2 May 1998
He briefly suspired
His gaze was full of compassion for that young man
He could understand what that boy was feeling
In that very moment
He could not blame him.
«You must fight for your living, not for your death. Remember it.»
- After The Battle, Before The War, IceInMyBrightBlueEyes
Story dedicated to Sunny Lea for her birthday.
Exhaustion. Not just the type where you could do with a sleep in, the type where you're weary to your very bones, head pounding and eyes dry. Hermione has spent a lot of time exhausted in the last year, but not like this.
She greets the string of Dumbledore's Army and Order members making their way into Hogwarts through Hogs Head. Hustle through the younger students, heart clenching as the castle shakes with the force of Dark magic hitting the ancient warding.
Pansy Parkinson sneers at her as she passes her to escape through the secret passage, the effect rather ruined by her drawn, worried expression.
Percy Weasley, weary and determined, stumbles through the portrait hole and right into a contingency of his entire family. Oliver Wood climbs through after him, noticed only by Hermione in the chaos.
They catch eyes, a strained smile between old friends, pale with fear and exhaustion. A salute and a good luck lass whispered in her ear.
Chaos. Spells fly. Duck, weave, roll. Now run. Shoot a spell backwards, but don't pause. Run like your life depends on it – it probably does.
Cold. The frozen wasteland of the Chamber of Secrets. Not really frozen, but the temperature makes the breath on her lips hang in the air for a moment. Climb the rib cage and into the skeletal mouth of the Basilisk. Wrench out fangs, careful not to injure themselves - that spells certain death.
The Horcrux assures her that no one will live through the night. She spits in the face of Tom Riddle's warped soul and drives the fang into the Cup. A scream, terrible and cold, rends the air in the Chamber.
Heart-stopping fear. Draco Malfoy, terror in his eyes, tries to hold back the cronies no longer at his beck and call. Cowardly. Disdain for the young man who made her unwelcome in the Wizarding world. Terror; hot flames of terror, rushing through the aisles of hidden things with Fiendfyre lapping at their heels.
Heartbreak. Fred is falling, seemingly in slow motion, the ghost of a smile on his face. Percy roars with grief, George falls to his knees. Remus and Tonks, side by side. Tears prick in her eyes, swiped viciously aside – there was no time for that.
Horror. Harry's body tumbles lifeless from Hagrid's arms. No, it can't be. Voldemort's maniacal grin at Professor McGonagall's scream.
A beat of silence.
"He beat you," shouts Ron and the spell breaks, unable to hold back the swell of grief and fury.
Neville, so brave, burning a path forward, heedless of the consequences. Neville, "I'll join you when hell freezes over!". Dumbledore's Army, the Order, Hermione and Ron side by side with tears in their eyes breaking through the silencing spell to roar their support. Nagini's head flying through the air and landing with a sickening thud, Voldemort's scream of fury enough to freeze hearts.
And then pandemonium. Duck, weave. Bellatrix gives no mercy. Luna barely dodges a slashed curse. Ginny misses death by an inch and as the green light fades, Bellatrix is turning to face Hermione, eager to finish the job started at Malfoy Manor.
"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!" and Mrs. Weasley surges forward, wand aloft. She fights to kill, a terrifying duelist rallying against a woman who knows only the cruelty of her own heart. Stand and watch, her heart in her throat. Bellatrix gloats a final time, the last of her humanity leaching out as she collapses.
Her blood freezes, not quite believing her eyes as Harry and Voldemort circle each other, not quite daring to breathe until Tom Riddle falls to the ground, mortal once more.
The end of the battle feels like a dull ache in her chest. They have won the war but lost so many battles. So many people.
She digs the heel of her hand into her eyes, rubbing away the tears, the exhaustion. She leaned into Ron, a dry sob on her lips and cast an eye around the hall.
Lavender would survive, her arms, throat, and torso sporting vicious scars, her face mercifully untouched. She is sitting with Dennis Creevey, who had somehow snuck back into the castle, next to the body of Colin. She is silent as someone tends to her wounds, but her hand sits on Dennis's shoulder as he cries openly.
Andromeda Tonks sits on her haunches with tears streaming down her face, Teddy Lupin firmly wrapped in a carrier across her chest, asleep. His parents also look as though they were sleeping peacefully, their hands entwined.
The Malfoy's have retreated to a corner, utterly defeated, except Narcissa who approaches Andromeda. Andromeda looks torn between fury and anguish, but when Narcissa sinks to her knees beside her sister they embrace.
Students, too young to fight, really, war torn and weary, help lay bodies in a neat row. The Weasleys huddle together and Ron shoots her an apologetic glance as he breaks away to join them.
And then she sees Oliver enter the hall, limping badly. She doesn't know what has overcome her, but she is filled with indescribable relief at the sight of the man who had been one of the first to stand up to the Slytherins on her behalf.
She finds herself running, unheeding of the fatigue plaguing every limb, hair streaming out behind her.
"Oliver!" she calls, "Oliver Wood!"
She doesn't care that people are openly staring, she doesn't care that tears begin to stream down her cheeks. She hadn't even realised how much she valued her friend until she could have lost him altogether.
Oliver smiles widely, a spot of sunshine in the darkness and opens his arms wide as she rushes into them and embraces him fiercely.
"Are ye okay lassie?" he asks, holding her tightly as she sobs into his chest.
"I-" she hiccups, and then fortifies herself with a breath, "I was so worried."
"It's alrecht now. Tha worst o' it is over." His broad accent and warm voice is comforting and she lets herself breathe a little deeper.
Ron is standing beside Harry across the hall, bemused, "I didn't know she knew Wood."
Harry shrugged, "He railed on Parkinson and Bulstrode a couple of times for picking on her, before the troll incident."
"They stayed in contact?"
"I don't know, Ron," said Harry dully. "But Hermione doesn't have anyone else to run to right now."
Ron looks chagrinned and Harry remembers at his first team Quidditch practise when Wood pulled him aside and gave him a dressing down about looking after Hermione Granger.
As Ron returns to his family and dozens of people start approaching Harry, he is grateful that Hermione has someone to grieve with while her two best friends are dealing with their own problems.
