Thank you to RESimon for being an amazing beta.
CHAPTER FIVE
Change was coming.
Hermione could feel it curling in the air around them, tickling at her as it approached like the tendrils of smoke as she tried to focus on each day, relishing in the quickly waning moments she had with her small circle of friends. Harry continued to voice his mounting suspicions of Malfoy, while Ron had broken up with Lavender and had taken to giving her long, wistful looks whenever the opportunity presented itself. She ignored him the best she could, careful not to lead him on even as her heart crumbled more each day under the weight of her betrayal.
She'd thrown herself into her studies, painstakingly combing through every book she could find that even reasonably related to the concept of Horcruxes and the art of Occlumency alike. She was taking a late afternoon stroll along the grounds, enjoying the sunshine and the beauty of the castle as she wondered how long it would be until she visited the castle next when her ring began to burn, bringing the fact that summer break was rapidly approaching into sharp focus. She looked around for prying eyes before pulling it off, ignoring the hauntingly beautiful way it glittered in the sunlight. RoR, it said simply.
She made her way back to the castle quickly and was soon stepping into the Room of Requirement where Malfoy awaited her, perched tensely on the arm of one of the sofas the room had provided.
"What is it?" she asked, clenching her jaw as she tried to keep her voice even.
"We're leaving. Tonight," he clipped. "Pack your trunk and do not attempt to say your goodbyes to any of your pathetic little friends. We must be discreet."
Hermione gaped at him. "You can't just expect me to—"
His eyes flashed. "Oh, but I can," he said. "Your loyalties begin and end with me now, Granger, or have you forgotten?" he spat bitterly.
They stared each other down for a heated moment, and she wondered vaguely how badly she could hex him without putting his life in danger.
"I hate you," she spat.
"And I don't care," he shot back. "You will pack your things and meet me by the gates by nightfall."
She crossed her arms. "You can't expect me to bend your every whim," she snapped.
He shoved past her, heading for the door. "Nightfall," he said sharply, letting the door slam shut behind him.
X
Hermione sat in the common room beside Ron, one of the many books on Occlumency she'd been studying open in her lap, although she'd read the same line a dozen times over without absorbing it. She sighed, glancing over at Ron who was also staring off into the distance, a worried look on his face.
"What do you suppose he gave it to us for?" Ron asked, twisting of the vial that contained the remains of Harry's Felix Felicis between his fingers.
Hermione looked away, unable to ignore the dread that grew up in her heart as she recalled Harry's words from earlier that night: Malfoy is going to try something tonight. I'm certain of it.
On their way back to Gryffindor Tower, Ron had to try it to reassure her that maybe nothing would happen at all and that it was just Harry's paranoia that had been heightened by the events of the school year. She had wished desperately that she could have told him what she knew, that something was going to happen. She was completely in the dark about the situation, unsure of if any of her loved ones would be safe, relying solely on the idea that they would be safe by virtue of being at Hogwarts. Even the idea of that safety that she'd always assumed what is now overcast with doubt as she recalled her last conversation with Dumbledore, recalling the twinkle in his eyes that she now recognized as the calculating work, signifying that she knew nothing at all of his intentions. He had, after all, allowed several students to come dangerously close to death under his watch this year, and let both Harry and Malfoy off with barely a punishment for their misdeeds.
No, she realized, she knew nothing at all, and the bleak emptiness she felt inside as a result of that knowledge terrified her beyond words. She looked over at Ron again, memorizing his soft features, wanting to reach out and trace a finger along his freckled skin and look into his blue eyes until the memory of them was burned into her soul forever. Her shrunken trunk felt impossibly heavy in the pocket of her robes, and her heart clenched painfully as she looked out the window, seeing the last vestiges of sunset rapidly disappearing over the horizon. It was almost time. It was almost time, and she knew that no matter how much time she had been given, she could never have been ready for this.
She leaned into Ron's side, knowing that her actions were based out of pure selfishness as he looked down at her, surprised. He slung an arm around her a moment later, and she ignored the way that her skin burned with the reminder of her betrayal as he pulled her closer. This she would take, despite how well she knew that the distance she had painstakingly created over the past few months should have remained.
Scarcely fifteen minutes later, the sun had disappeared completely on the horizon, and dusk settled over the castle grounds. It was time.
She looked up at Ron, allowing herself to take in his features once more, including the adoration that shone in his eyes as he looked back at her. He leaned forward slightly, a questioning look in his eyes as they flicked to her lips before meeting hers. For a fleeting moment – the breath of a second – she wanted to lean in close the distance between them, forgetting the traitorous circumstances she herself had manifested, allowing them to be just Ron and Hermione for one last moment.
But at the last moment, she turned her head, giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek before she stood, mumbling an excuse about doing rounds before heading out the portrait hole and letting it swing shut behind her with a finality that echoed in the recesses of her heart.
X
The minute Hermione stepped outside of the castle, she was assaulted by the acrid taste of wrongness that lingered in the air, coating her tongue thickly in its malignant aura with every breath she took. Every step she took felt as though it were synced to the foreboding chime of a death knell, although she knew that she had technically signed away her life months ago.
She was passing just beneath the Astronomy Tower when she spotted two figures flying in, and she ducked into the cover of the bushes at the base of the tower, her heart thundering as she spotted Dumbledore's telltale beard flying around him in the night. It must have been him and Harry returning from whatever he had tasked Harry with on that evening. She was debating whether it was safe to continue towards the gate that loomed in the distance when the shouts started. There were several voices floating down from the tower that rose high above her, and she could not discern what was being said, only that some kind of chaos had erupted.
She wondered what could have possibly been going on in the tower, feeling mounting trepidation as the shouting intensified, wondering about Harry's safety even though she knew that Dumbledore was there protecting him. If there was anything that she knew for certain over her other anxieties concerning the man, it was that Harry mattered dearly to this war and he would not compromise–
Hermione gasped as a lone figure fell from the tower, landing hard on the grass only a few feet before her.
It was a body.
Her heart thundered as she stared wide—eyed at the body that had dropped from the tower and landed before her in a mangled heap. Her body began to tremble as she took a step forward, intending to check if the person could be saved, while also knowing deep inside that no one could have survived that fall. Before she could take a second step, however, her eyes focused on the familiar unmistakable curling beard that she had known for so long that she could have pinpointed it from dozens of feet away.
Dumbledore.
At her realization, she finally found her voice and let out a bloodcurdling scream. The scream had barely started, however, when a hand clamped down over her mouth suddenly, while another wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her into a muscular chest and back into the shadows she had just emerged from.
She began thrashing against the persons hold, desperately trying to reach her wand with her hands that had been firmly clasped to her chest by the person that held her.
"Stop it!" Malfoy's voice was an urgent whisper in her ear.
When she recognized his voice she only increased her flailing, hot tears pouring down her cheeks as she attempted to gnaw at the hand he had clamped over her mouth.
"Dammit, Granger!" he snapped, holding her tighter as she continued to thrash against his iron grip.
There was shouting then and she saw Harry running behind a rapidly retreating Snape, screaming at the man as he aimed curses at him. She could barely make out the words he screamed as her world has been reduced to the sound of her blood pounding in her ears and the harsh whispers of her husband that barely made it through.
She opened her mouth to curse at him once more when she heard several voices speaking as more people approached. Malfoy dragged her back into the shadows, a hand once again clasped over her mouth while the other trapped her arms. She made to fight him off one more when she heard a sickening cackle that made her blood run cold. None other than Bellatrix Lestrange strode up to Dumbledore's mangled body, kicking it with another gleeful cackle as she turned to her companions. Several other masked Death Eaters followed behind her, joining her cackling and trampling over the body without a care in the world as they strode confidently toward the gates, where Harry and Snape were still shouting, the elder man deflecting the litany of curses Harry spewed at him with ease.
She moved to go to Harry's aid, but Malfoy locked her tighter in his grip. Not a moment later, the Death Eaters – including Snape – Disapparated, leaving Harry alone. Hermione watched with an aching heart as he came back to Dumbledore's body, tears glistening on his face as he searched it, before standing up and rushing back to the castle.
The silence that was left in his wake was deafening.
Hot tears continued to stream down her face, running over Malfoy's hand that he still held tight over her mouth. When she reared back and smashed her head into Malfoy's face, she had the satisfaction of hearing him curse and immediately release her.
"What did you do?!" she shouted, shoving him backward. She allowed herself to peek back at where Dumbledore's mangled body lay, then turned and retched into the bushes beside them.
When she finished, she turned back to face him, shoving an accusatory finger into his chest. "Did you do this?! Did you k–" she stopped herself from saying the word as if it would make the dead body that lay only feet away from them any less real.
"No," he said, glaring down at her.
"I don't believe you," she said, repeating the words that she thought every time she heard him speak.
"And I don't care," he said, grabbing her by the upper arm and pulling her towards the gate. "We have to go."
"I'm not going anywhere – not with you."
"We have to go," he repeated, his voice devoid of emotion.
This time, she numbly let him drag her along behind him as she tried to make sense of the events that had just transpired. Dumbledore. Snape. Death Eaters. Malfoy.
All of her stuttered ruminations on the subject started and ended with the man that dragged her towards the gates. Awareness slammed back into her suddenly, and she made to tear away from him and run back to the castle, when she was suddenly enveloped in the familiar pull of Apparition, helplessly torn away by the man at the center of the horrifying events that had just transpired.
X
They reappeared in what appeared to be a fancy hotel suite, in front of a windowed wall that overlooked the London skyline. On another day— on any other day, truly, that had come before this one —she would have stopped to admire the breathtaking beauty of the view. Instead, all she could see was her hatred and disgust for the man that still held her upper arm in his vice-like grip. She knew that she could hex him within an inch of his life and not feel a thing — it would only be when his life force was actively draining away that she would feel his last agonizing minutes along with him.
Instead, she ripped her arm away, looking up at him and channeling all the hatred she felt in that moment. "You disgust me," she spat, before drawing her own wand and disapparating.
This chapter was very emotional to write, even though I know we've all technically already experienced Dumbledore's death in canon. As a reminder, though, this fic is canon divergent and only loosely follows canon events through the summer before diverging. I also hope this clarifies the questions some of you had on if one feels the injuries of the other — they don't feel anything until the other is experiencing their last moments of life. Reviews mean the world to me — can't wait to hear your thoughts on the chapter.