Harry was going to leave the castle.

He had come to see Hermione and Ron earlier that evening and told them of Dumbledore's plan to get the next Horcrux, a locket, supposedly located in a cave that Tom Riddle had visited as a child, behind some unknown enchantments. There was too much vagueness in the 'plan' for Hermione's liking, not, she thought with some irritation, that she had a say. Harry would follow where the headmaster led, and something told Hermione they would facing obstacles of a very different magnitude than they had when trying to get to the Philosopher's Stone in their first year.

Hermione knew Harry was capable. While he might not have been an applied student he was naturally gifted when it came to defensive and offensive magic, and he was going with the headmaster, who despite his slipperiness, was by all accounts a formidable opponent. After all, he had defeated Grindelwald, and even Voldemort himself was said to fear him, though Hermione never knew if that was true, she wondered if Voldemort could even feel an emotion that human anymore. Hermione hadn't seen Dumbledore duel the Dark Lord at the Ministry, on account of having her chest slashed, rendering her unconscious. Those that had been there were said to be blown away by the raw power both had displayed.

She may not have trusted Dumbledore's motives, but she did trust him with Harry's safety. Hermione just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. It was possible that it was a simple case of the timing, it had been nearly twelve full months without a serious attack on any of their lives. If you didn't count Ron's near death experience after the poisoning, or Harry's repeated attempts at suicide via Professor Snape's ire.

Hermione went to bed, her mind still whirling, leaving her unsettled, so when Professor McGonagall came to her dorm to wake her, she was alert and dressed in seconds. Her Head of House's explanation was brief, there had been a breach of the castle wards and she was going to call the Order, she needed Hermione to get all of the students in the Tower secured, along with the other Prefects.

Hermione quickly carried out her assigned task, anxious to get moving; she needed to find Harry, if Death Eaters were responsible and really, who else would think to break into the castle? He would be their likely target. After calming the younger students and warding them inside the highest dorm rooms, Hermione cast as many cloaking and defensive spells as she could muster before slipping back into her dorm to retrieve her DA coin. She flicked it over in her fingers for a while, considering the best course of action before resolving herself and sending a quick message.

Ron and Neville were already waiting at the bottom of the stairs when Hermione got into the common room. "Where to?" Neville asked, and Hermione stilled at the sound of his voice. It was the first time he had spoken to her, directly, since Slughorn's Party. Her heart did a little leap of gladness, but this was not the time to focus on that now.

"Room of Requirement, that's where Harry has seen Draco hanging around this year. It's as good a bet as any," she replied.

Neville only nodded and looked away again, Hermione pushed down the hurt she felt, it was her fault, once again she reminded herself of what they had to do. As they made to leave Ginny came down the stairs, and after a quick, but heated, exchange with her brother the four Gryffindor's headed out. Hermione opened the portrait hole, as softly as possible, and spied Luna waiting for them in the corridor. The blonde smiled at them, though her eyes were troubled and Hermione flicked a quick look around the otherwise empty hall. No one else from the DA had come.

She swallowed back her nervousness when she realised the group was the same as the end of last year, and worse still, it appeared that in Harry's absence they were all looking at her, Hermione instantly hated it, she wasn't a leader.

"Let's go," she said with a confidence she didn't feel.

The students made their way to the seventh-floor corridor, Hermione's fear ratcheting with every corner they turned. The castle was too quiet, it was the calm before the inevitable storm, everything was going to change from that night. Unbelievably, Hermione felt a greater sense of foreboding than at any other time in her life, even while walking into the Ministry, the year before, she had not had this level of nausea. The threat wasn't just out in the open anymore, it was coming to them, invading a place that Hermione had felt safe.

They got to the Room of Requirement in time to see the Order had arrived and a battle had already broken out; there was no more time for introspection, Death Eaters were in the castle. How had they even gotten in? A flash of white blond hair went past and then Hermione saw Draco, his face paler than ever and his mouth set in a grim line. Neville and Ron reacted immediately, wands raised as they stalked forward, but the Slytherin disappeared in a cloud of what was instantly recognisable as Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. If she survived this, Hermione would have a word with the Twins about the clientele.

Within minutes the combat had scattered wider than the seventh-floor corridor, with little pockets and skirmishes breaking out all over the castle. Hermione, Luna and Ginny were working as a team, standing with their backs to each other, assisting the Order where possible. They had all separated in the Ministry, and that had been the first of many mistakes, they needed to say in small groups as long as possible. They weren't strong enough on their own, but together maybe they could endure this.

It dawned on Hermione, as she repeatedly cast shields that there were not enough Death Eaters present to suggest their aim was to take over Hogwarts. There were even less than had been sent to the Department of Mysteries, which could only indicate they were here for an express purpose. The knowledge made Hermione fear for Harry all the more.

None of them were wearing masks, Hermione supposed as this was now open war it no longer mattered. Everyone knew who the members of the other side were, though Hermione only recognised Bellatrix and Rabastan Lestrange from the Ministry. Rabastan she only saw up close briefly before he flew down a corridor pursuing Professor Lupin.

Hermione had a tiny moment to be impressed at seeing some of the Order duel; she had been unconscious when they had shown at the last battle and seeing them now was slightly breathtaking. Professor Lupin was in a word, incredible. Though his prowess shouldn't have been a surprise, he had been their Defence Professor after all. His worn appearance made you underestimate his raw power. He displayed an economy of movement that was fascinating; he achieved everything with the slightest flick of his wand and insubstantial turns of his form. His entire demeanour gave the impression of a person barely trying.

His style and manner were in direct contrast to his opponent; Rabastan Lestrange duelled like he was sword fighting or possibly even dancing. The dark wizard's wand arched and slashed through the air, his arm regularly at full extension. He used every available surface to crouch, jump behind or spring from. Though it wasn't just for show, he was obviously capable, and though the complete opposite of her Professor his display was just as intimidating. While Professor Lupin's expression was calm and assessing Rabastan's was manic and scattered, he seemed to live every motion, every cast spell highlighting his overly expressive face with bolts of vibrant colour.

Facing the Death Eaters this time was more frightening, even with the Order being present from the off. There were a good few that did not seem particularly stable that Hermione recognised from the posters in Hogsmeade and the Daily Prophet after the Azkaban breakout. While sending a hex in the direction of a large Death Eater duelling Bill Weasley she felt Luna stiffen beside her, and Hermione turned to see Fenrir Greyback at the end of the corridor. The darkness surrounding him was palpable, hate and bloodlust seemed to roll off his savage frame in waves, Greyback stood so tall and looked so feral, it was hard to know where the man ended and the wolf began, if there was even a line between them now. His tangled hair fell way past his shoulders, and in areas was matted, by substances Hermione didn't want to think about. His mouth was already smeared with blood, and truly canine teeth glinted in the dim light. Hermione felt her blood run cold.

She looked around, assessing where her friends were. Ginny had moved off with Ron and Neville, and so Hermione grabbed Luna's hand and made to get out of the corridor, to put as much distance between them and the wolf as was possible. Their terror dictated the pace, and the girls were soon several minutes away, on the other side of the castle. While they may have been able to hold off some of the Death Eaters while working as a team, Hermione doubted their chances against Greyback.

Though they ran until their legs burned it was clearly not far enough to be out of danger, it wasn't long before they crossed paths with the great hulking figure of Thorfinn Rowle, out of the frying pan Hermione thought desperately. Rowle's face took on a devious smirk when he saw the two of them, and Hermione tugged at Luna to get her to follow as they retreated as fast as they could down the corridor, both casting as shields rather than anything offensive.

Rowle pursued them, and if anything he seemed to be enjoying the chase; in spite of his frame, he was incredibly light on his feet. Hermione was beginning to question if they would make it out of there when a suit of armour clattered on the ground at the other side of the hall, and at the sudden movement Rowle spun and cast before even looking up, and Hermione stilled as she watched the green spark light up the dark area.

A Death Eater, Hermione didn't know who, fell to the ground with a low thud. Comprehension of what he had done settled on Rowle and in the momentary confusion Luna pulled Hermione violently, and the two darted away as fast as they could. They made it to a corridor that was thankfully devoid of any sign of the chaos that was currently overrunning the other areas of the castle, and Hermione and Luna sank against the nearest wall to catch their breath. There were no fitness classes at the school in the wizarding word, and Hermione was beginning to realise the potential danger in that. She needed to work out what to do next, to find out whether Harry had made it back.

She was dimly aware of the sound of footsteps but quicker than Hermione could react a large, firm hand was gripping her shoulder. She spun around to face her attacker, but unlike the others, but he was wearing a mask. She struggled fiercely, but it was like trying to blow on an established oak tree to knock it down, whoever was holding her was just too strong. Hermione changed tack and screamed at Luna to run, but her friend stubbornly refused to move. The imposing figure, seeing Luna's lack of retreat, gripped her as well and pushed both the struggling girls down the corridor. Hermione's mind was producing a list of the worst possible people they could be taken to when unexpectedly the rough hand released her shoulder, and shoved Luna and herself behind one of the tapestries, hiding them from view.

Hermione looked up only to see her face reflected in the shiny surface, looking a picture of confusion.

"Stay here," his gruff voice commanded, and before they could say anything else the figure was gone.

"Hermione," Luna whispered, "I know you want to find Harry, but I think we should do what he said," she implored quietly.

Hermione was still attempting to regulate her breathing, "Who was he?" she asked mystified.

"I don't know but he's hidden us, and we don't even know where to start looking for Harr-"

Luna cut off abruptly as the sound of heavy, clunking footfalls reverberated around the space. As quietly as possible the girls shifted themselves to move further back from the tapestry covering the alcove. Hermione felt the cold stone of the castle walls permeate her clothes, as she covered her mouth and nose with her hand in an effort to stifle the sounds of her laboured breaths, and gestured for Luna to do the same. She didn't want to risk casting anything in case the movement was detected.

Hermione heard a large inhale of breath, then the dark, animalistic, taunting voice of Fenrir Greyback surrounded them. "Well, what do we have here?" he all but barked, Hermione didn't need to see his face to know that he was grinning.

Luna moved slightly next to her, and Hermione turned to see her friend's eyes wide and unblinking. It was strange to see Luna afraid, she normally never even registered negative emotions, the desire to protect her washed over Hermione and she reached out to grab her hand, squeezed and shifted to position herself slightly in front of her.

"Oh, you don't have to make a noise darlings I can smell you," he continued, and Hermione felt bile rise in her throat. Not him, please not him. The stories relating to Greyback in the Daily Prophet were always the worst. Most of the Death Eaters could be described as sadistic but Greyback was something more. It wasn't just that he got pleasure from depravity, it was as if he needed it to survive. Death at his hands would be slow and bloody; he would break them.

The footfalls began to move closer. "There are two of you? How marvelous," Greyback shouted, Hermione heard another deep inhale, "one of you smells like summer the other like winter… it's going to be so hard to pick who goes first."

Hermione shuffled until she was completely in front of Luna, unconsciously pushing her friend's body further back into the wall.

"You're young aren't you? I do hope so; I was promised blossoming flesh tonight."

How much of what Greyback was saying was the beginning to the torture and how much was down to him just liking the sound of his own voice, Hermione couldn't be sure.

The footsteps suddenly quickened and Hermione suppressed a scream, she and Luna grasped at each other desperately, she wanted to be brave, she was a Gryffindor, but she felt almost paralysed by fear, her mind hadn't seen enough horrors to even begin to wonder what a man like that… well, he was more creature than man now, would have in store for them.

He was so close now Hermione could hear his breathing; it was heavy, he was excited? She gripped Luna tightly and shut her eyes.

"It's show time dog… get to the Astronomy Tower, Bella is calling for you," a crisp voice rang out, and Hermione started at the unfamiliar sound.

"I don't answer to her like you and your brother… I'm busy," Greyback snarled

"Fine… I'll be sure to tell her you were too busy," the unknown voice threatened.

The corridor fell silent, and Hermione could imagine the two of them facing each other down. "Fine," Greyback snapped finally, and Hermione heard his boots pound back down to the other end of the corridor. She let out the breath she had been holding and opened her eyes, but before she could even ask Luna if she was ok, the tapestry was yanked back, hard. Hermione almost bit her lip as she came face to face with a smirking Rabastan Lestrange.

"Well, what do we have here?" he asked brightly, Merlin, was that line in the 'How to be a Death Eater' handbook?

Rabastan leant forward, and on instinct, Hermione pushed Luna further from view and raised her wand. She was still frightened but not as incapacitated as she had been with Greyback, Rabastan might torture them, but she was pretty sure she wasn't about to get eaten, at least she hoped that was the case. When his hand came forward Hermione assumed he was moving for her neck so was shocked rigid when he pulled one of her curls between his fingers and tugged on the strand gently. She pulled herself away from him, grabbing her hair and yanking it from his grasp aggressively.

"Oh, you've got spark," Rabastan said, his eyes appraising her, "that does make this more interesting." Disregarding Hermione's wand aimed at his chest he leant around her to look at Luna, who by this point had probably sustained more damage from Hermione's vigorous defence that their fighting. "Hello little sprite," he greeted with a soft smile, "I remember you," he said faintly, and Hermione lifted her wand higher.

More footsteps sounded, these sharp and clipped, and Hermione couldn't take this anymore, would someone just kill them and get it over with!

"Lestrange, move," a dark voice drawled, and Hermione was sure she had never felt more grateful to hear the tones of Professor Snape. She should have been as terrified as before but she wasn't, and when she registered Luna's shoulders sag she knew the feeling was mutual.

Rabastan turned to face her, his nose being mere inches from her face. She thought she saw his eyes soften. "Hermione… I," he began urgently.

"Now, Lestrange, it's time," Professor Snape snapped.

Rabastan looked like he wanted to say something, but then his mouth closed, shaking his head in frustration. He stood back from the alcove not breaking his gaze from her face and then turned to fix a look of pure contempt at the Potions Master, body checking him on his way down the corridor, and walking in the direction he had sent Greyback moments earlier. Hermione's mind was reeling, he'd said her name, why? The way he looked at her, none of it made sense.

Hermione was pulled from her wayward thoughts by Professor Snape leaning forward and grabbing both of her shoulders under a painful grip. "Miss Granger, what are you doing here? You should be warded in the Tower," he bit out urgently.

"Sir, I," she tried.

"You will get out of here," he commanded, his voice taking on a flat steely edge that made her remember how frightening he could be. Neither she nor Luna made a movement. "Do you hear me?" His voice raised, and he shook her slightly. "Go back to the Tower, take her with you, and don't get caught, if one of them gets hold of you, they will kill you, but not before playing with you first."

The professor glanced around Hermione to look at Luna and then back again more softly. "I understand that you want to protect them all, but while they are on your side they have pure blood, the Dark Lord will not spill it with the same delighted freedom that he would yours."

Hermione nodded, incapable of speech, then he released her shoulders and stormed down the corridor, his robes undulating behind him.

"Sir," she called, finding her voice finally. Professor Snape didn't stop, but she knew he had heard her.

"Be careful, Sir."

Antonin was back at Malfoy Manor, a place he had grown to hate in his youth for it's over the top frippery,and it's pontificating inhabitants. He had to stay there, he had been ordered to, and only that order would have kept him there at this point, the second stint in prison had not softened his demeanour any. At least he could console himself that it wasn't a permanent stay. The war was out in the open, in a few more days he could stay with Yaxley, at his townhouse, until they knew which way the wind was blowing. Antonin could have gone back to his own, but he had no desire to be by himself for long periods at the moment, he knew it would be awhile before he was back on an even keel, or as close as he ever got in any case. No, solitude would not have a calming effect on his turbulent emotions

Antonin paced the carpeted floor, not sparing a glance for how his rough boots were crunching the elaborately patterned textile under foot. He hadn't been assigned to be part of the Hogwarts contingent. Of the recently released Death Eaters, only Rabastan had been sent along. His Lord had seemingly gone with shock value rather than competency for the mission; Antonin supposed that made sense, they were not looking to overthrow the school entirely, at least not tonight. The aim was to subdue the castle occupants so they could get to Dumbledore, the sight of Bellatrix and Greyback entering from the inside would probably be enough to do that. The rest were just extras, braying dogs that needed 'exercise', or the few that had been sent to make sure everything didn't derail completely.

His Lord had other plans for him; he wanted Antonin working with Yaxley on getting into the Ministry, though Antonin would not be able to infiltrate himself, his face was too well known, he was to help with the strategy. He had tried to work a little after the Hogwarts contingent had left but it had been a fruitless endeavour, Antonin couldn't entirely control the shaking of this hands yet. Despite many, many warm showers, he still felt as if the cold from the prison rock was seeping into his bones, into his blood. He knew he wasn't well enough yet to do anything useful, knew it was the right decision for him not to go that evening, but he couldn't help feeling bitter about it.

She would be there. Definitely. He could have seen her and explained, checked her over and… Well, the rest of what he would have done was slightly lost on him at the moment. However, Antonin had no doubt over what he wanted to do. He dreamt of taking her, locking her up somewhere until all of this was over. Then he could find a way to make her safe no matter who won.

Yep, not up to strategy work just yet.

Antonin threw the quill he had been twisting between his fingers onto the top of the desk and stalked towards the dining room that had once been set aside for the briefings, following the last breakout. Once inside he padded up to the sideboard and in jerky moves poured himself a generous helping of firewhisky. Antonin wasn't bothering with building up a tolerance for it this time, events were going to escalate quickly, and from experience, he knew that would mean little sleep and heavy drinking. He sat himself down in one of the high-back chairs and sagged, she was so close now, so close his skin itched. He needed to see her. Antonin didn't want to think about what would happen if one of them got hold of her. His only comfort was that Reuben had gone, he knew his friend would carry out his wishes, even if he didn't understand them.

Antonin was disturbed from his spiralling thoughts by the door opening and Rodolphus Lestrange entering the room, upon spotting Antonin in the chair directly facing him Dolph paused in the doorway. The two men confronted each other silently, both faces impassive, they hadn't seen each other since the night at the Department of Mysteries.

Rodolphus looked worn but still like himself; he had endured as much of Azkaban as Antonin had, coming out of the other side affected, but not broken. He was a tall man, and broad, his sandy hair fell into his eyes, and it would appear that he had decided to keep the full beard he had gained in prison, though a much-neatened version. He remained standing calmly in the doorway, and Antonin thought he could almost see the cogs turning in Lestrange's mind, he obviously did not want to walk in any further in, but would not have wanted to retreat either, that would have displayed weakness.

Antonin sat further back in his chair, a sign of a confident ease, as he assessed how this could play out. Rodolphus was more tranquil than his brother, at least in appearances. Rabastan had long been renowned for having a quick temper, and a complete inability to keep his mouth closed when agitated. Rodolphus was the opposite, he never lost his cool, which made him all the more dangerous, much like Antonin he saved up grievances and sought out revenge when the anger had thawed.

After a moment more silent contemplation Antonin broke the tension, this conversation needed to happen, he wanted answers, and it was best to do so with the least inhabitants around to poke their nose in. "Good to see you Rodolphus, how was your... time away?" he inquired lightly.

"Same as yours, I would wager, Antonin," Rodolphus sighed and moved into the room, turning to shut the door behind him. He walked to the sideboard, and like Antonin had done earlier, poured himself a drink before sinking into the chair opposite the Russian wizard, motioned with his hand as he took a hearty swig, giving Antonin the indication he should speak.

"Let's get straight to it then, why did your brother punch me in the face the night of the last battle?" Antonin kept his voice neutral; he wanted information, not retribution, that would come later.

Rodolphus swirled the amber liquid in his glass. "You would have to ask him."

Antonin was slightly surprised by the answer, though resolutely did not show it. It was not unusual for Rodolphus to be approached by others who had complaints about Rabastan's behaviour, and he always dealt with the situation calmly, and as honestly as possible. Antonin imagined it came of being brought up to be the Head of House and a much older sibling. He didn't care for the evasive attitude of the older wizard.

"Don't play games with me, I haven't gone soft, and you've seen me in action enough to know what I'm capable of," Antonin threatened evenly.

Rodolphus groaned as if he was bored of the conversation, but Antonin did not miss the way his fingers rapped against the outside of his glass, he was covering up his anxiety. "Rab lost it that night, the thought of going back to Azkaban everything, he just lost it."

"I understand that of course. But that doesn't explain why he hit me. Why, with everyone there, he walked the whole line to step in front of me. Or why his extreme reaction seemed to be triggered by McNair having spotted the Mudb-"

Rodolphus stood hastily from his seat knocking the table in the process. "It is a House matter Dolohov," he hissed, practically bearing his teeth, "and it's none of your business."

Got you, Antonin thought smugly. "It became my business when he broke my nose." Antonin was beginning to let some of his frustration seep into his tone.

They were still glaring at each other when the door opened again, and Yaxley walked through, looking hardly worse for wear for having been involved in a complex mission. "Sorry to break up... whatever this is," he said waving a hand between the agitated wizards, "but we're back and he has called a full meeting."

The men reluctantly broke the intense stare and Rodolphus dropped his glass to the table before stalking out of the room without a word.

"Lovers quarrel?" Reuben asked, eyebrows raised.

Antonin lifted his glass and drained the remains of the contents. "Whatever it was that affected him when we got out last time, and Rabastan at the Ministry, she's at the heart of it."

Reuben brushed a hand over his face. "Just what we need another complication," he leant against the wall regarding Antonin with his head tilted to one side, "You're sure about this? There are thousands of less complicated witches out there."

"I'm sure," Antonin said resolutely.

"Fine," Yaxley conceded nodding, "then she becomes part of the manifesto."

"What's the manifesto?"

"So far it's a piece of parchment that says 'get out of this alive and free', with a hastily added note at the bottom, 'with the girl'."

Antonin nodded, Lestrange or not Hermione was now non-negotiable.

Hermione stared out at the ornate, white, tomb blankly, she had managed to affect a state of polite distress the whole day, but her real concern was for Harry, and maybe for the absence of her grief. She puzzled as to why she didn't feel genuine anguish. Sure she hadn't known the headmaster well, but he was the leader of the light, on her side. Hermione resumed her quiet vigil allowing her mind to wander.

Voldemort had ordered the death of Dumbledore, Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater, and Professor Snape had been a traitor after all. Those three 'facts' had been all that were talked about over the previous weeks and yet, apart from the first, which Hermione accepted easily, the information was proving difficult for her to assimilate.

Draco was a Death Eater, that was no longer up for debate; it was a testament to how broken Harry was that he spared no time to flay her over her mistaken belief in Draco's, well, not innocence, but Hermione hadn't believed a sixteen-year-old would be of interest to Voldemort. She should have realised by now that the adults on both sides were more than happy to use children to pad out their game of soldiers. It wasn't that she was keen to defend Malfoy, far from it, but Death Eater or not he hadn't been the boy she had 'known' in the last year. The Malfoy she knew was cruel and spiteful. Hermione's reluctance to believe he had been marked was not just down to his age, and questions over his usefulness. It was more that she always believed, that had Draco become a Death Eater, he would have swaggered into Hogwarts, twice as nasty as he had been before, itching to let them all know how he had walked into their ranks and fulfilled his birthright, how they should all watch out now. But he had not paraded around at all. Instead, he had been quiet, sinking into the shadows. Malfoy's welfare wasn't exactly high on Hermione's agenda, but he seemed much more broken puppet than a hardened vigilante to her. A conclusion that was given more credence by Harry's retelling of the night on the Astronomy Tower.

The Potions Master had been the one to kill Dumbledore, in the end, Draco had tried, but he couldn't go through with it. Harry had heard him say something about his mother and it had played on Hermione's mind, would she, could she kill to protect her family and friends? The answer remained inconclusive in her mind, but it wasn't likely to remain hypothetical very much longer. In the next year, she would presumably find out just how far she would go, just how willing she was to tarnish her soul in defence of those she loved.

Hermione listened to the Order talk about Professor Snape; their hate fuelled words swirling around her like smoke in the kitchen of the Burrow. He had killed Dumbledore, that much was certain, but she was less clear about his motivations. The Order believed him to be a double agent, happy to have conclusive proof of his conniving, untrustworthy ways finally, but Hermione's inferences were different. It was possible she was naive, it was childish to assume someone's relative humanity correlated to how they treated you, she couldn't excuse what had happened because he had been nice to her, once.

Though her assessment was based on more than that, she was dependent on logic and reason, and something didn't fit with Harry's version of that night. Why hadn't Dumbledore defended himself? The headmaster had no way of knowing that the Death Eaters would simply leave afterwards, and while Hermione could readily believe that Dumbledore would be able to rationalise away the potential danger that put the rest of the school in, he had known Harry was only feet away. Hermione was sure he wouldn't have risked Harry's life… something else was going on.

She had pulled Harry aside days before, to let him know she had found out the identity of the Half-Blood Prince, her earlier snooping into the Hogwarts Yearbooks had proved to be somewhat useful. The book had belonged to Professor Snape. Harry took the news like a solid punch and Hermione left him in a comfortable chair to ponder it further, what he had needed then was not comfort, but time.

The day of the funeral turned into a bit of a soap opera. The new Minister for Magic arrived, and as expected Rufus Scrimgeour asked Harry for his assistance, wanting him to stand with the Ministry 'during these dark times'. Harry told him to fuck off, and Hermione had been a little stunned. She wasn't sure she had ever heard him so angry, or if she had ever been so proud of him. After years of telling him to shut up when speaking to authority figures, he looked a little confused by her coat-hanger grin, but Scrimgeour was a condescending bastard of the highest order.

The Minister was unperturbed by the brush off and continued as if he were talking to three particularly dense trolls. "With respect, Mr Potter, there are people in the Ministry that are better equipped to handle this situation, we only ask that you give your comments to curry some much needed public favour… for their own good."

In response Harry grabbed Hermione's wrist and brandished the back of her hand in the Minister's face, so the man could clearly see the lettering still carved there, 'I must respect my betters'.

"With respect Minister," Harry spat. "My friends and I are fully informed about the betters you have at your disposal within the Ministry," before he dropped Hermione's arm and stormed off.

She cleared her throat and turned from his retreating form. "Thank you very much for attending Minister; I do hope you will stay for some cake."

By the time early evening had rolled around everyone was wrung out. Hermione and Ron had been collapsed under a tree for an hour or so when Harry joined them. He dropped down, sitting in front of them but not meeting their faces. He compressed his hands in his lap, and, noticing the tension, Hermione sat forward straightening up and observed Ron doing the same.

"I broke it off with Ginny," Harry began out of the blue.

Ron looked murderous. "You what?!" he shouted.

Harry lifted his hands in submission. "It's not because I don't... Well, I love her ok, but I can't keep her safe this year and for me… to even try what I have to do… to try to win this, I need her to be safe." Ron looked contemplative and finally nodded, though his mouth remained set in a firm line.

"I won't be going back for the seventh year," Harry continued, "I made Dumbledore a promise, and I need to keep it… to win, I need to keep it."

"We're coming with you," Hermione said, using the tone she reserved for the end of term revision charts, she looked at Ron.

"We've already agreed," he continued, folding his arms across his chest. They had discussed it the week before, at the Burrow, they knew they needed to put on a united, unwavering front to have a chance of not just convincing Harry in the moment, but also ensuring that he wouldn't just pay lip services to their assertions only to disappear into the night.

"You don't have to do that," Harry answered quietly, there was no trace of the usual fire present in his argument. She knew he wanted, needed them there, but he would never have asked.

"Muggleborn, chosen one, blood traitor," Ron said, pointing to each of them in turn, "it's not like we could have just boarded the Express in September and expected to complete our N.E. ," Ron laughed.

Harry nodded quietly, but Hermione knew there was still work to do there. The last of the day's light was spent discussing the plan, Hermione had already worked out some things, but there were so many variables to consider.

"God for Harry, England, and Saint George!" Hermione uttered as she looked out across the deceptively calm waters of The Black Lake.

"What?!" both boys responded at the same time

"Oh for the love of Merlin, read a bloody book once would you?"

All three laughed at the gentle comfort of a familiar light-hearted argument, in spite of the gathering clouds they were still them, three teenagers, three friends, trying to enjoy a moment of sanity before the world fell apart.