Disclaimer: As usual, I own nothing. J.K. owns everything, yadda, yadda, yadda, blah, blah, blah.
A/N: Hope you like it. There is one quote from a t.v. show in here….pumpkin pie to the first one who gets it! (I'm evil, aren't I? Oh, well : D ) Anyhoo, please read and review! I don't care if you hated it! Well….I do…..but review anyway!
Hermione's P.O.V.
She could not get out there fast enough. Since when was the school this big? It seemed never ending, the corridors stretched on for miles, the stairs were suddenly as tall as Mt. Everest, and her prior knowledge of the school wasn't bloody helping at all. Her footsteps made eerie echoes in the hallway, and she realized that no one was there.
After what seemed like forever, she flew out the door of the giant school and faintly felt soggy grass and razor-sharp frigid raindrops pelt her face before she was off again, her mind no longer carrying her along; now it was pure instinct, and she could feel the adrenaline pump through her body and her blood pound in her ears. She felt rather like the Energizer bunny, albeit without the sunglasses and pink fur. She streaked across the grounds, at a speed that surprised even her, nearly tripping over roots and vines and rocks she could have sworn weren't there the last time she had walked across. Twigs and branches scratched at her skin as she tore through the Forbidden Forest, and the rain soaked her through, not that she noticed much.
The battle, she could make out, was happening at the other end of the Forest. Instinctively, her eyes swept over the battlefield for any sign of Harry. Finding none at the moment, she crept across the rest of the forest; she was scared and in love, but she wasn't stupid. Any sign of noise and she'd be surrounded by thousands of wands, from both sides. By the time she could identify herself, she'd be dead.
When she reached the clearing, the sight before her was like one out of an American Civil War story. Bodies from both sides littered the ground, and those who weren't dead were dying; moaning for water, their mothers, girlfriends, brothers, other loved ones. She could see a tearful Ginny holding Draco's head in her lap; Draco had switched sides at the last moment, and even she didn't really trust him, but he was a useful asset to the group, and Ginny was smitten with him. A nasty gash glowed crimson under Draco's white t-shirt, and his face was paler than usual. She quickly made her way over to them.
"Hermione!" Ginny was surprised, and she wiped tears and raindrops out of her eyes. "What are you doing here?"
"Never mind that," Hermione said. "What happened to him?" she gestured to Draco's chest.
"I'm not sure,"
"Well, is it a magical wound, or conventional?"
"I-it isn't magical," rasped Draco. "Sword…or some..thing."
"Don't talk," Hermione helped Ginny take off his shirt so that she could inspect the wound.
"Bloody hell…Granger….n-not even a…date…first?" a small smile graced the boy's lips. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"As much as I would love to get in your shorts, Draco, I'm afraid that if I don't dress this wound, you're going to die," she took out her wand and muttered something. A small, opaque chart popped up, reading Draco's vital signs.
"Right then," she said. "We're a bit strapped for bandages, so you'll have to go shirtless for awhile, or at least until after the battle is over." She took hold of Draco's ruined shirt and tore it into several long strips, tying the strips tightly around Draco's chest. They turned crimson immediately.
"That should stop the bleeding, at least," she said. "The wound isn't deep enough to cause any permanent damage, and I suspect your lack of breath is because of the pain, not because the wound damaged any vital organs. Your temperature is fine, and as long as there wasn't any poison on that sword, and no infection gets in, you should be fine. I would suggest getting away from the front line. For both your sakes."
"Thanks, Hermione," Ginny said, stroking Draco's hair.
"You're welcome," she said, smiling.
"He doesn't know you're here, does he?"
"Who?"
"Don't play coy. Harry. Harry doesn't know you're here, does he?"
"No, he doesn't. And I don't plan on him knowing, either,"
"Well, you just ran out of luck," Ginny visibly paled and pointed behind Hermione. Harry was making his way over to them, his hair messier than usual, his clothes splattered with blood, and his eyes blazing. Hermione stood up, and dusted herself off, which only succeeded to spread the blood onto more parts of her sweatshirt. She crossed her arms over her chest, and tried to look defiant, even though she was shaking from head to toe. She saw Ginny quickly help Draco up and hobble away from them. Hermione didn't blame her. If looks could kill, she'd be dead forty times over. She took a step back as Harry approached her.
"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" he asked her in a deathly quiet voice. That voice was dangerous, and she knew it. She wasn't afraid of Harry hurting her; he'd never do that, not on purpose, anyway, but that voice both scared the life out of her and sent shivers down her spine simultaneously.
"I-I told you I would," she said, stuttering involuntarily.
"What happened to Lavender and Parvarti?" he growled, his hands clenching into fists. She could feel the magic radiating from him.
"They let me go," she said.
"They what!" at this point, the deadly quiet voice was abandoned, and the loud, angry voice surfaced. "Why the hell did they let you go? I told them specifically that no one went in, and no one went out!"
"We had a talk, I realized some things, and they let me go," she was shivering by this point, and not just because she was soaked to the bone. "Really, they were just trying to help."
"Help! How the bloody hell is that helping, pray tell?" she took a few steps back, but his hand clamped down gently onto her arm. "I asked you to stay there for me. I asked you, and you told me you would."
"I'm sorry, but there are some promises I can't keep," tears sprang to her eyes as she wriggled out of his grasp to angrily wipe them away. A spell narrowly missed their heads, and Harry pulled them both behind a large boulder. They were both breathing heavily, and Harry's grip on her arm tightened slightly.
"You shouldn't be here," he said gravely, poking his head around the corner to see if they were in immediate danger of attack.
"I have just as much right to be here as you do," she said defiantly. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"You don't understand! I need to know you're safe. Please, go back up to the castle and wait for me there,"
"You know I can't do that,"
"Why not? Please, I need to know you're not in danger,"
"I'm not going to go over what we said last night, Harry. I'm staying, and that's that,"
"Hermione, I swear to Merlin, don't make me carry you back to that damn castle!"
"I'm not going!"
"Yes you are!"
"No I'm not!"
"Yes, you are!"
"Why do you care so bloody much?" she had raised her voice by this point, and the tears flowed freely.
"Because I love you, okay?" the words came like a flood of water, and Harry immediately clamped a hand over his mouth.
Time seemed to freeze, and Hermione could hear nothing, sense nothing, feel nothing. It was as if her entire nervous system shut down, and the only thing going on was the involuntary actions like breathing and heartbeat. Harry held his head in his hands.
"What was that?" she asked her voice barely more than a whisper. The air seemed to grow colder, and she shivered a bit. If this was a dream, she prayed that she wouldn't wake up. This was too good to be true, she was certain of it. Since when did her dreams come true? This wasn't real, she thought with a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.
Harry looked up, his face pale and worn, yet surprisingly boyish. He sighed.
"I love you," he said, with a bit of a defensive air. A few moments passed while Hermione digested this information, like an old computer. Her system was in slow-motion overdrive. She hadn't even realized that about five minutes of silence has lapsed, and that Harry was taking it differently than what he should have.
"I-I'm sorry," he said, looking straight ahead of him. "I shouldn't have said anything at all; I know you don't feel the same. But that's okay; my feelings aren't your problem." He sniffed from the cold, shivering all over.
"Harry, look at me," she said, taking his chin and forcing him to look at her. There was a sadness in his eyes, and she was glad that she wouldn't have to break his heart. "Did you mean it?" He nodded slowly, obviously ashamed at himself. A moment of silence passed, and then something happened that surprised both parties, and many of the close bystanders. Hermione grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and brought his lips crashing onto hers. Harry, she could tell, was surprised at first, but quickly got over his shock and began kissing her back. The kiss became quite passionate, and both Harry and Hermione left the world behind for a few minutes. At long last, they broke apart for lack of oxygen, and Harry rested his forehead against hers, his warm breath mixing with hers.
"I love you too," she whispered, one hand on his cheek, wiping away the rain.
"Since when?" he asked, trying to catch his breath.
"For a long time. You?"
"For a long time, but I only just realized it at four this morning," he leaned in and kissed her again. Hermione found, with great amusement, that she was right when she had said he wasn't a bad kisser. Tears poured down her face, some of joy, and some of sorrow, and she shivered uncontrollably. Harry broke away and looked at her in concern.
"What's the matter, love?" he asked tenderly. She smiled slightly as she heard him call her 'love'. He wiped away her tears with the pads of his thumbs, and she started to cry harder. "Please tell me."
"Why now?"
"Why now what?"
"I mean, why did we have to realize our feelings right before the Final Battle? You could die, Harry,"
"I'm not going to die, I promise,"
"You don't know that," she sobbed, smoothing her hands over his face, his shoulders, his chest, every part of him she could reach. It seemed that the reality of the situation had finally sunk in, and she wasn't taking it well. "You don't know that."
"Yes, I do," he said determinedly. "I have to come back to you, don't I?" he chuckled.
"This isn't funny," the tears just kept coming. Why was she so emotional all of a sudden? "I don't want you to die."
"I don't want me to die, either," he said, pulling her into his lap, and resting his head on her shoulder. "But this is something I can't avoid. You know that." She nodded and buried her face in his shoulder, soaking his t-shirt even more. A cackle rang out across the field.
"Potter? Where have you gone? Not run away, have you?" Voldemort's voice carried. "You can run, little boy, but you can't hide." Hermione looked fearfully at Harry.
"That's my cue," he said. Hermione sobbed even harder and nearly broke his ribs with a hug. He gave her a lingering kiss and stood up, his wand ready.
"I love you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She could feel his touch sear its way across her skin, warming her, despite the frigid rain.
"I love you, too," she said, giving his hand one final squeeze. "You'd better come back to me."
"I will, I promise," and with that, he was gone. She scrambled out behind him, keeping her distance. She knew that despite their recent revelation, he would not hesitate to freeze her and send her flying at warp speed back to the girl's dormitory.
It reminded Hermione of a scene from the old west. Voldemort and Harry stood alone in the field, the fighting suspended for a moment, as the Death Eaters nearly salivated with anticipation.
"Ah, there he is! The man of the hour!" Voldemort leaned back on the balls of his feet. "So, witty banter this time, or should I just kill you now?"
"Good luck with that," Harry seemed cool, collected. "I'm not the baby you tried to kill all those years ago."
"And this matters to me…..why?" Voldemort paused dramatically, gesturing with his hands.
"Well….if you want to find out the hard way….I guess we can do that," Harry sighed and raised his wand. "Petrificus Totalus!"
At that exact moment, Voldemort countered it with the Killing Curse. The two met in midair, sending sparks flying out in either direction. Harry broke the connection and dodged away, sending the jet of green light careening into a nearby rock and off into the forest.
"Touché, Potter. Your form is almost flawless,"
"Should I thank you, or kill you?"
"Take your pick, it doesn't matter to me," Voldemort seemed almost bored as they dueled, each time the spells collided with each other, each time they missed.
After what seemed like forever, Harry's energy seemed to give out. He dropped to his hand and knees, breathing heavily. Voldemort cackled triumphantly.
"This is Dumbledore's savior, is it?" he lifted Harry up by his scar (magically), and looked into his adversary's emerald eyes. "Pity. What a shame. Such potential you had. You could have been a good asset to me, prophecy or not."
"I'd never join you!" Harry spat, struggling against his magical bond.
"Ah, well. Such is life. So much like your father you are Harry. He begged for his life, you know. Begged on his knees, he did. He begged me to take you, as long as I 'd leave him and Lily alone. But where was the fun in that?" Hermione saw the spark leave Harry's eyes. He was too exhausted to argue, too exhausted to know the truth from a lie.
"He's lying, Harry! You know it!" Hermione shouted from where she was about twenty feet behind him. "Your father loved you. He died for you, Harry! Don't you ever forget that!" Voldemort whipped his head, or what could be construed as a head, around to look at her. A sneer graced his pointy features.
"And what do we have here?" he toyed with his wand, letting Harry fall, limp, to the ground. "Well, this is a fortuitous change of events, isn't it? Two for the price of one." Hermione, for the first time in her life, didn't know what to say, though how does one respond to that? "Go ahead, kill me"? She didn't think so. She shakily reached for her wand.
"Expelliarmus!" she watched as her wand flew from her grasp and landed in the grass some twenty feet away. Damn. Now she was in trouble. She vaguely saw Harry stumble to his feet.
"Leave her alone," he said, his voice slurred from the pain. "She hasn't done anything to you."
"She exists, my dear boy," Tom gestured with his wand. "She is not of pure blood, and is therefore unworthy of living in my world."
"Your world?" Harry spat. "Its about as much your world as it is mine."
"Not yet, dear Harry, not yet. But it shall be. I'll make sure of that," a wicked smile crossed his face as he raised his wand. Harry was too exhausted to fight back.
"Not tired, are you Potter?" Harry weakly shook his head. Voldemort shook the boy by the hair and threw him backwards. "Then get up!" Harry tried, but failed, falling back to the earth with a small thump.
"I said 'get up'!" Voldemort repeated once more, lifting his wand. "Crucio!" Harry twitched on the ground violently, but refused to scream.
"Come on, Harry, give us a good yell!" Voldemort laughed, moving his wand like a conductor's baton. Harry still refused. Tears were running down Hermione's face, but she felt rooted to the ground; she could do nothing. Even as she tried to move, her legs felt like lead, and there was a horrible metallic taste in my mouth. She felt useless, and it bothered her immensely. Come on! Move! Her brain shouted to her. Finally, she moved one leg in front of her, and then the other, until she reached her wand.
"I wouldn't be doing that if I were you," she heard the sinister sneer. She froze. Voldemort momentarily forgot his latest game and walked over to her. She was shivering from head to toe in fear.
"Give me the wand," Voldemort spoke to her as one would speak to a toddler, and she had no choice but to obey. She reluctantly handed it over. "That's a good girl. What an obedient one she is, Harry!" He looked over his shoulder at the teenager who was crouching on the ground, trying to catch his breath.
Voldemort reached out with a long, spindly finger and pat her cheek. She shuddered in revolt, and took a step back. He wrapped a clammy hand around her wrist. She was genuinely surprised; since when did Voldemort touch muggle-borns? She didn't want to dwell on that now. Her entire nervous system was trying to pull her away, trying to get her far away from this situation.
"I'm not done with you yet," he whispered, and dragged her behind him towards the clearing and Harry. "Such a clever girl, aren't you? Pity you aren't a pureblood."
They reached where Harry stood, shaky and pale. He had his wand ready, and a determined look on his face, despite the tension in the air. She could tell he was about ready to pounce, but a look from her put him back on flat feet, at least for a few moments. She could see his jaw clench and unclench angrily. Voldemort walked quickly, taking long, wide strides so that Hermione had to run to keep up with him. He stopped and smiled at Harry before throwing her violently to the ground.
"Alright Potter, change of plans," Voldemort took several steps back and drew his wand and she scrambled to the ground. This was just her luck. Stuck between two immensely powerful wizards and she had no wand, and one who wanted to kill everyone to rule the world. She was screwed.
"What kind of change?" Harry asked, also drawing his wand.
"Well, instead of me killing you right off, I thought 'Why not have some fun?', and so you're going to watch me kill her, and then I kill you," Tom fiddled with the wand held in his hand. "How's that sound to you?"
"Leave her alone! It's not her you want!" Harry looked livid, and pulled Hermione from the middle of the action behind him.
"You're right, but I don't get out much. The lack of a body for thirteen years kind of stopped me from bar hopping in London, you know,"
"You won't touch her," Harry moved in front of her protectively. A dawn of understanding shone in Voldemort's eyes.
"Aw, do you love her, Potter?" he asked in a sing-song voice that made Hermione's skin crawl. Harry said nothing, but she could feel him tense.
"I'll take that as a 'yes'. All the more reason for me to kill her," Voldemort slapped his hands together in delight.
"I'm serious, Tom," Harry's tone was confident, but he was treading on dangerous ground. No one ever called him Tom. Ever. Voldemort's eyes flashed.
"That is no longer my name. It is the name of the first man I killed, and thank Merlin I did," Voldemort spat on the ground and raised his wand threateningly.
"You can do anything you like to me, but don't hurt her," Harry was close to pleading, but he wouldn't lower himself to begging things of his most loathed adversary.
"You are in no position to make bargains, boy,"
"Says who?"
"Cheeky little thing, aren't you? Well, I have ways of curing that," Harry steeled himself against another attack.
"Oh, no, Harry. This won't hurt you physically…it will hurt much, much worse," Voldemort cackled slightly. "Accio Granger!" Apparently, that spell did work on people. Hermione felt herself being lifted high above the trees; she gulped and closed her eyes, she hated heights. She felt herself being levitated to the ground, and set there unceremoniously.
"Crucio!" a terrible pain overcame her. Pins and needles stuck everywhere; she seemed to be on fire, unable to breathe. She screamed involuntarily; the spell didn't allow her body to do much else. She felt that she might die at any time, would have wanted it, she was in so much pain. The feeling of a thousand whips stung her arms and legs, and tears of pain flowed freely down her face.
"Fine!" came the shout from Harry. The curse was lifted, and she could see that his face looked much older, and blotchy and wet. "You win! I give up. Just leave her alone." The last part came out as a choked sob.
"No, Harry!" she shouted, trying to get to where he was as quick as she could, but found she was physically unable to move. "Please, don't!" Her voice was drowned out by a clap of thunder and a flash of lightening. The rain fell harder, washing the battlefield clean of blood, but not of dead. Voldemort laughed triumphantly.
"So much like your father you are, Harry. All emotions, no brains. Typical," Harry said nothing. He was on his knees in the mud, his clothes torn and spattered with blood. He looked old, much older than his seventeen years. No child should have to deal with such things, Hermione thought as Voldemort strode to where he was.
"I want you to beg for your life, Harry," he sneered. "Beg for it."
"Begging is beneath me," Harry said.
"Not right now it isn't. Beg,"
"You Death Eaters have it so easy. No mortality to worry about. No attachments. No one to lose. You kill. You feel nothing. You make me sick," Harry spat on the ground at Voldemort's feet.
"Sticks and stones, Harry," Tom said, and raised his wand. "Besides, the story of how you begged on your knees for your life will be all over tomorrow's papers."
"Avada Kedavra!" the words hit Hermione like two ton hammers. Each word was a physical blow, and she had to sit down before she fell down. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. She saw Harry slump, and finally fall, the breath gone. She saw Voldemort cackle evilly and then walk away as if nothing had happened. She saw the sky above her, and then nothing. She welcomed the darkness.
