ginny could not stay here for long, but she didn't know where else to go.
She'd lost Ron.
The fresh wave of hopelessness was worsened by the fact that she'd allowed herself to hope for the first time in months, and now that hope was gone, along with any shred of comfort and happiness she'd had left.
Ginny rocked quietly in a chair next to the window, looking out onto the empty street beyond the glass. She'd reverted back to silence, but clenched and unclenched her hands rhythmically, a vague sort of awareness swimming in the back of her eyes. Ginny had known something was wrong – Ginny, in her state of utter incoherence, had sensed that the last remaining member of her family was gone.
When she had cried herself dry, panic overtook grief, and Hermione paced the first floor hallway, tightly gripping Ginny's wand in her hands. She could still take Ginny and run to Australia, but she needed money to buy their tickets.
Daylight began to fade from the windows and Hermione absently tried to flick on a light, only to discover there was no electricity running to the house. She cursed long and creatively; Ron would have been proud. Her chest tightened painfully, thinking of Ron.
After a handful of tears escaped her red-rimmed eyes, Hermione attempted to focus again. She needed money. She could attempt to go to Gringotts, but there seemed to be surveillance on the bank. She couldn't leave Ginny alone, anyway.
Hopelessness washing over her again, Hermione leaned against the wall. She gazed around her parents' bedroom sadly. She'd attempted to keep everything the same so that when her parents came home, everything would be as it should be. She could never bring her parents back here now.
With a cry of frustration, Hermione snatched the alarm clock up from a bedside table and flung it across the room with all her might. It exploded against the far wall in a shower of plastic and metal bits. Far from satisfied, Hermione blindly threw anything she could get her hands on. She ripped drawers from the wardrobe, sheets and pillows from the bed, pictures from the bureau; anything she could hurl, she did.
Panting heavily, Hermione collapsed onto the bare mattress. She wiped her eyes and looked around the ransacked room. Feeling an odd mixture of satisfaction and shame, Hermione turned to leave the room and check on Ginny when she saw her mother's purse tipped on its side on the floor.
The contents of the purse spilled from the inner pockets, and Hermione dropped heavily to her knees, cursing herself for her stupidity. She righted the purse and extracted her mother's wallet. She flipped it open and sighed, seeing her mother's credit cards in the protective plastic sleeves.
If only she'd thought of this sooner, before she'd allowed Ron to go to Gringotts, to go to his death.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she chanted, her voice thick with tears. "So stupid!"
How long she knelt on the floor, staring at the contents of her mother's wallet, Hermione didn't know, but at last she stood, scooping the things that had fallen out of the purse back into it.
She searched for the phone, which she had knocked from her father's bedside table. She found it wedged between the table and the bed. She quickly righted it and lifted the phone to her ear, figuring she would have the operator connect her to an airline, and book their tickets at once. The phone, however, was dead.
"No!" Hermione groaned. She rushed back to her room where Ginny continued to gaze vacantly out onto the silent, moonlit street, and lifted her phone to her ear. It too was dead. Hermione slumped onto her bed, resisting the urge to hurl the phone across the room.
Instead she took a deep breath and said, "We have money, now, Ginny. We can get out of here as soon as I can buy us the tickets."
Ginny, predictably, did not respond. She was nearly impossible to see now in the gloom of evening. Wondering why the streetlight outside still had not come on, Hermione took a shuddering breath and looked outside to the darkness. Not a single window in any of the houses on her street were glowing with light. There were no cars in the drives, no movement at all.
Hermione suppressed a sudden chill. Things were definitely not right in the world. Was there more that Ron hadn't been telling her? It was as if the entire world had gone away, or died.
Ginny pressed her face against the window, going very still. Hermione forced herself to look in the direction of Ginny's intense stare. Prowling down the middle of the street in the full moonlight was a pack of werewolves. Ginny whimpered, pulling away from the window.
The leader of the pack lifted its snout to the sky and paused. Very slowly, Hermione swallowed, not daring to move a muscle. Inside, she was screaming. Werewolves roaming Muggle streets! What else hadn't Ron told her? Her mind traveled to the locked doors and windows downstairs. They would do nothing to stop a werewolf from forcing its way in.
The lead werewolf let out a soft howl, and Hermione felt her legs start to shake as the pack answered. The sound was unearthly and terrifying. Then, the lead wolf lowered his nose to the ground and continued down the street at a leisurely trot. Not trusting the wolf's casual indifference, Hermione remained frozen in place, following their progress with her eyes.
When the pack had moved beyond her line of sight, Hermione eased back from the window, dead phone still in her hand. Mechanically, she replaced it beside her bed, her brain working overdrive. Making sure she had her mother's purse secured firmly around her neck, she knelt next to Ginny, grabbing the other girl's cold hand.
"Time to go, Ginny," she whispered, pulling her to her feet.
Ginny stood obediently, and just as a mighty crash sounded on the ground floor, Hermione threw her arms around her, and took a deliberate step forward while thinking of her parents' vacation house. She spun on her heel, praying with all her might that there were no anti-Disapparation wards in place. The squeezing blackness of Apparation had never felt so welcome.
Hermione and Ginny landed in a heap on the gravel drive outside her parents' summer cottage. Helping Ginny to her feet, Hermione surveyed the area for signs of danger. As summer was over – had never really come, actually – it looked like most of the vacationers had left for the season. Here and there, up and down the street, Hermione spotted a stray lit window.
Hermione pushed Ginny into the cottage, throwing the door closed behind them, and locking it. Then she cast the strongest wards she knew, which with Ginny's wand, were rather weak.
"Come on, Ginny," Hermione whispered, urging Ginny along. With the other girl's presence, searching the house took doubly long, but Hermione couldn't bear the idea of being alone, even for a moment. They walked through the house, turning on every light they came across, until the house was blazing with light. Finally satisfied that they were alone in the cottage, Hermione returned to the main room and picked up the phone.
She thought she might cry when she heard dial tone on the other end.
Halfheartedly eating soup from a tin, Hermione flipped through the television channels, looking for information. Next to her on the couch, Ginny stared at the television, her attention focused entirely on the moving images.
Finally, Hermione found a newscast.
"Rolling power outages continue to affect large portions of the country, and officials are at a loss to explain the cause. Randy Rico reports."
The reporter, a grimfaced balding man, stood in a darkened neighborhood, detailing the blackouts. He looked around nervously several times before there was a loud snarl, a flash of grey fur, a terrified shriek, and then picture abruptly cut back to the newsroom.
The woman behind the desk froze for a long moment, looking horrified, before the cameras panned to her co-anchor, a man who looked only slightly less shocked. He sat in silence for a moment before clearing his throat and continuing with the report.
"We appear to be experiencing technical difficulties. We'll get back to Randy in just a little bit," the man said, his voice shaking. He shuffled the papers in front of him, searching for a story. "In other news, wild dogs continue to ravage the countryside, leaving behind a brutal trail of carnage. These animals travel in packs at night, and it is highly recommended that you stay inside at night. Diane?"
The camera swung back to the woman, who looked slightly ill. "Thank you, Jim. Scientists are unable to explain the odd weather that has plagued the region for several months now. Chris Johnson reports."
A taped segment began to play, and Hermione sat back, her appetite gone.
As the news program continued, Hermione learned that authorities were unable to explain the abrupt rise in violent crime, homicides, missing persons, and arsons. The final credits rolled, and Hermione handed the remote to Ginny, who stared at it blankly.
"You push the buttons," Hermione explained, demonstrating. Ginny brought her eyes up to Hermione's face.
"We're in Hell," Ginny said.
"Yes, we are," Hermione agreed. "But we'll be out of here in two days."
Ginny just blinked.
"I couldn't get tickets for any sooner than that, Ginny, I'm sorry."
"I'm dead."
Hermione grabbed Ginny's shoulders, terrified by this fresh bout of semi-lucidity. She tried not to think about the other girl's earlier coherence. "You are not dead. Neither am I."
Ginny looked mildly frustrated. "I don't feel," she said haltingly. "There's nothing there."
Hermione clenched her teeth, the urge to tell Ginny how lucky she was that she couldn't feel right now on the tip of her tongue. She said nothing, instead, and Ginny lapsed back into silence.
"Why can't I feel if I'm not dead?" Ginny asked suddenly, turning to stare at the television again.
"Because you were hit with a spell," Hermione explained.
Ginny pushed a button on the remote, changing the channel. Hermione waited, seeing if Ginny would say anything else, but she remained mute.
Eventually, Ginny drifted to sleep, her finger still on the button to change the channel, and Hermione took the remote from her slack hand and covered her with a blanket. Wrapping herself in another blanket, Hermione curled up at the other end of the couch, exhausted but unable to sleep.
Sometime between crying for Harry and crying for Ron, she slipped into an uneasy slumber.
When Hermione woke in the morning, she suffered from a moment of extreme disorientation. She stretched slowly, her muscles aching from her cramped sleeping position, and opened her eyes. Every light in the room was still blazing, holding back the early morning's grey light. The television was blinking in test pattern, and Ginny was nowhere to be seen.
Hermione sat up, throwing the blanket off. "Ginny?" she called, bolting to her feet. There was no answering call, not that she expected any. The only sound she heard was the pounding of her heartbeat.
"Ginny?" she whispered, feeling very frightened and alone. She set out to search the cottage for the absent girl. With each empty room she encountered, she grew more panicked and terrified. On the first floor, she paused when she felt a breeze. She hurried down the short hall and rushed into the bedroom that had been the guest room and spotted the open window.
Her breath catching in her throat, Hermione lurched forward, looking out the window. Ginny sat on the roof beyond, staring at the distant lakeshore barely visible in the predawn murkiness. Her body shaking like a leaf, Hermione started out the window. "Ginny!" she said, "What are you doing out here?"
Ginny remained unmoving, and Hermione glanced around, looking for fresh danger. Seeing nothing unusual in the early morning gloom, she sat next to Ginny, who looked over at her sluggishly. Hermione was startled by the look of grief on the younger girl's face.
"I can feel today," she informed Hermione quietly.
"I'm sorry."
"It's gone," Ginny stated, turning to look back out at the lake in the distance.
"I know."
"Everyone is dead."
Hermione opened her mouth to object, but then Ginny added, "Except you and me."
"Yes," Hermione agreed. "We're still alive."
"What for?"
Unprepared for the despair in Ginny's voice, Hermione felt tears spring to her eyes. That was a good question.
"You should come back inside, Ginny. It isn't safe out here."
"It isn't safe anywhere."
Hermione couldn't disagree with that statement, and shivered slightly. "Please," she requested softly. "Because you're all I've got left, and I want you to come back inside."
Ginny shuddered slightly, and she seemed to wilt. "Alright," she conceded, docile once more. She followed Hermione back through the window and drifted out of the room as Hermione shut the window quickly, pulling the curtains closed.
Chilled by the contrary weather, Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and stared through a crack in the curtains at the smudged shoreline of the lake. She remembered spending many summers here as a young girl, frolicking in the shallow waters at the edge of the lake, cautious not to venture out so far that her feet could no longer touch the bottom. She remembered smiles and laughter as if they were from a different lifetime.
She took a deep breath and pushed the melancholy thoughts from her mind. They only needed to survive one more day here and then they would be on their way to Australia, where there was shallow waters to be explored, shorelines on which to frolic, and perhaps smiles and laughter to be had. For as long as it lasted.
Downstairs, she heard the television as Ginny changed channels. She tore her eyes away from the window and headed back downstairs. They only needed to survive one day.
Hermione jerked awake. She hadn't meant to fall asleep, but the quiet hum of the television and warmth of Ginny's body pressed up against her side had lulled her to sleep. She didn't move at first, not wanting to disturb Ginny, who appeared to be asleep. She blinked, gingerly shifting to check her watch, and saw that it was a little bit after lunchtime.
A strange sense of vertigo made her head swim, and she closed her eyes for a long moment, trying to stop her head from spinning. They were so close. They'd be on their way to the airport in twenty-four hours, on their way away from this ruined life.
Hermione shifted again as the vertigo eased. She felt uneasy, but she supposed it was just anxiety and anticipation to leave this place behind. Then, with dawning comprehension, she fixed her eyes on the television, which had been on when she'd fallen asleep. As had the table lamp next to the sofa on which she and Ginny were curled together. Feeling mounting dread, Hermione snatched up the phone from where it lay nestled in the folds of their blanket, and turned it on. There was no dial tone.
Feeling sick to her stomach, Hermione let the phone slide from her grasp. The sound of it hitting the floor roused Ginny, and she opened her eyes, turning to regard Hermione in silence. Elsewhere in the cottage, Hermione heard the nearly inaudible click of the lock on the back door disengaging.
On her feet at once, Hermione pulled Ginny up with her, motioning for her to stay silent. At that moment, a quiet squeak sounded as the front door eased open. Escape from the ground floor was out. Knowing it was useless to try, Hermione grabbed Ginny and attempted to Disapparate, but as she'd known there would be, there were wards up preventing that sort of escape, as well.
Soundlessly, Hermione rushed for the stairs going up to the bedrooms, dragging Ginny behind her. They returned to the spare bedroom, where Hermione yanked back the curtains and opened the window. Ushering Ginny out, she double checked that her mother's wallet was still tucked away in her pocket, along with Ginny's falsified documents. Then, climbing out onto the roof herself, she hissed to Ginny, "Go, we'll have to climb down."
Ginny nodded wordlessly, her face bloodless. Hermione slunk around the corner of the roof, surveying the empty back garden. Satisfied that they wouldn't be ambushed the moment they hit the ground, she whispered to Ginny, "It isn't a far jump from here. Try to land on your back and the bushes should catch you."
With wild eyes, Ginny nodded again, and without further ado, flung herself from the roof. Hermione waited only long enough to make sure that Ginny was out of the way before she followed. Then, wrapping her hand around Ginny's ice cold fingers, she led the way around the side of the house, staying beneath the windows. They darted across the open lawn between houses, moving quickly and quietly, and then ducked down behind the neighbor's slightly overgrown bushes.
Barely breathing, Hermione paused, wondering if she'd be able to make a functioning portkey with Ginny's wand without drawing attention to themselves. She fumbled on the ground, looking for a stone or a bit of windswept rubbish to use, when a face suddenly thrust its way through the shrubs.
"Boo!" the man yelled, and Hermione yelped, falling backwards. Ginny exhaled soundlessly, scrambling away from the leering, laughing man.
Struggling to her feet, Hermione grabbed Ginny around the waist and yanked her up. "GO!" she instructed, already turning to face their attacker.
But he was gone.
Her heart thundering in her chest, Hermione took off after Ginny, overtaking her quickly and dragging her along as they weaved in between houses and trees. At every new house, Hermione would pause and attempt to Disapparate, but the boundaries of the anti-Disaparation wards seemed to go on forever.
As Hermione stopped again for another attempt, a spell crashed into the house next to her head, and she ducked, swearing.
"I didn't have to miss!" a taunting voice called. "Really, you're making this far too easy."
Then Hermione caught the flash of a black robe as a figure darted between the shadows of nearby trees, and she sent the most powerful Reductor Curse she could manage with Ginny's wand. The trees reduced to splinters and Hermione yanked Ginny along as they fled.
"Not so fast!" a new voice called, sending a spell cutting through the thin air in front of them.
Hermione stumbled to a halt and Ginny collided with her. Changing directions, Hermione plowed blindly through a hedge, and Ginny, panting, followed. Running as fast as she could manage with the still weakened girl, Hermione headed for the lake. Ginny sagged against her.
"No!" Hermione shouted at her. "Don't you give up yet!"
"I can't, I can't," Ginny gasped, struggling to run on.
A volley of spells left the ground in front of them covered in black scorch marks, and Hermione dove for the protection of a house with its shutters closed for the season. Supporting half of Ginny's weight, Hermione stumbled around the corner of the house, attempting to Disapparate once more. When nothing happened, she swallowed the hopeless tears she felt threatening to overtake her.
"Nowhere to run to, ickle Mudblood," a sing-song voice called out playfully, and Ginny shuddered next to her in recognition. Hermione closed her eyes briefly, knowing Bellatrix Lestrange's voice anywhere.
"Fuck you, you psychotic bitch!" Hermione screamed back.
"That's not nice!" Bellatrix hissed, sounding closer.
Hermione bolted for the next house in the row, but three powerful red curses drove her back. She turned to run the other way, and again was stopped by a volley of curses that fell just short of her feet.
They were toying with her, feeding off her fear.
Realizing they were cornered, Hermione choked back a sob and tightened her grip on Ginny's hand. Braving the spellfire again, she rushed around the corner of the house, blasting open the front door. Ginny darted into the house, and Hermione followed, trying to conjure as many wards as she could while on the run. She felt the wards falling, one by one, nearly as quickly as she cast them. She followed Ginny up the stairs, and they barricaded themselves in one of the bedrooms. Hermione cast a series of locking and reinforcing charms on the door before piling as much of the furniture as she could levitate in front of the door.
The Death Eaters entered the house downstairs. Hermione could hear them calling out taunts to their cornered prey as they ransacked each room. Ginny sagged against the wall, sliding down in the corner. She was weeping freely.
Scanning the discarded bedroom implements now scattered on the floor, Hermione spied a long handled hairbrush, and she snatched it up. Concentrating on the wand movements, she tapped the hairbrush, saying, "Portus."
The hairbrush gave a lurch and then disintegrated into a pile of black goo.
Tears streaming down her face, Hermione tried again and again to create a portkey, and failed over and over. The noise on the other side of the bedroom door grew in volume as the Death Eaters ascended the stairs. She ran to the nearest window and shoved open the shutters, looking down wildly. A ring of black robed figures surrounded the house.
This was it, then. Their last stand.
"They've got us," Hermione said numbly, turning back to Ginny.
Ginny looked over at her, terror written plainly on her gaunt, tear streaked face. "Don't let them kill me," she whispered, her voice a thin, high squeak.
Hermione felt her heart clench. It wouldn't be death for her and Ginny, at least, not right away. First there would be torture, and probably rape, some more vigorous torture, and then there would be death, if God was merciful. Hermione shook her head quickly. "I won't," she promised Ginny.
Ginny nodded, her eyes wide, and huddled down in the corner, trying to make herself small. The noise beyond the door grew louder, and the barricade showed signs of buckling. It would be any moment now. Hermione knew there was no way she'd be able to fend off the small army of Death Eaters on just the other side of the door.
Hermione knelt next to Ginny, placing her hands on the younger girl's frail shoulders. "Ginny," she said, her voice cracking, "I love you."
Ginny continued to weep quietly, sobs shaking her body. "I love you, too," she choked out.
"I'm sorry," Hermione rasped, feeling her heart racing rapidly in her chest, trying to escape the finality of their fate.
Hermione quickly hugged Ginny and let go as the door cracked loudly. She jumped to her feet and raised Ginny's wand, her hand trembling.
Ginny took a deep breath and nodded in understanding. She closed her eyes.
"Avada Kedavra!" Hermione said firmly. Ginny's eyes rolled heavenward as the curse sank into her body, and then she slumped against the wall, still.
Hermione let out a choked sob.
She was alone.
Everyone else was dead or gone. Her parents would go on living in Australia; they'd never mourn for the daughter they didn't know they had. Remus and Teddy would make a life somewhere else the best they could; maybe they would mourn for her. And the world would sink into Darkness little by little, but she wouldn't be there to see it. She raised the wand again, mentally preparing herself.
With one last groaning protest, the door blew open in a shower of splinters and lumber. Hermione had just enough time to glimpse Bellatrix Lestrange standing on the other side of the destroyed door before she tightened her grip on her wand and said once more, "Avada Kedavra!"
And for just a split second before the Killing Curse stole her breath and dimmed her eyes, Hermione felt hope.
And then…
fin