Note: This story diverges from book canon at chapter 35 of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. The dialogue in the first part of this chapter is from chapters 34 and 35 of Order of the Phoenix.

— CHAPTER TWO —

Department of Mysteries

"Harry, I don't think you should touch it," Hermione said sharply as Harry extended his hand toward the dusty glass orb. She didn't know what it was, but she had a very bad feeling about it.

She had had a bad feeling about this whole trip to the Ministry, but Harry had ignored her, refusing to consider that his dream might not have been real. Why couldn't he see what she saw: that this was the perfect trap, brilliantly tailored to his weaknesses?

So brilliantly she would have admired the mind behind it, had the target not been her best friend. Oh yes, she had a very bad feeling about this. Harry's saving-people thing was well known to... the other side, as was his attachment to Sirius, if Draco Malfoy's taunts about dogs meant anything. This had trap for Harry Potter written all over it; she could see it from a mile away.

"Why not?" Harry retorted defiantly. "It's something to do with me, isn't it?"

Hadn't Harry read how dangerous it could be to touch strange objects in the wizarding world? Well, actually, he probably hadn't, since he didn't like to read, but he had firsthand experience! Tom Riddle's diary had been a piece of Voldemort. The Triwizard Cup had been a Portkey to Voldemort. This inoffensive-looking glass globe could easily be a Portkey too, or it could be cursed.

This was too much to be a coincidence. Harry had a mental connection to Voldemort, and had spent the year dreaming about this place, and it was specifically here that Sirius was supposed to be held. But there was no sign of Sirius, no sign of a living soul, only this little magical object made specifically for Harry, labelled with his and Voldemort's names... If Voldemort's not involved in this, then I'm not a prefect, Hermione reckoned.

"Don't, Harry," said Neville.

Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Well done, Neville, she thought, hoping Harry would at least listen to Neville, since he felt like ignoring her warnings. Surely Neville speaking up to give advice was unusual enough to catch Harry's attention even at his most stubborn.

But Harry decided, at the worst possible time, to demonstrate the full extent of his stubbornness. "It's got my name on," he said rebelliously, and Hermione held her breath as he put his hand on the glass sphere and lifted it from the shelf.

Call it intuition, but she couldn't say she was surprised by what happened next. Horrified and scared to the point of nausea, but not surprised.

She and the others reluctantly moved closer to Harry to take a better look at the small globe of glass, when something happened that made them jump while Hermione froze, feeling as though all air had left her lungs.

"Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me."

Recognition surged through Hermione's body like electricity, freezing her in place, leaving her breathless.

She knew that voice.

Almost against her will, she turned around to look at the one who had spoken. He was masked and hooded in Death Eater costume, though his tall, haughty stance distinguished him from the other cloaked figures emerging out of thin air. His grey eyes were fixed on Harry, and he was the only one in the black-cloaked group not to have his wand out.

The Death Eaters must have been under an invisibility spell, because Hermione knew for a fact it was impossible to Apparate in magical institutional buildings such as the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts, St Mungo's, and Gringotts Bank. The Ministry's entrance hall, called Atrium, was the only place in the building where Apparition was possible.

Hermione's face turned deathly pale. No longer could she doubt what Harry had been telling everyone since the end of last year. Though she had known Harry had no reason to lie, she had hoped, irrationally, that he was somehow mistaken about Mr Malfoy being there in the graveyard, and of his free will. Even when the whole story had been published in the Quibbler, Hermione had still hoped not everything was as it seemed. But now she had seen the evidence with her own eyes.

When she had sat on the Thestral earlier that day, following Harry to potentially save Sirius from Voldemort, she hadn't known she would be facing her worst nightmare. Voldemort, maybe, but not him. Not him, the Death Eater, the murderer whom she couldn't hate no matter how much she tried...

Aware that her breathing was coming in short gasps, Hermione tried to calm herself and think practically, to come up with a plan to extricate them from this mess Harry had led them into. Her fists clenched with the sudden urge to slap him for his stupidity. Damn you, Harry! Why couldn't you listen to me? She had been telling him all along that it was a trap, and she had warned him not to touch that glass ball. Why did he have to ignore all her warnings?

If she hadn't been too frightened to move, Hermione might really have slapped Harry. Not that it would have made her feel better.

Ron, Neville, Luna, and Ginny were standing farther away from Harry and Hermione. They all had their wands in their hands, but were too scared to start a fight with the fully trained Dark wizards who outnumbered them two to one, so the first three settled on staring apprehensively at the Death Eaters.

But Ginny was watching Hermione, who, oddly, looked more frightened than any of them. The bushy-haired witch stood frozen in place, looking paler than Ginny had ever seen her. She was staring fixedly in the direction of the Death Eaters, at one of them in particular, though Ginny couldn't see which one. Hermione's eyes appeared wide with shock, and her face wavered between sick fear and something else, something very strange in the situation. Something that looked nothing like fear, or anger, or hate.

Ginny thought she must have imagined it, because it made no sense, but then she remembered the strange conversation she had had with Hermione during the Christmas holidays at Grimmauld Place. In fact, I... sort of... love someone else, Hermione's words echoed in her head. Since the summer before last year. We had met before...

How Hermione had avoided her eyes and evaded her questions guiltily; her strange, inexplicable I'm sorry. Her devastated expression when Ginny had pointed out the obvious: that the attacks against Muggle-borns in her second year had been aimed mainly at her, because she had angered Lucius Malfoy by doing better at school than his son.

And the fake smile that hadn't reached her eyes, sad and resigned... It isn't like it was a Death Eater, was it? People don't choose who they fall in love with.

Ginny let out an audible gasp, and it wasn't out of fear. Bloody hell, was all she could think.

In the deathly silence, Hermione heard Ginny's gasp, and it snapped her out of her state of hypnotised focus. She regained control of herself and turned her face purposefully away from the Death Eaters – though Ginny was now pretty sure she knew which one of them she'd been staring at like that. And as Hermione's eyes met Ginny's, the guilt and shame that flashed across her face confirmed everything Ginny had guessed.

Hermione's face was very white; her breathing was quick and shallow, and as she kept looking at Ginny, who stared back at her in numb disbelief, a horrified embarrassment shone in her eyes as the quick mind behind them figured out which puzzle pieces had jumped together in Ginny's head.

Hermione silently begged Ginny not to say anything.

At length, she looked away from the shocked Ginny. At the back of her mind, Hermione was already worrying about what would happen if they all got out of this with their lives intact. She sometimes shared a room with Ginny, and their friendship would never be the same after this revelation, she was sure of it. But now was not the time to fret about the future. Hermione concentrated on the conversation between Harry and him.

Harry asked where Sirius was, as though he still hadn't realised Sirius wasn't here at all and it had been just a dream. He was greeted by laughter from the Death Eaters.

"Now give me the prophecy, Potter," Mr Malfoy demanded for what sounded like the fifth time. He certainly had patience.

So this glass sphere – the weapon – was a prophecy? It alarmed Hermione that in all the books she had read about the wizarding world, there had been no mention of the existence of real prophecies. For the first time, she regretted walking out of Divination class.

She struggled against the overwhelming urge to drop everything and run to a library to read all she could find about prophecies. She hated not knowing things. How did Harry make decisions such as coming here tonight based on guesswork, without having all the relevant information? To her, lack of certainty was terrifying because it could lead to making mistakes.

She had recognised Dumbledore's initials on the prophecy's label, but who was S.P.T.?

Oh! If it was a prophecy, S.P.T. could be Sybill Patricia Trelawney, as absurd as that would be. Could that woman have some real ability? Hermione suppressed a snort of disbelief as she looked around. All this fuss and danger for some silly made-up piece of fortune-telling by one of Hogwarts' most incompetent professors? It wasn't just her opinion; even Professor McGonagall agreed with her assessment of that Divination rubbish. An assessment that had nothing to do with Trelawney calling Hermione "hopelessly mundane" when she had tried to out her as the fraud she was.

"I know Sirius is here!" proclaimed Harry. "I know you've got him!"

Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing. Harry still thought his dream had been real? Merlin... could a person really be that dense?

"It's time you learned the difference between life and dreams, Potter," drawled Mr Malfoy.

What was I trying to tell Harry? If only he had listened to her, they wouldn't be here, risking their lives for a silly dream.

"Now give me the prophecy, or we start using wands."

Please, Harry, be reasonable, thought Hermione. That thing isn't worth our lives.

But for the nth time that evening, Harry demonstrated a dangerous lack of common sense.

"Go on, then," Harry said carelessly, raising his wand. No! thought Hermione as Ron and Ginny quickly copied Harry's actions, followed slowly by the more uncertain Neville and Luna. Finally, Hermione raised her wand as well, if only not to stand out and draw attention to herself. What was Harry thinking, preparing to fight twelve fully trained Dark wizards? Goodness, we are all going to die!

In her fear, Hermione instinctively moved behind Harry. She was furious with him for not listening to her, but he was better than her at Defence.

"Hand over the prophecy and no one need get hurt," Mr Malfoy said calmly. He still did not draw his wand.

Hermione felt a surge of gratitude, but Harry wasn't impressed.

You-Know-Who had probably not told his followers to kill anyone, only to get the prophecy, and they wanted to get this over with as quickly – and cleanly – as possible. But Harry either didn't understand this or didn't care. He had good reasons to hate Voldemort and the Death Eaters, so he didn't want to give them what they wanted and walk away from a fight, but couldn't he see it was a fight they had no chance of winning?

When the female Death Eater, whom Hermione guessed to be Bellatrix Lestrange, tried to summon the prophecy from Harry, Hermione actually hoped she would succeed, so the Death Eaters would let them leave unharmed.

But Lestrange failed. Enraged, she tried to use the Cruciatus Curse on Ginny. Harry bravely stepped forward to protect her.

Hermione noted that the Death Eaters seemed taken aback when Harry asked what kind of prophecy it was.

"Nope, not jesting," said Harry. "How come Voldemort wants it?"

The masked group flinched and made disapproving sounds. So did Ron, Ginny, and Neville. Mr Malfoy was the only one among the Death Eaters who had no reaction when Voldemort's name was spoken out loud. Even now, while she was still recovering from the shock of being faced with the evidence of his criminal double life, it made her respect him more.

Harry's question was a valid one. If it was just a prophecy, why would Voldemort care so much about it? Didn't the word prophecy by definition mean something that would come true regardless of what anyone did to stop it?

"Did you know he's a half-blood too?" Harry said suddenly.

Hermione gasped, her eyes widening. Was Harry making this up? Why would he? Just to offend the Death Eaters? Surely he knew they wouldn't believe him...

But now that she thought about it, it could be true. She had looked through the wizarding genealogy book at Grimmauld Place. She hadn't read all of it, but she had read the whole index, and she didn't remember seeing the name Riddle in it. Her memory was good enough she would remember it.

Seriously – Lord Voldemort, a half-blood? And these pure-blood supremacists followed him? Oh Merlin... the Death Eaters weren't going to react well to this at all. Hermione gripped her wand tighter.

"Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a Muggle. Or has he been telling you lot he's pure-blood?"

Most of the Death Eaters seemed enraged, but none more than Mrs Lestrange. If Harry's goal had been to rile her into incoherent rage and make her lose control, he had done brilliantly at it.

Quick as lightning, Lestrange sent a curse at Harry, but Mr Malfoy, whose wand was suddenly in his hand – she hadn't seen him take it out – somehow made the red light change directions and hit a shelf next to Harry. Hermione planned to research and learn that spell redirection trick.

Several glass globes on one of the shelves shattered upon being hit by Lestrange's deviated spell. Transparent, smoke-like silhouettes emerged from them, speaking in voices that were hard to hear over the bickering Death Eaters.

"DO NOT ATTACK! WE NEED THE PROPHECY!"

"He dares – he dares –" Lestrange screeched, "he stands there – filthy half-blood –"

"WAIT UNTIL WE'VE GOT THE PROPHECY!"

Hermione wanted to shake her head at what she was seeing. The Death Eaters would never succeed on a mission if they wasted their time bickering amongst themselves while their enemies could take advantage of it. Mr Malfoy did not seem like a bad leader, but if the others were too irrational to concentrate on their mission, then the results would be as disastrous as those of Harry's refusal to heed Hermione's warnings.

Hermione was still astounded and confused by what Harry had revealed about Voldemort. Judging by Mrs Lestrange's extreme reaction, she obviously believed Voldemort was a pure-blood and Harry was lying. But Mr Malfoy had not reacted in any way to Harry's words. Did he too think Harry was lying? Or had he already known Voldemort was a half-blood?

And if he had known, why on earth was he a Death Eater? Why would a proud pure-blood supremacist like him obey a half-blood wizard? Was the Imperius story true?

"You haven't told me what's so special about this prophecy I'm supposed to be handing over," stated Harry.

Hermione hoped he had a plan to get out of here while he was making chitchat with the Death Eaters, and it turned out she was right, because the next second she felt Harry's foot stomp painfully on her toes. She winced. "What?" she said as quietly as she could, terrified that the Death Eaters would notice.

But it seemed something Mr Malfoy said about Dumbledore keeping secrets from Harry had made him forget about whatever he had been planning. "What?" Hermione murmured insistently to the back of Harry's head.

The Death Eaters started laughing at a joke Mr Malfoy had made, and while they were distracted, she heard Harry hiss, without turning around, "Smash shelves."

What did he mean? Smash shelves... right now? How would that help them? Hermione frantically tried to figure out Harry's plan.

"Dumbledore never told you?" Mr Malfoy said in gleeful amazement. "Well, this explains why you didn't come earlier, Potter, the Dark Lord wondered why –"

Hermione was completely mystified by that. Why would Harry want to come to a forbidden area of the Ministry of Magic of his own accord?

"...when I say now," muttered Harry, and it took Hermione a moment to piece things together. Did he mean... Oh! Harry wanted all of them to use the Reductor Curse on the shelves above the Death Eaters' heads simultaneously, when they were distracted by conversation and not expecting it, so it would give them time to run and hide.

She hoped Harry would keep the Death Eaters distracted while she repeated the message to Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna, or else she would be in terrible trouble.

Harry was clever enough to understand this, to Hermione's relief, and kept the Death Eaters' attention on himself. She lost track of the conversation while explaining Harry's plan to the others in low whispers. When she was done and they had all heard the instructions, she was shocked that the Death Eaters still hadn't noticed.

"...why the Dark Lord tried to kill you as a baby?"

Wait, what? Harry's parents had died because of some prediction made by that fraud?

She had despised Trelawney before for being such an incompetent teacher, but it was nothing compared to what she felt now. She glared at the dusty glass ball in Harry's hand. It was the reason he was an orphan. People had died because of it, because of Trelawney making it and Voldemort taking it seriously... And more people would die if this continued. We'll all die if we fight them! We are outnumbered two to one and we are just students while they are fully trained, battle-hardened Dark wizards!

She glanced at the Death Eaters. Did they also take the 'prophecy' seriously, or were they just mindlessly following Voldemort's orders? Her eyes were drawn to Mr Malfoy again. I thought he was more intelligent than that. I thought even Voldemort, crazy as he is, was more intelligent than that.

"So, he's got you doing his dirty work for him, has he?" Harry said, and Hermione realised why the Death Eaters hadn't noticed her whispering to the others. It was because of how Harry had kept them distracted: by riling them up.

"Like he tried to get Sturgis to steal it – and Bode?" Harry boldly repeated what Hermione had figured out.

"Very good, Potter, very good..."

Should I feel flattered? Hermione wondered absurdly, since it was she who had made the connections and deduced that plan.

"NOW!" screamed Harry.

It mustn't have occurred to Harry that they were breaking multiple laws and could be charged with destruction of Ministry property, trespass, and attempted robbery, Hermione thought as she aimed her wand at a shelf behind the Lestrange woman and shouted, "Reducto!" causing it to explode into splinters of glass and wood. None of these hit anyone except Lestrange, but the others hadn't been so considerate in their aim. She had seen Ron point his wand at a shelf too close to them, causing sharp shards to rain down on them as well as on the Death Eaters.

Hermione felt bad about destroying fascinating Ministry property, but it was the only plan Harry could think of, and she was too terrified and upset right now to think of something better.

There was chaos as shelves tumbled down and prophecy spheres split open over their heads, fragments of glass flying everywhere. Hermione bowed her head and squeezed her eyes shut in fear of receiving one in her eye. For once she wished she was wearing spectacles like Harry.

Harry grabbed her robes and dragged her forward. Hermione wrenched herself out of his grasp irritably.

"I don't need you dragging me around, Harry!" she yelled over the racket of more collapsing shelves and breaking glass.

Harry didn't stop running, and he kept looking straight ahead as he yelled back, "You looked scared stiff!"

"Go grab Neville instead!" Hermione shouted, seeing he had just tripped over something and was attempting to stand up. "He looks like he needs help!"

This jerked Harry out of his confrontational mood, and he hurried over to Neville. A Death Eater jumped at him but Harry elbowed him away. Seeing that he didn't need her help, Hermione didn't wait for him.

She saw Ron and Ginny dashing towards another door on the side. She opened her mouth but they disappeared through it before she could tell them the exit was the other way –

A Death Eater seized Harry's shoulder. Hermione aimed her wand at him and yelled, "Stupefy!"

The Death Eater fell against a shelf of prophecies. Another shelf promptly collapsed on top of him, covering him in shards of glass and wood. Hermione saw blood but did not stop to look. She had no time to get nauseated.

"Harry! Neville! Come on!" she shouted over her shoulder as she continued running past the rows of glass spheres in the direction of the door through which they had arrived.

She threw the door open and raced inside.

A moment later, she realised Harry and Neville had not followed her; they were still out there. Moreover, she must have gone the wrong way, because this didn't look at all like the room they had come through.

It was dark; she wanted to use her wand for the Lumos Spell but was afraid to. The light would attract the attention of the Death Eaters from far away.

She felt for the door to go back out, but couldn't find it. Her hands found a smooth wall where the door should have been.

Reminded of the enchanted wall leading to platform nine and three quarters, she tried pushing against the wall with all her weight, pressing her shoulder against it, but it remained solid and unyielding.

The initial relief she had felt at having escaped the Death Eaters disappeared as Hermione realised that one, she was stuck; she didn't know how to get out of here, and two, her friends were trapped out there without her, outnumbered more than two to one, fighting the Death Eaters.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she could see that she was in a corridor. There were portraits on the walls, but they were empty frames, and there were no torches and no windows, but a faint glow seemed to be radiating from the floor itself, allowing Hermione to see the outline of her surroundings.

Bangs and yells resonated through the wall; she pressed her ear against it, trying to get a hint of what was going on outside –

And almost recoiled when she heard his voice shouting orders to the other Death Eaters.

"...don't forget, be gentle with Potter until we've got the prophecy, you can kill the others if necessary –"

Hermione flinched.

"Bellatrix, Rodolphus, you take the left; Crabbe, Rabastan, go right – Jugson, Dolohov, the door straight ahead – Macnair and Avery, through here – Rookwood, over there – Mulciber, come with me!"

What do I do? she thought wildly. Mr Malfoy's orders were terribly well thought-out. With such an organised search, there was no way the Death Eaters would miss any place she or her friends could have hidden in. Oh, goodness, what do I do? she panicked, her entire body trembling.

What if he found her? Would he consider it "necessary" to kill her?

"Calm down," she muttered frantically to herself. "Calm down! Think!"

She knew she had to get away from the door, in case one of the Death Eaters walked through it, so that at least they would not see her straight away. She advanced cautiously into the unlit corridor and stood by a wall, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

A minute passed, and then a Death Eater emerged from a door Hermione hadn't noticed before, at the other end of the passageway. He was walking with his back bent, as though permanently stuck in a bow, and was headed in her direction.

He hadn't seen her yet. But he certainly would; the corridor was narrow and she wouldn't be able to avoid being seen if he were to pass next to her.

In desperation, Hermione raised her wand and tapped herself over the head with it. Please work, please...

She felt a chilling sensation spread over her, as though a bucket of cold water had been poured on her head.

Looking down, she couldn't see herself at all. It was like wearing Harry's invisibility cloak. She stifled a gasp of amazement. It was far from the first time she had done a spell perfectly on the first try, but a spell as advanced as this one...

When Harry had mentioned the spell Mad-Eye Moody had used to get him to Grimmauld Place unnoticed, Hermione's interest had been piqued. The next time Moody had visited the Order Headquarters, she had sought him out and asked him about the Disillusionment Charm. Moody had told her the theory and the incantation, but she had never attempted to cast it until now.

"Lumos!" said the Death Eater, and the dark hallway was suddenly thrown into clear view. Hermione didn't move and struggled to quieten her erratic breathing.

The Death Eater was halfway through the corridor when another Death Eater emerged from the wall Hermione had come through. He caught sight of his comrade and hurried towards him. The stooped one paused in his stride.

Huddled together in the middle of what they thought was an empty corridor, they started talking quietly.

Hermione shuffled closer to the pair until, flattened against the wall, she could hear their discussion.

"...empty, I'm telling you. I doubt the kids even saw that door. How about you, Rookwood? Found anyone?"

"No," answered the Death Eater with the hunched back. "No one in the room. I wonder where the little brats have gone. Merlin knows there are enough nooks and crannies to hide in here. I know them all. Used to work here," he said with a brisk laugh.

"Do you think..." the other Death Eater started in a low voice. "We will find them, won't we?"

"Of course we will. They are just kids," the stooped one – Rookwood – said derisively.

"But what if we don't? What if... what do you think the Dark Lord will do to us?"

"Don't be an idiot, Avery," said Rookwood. "We will deliver the prophecy to our Lord."

"But if we fail," Avery insisted, "do you think he will t–torture us?" His voice quivered. "Do you think he'll kill any of us for failing?"

"How would I know?" said Rookwood. "Not one of us can fathom how the Dark Lord's mind works. But let me tell you this, Avery: we are not in charge of this mission. Malfoy is, and if, for some reason, we fail to get a hold of the prophecy, it will be his responsibility."

Hermione's eyes widened.

"So the Master won't punish us?" Avery sounded relieved.

"No," Rookwood said with certainty. "He has no reason to. It's Malfoy's task to get the prophecy. Actually, you know what, Avery? I think there is a reason the Dark Lord gave this mission to Malfoy. He is risking a lot by coming here; most of us are known Death Eaters, but he is risking his reputation as a respectable law-abiding citizen if he is seen." Rookwood sounded more than a little resentful.

Hermione felt the urge to scoff. Casting Imperius Curses inside the Ministry building, right under the nose of the Minister himself... law-abiding indeed. But few people believed the story in the Quibbler, where Harry had named him as one of the Death Eaters. Hermione still couldn't decide whether to feel outraged by it... or relieved.

Rookwood's next words jerked her brutally out of her thoughts. "I think this is a test for him. The Dark Lord hasn't forgiven him for not coming to look for him in Albania, and this mission is his chance to redeem himself. His only chance. If he succeeds, the Dark Lord will favour him again. But if he fails..."

"The Dark Lord will kill him," said Avery in a hushed voice.

In the shadows, the Disillusioned Hermione inhaled sharply.

"Yes." Rookwood sounded completely unconcerned. "You saw how desperate he was, in the Hall of Prophecy? How he argued with Bellatrix, how he panicked when she was about to hex Potter? Usually he is a lot more composed than that. But the idea of the prophecy getting smashed has him really, really worried. He tries to hide it, of course, he always does, but you can see he fears for his life. Probably for his family's lives too."

Oh no.

This can't be happening.

"It would be nothing less than he deserves," continued Rookwood. "Some of us spent a decade in Azkaban while he lied his way out by denying the Dark Lord, and our Lord did not even punish him! And now he comes back as if he had never left and orders us around, we who have always stayed loyal to the Dark Lord! He is no better than that scum Karkaroff who sold me out."

Avery shifted uneasily. He, too, had claimed to be under the influence of the Imperius Curse, and hadn't used his freedom to try to find Voldemort.

Rookwood interpreted Avery's silence correctly, and chuckled harshly. "You were a low-ranking servant, Avery. It was no surprise that you denied all involvement like the coward you are." Avery made a sound of protest, but Rookwood spoke again before he could argue. "You were a lowly servant, and not one of the most intelligent either. But Malfoy... Malfoy was one of the Dark Lord's most trusted, his right-hand man, his friend! The Dark Lord relied on him to help him if something happened to him."

Hermione trembled at the confirmation of everything she had hoped wasn't true, and more. It was even worse than she had feared. Not only was he a Death Eater by choice, but he had been Voldemort's right-hand man and friend. What horrors had he committed? Just how dark was the dark side of his outwardly genteel and cultured personality? Was his soul as dark as his hair was light?

And why, even knowing these terrible things, could she still not bear the thought of him being killed?

Only when she felt a drop of warm water land like rain on her hand did she realise she was crying.