A/N: This is a prequel to Fourteen Days. It can be read as a stand-alone story, but I highly recommend reading Fourteen Days first.

Tags: Romance. Angst. Minor Hermione/Neville (only the first three chapters). War / Post-war.

Logistics: This is an AU where Neville is the Boy Who Lived - so nothing from canon applies - though you'll obviously see several similarities.

Rating: Rated M for sex and a brief mention of war violence.

Chapter 1 – The Plan

April 1998

Hermione awoke with purpose that morning. As soon as her eyes opened, her vision was clear and her muscles were thrumming with anticipation. It was as if her body had been prepared for hours and was simply waiting for her mind to wake up.

She was ready. She knew what she had to do. She'd put in hours of planning and had finally completed the last task – convincing Neville to go along with it – and now it was time to execute the plan she'd begun hashing out weeks ago.

Hermione turned around and could barely make out Neville's sleeping form in the dim, grey light filtering in through the curtains. He was sleeping on his side, facing away from her. She watched the steady rise and fall of his shoulders and he came further into focus as her eyes adjusted to the low light.

She reached out and brushed her fingers along four angry red lines she'd scratched into his pale skin the night before. She leaned forward to inspect his other side and saw a similar pattern weaving its way through the web-like scar that spanned his left shoulder. "Sorry, Neville," she whispered, remembering the rougher than normal sex they'd had last night. Maybe she'd let herself get too carried away.

She wondered briefly if she had similar marks on her body, then dismissed the thought. Neville was always so careful with her. Even in the heat of the moment, the worst thing he'd ever done was create a large hickey on her neck. He'd been horrified about it after, apologizing profusely and even going so far as to nick Dittany from the Order's limited potion stores to heal it.

A warm blush crept across her cheeks as she recalled throwing herself at him the night before. But he'd been a good sport, like always – supporting her and giving her what she needed, even when the thing she needed was to tear him apart as she tried to get as close to him as humanly possible. She'd apologize when he was awake, but knew he would brush it off.

Neville knew she bottled things up. He knew she tried to remain calm and poised around the other Order members – worried if she showed weakness, they'd claim she was too young to be in the Order, then kick her out and make her go into hiding with her parents. He knew that sporadically, the stress of holding everything in would boil over. Sometimes she'd burst into tears, seemingly out of nowhere. At times she'd shout at him over something stupid like using the last of the mint toothpaste. And other times – she'd push him onto the bed and tried to lose herself in him.

Neville understood. He knew her better than anyone. Except maybe Harry.

That was before.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, breathing deeply through the tightness in her chest. She focused on Neville. His skin warm under her hand, the movement of his back as he breathed in and out. He was here with her. She wasn't alone. And it wasn't just Neville. Logically, she knew she wasn't alone – she knew she was surrounded by people who genuinely loved and cared for her. But no matter how many times she told herself this – there was a hollowness in her chest that wouldn't go away.

Hermione opened her eyes, then leaned forward and kissed the scratches she'd made on Neville's skin, resolving to heal them when he woke up. She reached down and pulled the sheet up so it was covering more of his body and rose from the bed. He shifted slightly but she knew he wouldn't wake up. She'd convinced him to take a full dose of Dreamless Sleep the night before, so he wouldn't wake for another two hours. Which meant she had time to work on the letters she'd been putting off all week.

She crossed the room to the desk and gathered her box of stationery. She checked her appearance in the mirror, paused to let down her hair and pull it back into a neater bun, then went into the hall, being careful to close the heavy door to her and Neville's room softly behind her so it wouldn't slam and wake anyone up.

Hermione muttered, "Lumos," and used the light of her wand to guide her down the dark hall of the abandoned hotel the Order had taken over as their Headquarters. She made her way to the ground floor and settled at one of the tables in the dining room near the double doors to the kitchen.

Luckily, no one else was awake. She lit a few lamps in the room with her wand, then turned to the box on the table. She took a breath before lifting the lid and even though she was expecting it, her stomach twisted at the sight of Harry's handwriting on the letter on top. She moved the letter to the side, not bothering to read it since she'd memorized every word by now. She pulled out several sheets of fresh parchment and dabbed her quill in the ink. She'd only managed to write out Harry when she had to drop her quill, since her hand was shaking too hard.

"Need help with that?" This question was from a scrawny, bespectacled boy she'd seen in several of her classes. With black, untidy hair and startling green eyes. Potter. He was one of those students who was excited to be here – who'd been preparing his whole life for Hogwarts. He'd even arrived with friends he'd known for years.

She had no patience for students like him – students who had no idea what it was like to be taken from your home, forced to leave behind the life you knew, and plopped into a world you knew nothing about. And then, to find out that a good portion of the people in that world didn't even want you there.

"No," Hermione said tersely, focusing back on her Transfiguration assignment. She was determined to write twice as much as McGonagall had assigned. She was determined to prove she belonged here.

"Not with the homework," Potter said, "with those." He was pointing at the two ruined quills at the side of the table. She hadn't learned how to sharpen them and every time she tried, she tore the tips off. So far, she'd gone through an alarming amount of quills since she had to get a new one every time one wore out.

She looked up at him defiantly, daring him to make fun of her.

He held up his hands in surrender as he gave her a kind smile. "Don't hex me. I mean – we don't know any hexes, do we? But if anyone in our year has managed to teach themselves a few, I'd say it's you." He cocked his head toward the ruined quills. "I could teach you how to sharpen them – if you want. You wouldn't know – since you're used to pens – which are far superior, in my opinion."

Hermione pressed her palms into her eyes, almost painfully, trying to rub away the tears forming behind them. Was she ever going to see him again? Part of her wanted nothing more than to talk to him but another part was terrified of how he'd react when he saw how much she'd changed. Not just physically – thin and ragged, her eyes perpetually framed by dark bags from one too many sleepless nights, but the deeper change in her.

How she'd grown up faster than she'd wanted to. How she'd been forced to watch people die, holding several of their hands as the life left their eyes. How she'd discovered the lengths she'd go to to prevent more death – what she was about to do later today to save Neville's life – what she was willing to give up.

If she ever saw Harry again, how would she begin to explain?

I became a whole other person without you and you weren't there! You were supposed to be there! You said you'd always be there!

Hermione forced the rush of emotions back and dropped her hands from her face. She needed to focus. She needed to get this letter to Harry, so he wouldn't worry, then another one to her parents. After that, she had to wash up and compose herself before the Order meeting this morning. This was her first mission and it was a big one – the biggest one, in her opinion, and she couldn't lose it. Not now.

Hermione tried to recapture the determination she'd woken up with but it was hovering at the edges of her mind, just out of reach. She hardened her gaze and made her spine rigid, resolving to feign confidence until it reappeared. She touched her quill to the paper and began to write.

I'm getting married today. I always thought you'd be there on my wedding day. I imagined I'd have convinced you to stand in as my bridesmaid, since I don't have any sisters or girl friends to take the role. It makes sense it would be you by my side. Who else? I wouldn't have made you wear a dress – though I wouldn't have told you that at first. It would have been a whole thing reminiscent of the Dress Robes debacle in Fifth Year.

Hermione's lip trembled as she read the paragraph. She bit down on her bottom lip, hard, then picked up her wand and tapped it to the page, vanishing the lines she'd written with a wordless spell. She always wrote what she wanted to say to Harry first – what she needed him to hear. Then she erased it and wrote the proper thing, the thing he needed to hear. The thing that would keep him safe and not charging back into the fray.

She wrote about taking classes at the nearby university, about her new cat and a trip to a popular restaurant in town. She invented a few concerns she had over the state of the war based on what she was reading in the Muggle papers and asked if he was seeing any hints of the war in Germany. She finished off with a few follow-up questions about Munich based on the contents of his last letter, swallowing back tears as she lied to her best friend with each new word. The last line wasn't a lie, though. It was always the same, the only truthful part of her letters.

Stay safe, Harry. I'm scared and have no idea where this war is going to go but I find great solace in the fact that you're out of danger, so please don't do anything to change that.

Yours Always,

Hermione

The second letter, the one to her parents, was easier. It always was. She invented tales from life at Hogwarts, studying for NEWTs, trips to Hogsmeade, cheering on Harry and Ron in Quidditch. She apologized for having to stay at school over the Easter Break, mentioned her NEWTs again, then asked after her parents' work and the rest of the family.

After Hermione sealed both envelopes, she began pacing the dining room, rolling her shoulders and kneading her fingers into her neck. The chandeliers in the room began to shake and she heard pounding from the floor above. She checked her watch. 6:30 am. She sighed.

Hermione had been hoping to get a run in before Neville woke up, but it appeared that the training room (which they'd created from a row of ballrooms on the first floor) was occupied.

On her way back to her room, she stopped by the first floor to see who was training this early. She was pretty sure she knew, but decided to check since she didn't have anything else to do. Her suspicion was confirmed when she was a few feet from the entrance to the ballroom and could hear the voices coming from inside.

"Again," the man said tersely.

"I'm not going to let you wear yourself out before your trip to Malfoy Manor later," a witch said in reply, her tone just as sharp as his.

He let out a sigh. "I'll just get Robards up."

"I dare you to try that, Potter. Have you already forgotten what happened the last time you went behind my back?"

James let out another sigh. Hermione could picture him raking his hands through his hair, just like Harry did when he was frustrated. "Fine. One more round."

"I said no," Lily snapped back. "Three rounds is plenty and I know you have plans to practice again with Kingsley after the meeting. You've exerted yourself enough for now. Look at you – you're drenched in sweat."

"You're right," he replied, his tone suggestive now. "I should take my shirt off. Maybe that'll help convince you."

Lily scoffed and Hermione could imagine her stern expression.

"Please?" James said. There was a moment of silence and Hermione could picture James giving Lily one of those baby niffler looks Harry used on her when he was trying to convince her to do something she didn't want to do.

"Fine. One more round. But that's it!"

Hermione peeked into the room in time to see James place a kiss on her cheek. Lily lifted the two wands she was holding, one in each hand (probably to even the odds while they were dueling), and zapped him with something that made him jump back in alarm.

"I can't believe that worked," she grumbled as he stepped backward, holding his wand at the ready.

"What can I say?" he grinned. "I'm very charming."

Hermione shook her head as she made her way back to the stairwell, the sound of spells firing echoing through the hall as she walked. She was glad to see that James was still able to joke around with Lily. He'd always been fun-loving, dedicated to bringing light into the darkness of the war. That wasn't to say he hadn't taken it seriously – he wasn't one of the leaders in the Order for nothing – but he knew the importance of keeping everyone's spirits up. Something that had taken Hermione months to understand.

But ever since Remus and Sirius died, he'd been a shadow of his former self and sometimes it was like pulling teeth getting him to spare even a small chuckle. Something in him had snapped. He'd given up the jokes and the games and thrown himself completely into training. He insisted on joining every mission and had taken the drastic action of sending his son and last remaining friend abroad to safety, effectively removing two fighting-age wizards from their ranks when every able-bodied person was needed.

He blamed himself for the loss of his friends, that much was clear. He'd convinced himself that if he'd been quicker, stronger, more powerful, they wouldn't have died. And now – he seemed determined to make up for that perceived failing of his and spent more time in the training room than anyone – even Neville. Thank God he had Lily.

She kept him from going too far, pulled him back from the edge, forced him to rest, and made him laugh. She reminded him of the cheerful man he'd been before the war and gave him hope that he could become that man again someday. She'd also taken up the mantle as the person to keep the mood as light as possible at Headquarters. Though it drained her.

Lily was usually reserved – like Hermione – and preferred to spend time alone. But now, she was stressing herself to be someone she wasn't, going around to all the members of the Order, checking on them, doing what she could to cheer them up – filling in for the role typically played by her husband and Sirius. It was taking its toll on her. She looked exhausted all the time. But then again, so did everyone. Everyone was playing a part that wasn't natural – war wasn't natural – and they were so fucking tired.

It didn't help that the end was so close, they could almost taste it. Everyone was ready to execute the final plan. To let Neville march into Hogwarts with his hands held up in surrender. To have Kingsley at his side, under James's Invisibility Cloak, crossing the wards undetected once they were let down to allow Neville in. To let Voldemort kill Neville, destroying the last piece of his soul – the one he didn't even know was in there – then to have Kingsley kill Voldemort the next second, ending the reign of the darkest wizard of all time for good.

Everyone was ready for the end – except Hermione. She couldn't let that happen. She couldn't let Neville die. Not if there was another way. Neville had been forced to give everything to their cause: his parents, his childhood, his blood, sweat, and tears but his life – that was too much to ask, even though he was willing to give that too. That's the part that made it all the more devastating, the solemn acceptance with which he'd taken the news that he had to die and the cool detachment with which he'd planned the final mission with the rest of the Order.

It was too much for Hermione to bear, so she'd searched for another way. And, miraculously, she'd found one. It was risky, and it might not work, but she had to try. She knew if things were reversed, Neville would do the same for her. As would Ron, or even Harry, if he were here.

"Why aren't you at dinner?" Harry asked, settling into the armchair next to Hermione. They were alone in the common room, which was unusually quiet, the only sound the crackling of the fire.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and spoke into the flames, too embarrassed to say the next thing to his face. "Honestly, Harry. I'm scared. Professor Binns said they captured a Muggleborn the last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened. What if that happens again? No one even knows where it is, so they won't be able to do anything. And I – I don't want to be afraid, I don't want to let fear run my life, but here I am, doing just that."

Harry leaned into her. "You're allowed to be afraid sometimes, Hermione."

She snorted. "I don't know. I'm going to get over it and power through – I just need a minute. I'm tired. I don't think that's helping. I'll be fine."

"I have no doubt that's true. And the rest of it… you don't need to worry. If you're taken, I'll come get you. I'll tear the entire school apart to find the Chamber, battle whatever monster is in there, then bring you back to safety. Promise."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "Harry. You're twelve. If you did manage to locate the Chamber of Secrets that even Dumbledore can't find – whatever is in there would kill you. Like… in a second."

Harry shrugged. "Oh well. Then we can be ghosts together. That would be pretty fun. Wouldn't want to hang out with Myrtle though. Let's haunt somewhere better than a bathroom. How about the kitchens? Or here. It's nice in here."

Hermione shook her head but couldn't help a smile from pulling on her lips. "Would you really march into unknown danger like that? Give up everything for a schoolmate you've known for just over a year?"

His brow furrowed and he looked serious for the first time since he'd taken a seat next to her. "Schoolmate? You're my best friend. And yes – I'd go in a heartbeat." He nudged her side again. "You're worth saving, Hermione. No matter the cost."

Hermione had reached the room she shared with Neville. She sighed heavily in the hall, wiping away the few tears that had landed on her lower lashes. Neville was worth saving too. No matter the cost.

Neville woke up with a headache. He blinked several times, testing the intensity of the pain, but it wasn't so bad. Just the typical, 'Tom is furious, unstable, and pushing as much hatred out into the world as he can before his inevitable demise' sort of headache. Nothing Neville wasn't used to by now.

Hermione was in the bed with him, sitting up with a book in her lap. As his eyes focused, he saw she was reading the travel book again – the one he'd found for her on a mission to Nott Manor. He'd nearly lost an arm trying to nick the book, but as soon as he'd seen it propped on the shelf, he knew he had to bring it back for her. She was always going on about wanting to travel after the war and he hoped it would lift her spirits and give her something to hope for.

Luckily, the spell Aaron Nott had cast at Neville once he'd darted out of his hiding spot to get the book, had only grazed him, just burning his shoulder. It had left behind a nasty scar, but it was still fully functional. And the book had worked. It helped calm Hermione and had become the book she reached for anytime her mind was running away from her and she wanted to still her thoughts.

"Morning," Neville said, his voice still rough with sleep.

She turned to smile at him. "Hey. How did you sleep?"

"Brilliantly. Not surprising, since you nearly shoved that Dreamless Sleep potion down my throat last night."

"You needed the rest," she said sternly.

"And you didn't?"

"I took a half-dose, like we agreed, and I slept fine. Plus, today will be harder for you. Losing that piece of Tom's soul is going to hurt. Probably more than any pain you've ever experienced. It's a part of you – completely entwined with your soul and – yeah – it'll be good for you to be rested."

Neville puffed up the pillow before resting his head on it again. Hermione had warned him of the pain to come a few times already but he wasn't worried. There was a big part of him that didn't believe this would actually work. Could Hermione really untangle the piece of Tom's soul from his? Something Dumbledore hadn't even thought possible. But if it was possible, Neville would deal with any level of pain. To be rid of Tom's soul – to be rid of Tom and still get to live. He'd never let himself hope for that outcome.

As soon as Dumbledore had told him the Prophecy, he'd assumed he'd die in his attempt to kill Tom. And then, a few months ago when James had told him that he was the last Horcrux, his fears had been confirmed. But now – thanks to Hermione and her inability to let anything go without a fight – there was another way. He just wished she didn't have to sacrifice so much to make it happen.

And it still may not work. Maybe Hermione would get away from this without having to give away part of herself. He kept reminding himself this was a longshot – but his heart wasn't hearing the message. It was light and full and skipping hopefully. It could happen. The chance was slim, but it was there. He could come out of this whole thing alive.

"Are you scared?" Hermione's voice cut into his thoughts. She reached over and brushed his fringe out of the way, trailing her fingers over his scar before pulling her hand back.

"A little," he admitted. "You?"

"No. Not at all. This is going to work." The confidence in her tone was reminiscent of Harry. He wondered if she was thinking of him now. Probably – she was always thinking of him, though she tried to hide it from Neville.

"This is too long," Hermione added, reaching out to brush his hair away again. "I should cut it before we go."

Neville pushed her hand away. "You can cut it if we survive. How about that?"

"Fine," she said, turning back to the book on her lap. "I'll be cutting it tonight, then."

Neville leaned forward to get a closer look at the book. He wasn't surprised by the section she was on. The pages about the Seven Wonders of the Magical World had to be the most well-worn ones in the book by now. "Still hung up on the mystery of the Wonders?" he teased.

She launched right into the argument she'd made to him a hundred times before. "It's so bizarre. These are supposed to be the most incredible sights on the planet and there's so little information about them. And the names – they're all so…vague and ominous. The Tear – The Forgotten City – Fall's End. I'm telling you, there's something more here. I think there's magic protecting them – preventing others from writing about them or something. Why else would there be so little info in an otherwise-thorough travel book like this? I just – I can't wait to get my hands on more information."

"We can look–"

"No," she said quickly. "No more risking your life to bring me books. Not that I'm not grateful for this one – it's lovely, but I can wait until the end of the war for more. Okay?"

Neville nodded.

"I'm going to need verbal confirmation," Hermione pressed.

"Okay."

She gave him another smile before turning back to the book. Neville suddenly had an urge to pull her down into his arms. He wanted to hold her close and tell her how much he appreciated her. How he could buy her a hundred travel books – or even an all-expense-paid trip to see every destination in that book – and it would never be enough.

How he'd have given up months ago if not for her. How he didn't deserve the sacrifice she was planning to make today. How a big part of him was holding out hope she'd change her mind, but that there was another part that wanted it to work – that wanted to live but was too scared to hope. He grabbed the hand closest to him, instead, and covered it with both of his.

They'd been sleeping together for months, but Neville still didn't know how affectionate he was allowed to be with her when they weren't snogging or having sex. It's not like this was a real relationship. No. Not at all. Real relationships didn't start from a place of desperation and grief.

They didn't start with the witch crying desperately in the wizard's arms on a cold, depressing Christmas Day, trying to come to terms with the loss of Sirius the week before. With her kissing him after he handed her the present he'd got for her; the book she was reading now. Then, pushing him onto the bed as their kiss intensified, taking his hand and guiding it down, into her knickers, then talking him through the steps to bring her to her release. And finally, undoing his trousers and doing the same for him.

That's not how normal relationships kicked off. And they certainly didn't progress to the next step just a week later, with the witch showing up outside the wizard's door wearing nothing but a pair of skimpy sleep shorts and a tank top, declaring they should have sex. Pointing out that they were young, and already close friends, and that this might very well be the only chance for them to experience this – that is, if he was okay with it, of course. Which, in all honesty, was never a question. If Hermione ever thought he was going to say no to a proposition like that, she wasn't as smart as everyone said.

No, this wasn't real. Neville knew what this was. This was her way of coping with fear and desperation and probably longing for someone else. This thing between them wasn't something that would fit into the normal world. And if he'd had any doubts, Ron's reaction when he'd put it together a few weeks ago – mouth agape, eyes protruding almost comically – was proof enough.

But that was fine. For now – he'd take what she was offering. It was one of the only things keeping him sane. But he was careful not to push it. He didn't want to do anything to make it go away. She was in charge here and he was content to stay by her side as long as she'd let him.

This time Hermione, to Neville's delight, decided hand-holding wasn't enough. She closed the book and put it to the side, then settled under the covers across from Neville. She pressed her head against his chest and wrapped an arm around his waist.

Neville bent down and kissed her forehead. "You can still change your mind," he murmured, his lips moving against her warm skin. "You should change your mind. I was already planning to die, Hermione. I'm ready. I can see my parents, Dumbledore. Remus and Sirius–"

"No," she cut in firmly. "You promised you'd let me try this. Now stop telling me to change my mind and hold me."

Neville sighed as he wrapped his arms around her. "Okay."

Hermione had managed to convince Kingsley and James to limit attendance of the next Order meeting to just the critical members – which included the Order leaders (James, Kingsley, Robards, and Lily) and those going on the mission (which added Hermione, Neville, and Dawlish to the group).

But when Hermione arrived in the hotel suite on the third floor that they used for Order meetings, she wasn't surprised to find Augusta sitting around the table. Of course she'd wheedled her way in. That woman was relentless. Hermione didn't mind, she was relentless too.

Hermione took the seat between Neville and Robards while Kingsley closed and warded the door, then called the meeting to order. They didn't bother with general updates this time – there was only one item of note to discuss – the details of their mission to Malfoy Manor tonight. They already knew how they were going to get in and out. All that was left was for Hermione to share what was going to happen once they were there.

"Okay, Hermione," Kingsley said in his deep baritone. "What's the plan?"

Everyone in the room turned to look at her. She swallowed back a lump in her throat and looked to Neville, who gave her an encouraging smile, before turning back to address the group. "Some background first."

"Of course," James sighed.

Hermione ignored him. "First off, I'm sure you all have a basic understanding of soul-bonding magic. It's most commonly used in traditional Pureblood marriage ceremonies. During the ceremony, the two souls intertwine, existing temporarily in both bodies. Once the ceremony is complete, the souls return to the body they came from but there's a… an essence left behind. Something the couple will feel for the rest of their lives. The strength of the bond depends on how compatible the couple is and can range from flickers of shared emotions or even well-formed thoughts."

"I think we're all familiar with the practice," Augusta cut in. "What does this have to do with the piece of Tom inside Neville. We know it didn't get there through a marriage ceremony."

"Right, I'm getting there." Hermione looked down at the table and sighed. She felt Neville's eyes on her and could imagine him giving her an apologetic look, but kept her gaze forward and her expression blank.

"There's a way to undo a soul-bond. To extract that foreign bit of soul – that essence – from the body. And that's what we're going to do for Neville tonight."

"It's not permanent?" James asked. "Everyone says soul-bonding is permanent, at least until one of the people dies," he added uncomfortably.

"Not for the Malfoys, apparently," Hermione replied.

"They're above all other laws," Robards grumbled, "why not this one too?"

There was a murmur of assent around the table as Hermione pulled out a photo she'd copied from one of the books in the library at Headquarters. The library was well-stocked with tomes on dark magic, which the Order members had been stealing any chance they could since the start of the war. The photo, which was actually more of a drawing, depicted a medieval gold chain with a deep green pendant that looked similar in style to necklaces Hermione had seen on several suits of armor at Hogwarts.

"This is an artifact some ancient Malfoy created to reverse the soul-bonding spell. It will remove the foreign essence of a soul in a person's body. And thanks to Kingsley's search through the records at the Auror Offices, we know the Malfoys have this in their possession currently, which is why we're going to Malfoy Manor."

The group turned to Kingsley, who nodded. "It's one of the few items they bothered to register with our office. It will be in the Artifact Room on the east wing of the house."

"So… that's it? James asked. "We use this chain to remove the piece of Tom's soul from Neville's body?"

"Yeah. There's a spell that goes along with it but it's simple. I'll teach it to you after the meeting," Hermione said.

"Perfect. Then you don't have to be there after all," James said.

"Oh, no. I do. There's more." Hermione cut off, knowing how poorly this next part would be received.

"What is it?" James pressed.

"It's not as simple as you said. Tom's soul has been in Neville's body almost as long as Neville's has. There's no guarantee that if we use this object, it will be his soul that is removed. We could very well remove Neville's soul, leaving Tom's soul behind in Neville's body – which would effectively create–"

"A second Tom," Robards provided. "Absolutely not. That's too dangerous."

There were shudders and groans around the table, and several people were nodding along with Robards's assertion.

"Wait," Hermione said firmly, raising her voice to be heard over the murmurs. "I agree the risk is too large, especially with how much we've seen Tom's pieces of soul fight to stay alive, but I have a plan to anchor Neville's soul to his body and ensure that it is indeed Tom's soul that is removed when we use the artifact."

"How do you plan to do that?" Lily asked.

Hermione's eyes flashed to meet Lily's, but quickly moved back to James and Kingsley as she said, "Another soul-bond. This one between me and Neville."

"You just said the point of the artifact is to reverse those types of soul-bonds," Kingsley said in his booming voice. "Wouldn't the essence of your soul be the thing pulled out of Neville, leaving Tom's soul intact?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes – unless we're in the middle of the ceremony when we use the artifact. At that time, both our souls will be half in Neville's body, half in mine, leaving only one soul in Neville's body to be torn away."

Everyone was silent and the air in the room stilled. It was Kingsley who spoke first, saying in a low voice, "That's a very elegant solution, Hermione. It is well-known that souls are strongest when they are coming together. I believe you're right – Tom's soul won't stand a chance – no matter how hard it fights to stay there."

Hermione dropped her head slightly. "Thanks, Kingsley." But the rush of pride she was feeling was quickly wiped away.

"That's your plan?" Lily said harshly. "To get married?" Her green eyes were alight with anger and disappointment. Hermione could imagine Harry sitting there, looking at her with those same exact eyes.

She was almost relieved when Augusta cut in. "Soul bonds are finicky. There is no guarantee it would stick, no matter how much you might want it to, for your mission."

Hermione swallowed before facing the older witch. "You're right. But I have reason to believe we'll be fine in that regard."

"What are these reasons?" Augusta asked.

Please don't make me say it. But it was clear she wasn't going to let this topic go. It made sense. She didn't want Neville risking a break-in to Malfoy Manor, one of the most dangerous places in the world right now, for a soul-bond that may not take.

"Neville and I have known each other for years – we grew up together. And the war has brought us even closer – we've lived at Headquarters together and gone through all of it, together."

"Yes, you're good friends," Augusta said gently, "but that doesn't mean your souls are compatible."

"We've also been – we've been – uh –" Just say it, Hermione.

"Intimate," Neville provided for her, meeting his gran's shocked, then stern gaze. "I know that's how these bonds are typically consummated. Well, that part is done, which is why we think it will work. Our souls have already met."

Augusta continued to stare Neville down and to his credit, he met her glare. Hermione wondered if it hurt. It looked like it hurt. The rest of the Order members were shuffling uncomfortably around the table. Lily spoke next. "There's no going back from this. You two will be bonded to each other for the rest of your lives."

"I just mentioned an object that can reverse a soul-bond," Hermione said, tapping the picture on the table.

"What if it's destroyed?" James asked. "And it very well may be after pulling Tom's soul out of Neville's body. You need to be prepared for this bond to last forever."

Hermione saw Neville shift out of the corner of her eye and spoke up before he could say anything against the plan, "I'm willing to do that if it means saving Neville. Sharing a part of my soul with one of my best friends, it's a small price to pay." Neville's hand found its way into hers and she squeezed it tightly.

"They know the risks. They seem determined. I say we let them try it," Augusta announced.

"With all due respect, Augusta, you're just saying that because it's Neville who–"

"Like you wouldn't be saying the same if it were Harry," Augusta snapped back. "We all know the lengths you'll go to to protect your son – even depriving the Order of two competent members, ones we sorely need–"

"Enough," Kingsley said with a tone of finality. He turned to Hermione and Neville. "Are you two committed to this plan?"

"Yes," Hermione said quickly.

"And the magic. Is it sound?" Hermione began pulling out the pages of computations she'd done – comparing the properties of the artifact with the soul-binding spell and looking for any areas of conflict. "I don't have time to check all your work," Kingsley said when he caught sight of the piles of formulas. "You checked it?"

"Three times. All that's left is to run a diagnostic spell on the artifact and ensure it matches what the book said about it."

Kingsley nodded, then turned to Neville. "And you. Are you in, Neville? This won't work unless you're fully committed."

"No," Neville said once she was finished with her complicated explanation about soul bonds and the magical artifact that was going to save everything.

"I need to try this," she said imploringly. "I can't go the rest of my life knowing I could have done something and didn't. You're going to let me live with that guilt?"

"Are you kidding me, Hermione? You're the one guilting me!"

"Sorry – just – please. I know the risks, I know what I'd be giving up and I still want to do this."

Neville shook his head as he pulled out of her grasp. "Let's call this what it is, Hermione. Temporary. This – us – it's just because of the war and after the war is done, you're going to want someone else. What then? You think whatever bloke you end up with is going to be okay with the fact that you're bound to me – and will be forever?"

She crossed the room to where he was standing and carefully placed her palms on his chest. "I'm already bound to you, Neville. You were my first, and even more than that, we lived through this hell together. We'll always share something that no one else will understand. This ceremony is just going to add a magical component to a bond that's already there."

Her brown eyes were fierce but warm as they bored into him and he couldn't remember a time he'd seen them looking so beautiful.

"And yes," she continued softly, "if I find another wizard after, he'll have to understand that. He'll have to be okay with the fact that I was in a war, and that I had to give things up to win. That I was willing to do anything to prevent a madman from ruining the lives of innocent people."

"We can win without it," Neville said imploringly.

Hermione shook her head. "You're one of those innocent people I'm trying to save. Please. Please let me try, Neville. Don't leave me behind – not without letting me do everything in my power to help."

"Neville?" Kingsley repeated, pulling his mind back to the present.

Neville looked at Hermione and squeezed her hand before saying, "I'm in."

A/N: Apparently there's already a Harmony/Jily story called Bonded for Life. Oh well, now there are two!

When I originally wrote Fourteen Days, I had no intention of writing this story. So when I set out to start this, I went back to see what I put in Fourteen Days about this world. I was alarmed by all the corners I'd backed myself into and was like, "Well shit, this is going to be tricky." But I'm committed to making this work within the confines of what I originally wrote. Let's see where it takes us. Thanks for joining me for the ride!

If you want to check out the utter nonsense I wrote in 14 Days regarding this AU, refer to Chapter 17, where James and Lily tell HHr how they won the war, and Chapter 21, where they tell Hermione about Neville.

The next chapter will be posted Thur, Dec-30.