Author's Note: Just note that this story will not be follow canon, so events that occur might diverge from what's presented in canon. Also thank you for all the favorites and follows! Enjoy. Also, I am aware that Bathilda wouldn't be able to talk to them when Hermione was there but for the sake of this story, she somehow can though some dark magic.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, all rights go to JK Rowling. I only own the plot for this story.
The following morning, Harry was on his shift, watching out for any death eaters or any other potentially dangerous situations. The sun was shining bright for a morning that he would have to guess to be a morning in December. There were little specks of white dotting the evergreen leaves that were melting under the heat of the warm sun. Although the sun shown brightly, a breeze had manifested, causing Harry to curl up into himself as he sat on the gravelly rock. He sat there for a couple of minutes just taking in the sun, forgetting for just a little while that the fate of the world was planted squarely on his shoulders.
He heard the sound of rock crunching underneath a pair of feet and instinctively drew his wand, turning to the source of the noise as he stood. Instead of a death eater, he found Hermione with a small smile of amusement on her face. Her hair was an utter mess, sticking out in odd places. But what really struck Harry was her eyes. For the first time in the two weeks that Ron had left, they weren't red and or swollen. They looked, well, normal.
"Hey, it's just me." She stepped closer to him as he put his wand down and Harry realized that she really was too skinny. Her clothes now looked quite big on her, reminding him of a time when he looked quite a lot like she did now.
"Hermione," she looked at him again as he spoke. "Have you been eating much lately?"
Hermione had stopped moving now and was still. "Well, I don't think either of us has eaten much in the past few months Harry." There was no bitterness in her tone as her tone was light, jokingly even, trying to avoid answering the question clearly. He eyed her again and she could see her shoulders droop as she realized that she wasn't as convincing as she had hoped. "Look Harry, I'm fine, really." She looked up again, plastering a soft smile on her face pleading with him to drop the subject.
Harry sighed and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Just, eat a little more okay? Ron's not here at the moment so you and I can share a bit more food between the two of us." She winced a little upon hearing the mention of Ron's name, but she agreed, nodding her head slowly. Her shoulders were now less tense as she moved to sit down next to him on the blanket that had been set up for when one of them was keeping watch.
A silence had enveloped them as they stared out into the vast, white forest. The silence wasn't thick and uncomfortable like it had been for the past year. No, now it was as soft and welcoming as the snow falling on each other's shoulders.
"Seems like December don't you think?," Hermione spoke after a while, echoing Harry's thoughts from earlier.
"Yeah, I reckoned from the snow." Harry looked out at the trees not far ahead. "Hermione," he said, turning her attention from the scenery, "I want to go to Godric's Hollow."
"Harry, I don't think that's the best idea. I expect—," she paused suddenly, remembering the taboo cast on the Dark Lord's name. She cleared her throat a bit before continuing, "—You-Know-Who would find you going to visit Godric's Hollow a bit predictable." The worry in her eyes and voice instantly shown through, giving Harry a warm feeling, realizing suddenly the extent of her care for him.
"Hermione, I know. I just-I need to go. At least once." She still had doubt etched on her face, the worry clearly still present in her features. "We can use polyjuice potion, you know, to disguise ourselves. Please Hermione, I need to see them at least once. And besides, You-Know-Who could have hidden a horcrux there too."
She looked contemplative for a while, and Harry couldn't help but notice the way she bit her lip and scrunched her eyebrows together as she thought. I quite reminded him of the times they had spent in the library over the years, either studying or searching for answers. "Okay, I know it means a lot to you and we can take safety precautions," she spoke after a few minutes of silence, a small smile gracing her face.
Harry's face lit up and he suddenly reached out to hug her, pulling her tightly to him. Hermione was caught off-guard at first but quickly reciprocated the hug. It was usually Hermione who initiated any form of contact in their seven years of friendship, so it was odd for both when Harry had done what he'd done. As Hermione pulled away, Harry wondered what had compelled him to do such a thing, but he couldn't quite place the reason.
"You should get some more sleep, I'll keep watch."
Hermione was reluctant to leave Harry's company at first but soon her tiredness had caught up to her. Saying a quick goodbye to Harry, she retreated back to the tent, leaving Harry to his thoughts.
Due to Hermione's brilliant thinking, Harry and Hermione were able to successfully concoct a polyjuice potion within the next week. They had used the ingredients Hermione had brought along, and took hairs from a middle-aged muggle couple when the potion was ready. It was quite easy making the potion this time around; Hermione had become a very skilled potion maker, leaving Harry in awe of his best friend's brilliantness once again.
Once they got their affairs in order, they left in the night a week after they'd discussed their plan, apparating under the invisibility cloak. Upon apparition, they landed in soft white snow, causing Hermione to panic slightly. Harry, however, opted that they go without the invisibility cloak seeing as they didn't look like themselves.
Walking around, they heard the sound of bells ringing as they passed a nearby church, and it dawned on Hermione that it was probably Christmas Eve.
The cemetery wasn't hard to find. The graves weren't hard to miss. Upon stepping inside of the cemetery, the two came across a statue, a couple holding a small bundle in their arms. An involuntary gasp left Hermione's lips when she realized who was being the depicted in the statue. She could feel Harry stiffen next to her, so she took his left hand gingerly, giving it a small squeeze.
Harry, who appreciated the support, flashed her a sad smile before turning back to the statue, reaching out his right hand to touch it. Hermione, deciding to give Harry some privacy, removed her hand carefully from Harry's.
They wandered around the graveyard for a while, finding grave names and symbols that they recognized. Finally Hermione came to a stop in front of a rather large headstone.
"Harry?"
He knew that voice. He knew that she found them. His parents.
Harry walked up to where Hermione slowly, shaking as he moved. This is where his parents are buried. They're right there.
"Hermione, these are my parents." His voice was filled with awe and sadness. Tears stung his eyes and he blinked them rapidly in hopes of willing the tears away.
Hermione crouched down, performing a non verbal spell, a small bouquet of flowers sprouting from it. Harry smiled at her warmly, letting her know that he was thankful.
She took his hand in hers again and Harry felt a sudden comfort in the action. Placing her head on Harry's shoulder they stood in front of the graves for quite some time.
"Harry, we should get going, it'll be midnight soon."
Harry nodded, seemingly at a loss for words. He wrapped his arm around her waist and she did they same.
The snow was still falling softly as they passed through the kissing gate. The church was emitting quiet, Christmas tunes.
They were about to reach the small clearing in which they apparated, when Harry spotted a familiar lady walking down the street.
"Hermione, that's Bathilda Bagshot. Do you reckon Dumbledore left the sword with her?"
"I'm not sure Harry. Is it really wise to reveal ourselves to her? She might not be trustworthy!" A slight crease knitted between Hermione's eyebrows, an action Harry recognized as act of worry and contemplation.
"I talked to her during the wedding. Dumbledore knew her well when he was young."
Hermione stared at the old witch. She was biting her lip again, just like she always did when she was worried. Harry watched her face carefully, watching different emotions flicker through her brown orbs. Finally, after quite a few minutes, a look of acceptance dawned her face.
"Okay, do you want to let her know that it's us or maybe we should pretend that we're lost or-" She was cut off from her rambled whispering when the woman in question approached the pair.
"Hello there, you seem to be lost. Would you like my assistance? If you're cold, you could come into my home for a bit for a cuppa tea." The old lady smiled warmly at Harry and Hermione. Hermione shot a glance at Harry, and he nodded, almost inconceivably.
"Yes, we'd rather like that. We came to see the grave of my great aunt and I'm afraid we lost our way." Hermione lied seamlessly, even Harry almost believed the lie, despite knowing that what she said was indeed false.
Bathilda smiled sweetly at them again before leading them to a small cottage just across from the church. The stone clearing just outside of the building was overflowing with plants and ingrown grass, like it hadn't been tended to in quite some time.
"Come in, come in. It's freezing out there." The minute he stepped foot into the cottage, there was this odd smell, almost like rotten meat. However the cottage looked inviting enough, with pictures lining the hallways and mantles. There were books placed neatly on the small coffee table. But Harry noticed that many were covered in dust, as was the table. Harry did notice that the room over to the right of the living room had papers scattered over the floor and the lamp appeared to be broken.
He hadn't noticed that Bathilda was speaking to him until Hermione gently elbowed him. "Would you be a dear and help me with the tea in the kitchen?" She was smiling at him again, the same smile that she wore earlier. In fact, it looked almost identical. Shaking off the odd feeling, he followed her into the kitchen, giving Hermione's hand a small squeeze before leaving.
When he entered the kitchen, the old witch closed the door. The hinges creaked, sending a chill through Harry. She removed her shawl, revealing a rather gray and thin head of hair. He expected her to begin setting the stove for the tea, but instead she just stood in front of Harry, eyeing him. Harry suddenly felt alarmed and worried, so he drew his wand underneath the thick wool coat, keeping it out of her sight.
Bathilda continued to eye him. There was something about her gaze that made him feel extremely uncomfortable, almost as if she was probing into his thoughts. Finally she spoke. "What's your name?"
There was something different about her tone that made Harry's suspicions rise further. "Ned Dougal." She eyed him once more before suddenly transforming, her body morphing. Her body slowly cracked and fell revealing a large snake, writhing. Harry quickly reacted, whipping out his wand and shooting a stunning spell at the snake. The spelling instead hit the china cabinet causing a loud noise to echo through the kitchen as multiple glasswares broke and shattered. He could hear Hermione yelling for him from the other side of the wooden door, the doorknob seemingly locked and wriggling.
The snake, which Harry had soon identified as Voldemort's snake, Nagini, continued to attack him relentlessly, nearly nipping him once or twice. By the time that Hermione was able to unlock the kitchen door, Nagini had ruined nearly everything in it, and hadn't ceased on her attack on Harry.
Panic rose up within Harry when he saw the door swing open, Hermione now being in the direct fire of danger. "Hermione move! It's Nagini!"The both ran into the living room, Harry gripping her hand tightly, as they both continued to shoot spells of different arrays at the snake. They continue like that, running and shooting spells, Harry and Hermione separating as Nagini got increasingly faster.
Harry stopped running for a second, realizing that Nagini was no longer at his feet, now instead chasing after Hermione. He runs to her but watches in horror as Nagini attacks a large, wooden cabinet, Hermione not moving in time, getting effectively crushed by the cabinet. He doesn't know how fast he runs then, but he knows it's faster than he's ever had before.
As Hermione's frail body gets crushed by the large cabinet he lets out a loud scream of her name, as if that yell would've stopped the cabinet from falling. He reaches her body quicker than he ever had done anything before, his heart beating so loud in his chest it was all his ears could hear.
At that moment he'd forgotten all about the large snake at his heels, instead focusing on the thin legs sticking out from under the large wooden cabinet as shattered glass littered the floor. He fell to his knees, not even feeling the pinpricks of glass that began to dig wounds into covered jeans as he used all his strength to lift the cabinet off of his best friend.
The sight that followed left him completely breathless for multiple seconds as he took in Hermione's body, covered in blood and scars, one large cut of blood present on her forehead.
He almost lost it there. A memory flashed before him. A flash of a spell, a small echo of surprise as she crumpled to the floor. He'd almost lost her then, and with his luck the odds were against him. He wouldn't be so lucky a second time around.
It's that thought that almost causes him to break down—in that living room floor, his hands stained with blood as he placed his hands on her motionless shoulders—because he can't do this alone, especially not without her. He couldn't lose anyone else.
The small sound of a hiss is what snaps him back to reality. That if he didn't move now, he would definitely lose her. And so as the large snake coiled up to send another attack, he grabs her unconscious body by the waist and grips it tightly as he tries hard to think of the small tent that he'd come to associate with all the terrible things that had ever happened to him. He focused on that tent, hoping that this night wouldn't add another tragedy to his life.
When he landed on the familiar tent floor, bloodied and bruised, he made sure to land first, careful not to crush Hermione's already ailing body. He heaved large breathes as he quickly ran over to her bed, carrying Hermione's fragile body and setting her down.
His hand immediately went to her neck feeling for a pulse, something he'd remembered to do from that night in the Ministry. His heart nearly dropped to his toes when all that met his searching fingers were a steady nothingness, no beat—nothing.
His impulse gets the best of him then, and he just breaks down on the side of her bed, his hand in her cold lifeless ones. He just can't take it anymore, life shouldn't be this hard, he shouldn't have to be alone, and now he might finally lose the one person he'd always thought would be by his side.
"Hermione. Hermione, please wake up. Please Hermione, I can't lose you too. Not now. Please," he choked on a sob as his cries of pain dwindled to small hopeless whispers as Hermione showed no signs of life.
In that moment, he grips so tightly to her small hand that he loses all sense of his surroundings, the only thing keeping him from completely losing it being the tiny hand in his, cold, yet still feeling like home. All thoughts of his blood stained face and clothing are lost. All care for the drying blood in his hair are lost. He doesn't even notice the broken wand laying forgotten on the floor.
All he could notice was the feel of her hand in his and the full ache in his chest as he finally felt completely and utterly destroyed.
"Hermione, please," he said so quietly that it was nearly inaudible, a last hopeless cry for help that this wasn't actually happening.
As he lay there, all energy sucked right out of his body, his head against his arm, he still held steadily to her thin, nimble fingers. He hadn't noticed it, the slight movement within his hands, the grief in him was too much to comprehend at that moment. He didn't notice until a small hand reached out and stroked the top of his head, followed by a quiet "Harry?"
That one tiny sound filled him such joy and happiness in that moment that he just wrapped his arms around her thin frame, burying his head into her shoulder as he sobbed. Hermione was caught off guard at the display of affection from her best friend, but the sound of his sobs made her stop.
She'd rarely ever seen him cry—he often dealt with grief through anger and shortness of temper. The sounds of his sobs reminded her of exactly how much he had been through his entire life and it took all her might to wrap her arms around him in an attempt to sooth him.
"What happened Harry?"
His sobs continued on and he choked out, "Y-You, you got crushed by the cabinet and when I checked there was no pulse and I just panicked I thought you were dead a-and I couldn't lose you too Hermione, not now. Not now." His last few words came out in a broken whisper and she just wrapped her arms around him, placing a kiss at his temple.
She absolutely understood where this surge of emotion was coming from. Despite Harry's reluctance to show vulnerability through tears, she saw how everything just piled up on him—Sirius was dead, Ron had left, and the fate of the wizarding world was all in his hands.
But she didn't say a word, because he needed this. He needed the silence. He needed to let it all out. And most of all, he held onto her because he needed to know that he wasn't alone.
And so they lay there, arms wrapped around each other for the second time in the past week, still bloody and bruised. But even though it felt like everything had broken, that everything was wrong, the pieces of something so much stronger were coming together.
Finally found my muse and was able to finish this chapter so I hope you guys liked it! Don't forget to review, it means a lot to me and gives me tons of inspiration :)