~*~Twenty One~*~
Thursday dawned as every other day, a streak of light against the horizon, the call of birds dancing in the wind. Hermione hadn't even tried to sleep, instead spending the night counting the stars atop the astronomy tower, wishing upon every shooting star. Her neck was stiff, her eyes bleary, but she had no doubt that once the day began in earnest, the adrenaline would keep her on point.
The great hall was mostly empty when she arrived, only a handful of Ravenclaws diligently revising before breakfast. She took a seat at the Griffindor table, heaping porridge into a bowl. She would eat while she still could, the nerves likely to curdle her stomach as soon as she faced Harry, Draco, Snape or Professor Dumbledore. She knew this was his last day, knowledge the man himself likely shared. That hardly made it better; to know he'd orchestrated his own death by Snape's hand to spare Draco. For what could she give that compared with laying down one's life?
Hermione tossed her hair, trying to clear such impossible thoughts from her head. There was still a good twelve hours before all hell broke loose and she couldn't afford to waver for a single one of those hours. The porridge tasted like wood in her mouth, but she kept eating, forcing the nutrition down her throat.
Snape and Dumbledore entered together, Snape's eyes briefly locking with hers as they walked to the professor's table. She looked away, unable bear the sight. Harry and Ron came next, their conversation natural as they discussed the latest quidditch match.
Hermione's eyes glossed over as she listened; the urge to turn back time overwhelming her. If only they could all go back to when they were mere children, when quidditch was truly the most exciting thing and no one had ever heard of Voldemort. Of course, that universe had never existed, but oh, did she wish with all her heart that it had. A world where Draco could just have been a boy, not a handcrafted monster. A world where Harry's green eyes sparkled with joy, free from the burden cast upon him. A world where Ron had kissed her years ago and they laughed about it now. A world where Hermione didn't have the fate of those she loved on her shoulders. A world with love, not hate, and peace, not war. An impossible world.
Classes were the same as always, but no matter how hard she tried, Hermione's notes were a jumble of disjointed words, lacking all use. She kept her head down, her hand only raised when no one else volunteered. She frantically tracked the arc of the sun across the sky, the tremble in her hands growing as the bright sphere dipped further toward the green horizon.
Harry caught up to her after their last class, transfiguration. "Hermione…"
She paused to let him fall into step with her as she headed toward the Griffindor Tower. "What's up?"
His green eyes were somber. "Today's the day. We're finding the next Horcrux."
"Now?" She glanced at him, her voice holding the surprise she didn't feel. No, now only dread was left, hanging heavily over her heart.
Harry nodded, a hand running through his black nest of hair. "I didn't want to tell Ron yet, he tends to get jealous when I have to do these things on my own, but I know you understand."
Did she ever. "Are you meeting him now?"
"Yeah, top of the Astronomy Tower. Apparently you can apparate from Hogwarts if you're Albus Dumbledore." Harry shook his head in rueful admiration.
Hermione gaped at him for a good second before recovering. She'd read Hogwarts: A History from cover to cover at least six times now. It stated in no uncertain terms that one could not apparate within the wards. "You're joking."
"Afraid not," Harry replied, sheepish. "I guess it's one of those things you just have to see to believe."
"I guess so." She would definitely be seeing that. Apparation within the grounds? What next? Vanishing Cabinets sequestering Death Eaters? Hermione grimaced; her humor was getting a little too dark.
Harry startled Hermione when he threw his arms around her. "I know we haven't been on the best of terms, 'Mione, but I want you to know I love you, no matter what."
It sounded too much like goodbye. Hermione gripped him tightly, her hands clasping his robes to prevent them from trembling. "I love you too, Harry. No matter what happens, know I love you."
His lips brushed against her forehead. "I know, 'Mione. I know."
"Good," she couldn't keep the tremor out of her voice now. "Promise me you won't forget, that you'll take care of yourself."
"I promise." His words were strong, his eyes confident, but Hermione knew better. She grasped him one last time before he slipped away from her, his robes falling from her limp hands. He held her gaze, his green eyes strong despite it all. Finally, he turned away, changing course for the Astronomy Tower.
Hermione waited until his footfalls ceased to echo before casting her disillusionment charm and following in his path. As she approached the tower, climbing the stairs that still meant too much to her, she could hear the muffled tones of Harry and Dumbledore talking.
"I promised you could accompany me, and I stand by that promise." Dumbledore paused as Hermione tiptoed closer, hardly daring to breathe. "But there is one condition. You must obey every command I give you without question."
Harry's voice was controlled as he replied, "Yes, Sir."
Hermione was close enough now to see them both. Dumbledore was peering down at Harry with an expression she'd never seen, not with affection or hope, but with painful truth. "Should I tell you to hide, you hide. Should I tell you to run, you run. Should I tell you to abandon me and save yourself, you must do so."
The chill that had been working it's way though her surged again, her fingers trembling around her wand. Dumbledore knew the chain of events he was putting into action, knew that he was breaking Harry's heart, and yet he did not waver. She was in horrified awe of his ability to look beyond himself, beyond Harry, and do what must be done. She prayed she had even half his strength when this night tested her.
"Do I have your word, Harry?" Harry's word that he would stand aside as Dumbledore died. That's what he was asking. Hermione's stomach churned at the knowledge that she'd promised to do the same.
"My word," Harry agreed, the wheels of tragedy moving forward.
They apparated a moment later, becoming nothing but remembered voices echoing in her ears. Hermione froze for a long moment, unable to find a happy enough thought to cast her patronus. At last, the melancholy abated enough for her to recall happier occasions amongst these parapets. With the specter of Draco's lips caressing her skin, the otter bust forth from her wand, beginning its journey to Snape.
Now there was only silence, the dying sun her only companion as she waited in the warm night. It seemed odd that the breeze was so sweet with spring, a hint of summer teasing against her skin. The chill of winter would be better suited for this night, for there was no bright cheer, no balm to the soul at the end of this vigil. Indeed, death would be her only companion, a singular event if all went to plan. But there was so much that could go wrong, so much loss that hung in the balance.
Hermione watched sparrows circle the castle as the sun sank lower, the horizon finally swallowing it whole. The birds' chatter gave way to the sounds of insects humming. And still she waited, poised for action, paralyzed with dread. Would she be able to keep her promise? When the moment came would she be able to remain stalwart?
Yes, she told herself over and over again until it was a prayer on her lips, a mantra to save her from the doubt. Yes. The price was too high, and she'd already sacrificed so much.
Even the insects were quiet now; the only sound the harsh pant of her breath against the balmy air. Her wand burned against her hand. She stared down at it, unwilling to believe. It burned again. Another passenger and then another until she was trembling, terror eclipsing the silent night.
Hermione wanted to fling her wand away, to unknow what was coming. Her fingernails clawed into her palms, the burn bringing sense swaying back to her. They were coming, all six of them if you counted Draco and Snape. Where were Harry and Dumbledore? Would the intruders arrive too soon, before she could sequester Harry away from deadly wands? She reengaged her disillusionment charm as she stared with bated breath at the spot they'd apparated from. Seconds bled into minutes as no one appeared, from below or beyond.