"In a career of loony ideas, this is the bloody looniest." Ron looked dubiously at the red-and-gold knit cap.
"It'll be fine, Ron." Hermione straightened his collar. "Professor McGonagall herself helped me with the incantations. It should protect Harry from pretty much any Unforgivable Curse."
Ron frowned. The cap had the felt letters "UC", partially covered by one of those no-smoking circles with a diagonal bar. "Well, then, why doesn't Harry wear it for its first test?"
"Because you don't know any Curses, Ron," said Harry. "Besides, AK doesn't work on me anyway."
"Look, there's got to be a way to practice defending against Unforgivables without actually having them cast at you!"
"Tell you what, Ron. I'll only whisper it."
"Brilliant. I'll only be horribly maimed, then." Still frowning, Ron pulled the hat over his thick red hair.
Hermione went over to Harry, and straightened his shirt - there! Damn, Harry had just copped a feel while Hermione's back was turned to Ron, and she didn't protest or anything. Actually, she leaned a little closer. Ron scowled. He'd had designs on Hermione since fourth year - she'd been a great friend up to that point, but then suddenly there were tits involved - and she'd carefully avoided making a public choice between him and Harry, but he'd seen the, er, lay of things for awhile now.
You sure they're not trying to off you, mate? Get you out of the way? "Oh my goodness, what a horrible accident! We'll never forgive ourselves [snog snog snog], never [snog snog] never [snog snog snog shag shag shaggity shag shag snog] never!"
Nah. That couldn't be it. Hermione couldn't have possibly lied about such a thing - not that she was incredibly honest, she was just a lousy liar.
"Ready, Ron?" Harry was loosening up his wand arm, while Hermione got out of the way of any stray magic.
Ron shrugged. "Fred and George get my remains. They want a skeleton for the foyer of their shop."
"RONald!" Hermione's tone was exasperated, but she could not quite hide a note of real fear.
"It really will be all right, Ron." Harry's expression grew serious. "I wouldn't do this if I thought there was a chance of really hurting you."
That actually made Ron more afraid. He gulped it down. "This is the stupidest bloody thing I've ever done."
Harry pressed his lips together. Balancing back on his left foot, he held the wand close to his body, then suddenly sprang forward. "Avada Kedavra!"
Oh, shit, he said he was gonna whisper it -
A bolt of sickly greenish light shot from Harry's wand, hit something less than a millimetre in front of Ron's face, and bounced directly back to its source. Harry flew backwards as if kicked by a mule, landed hard and did not move.
"HARRY!"
Through a million gradually fading flashes, Ron saw that Hermione was already almost to Harry. His head buzzed like a jar full of angry bees as heard over an old radio with a rip in the speaker, and he didn't have the strength to hold an opinion. Somehow he staggered to Hermione's side, where she had already gone beyond the pleading stage and was at the shaking-Harry-by-his-lapels-screaming-"Get-up!-Don't-you-do-this-to-me!-Get-up!" stage. "Harry?"
"NO! NO!" Hermione shouted at the wide-eyed, open-mouthed body, . "Stupid son of a bitch, you only kissed me for the first time this morning!"
"Wha- he kissed you!" Ron exploded. "You kissed him?"
"What does that have to do with fucking anything?" shrieked Hermione. "Harry's -"
"Harry! What about me!"
"NOT NOW, RONALD -"
The air abruptly grew colder, and very dry. Hermione's frizzy hair started to fly up around her face, and Ron's never-particularly-moisturized skin started to flake around his eyebrows.
Ron and Hermione spun around at a sound like a troll trying to get a pineapple through a soda straw. Only about twenty feet away and just above eye level, a shimmering purplish vortex was forming. It roiled and swirled and spat lightning.
"Quick!" shouted Hermione, grabbing Harry's left wrist. Ron got his right, and they dragged The Boy Who Apparently Didn't Live Any Longer behind the shell of Mr. Weasley's latest Muggle vehicle.
The vortex opened, and through it stepped Lord Voldemort, all regal and evil and terrifying in his expensive black-and-red villain's robes. He stepped forward, and nearly pancaked face-first on the Weasley lawn. He stopped just a half-foot short of the ground, hovering above a mud puddle. "MALFOY!" he hissed. "I told you ground-level!"
"Sorry, Dread Lord." Lucius Malfoy, still wearing the same faux Oscar Wilde outfit he'd worn every time Ron and Hermione had seen him, dropped to the ground from the vortex. "I fear I didn't take into account the prevailing southwest wind."
"Didn't you." Voldemort had righted himself, standing beside the puddle. He looked around menacingly. "And where is Severus?"
"Right here, my Lord." Snape emerged from the vortex, carefully climbing down.
"You're sure Potter is here?"
"Perfectly, my Lord. He and his little friends, Weasley and Granger were planning a 'holiday'. What I believe the Muggles call a 'hero sandwich'."
Hermione flushed scarlet.
"All right, then. Find them and bring them to me, alive and unharmed. Kill anyone else who gets in your way."
Ron and Hermione scootched down behind the car. "Fuck!" said Ron as loudly as he dared, which wasn't very. "That's - that's You-Know-Who! What're we going to do?"
"Die, probably!" Hermione hissed back. "You remember the Prophecy - Voldemort can only be killed by Harry."
"Or Harry by him! So what's up with this, then?"
"I don't know, I don't know! Maybe it's because Harry cast it, and Harry's power is Voldemort's power, or something! We've got to -"
"There, my Lord!"
"Excellent, Malfoy." Floating a few inches above the ground, Lord Voldemort came around the far side of the car and grinned down at them.
"Oh, shit," whispered Hermione. Then, more loudly, "Apparat Trio Stabulum!"
They only heard the beginning of Voldemort's cry of rage before they vanished.
They reappeared inside the Weasleys' shed. Ron sprinted to bar the door, while Hermione tore Harry's shirt open.
Ron raced back, skidding the last few feet in the loose hay on the floor. "How is he?"
"Nothing! There's nothing, no heartbeat, no breath, no blinking, nothing!" She turned to Ron at last, and the pain and loss in her eyes was horrible. "He's dead, Ron, he's really dead!"
"Shit! Oh, shit! What are we going to do?"
"I- I don't know! We've got to -
"What d'you mean, 'you don't know'? You're the one who's always got the plan!"
"Yes, and it's always contingent on Harry being fucking alive! I haven't got a Dead!Harry-kills-Voldemort plan."
Ron straightened abruptly. He glanced around the barn, and focused on the far wall, with all the tools. "Well, I do."
"... so it must be the shed, you see, my Lord, because 'stabulum' means barn, or other storage -"
"I know what it means, you idiot!" Voldemort looked around. "You're sure Severus went this way?"
"Positive, dread Lord."
"Then he apparently translated it correctly. You thought they were hiding under a table in a treehouse." Voldemort tested the door. Blocked. He pulled his wand. "The Weasleys don't even have -"
There was a thud on the other side, and then the shed door creaked open.
Voldemort and Malfoy entered cautiously. "Where are you, young Potter?" said Voldemort.
"Snape?" called Malfoy.
Something large dropped from the rafters. Voldemort and Malfoy stepped back, startled. It was Snape, a pipe wrench sheathed forcibly in his skull. His corpse was bound to a chair, hung from the highest beam. A note was pinned to his robes: Now I have a collection of nasty potions. Ho ho ho.
"What fresh hell...?" Voldemort began, but he was interrupted by a bellow from the shadows.
"You-Kn- VOLDEMORT! You want to play? Come on, then!"
"Potter," hissed Voldemort. He started towards the voice.
"Potter?" muttered Malfoy. "Noooo... something isn't -"
"I'd say 'Give me your best shot', but you haven't got one, you lame poser!" Now Voldemort saw the figure of a young man wearing glasses and an oddly-out-of-season wool cap, and holding a wand - somewhat awkwardly. Then, from behind him, Weasley and Granger came out on either side, looking less frightened than Voldemort liked.
"My 'best' is more than enough for you, Potter. This ends now." Voldemort raised his wand. "Avada Kedavra!"
The flash of greenish light hit Harry, bounced back, and Voldemort was dead before he hit the floor.
Malfoy gaped, then raised his wand. "Avada -"
Hermione ducked behind Harry, while Ron grabbed the wool cap and quickly pulled it on.
"- Kedavra!"
It would take the mortician six days to remove the look of realization that there is no justice in the universe from Malfoy's face.
Ron and Hermione staggered forward, staring at their fallen enemies. Then they suddenly fell into each other's arms, both crying. "Oh, Ron!" Hermione sobbed, and Ron caught her chin in his fingertips and kissed her fiercely. They kissed again, and again, and again.
And Harry coughed.
Ron and Hermione both jumped, then ran to his side. "Harry!" Hermione cried joyfully.
"You're alive, mate!" laughed Ron. "But how?"
"How the hell should I know?" Harry looked weak but stable. "I was lobbing a curse at you, next thing I know you're kissing my girlfriend!"
"She was kissing back!"
"You must not have been really dead." Hermione kissed Harry. "Maybe you really are resistant to AK, or you just can't kill yourself with it, or something. Maybe because it was bounced back from Ron, and since Ron wasn't Voldemort he couldn't kill you. I'll research it."
"Not yet, you won't." Ron grabbed Hermione's arm, not angry but worried and scared. "You just gave me the best kiss of my life!"
"Wait just a minute!" Harry had her other arm. "Hermione, you know I - if you really - no, dammit, I want you!"
"You had your chance, Potter, and then you bleeding died -"
"C'mere, Ron, I'll show you what it's like -"
"Boys." Hermione's sharp but decidedly warm voice cut them both off. "We have a few things that must be done. We must tell your parents immediately, Ron, and your father will report this to the proper authorities. We all need to clean up a bit. Then we can discuss this... situation. Over lunch."
"Lunch?" said Ron in consternation. "How can you think of bloody lunch at a time like this?"
"Well, a lot has gone on this morning, and I'm feeling a bit peckish." She pulled both of them closer. "Anyone for... a sandwich?"
"Sandwich?" said Harry, completely lost.
"Say 'yes', Harry," said Ron, the light dawning. "Trust me on this. Just say 'yes'."