Chapter Six

May 9th, 2005

"How did you . . .? How are you alive?" Hermione gripped Harry's cloak tight in her hands, a part of her terrified that the past week had been a hallucination, that she had finally cracked down in that cellar. Had she been broken after years of being strong enough to handle Death Eaters and werewolves and having her magic taken away but not strong enough to survive solitude? A tear escaped when she closed her eyes at the feel of Harry's lips pressed to her forehead. Had he always been so warm? "Are you really alive?"

"I'm alive. You're alive." Harry sounded as though he were trying to rein in the massive relief in his tone. "Come sit down, and I'll explain everything." He watched as her gaze passed over the bed to a small desk in the corner. "Luna never did get you that pen," he remarked with a small smile. "Do you need to write your thoughts down? Questions and—"

"No." Hermione moved across the room, taking a careful seat at the foot of the bed.

"Riddle killed me in the forest," Harry said, watching the way her eyes widened. He waited, hoping that she would not panic but instead just absorb the information because there was quite a bit of it. When she looked at him like she was waiting for him to continue, he did. "He killed his own Horcrux, actually. I went to this . . . place. It looked like King's Cross, but I imagine it would look different to everyone."

"Heaven?"

Harry shook his head. "Definitely not. But not . . . It wasn't all bad. Dumbledore was there, so take from that what you will. We had a chat, and he admitted to knowing that I would need to die. That's one of the reasons we're no longer in the Order. I refuse to let people treat me as a weapon." His heart leapt a little at the proud look she gave him. "Anyway, I chose to return. I knew Riddle still needed to be killed, and I . . ."

He knelt down in front of her, taking her hands in his as he swallowed hard, clearing his throat. Married or not, telling Hermione that he had loved her even back then was a struggle. They had both been through too much since Hogwarts, and he had been warned by both Ginny and Luna that if they were able to successfully rescue Hermione, she might need a long time to recover—if she ever did.

Looking at her now, it was almost as though his Hermione was there, hidden behind a shield that she had built for herself, to keep safe over the years. Instead of the muscle and beard and angry scowl that Harry had developed as his own personal armour, Hermione had created an image of a careful, hesitant, and sure-footed woman, eager not to make a noise. Except Harry had been told that she stabbed Alecto Carrow in the face with a fork, and even now, he could see that fire somewhere in the depths of her brown eyes.

"When I was unconscious, Bellatrix hit me with a bunch of spells. Riddle fell too, you see. She thought he'd died and decided to just attack my body in revenge. He woke up first and ordered Narcissa Malfoy to check that I was alive. What I hadn't known was that before I walked into the forest, Riddle told Bellatrix about what we'd done. That you, Ron, and I had destroyed most of his Horcruxes. He was planning on using my death to make another."

Hermione's eyes widened, and she froze stiff, her hands clenching tightly. "No."

"He didn't succeed," Harry said quickly to comfort her worries. "But he tried. Narcissa overheard that conversation. She Imperiused another Death Eater to vanish my body, but just as he aimed his wand to do so, she threw an emergency Portkey on me. It was a failsafe that she had created for Draco, but when she realised that not only was I alive but that Riddle was going to try and make another Horcrux, she saved me.

"The Portkey took me to Andromeda Tonks's house. I didn't fully recover from Bellatrix's attack for another two months. By then, Hogwarts was destroyed, the world was in chaos, and . . . you were gone." Harry pressed his lips against her fingers and exhaled. "I swear to you, Hermione, I would have come looking for your right away, but even when I was better, we had no idea how to find you."

Hermione closed her eyes and let the tears fall against the skin of her cheeks. "For so long . . . I thought you were dead."

"If I could have told you differently, I would have. Riddle and Bellatrix still think I'm dead. We've spent years trying to keep it that way. I rarely leave, but when I do I have to go under Polyjuice or . . . other means." Before she had a chance to question those means, he went on speaking. "Right now, she thinks that the prophecy about the Chosen One passed on to Neville, which is why he led an attack earlier to distract her. She likely would have been at the wedding, but we purposely let it slip that Neville was planning an attack to draw her away from the ceremony. We needed a diversion so that we could get you out of there."

Hermione licked her lips and fell silent. Harry watched patiently as she worked through the information.

While she stared at their joined hands, Harry's gaze fell over the scar on her neck left behind by Bellatrix's blade. The purple line was buried beneath the scar tissue left behind by Greyback. It had only been a rumour for them, but Harry was insistent on finding out every bit of detail of what happened to Hermione over the years. Little came back other than speculation, but Theo had confirmed that Greyback had attacked Hermione. It made him sick inside to think of what she must have gone through. Seeing Bellatrix's scar still reminded him that Hermione had been sacrificing herself for him for far too long.

"Why does it sound like Bellatrix is in charge?"

"Because she is. Without my body as proof of his victory, Riddle lost his mind. He decided to try and use my supposed death to make a Horcrux. Apparently, there is something worse than making a Horcrux: trying and failing. Riddle's soul was already so broken that when he attempted to create another one without a proper murder to draw from, it turned on him. We don't know all the details, but one of our inside sources claims that Bellatrix got him out and put herself in charge of his Death Eaters. Those who wanted to question her couldn't because she had the numbers of people who were too terrified to stand against her. Riddle is alive but . . . barely human, and that's saying something all things considered." Harry stood up, joining her on the bed, though he kept a hold of her hands. "He's useless, magically depleted, but Bellatrix has been trying to revive him. She just hasn't quite figured out how."

Hermione let out a shuddering breath. "I never knew," she whispered. "I never knew anything that happened unless they told me—taunted me. What does the rest of the Wizarding world think?"

Gently squeezing her hands, Harry sighed. "Hermione, there is no . . . The wizards that stuck by Riddle and Bellatrix are little more than puppets. There's less than a thousand magical people left in Britain. We'd all fit inside of Hogwarts," he said gravely. "That's just an estimate, of course, but—"

"Why did you say it like that? Magical people. What about the Muggles?"

Harry looked away from her and cringed. He let go of her hands, which he realised immediately was a mistake because she began to panic. Her breathing increased, and instead of holding onto him, she gripped the blanket beneath her like it was keeping her from floating away. Frowning, Harry gently placed a hand on her cheek. "The Death Eaters broke the Statute of Secrecy."

Her breathing normalised, but her eyes widened in horror.

"They were . . . unhinged when the battle ended. By the time I recovered, the Lestrange brothers had publicly executed the Prime Minister. It was seen by hundreds right outside of Downing Street. Muggles caught it on camera. It was a fiasco." Harry remembered being told about the events by a panicked Arthur Weasley. Riots had broken out amongst the Muggles, and leaders from religious institutions all around the country had practically gone into hiding rather than try to provide answers to questions that they did not possess.

"Aurors were sent in, but Riddle, of course, had previously controlled the Ministry, so that did little good. The last few members of the Order met with the International Confederation of Wizards, trying to tell them what had happened, but they weren't hearing it. Britain lost control of Riddle, and so the rest of the world was content to let us be destroyed by the mess that they thought we'd all helped create.

"There was talk about sending over some Americans to help Obliviate London. Apparently, they're good at that sort of stuff. But it was too late. Death Eaters were still at large, and worse, Greyback unleashed hell on the cities." He watched her when he said the werewolf's name, trying to gauge whether or not she was traumatised by her attack. He relaxed only slightly when she didn't so much as flinch.

"The first full moon after Hogwarts fell, and there were . . . over seventy-five new werewolves created, more civilians dead. The second full moon more than tripled those numbers. So every Magical country outside of Britain decided to pull their resources. Muggle presidents and leaders all around the world were brought in. Muggles think that there was a nuclear war in England. The entire country is sealed off by wards that are unlike anything we've ever seen. No one in or out."

Hermione shook her head. She pulled away from Harry to run her hands through her hair, rubbing at her temples. "How is that possible?"

"A hell of a lot of wizards and witches came together to trap us in. We found one small loophole through Ireland. That's why we based out camp in Pembroke. There used to be a Muggle ferry that had docks here. There's another in Holyhead, actually, and we use that one as a diversion when we want to sneak people out. Has to be done the Muggle way to avoid being caught, and passing through the break in the wards usually knocks any passengers on the boat unconscious for about twenty minutes, but they get out. Mostly families and children, older folks that can't go on fighting.

"Minerva's on the other side and helps set them up there. Unfortunately, Ireland was willing to only take in refugees so long as they were unconnected to either Death Eaters or werewolves. Which means that people who've been attacked, even if they aren't infected, aren't welcome." His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed, still angry after all these years. "The Order agreed to leave behind hundreds to save thousands."

"I can't leave," Hermione whispered in understanding, reaching up to touch the scars that Greyback had left behind—scars that she had purposely provoked him into giving her. "I can never escape."

Harry put his arms around her, exhaling when she moved into his embrace without hesitation. "I will never leave you. You're here with people who don't leave anyone behind. We're family here, Hermione. All of us."

"The Weasleys?"

An old, familiar pain ran through his chest: lingering guilt. Ron would have surely rolled his eyes at him had he lived to do so. As for the others . . . "We had to get Molly out. Arthur died in that first year, and Charlie was taken down as well. We begged George to get their mother out of Britain. She didn't want to leave because Bill wasn't allowed out. Fleur stuck behind as well, of course, which meant that any children they ever had would also be trapped here. Molly wasn't healthy, though, and we were worried. With no Wizarding society, that meant no St. Mungo's. What Healers chose to stick with us weren't capable of tending to everyone, and Molly was killing herself trying to help. Ron and Ginny stayed behind for their own reasons."

There was a gentle knock at the door, and Hermione stiffened in his arms. "It's probably Luna," Harry told her, very carefully prying away from her side. He kept his wand in hand so that she could see he was armed. Harry felt perfectly safe behind the wards on the hospital, but he wanted Hermione to feel safe too. Opening the door, he smiled at the floating tray in front of him. Taking it in hand, he closed the door behind him. "There's a little bit of food here. And there are some potions if you need them. Calming Draught and something to help you sleep."

Hermione resolutely shook her head. "I don't want to . . . I need to be in control."

"I understand." Harry set the tray down on the desk in the corner, taking one of the glasses and showing Hermione that it was empty so that she would know he was not going to dose her unsuspectedly. Instead of pouring water from the pitcher on the tray, he used his wand to fill the glass.

Hermione took the drink when he handed it to her. She swallowed one small sip, licking her chapped lips. "Why did you think I was dead?"

Harry winced, the memory still fresh in his mind. She took notice. "If you had undercover Death Eaters, how come it took so long for anyone to . . ."

"Because Draco and the others . . ." Harry pulled the chair from his desk, placing it in front of her and taking a seat. He briefly glanced at the Calming Draught on the tray, wondering if he could do with a few drops himself. "It took a few years to get them safe. Never mind that we needed to figure out if we could trust them. Draco we knew we could because of Narcissa. She left her family in order to save me. Showed up at Andromeda's house to explain everything. We had to go on the run almost immediately, and I was barely able to move let alone hold a wand."

"You trusted her?" Hermione quietly asked.

Harry nodded. "Those witches kept me alive. So when Narcissa wanted to get Draco out, what little resistance we had created was trying to do that. That and save the people who had been attacked by werewolves, and the Muggle-borns that had been captured, and . . ." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He scratched at the back of his neck and then rubbed his shoulder, the tension there felt permanent. "We didn't even know where to look for you because Riddle had every Death Eater property under a Fidelius."

"Dolohov was pretty proud of that one," Hermione mumbled bitterly. "He's dead?"

Harry clenched his fists. "Very."

She cleared her throat. "Go on."

"We only got in when the younger Death Eaters began buying up their own property. Bellatrix couldn't have Riddle be the Secret Keeper on those homes, otherwise, she'd reveal that he was a useless Dark Lord. So they put up nasty wards instead. What places we could get into, we raided searching for you. We tore Malfoy Manor to the ground."

A very small hint of a smile played at the corner of her mouth. "I'd wondered why they never took me there."

Harry, however, was far from smiling. He waited for her to take another sip of water. When she was done, he took her glass and set it aside so that her hands were free to hold. His callused thumbs ran over her knuckles reverently. When he spoke again, his voice was soft. "You were . . . You were murdered, Hermione. They killed you in front of Ron and Neville." His eyes were wet as he spoke, years older than he really was—aged by tremendous grief. "I was . . . I didn't handle it well," he said so quietly that she almost missed it. She leant into his hand when he reached up to touch her hair.

She remembered the amused look on Rowle's face when he removed every lock of hair from her head. At the time, she had assumed it was in an effort to humiliate her or remove what little identity she had. "They Polyjuiced someone else."

Harry nodded. "But we didn't know. They burned the body, so none of ours could have seen when the Polyjuice faded. That happened three years ago. And then a little over six months ago, you attacked Alecto Carrow in front of a gathering of Death Eaters. Someone at that table recognised you and passed the message along to us that you were alive. He said he would keep you safe, where no Death Eater could get to you."

Actually shocked, Hermione's mouth fell open. There was only one Death Eater that actually tried to prevent her from being harmed that night. "Nott. Nott is a . . . spy?"

"Theo's father. He's not the most likeable person," Harry said, his nose twitching in disgust, "and he's complicit in a lot of terrible things that have happened, but he knows they can't hold out forever. He suspected that Theo had switched sides, which he had, and so Thoros Nott was looking for a way out himself. You were that way. When we found out that you were alive, we put together a plan to get you out. Unfortunately, we hit a huge problem."

When she furrowed her brows, Harry tenderly touched her throat. There was still a distinct stripe of skin that differed in colour from the rest of her neck. "Your suppression collar had Tracking Charms. That, and because of the way they set it up, without removing it in a ritual, you could have either lost all your magic permanently or died. There was no way to know."

Hermione remembered seeing other Muggle-borns that had been married off to Death Eaters. They had not worn collars, which Hermione had always found intriguing, but never enough to risk asking questions. "One of you had to marry me."

"Which was why I insisted that Theo and the others ask you if you'd be willing to marry anyone. We didn't want you to be bonded against your will, but . . . I'm so sorry that I took that choice away from you, Hermione. I just couldn't leave you there to die, or risk you dying if we took you without getting that collar off."

Now that she knew everything that had happened and what they had all been fighting against over the years, she might have even forgiven them if they had let her marry Malfoy. Though, she was abundantly more pleased with the actual outcome. "If they'd tracked me here, it would have put you all in danger. You did the right thing."

Harry's shoulders lost some of their tension. Hermione's eyes softened at the sight. He had always looked burdened, even as a child. Now, tall and filled out, very much the man she always imagined he would become, he still looked tired from the weight of the world that he fought to hold up. She was grateful to know that he at least had help.

"You need to sleep."

Harry smiled as he looked up at her. "Still bossy."

She smiled softly at him. "I'm glad it was you. That . . . Harry, when you were . . . When you were Malfoy, when we were walking to the ceremony, you said . . ."

"It was you," Harry whispered, making and keeping eye contact, refusing to look away from her after the bold admission. "The girl I loved was you."