A/N - Big thank you to my hubs, Bryan, for talking me through this scene, and honestly, the next five chapters. He's awesome at asking questions like "What makes Hermione tick? Would she really do that? What's her over-arching reason for blahblahblah?" He really makes me think through my characters (and by mine, I mean JK Rowling's, who is the only true owner of all awesomeness relating to Harry Potter) and their personalities. And I love him for it.

It was exactly four minutes until seven o'clock. Hermione made her way into the kitchen where the rest of the Order of the Phoenix waited. She took her place next to Harry, purposefully standing away from Ron. She said her goodbye to him on the roof.

She knew if Ron looked in her eyes right now, he'd know at least some of her secrets. She could hide her current state of mind from most of the Order, but not Ron. He'd know she had something planned. There was no way she'd be able to fool him, not now.

Patting her robes, she located the copied parchment from the attic. She had quickly looked over the spells just minutes before, and had a fair idea of what they did. She had attempted to memorize the most pertinent spells, and was fairly confident in her ability to preform them, if need be.

Hopefully it wouldn't come to that. Untested spells could prove dangerous, as anyone could tell you.

She could feel Ron's eyes on her. If she just looked up, she'd melt into those azure pools. It would be so easy; effortless, really. She could walk over to him, throw her arms around his neck and kiss the hell out the boy. They'd fight the Death Eaters together, and she'd do her best to defeat Voldemort. She'd disarm, contain, and harm, but not kill. She wouldn't be a murderer. Maybe she'd be able to put the last two months behind her. Maybe she could be with Ron, and have the life she wanted.

And then she remembered what Harry had said.

"We need to leave more bodies on the battlefield than in the jail cells... we can't afford to lose any fighters on our side. I am asking you to duel to kill tonight, not to maim. I am asking you to use the darkest magic there is, if it becomes necessary."

She looked around the room, careful to keep her eyes moving quickly, as not to make contact with anyone. She mentally sorted out the good fighters and the not so good fighters. Most of the Weasleys could hold their own in a fight, but there was a possibility that George might seize up in battle; he hadn't been truly tested since Fred died. Being surrounded by Death Eaters once more may render him catatonic, for all anyone knew.

Percy Weasley was mostly rubbish at dueling, but what he lacked in precision he made up for in intensity. Hermione was always surprised to see the passion that accompanied his dueling; it was as if he was trying to make up for all those years he stood against Harry and his family.

Kingsley and Professor McGonagall were master duelists, so there was no concern there. Dean had held his own against Dolohov during the Battle of Hogwarts, so that had to mean something. Hermione was a bit concerned that he tended to use the same defensive spells over and over, which made his strategy easy to guess and out-maneuver. But at least he was capable of preforming a truly powerful Full Body-Bind Curse, and that was something.

Her eyes landed on Neville, and she smiled. Neville was actually an excellent person to have in the Order; he was resourceful and his dueling had improved remarkably since he had joined Dumbledore's Army back in Fifth Year. His true weakness was his own self-confidence; although he had proven himself many times over, especially during his seventh year at Hogwarts when he'd made life hell for the Carrows, he suffered from quite a bit of self-doubt. There was no reason for it. It was a weakness, one that could cost him dearly if he let down his guard at the wrong moment.

Luna was a powerful witch, but she lost concentration easily, leaving herself open for attack. She was made a medic because she was more than adept at healing charms; it would also (hopefully) keep her out of the most dangerous parts of the battle. Hermione often thought that Luna's incessant belief that people are naturally good at heart was the real reason Luna had difficulties casting powerful defensive curses.

And then there was Hagrid, Professor Sprout, Oliver, and Lee. Hagrid hadn't been allowed to graduate Hogwarts, and it greatly affected his ability to do magic. Harry had given him a wand months earlier; it had been found in an abandoned village, just hours after the small town had been sacked by Death Eaters. Harry had tried to work with Hagrid on defensive spells, but the half-giant couldn't seem to master even simple spells. He hadn't been able to complete his third year at Hogwarts, and it seemed his magical ability became stunted at that age. His physical attributes made him a formidable opponent when it came to hand-to-hand combat, but he was a target in any battle, especially when one factored in his size.

Professor Sprout was a Herbologist professor through and through. She had been helpful in the Battle of Hogwarts, when she and the students threw Snargaluff pods and Venomous Tentaculas on unsuspecting Death Eaters. 'Herbology skills wouldn't help much tonight,' thought Hermione.

Oliver and Lee had both fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, and survived. That meant something. Both were excellent fliers (Oliver, especially), and Hermione hoped they'd largely stay out of harm's way if they kept to the air. On the ground... she wasn't so sure.

Doing a quick calculation, she realized that she was absolutely certain of half the group's ability to handle themselves in a a fight.

Which meant she had doubts about the other half.

That wasn't good.

That was it then. There would be no backing down from Harry's plan. She knew very few members of the Order would aim to kill, and even if they were evenly matched with the Death Eaters, they were in trouble. If there were more than twenty Death Eaters at Nott Manor (not to mention Voldemort himself), the chances of one of the members of the Order dying tonight were high.

It was a risk that Hermione couldn't take. She would be the one to kill the enemy, to even the odds.

Okay. No melting into Ron's blue eyes. No more sappy fantasies of happily ever after.

She shook her head, attempting to clear it once more. The feelings running through her were scattered and overwhelming. The idea of taking a life was grotesque and horrifying. 'This isn't a decision to be made with emotions,' she told herself. 'Logically, this needs to be done. So it will be.'

She carefully put aside her emotions as if they could simply be folded and stored in a wardrobe, like clothing. Glancing down at the parchment she still held, she quickly repeated the most important spells in her head once more, mentally sifting through those that required a wand and those that didn't. Swish, flick. Swish, flick. She could do this. Although she really only had a vague idea what some of the spells actually did, it would have to be enough.

Pocketing the paper, she straightened herself, throwing back her shoulders. As much as she tried to clear her mind and concentrate on what needed to be done tonight, she couldn't slow down her breathing. Each breath was coming out in tiny gasps; she hoped no one noticed. She needed them to believe in her if she was to lead a team. Mentally she made her way through the multiplication tables; that always calmed her down. Numbers were constant, and they were the same in the Muggle world and the wizarding world. 3 x 3 is 9. 3 x 4 is 12. 3 x 5 is 15.

Harry reached for her hand, grabbing it and squeezing it twice before releasing it once more. Could he feel her trembling?

The Boy Who Lived wasn't shaking. He wasn't even breathing hard. His face was one of perfect control. This was the night Fate had been pushing him towards since the night his parents died.

He was ready.

"It's 6:59. I've shown you all exactly where we will be Apparating. I know most of you have not been there, but I have. Picture the exact location I showed you." Harry's ability in Occlumency and Legilimency had grown by leaps and bounds over the year. Tonight he had been able to project an image of the forest outside of Nott Manor into each of their minds. Hermione knew it was the power of the blood stone that allowed him to accomplish this most recent feat. She had never seen him preform such powerful magic.

"On the count of five. Five, four, three, two, one."

The collective group turned in place, and vanished.

Seven p.m. May 19th, 1999. The date that changed the world.

The sky was still light; the sun set after eight this time of year. The ground was not wet, but there was the faint smell of rain in the air. Looking down to the forest floor beneath her, Hermione saw a daffodil just beginning to open. She knelt down to brush the bud with her fingertips. Even closed, the bright yellow was stunning. The brilliant shade seemed out of place on a night such as this.

"The daffodil is a symbol of rebirth. That's a very good omen, you know." Luna's voice came from Hermione's right, and she smiled at the innocent blonde girl. Wordlessly Luna waved her wand over the flower, and it opened before their eyes, its petals peeling back slowly. "We could all use a new beginning."

Hermione nodded, unable to speak. Her response wasn't necessary, though, as Harry had just clapped his hands to draw the attention of the group.

"You all know the plan, so I'm not going to go over it again. If you are in need of medical attention and capable of doing so, raise your wand above your head and shoot white sparks as a signal. Fleur or Luna will assist you to the best of their ability. If you see a Member in need of medical attention, shoot the sparks above the person injured. Remember, Hermione and I need to be able to get to You-Know-Who as quickly as possible. We don't know if we're going to have the element of surprise, so don't assume that we do. We don't know how many Death Eaters will be there tonight; we're hoping for no more than thirty, but there may be more. Remember what I said earlier: you can aim to disarm and capture, but if it comes down to you or them, you duel to maim or kill. Do we understand one another?"

They all nodded in unison, a cohesive unit for the time being.

"All right. Those of you with brooms, get them out now."

There was quite a bit of rustling as the fliers removed the tiny brooms from their robes and charmed them back to their original sizes. Hermione quickly tied her hair up in a bun, pushing back the soft tendrils threatening to impede upon her vision. She found Dean, her flying partner, and slid behind him on the broom, resting her hands on his hips. She mentally prepared to leave the ground, her stomach already sick at the very idea of flight. Glancing over at Neville and Luna, who also shared a broom, she tried to distract herself with the picture of Neville's bright red cheeks and Luna's hands linked firmly around his waist.

"As soon as the wards break, we attack. Before that happens, though, I want to let you all know how very proud I am of all of you." The Chosen One's emerald eyes were watery, and his jaw was tight with emotion. "I have never met a braver group of individuals. Remember who it is we are fighting for; remember those on our side who gave their lives for the cause. Remember those families torn apart by Death Eater raids. Remember the Muggles from King's Cross; those tiny, innocent schoolchildren who had nothing to do with this war. Tonight is the night it ends, my dear friends. The first round of pints is on me."

And that was that. Harry slowly walked forward, his hands in front of him, searching for the edge of the wards. Hermione crossed her fingers, hoping he would find them intact. If the wards were up, Voldemort may not be expecting them.

Although no one could see the wards, they knew Harry had found them when his fingertips pressed hard against what appeared to be simply thin air. Reaching into his pocket, he found a vile of maroon liquid. He removed the stopper, and sprinkled the coagulated blood onto the invisible walls. There was a pulse of light, and his fingers moved past the previous guards. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, except for Hermione, would only felt nausea at the sight of Theodore Nott's blood.

Without another word, Harry mounted his broom and took to the sky. The rest of the Air Assault Team took off behind him, Oliver taking point. They would be attacking from the north, joining up with Hermione's team which would be coming from the west. Kingsley's team would (hopefully) surprise the Death Eaters from the forest, to the east of Nott Manor.

The rest of the Order of the Phoenix followed Harry's lead, their broomsticks quickly leaving the ground far below.

It was time.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh fuck." Hermione knew she was supposed to be clearing her mind and mentally preparing herself for the battle, but did they REALLY have to be twenty meters above the ground right now?

She felt a deep rumbling in front of her. Dean turned his head back towards the anxious girl. "Are you really that scared of flying, or is it the battle?"

"Oh Dean, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize I said that aloud! Erm, it's pretty much the flying. The fighting can't be helped, but the flying... it's unnatural." Her eyes were squeezed tight; she didn't want to look at the ground unless absolutely necessary.

Even though she couldn't see his face, she could tell the handsome Gryffindor was smiling. "Hermione Granger, many would say that all magic is unnatural. For instance, pretty much every Muggle. How is it that flying bothers you so much?"

She laughed nervously. "Just does, I suppose." She knew she could have explained it more, but her stomach was threatening to empty itself, so talking seemed like a bad idea.

They were almost there. The grounds of Nott Manor spread out below them, and she could just see the main house in the distance. As they got closer she saw the Manor rise up from the hillside, large and imposing. She flashed back to the room off the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. Nott, tied to a chair, water pouring out of his mouth. She recalled him choking on the liquid, the evidence of her torture fleeing his body. His eyes rolling back in his head as he struggled to hold onto consciousness. She recalled the visions he had shown her.

This was most certainly the place.

They set down on the sprawling lawn, quickly shrinking the brooms and pocketing them, a hand on their wands. The grounds were empty.

Voldemort didn't know they were coming.

Hermione motioned for her team to fall into formation. She would lead the group, followed by Bill and Professor McGonagall, and then Molly and Luna. Dean and Neville would bring up the rear of the formation. She slowly walked forward towards the Manor, then stopped suddenly as a scary thought ran through her mind. What if Voldemort knew they were coming, and was pretending to be unaware? What if he was the one who removed the wards?

Lifting her wand, she spoke the words clearly, choosing to cast the spell verbally, as to give her team a moment's notice of what she suspected. "Homenum Revelio!"

The veil was lifted.

Hermione's small team was surrounded by no less than twenty Death Eaters. Oliver's team was nowhere in sight.

Oh fuck.

A/N - For those of you waiting for Draco (me! me!) he won't be around for another 5 chapters or so. This is primary a Hermione-centric story, which is why I left the 'second character' blank for the time being. Draco will play a very important part in this story, no worries. I'm very very excited to write him! I am writing this story chapter by chapter, so although I have certain scenes worked out in my mind, they haven't been written yet. If you have anything you'd like to see, and it fits my vision of the story, let me know! It just may make it in.