Chapter Three.
The blasting continued. Crucio, Avada Kedavra and Expelliarmus flew past Hermione's ears and within a few seconds, she found herself alone in the chaos. One second, she spotted Neville flying through the Great Hall. The next, there was Luna, dragging Cho out of harm's way. Only shortly she saw a ginger head of hair running around, but someone ran into her and knocked her to the ground, knocking reason out of her, too.
Someone stepped on her arm and Hermione winced in pain. In an attempt to get up, another person's foot kicked her wand from her hand and as she crawled after it, she felt someone trip over her leg and fall. Another body followed and soon, Hermione found herself trying desperately not to get trampled. Suddenly, however, there was an arm in a dark, torn-up sweater that grabbed her by the hand and lifted her up.
'Ron!', Hermione exclaimed breathlessly.
'Don't mention it', he said, not looking her in the eye as he handed her her wand. 'We need to kill that bloody snake.'
The snake. She was with Voldemort, of course. And Voldemort would be with…
'Where's Harry?!'.
Ron grabbed her and started running towards the steps, knocking people aside to free their path. Seamus fell to the ground and cursed at him, only to have a Crucio curse miss him and fly right over his head. He thanked Ron quickly, jumped to his feet, and disappeared back into the masses.
They discovered Harry two staircases up, jumping over a set of railings and landing on the steps below. Voldemort vanished right before their eyes, too occupied with Harry to notice that Hermione had picked up a stone and launched it at Nagini's head.
Ron quickly disappeared behind a pillar, the basilisk's fang clutched tightly between his fingers.
Nagini turned around and hissed, her tongue shaking and searching through the air as if it tried to taste fear. Luckily, Hermione didn't feel any. Not right now, anyway.
'That's right', she whispered, spinning a second rock between her fingertips. 'Come get me.'
As the snake inched closer, all Hermione could think was: Don't miss, Ron. For goodness' sake, don't miss. When it slowed, as if to decide whether this would be worth it, Hermione launched the second rock, knocking the big ugly creature in the centre of its head. When Hermione noticed the indignant and furious look in the snake's eyes, she smiled despite it all.
But then something crushed beneath Ron's shoe and Nagini launched herself at the sound. Ron tumbled backwards, only barely escaping the snake's jaws, and the basilisk's fang fell, out of their reach.
NO.
Hermione's heart skipped a beat and fear set in, but there wasn't any time to freeze, because Nagini was now going for Ron.
Improvise.
She pointed her wand, whispered the spell, and sent Ron flying backwards across the stairs, out of Nagini's reach. Again, the snake turned, and Hermione ran. She ran as fast as her feet could carry her through a narrow corridor, parallel to the staircase Ron was lying at the bottom of. She heard the snake behind her, hissing furiously as she closed the distance, and Hermione could only hope that she hadn't knocked Ron unconscious.
He stood waiting for her. As soon as Hermione was within reach, he grabbed her arm and pulled her out, forcing the door shut as they turned and sprinted downstairs. Nagini's thick body broke through the wood without difficulty, sending a shiver down Hermione's spine.
The snake was furious, and murderous, and there wasn't anything to defend themselves with.
Keep running, Hermione told herself. Just keep running.
Despite the ache in her bones and the exhaustion in her limbs, there wasn't any time to rest or talk. There was hardly time to think. Hermione's mind was racing, but she couldn't quite distinguish logic from madness, any more. Had they dropped the basilisk's fang close by? Would she be able to reach it if she turned around? Would someone in this castle have something against the venom of an unnaturally deathly snake?
Nagini's hissing told her 'no' and so they ran, desperately trying not to trip over the rubble, their minds racing and considering every possible exit, planning every turn that would come, until they came to the end of the staircase, where there was no way to turn and nothing but rubble. Hermione tried hard not to think of the pain of a snake's bite and instead focused on Ron's arms, which wrapped around her tightly as they crashed into the pile of stone. She forced her eyes shut, heard Nagini's hissing grow impossibly loud, prepared as best she could and then, there was a loud scream.
But it wasn't hers. And it wasn't Ron's.
Neville stood, blood pouring from a new wound on his head, the Sword of Gryffindor in his hand. Black, shapeshifting clouds reached up behind him, like dark tentacles trying desperately to latch on to a final victim.
Hermione saw Nagini's head only for a second before it turned to ashes and vanished.
There was a sudden, deafening silence, as if the whole castle had just felt their odds shift in their favor.
A furious scream killed it.
A surge of adrenaline rushed through Hermione and she jumped, grabbing Ron as she ran towards the courtyard, where she saw only a flash of red, a wand flying through the air, and the Dark Lord falling to his knees.
Voldemort wailed.
The hairs on Hermione's body stood upright.
It was a low, piercing wail – the dying cry of a man who had devoted decades of his life to preventing a prophesy from coming true, only to now realize, in his last moments alive, that there was no such thing as escaping a prophesy.
Harry, The Boy Who Lived, twice, now held the Elder Wand in his hand, and Voldemort's body fell apart, floating away silently on the midday mist.
For a moment, Hermione froze entirely. The reality of the situation didn't quite hit her until Harry fell to his knees in exhaustion, and then it hit her all at once. Harry was alive. She was alive. Ron was alive. Voldemort was dead. And they'd won. Against odds that they'd once thought to be invincible, they had won.
The hours after that were a blur. Survivors came from out the castle, hooting, crying, singing, yelling, carrying Harry on their shoulders across the castle the way they did when he won his first Quidditch match. The relief was palpable. Breathable like the ashes that floated all around them. It was light at the end of a five-year darkness, and everyone felt it.
Still, reality set in quite quickly after that. People had died, and their bodies needed to be brought back. Hermione collected her last shreds of energy and joined Luna and Neville as they walked around the castle, looking for wounded survivors or left behind bodies, and came back almost an hour later to see Ron, in the Great Hall, kneeled over Fred's body, his parents and siblings by his side. She saw Harry standing over Lupin and Tonks, silently saying his final goodbyes, and then the all-consuming exhaustion and sadness set in, and Hermione had to sit down so as not to faint. She closed her eyes, intending only to steady herself, but she woke to a castle that had grown quiet, and a sky that had darkened.
Luna told her that she'd been asleep for nearly three hours. Luna also told her that she'd last seen Harry walking towards the bridge. Hermione, who was still not quite convinced that he was actually alive, sprinted after him to check.
She found him standing halfway across the bridge, very much alive, looking over the edge where once there was a barricade, but where now there was only a freefall.
'Harry?'
His face was covered in dirt and blood and bruises. His glasses were partially shattered and his eyes behind it radiated only exhaustion. The sleeve of his jacket and sweater were torn, revealing a deep gash beneath it that looked to Hermione like it needed to be treated immediately, but despite everything, he stood tall and firm.
'Hermione.'
'I'm so glad you're okay', she whispered, relief washing over her like a wave.
'Me too.'
They were quiet for a moment, both reflecting on the last hours. The losses, the fighting, the victory, and secretly, the words they'd said to each other shortly before they parted.
Hermione then spotted The Elder Wand, resting in Harry's hand, and she stepped closer, curious to see the famed object up close. It was slightly scarred from battle, she noted, but impressive nonetheless. And yet, despite its undeniable might, it hadn't worked for Voldemort.
She looked at it more closely, but couldn't quite figure out what was wrong with it.
'Why didn't it work for him? The Elder Wand?'
'It answered to somebody else', Harry said, sighing softly. 'When he killed Snape, he thought the wand would become his.' He looked at Hermione, a pained expression on his face. 'The thing is, the wand never belonged to Snape. It was Draco who disarmed Dumbledore that night in the Astronomy Tower. From that moment on, the wand answered to him.'
Hermione was already thinking of horrible scenarios in which the world's most powerful wand belonged to someone as awful and self-involved as Draco, but Harry quickly put a stop to her thoughts.
'Until the other night, when I disarmed Draco at Malfoy Manor.'
Hermione's eyebrows shot upwards.
'It's yours', she whispered, stunned.
Harry nodded.
'What will you do with it?', she asked. 'That's the most powerful wand in the world. With that, you'd be invincible.'
Harry nodded again and looked at it. He studied the wand carefully, tracing a bloody finger across its surface, stopping to pay extra attention to the cracks that had formed - which in Hermione's opinion were very easily repaired - but then he snapped it in two with a swift motion, tossing it into the depths below.
He didn't say why, but Hermione knew.
No one is supposed to be invincible.
And so she just smiled, stepping again a little bit closer, watching his calm expression as he regarded the mist below. It was strangely peaceful.
'I'm proud of you, you know?'
Harry stepped away from the edge, looking straight into her eyes for the first time since she'd professed her love for him. 'I know', he said.
They were quiet for a moment, both aware of the unanswered question lingering in their minds, and this time it was Harry who braved the depths.
'About what you said, earlier-'
'I know', Hermione agreed quickly. 'We can't.'
Harry searched her eyes for anything that would tell him differently, but she stared back adamantly.
'No', he said finally. 'We can't.'
'It wouldn't be right… to Ron.'
'No', he agreed.
Hermione nodded and reached out her hand in earnest. 'Friends?'
Harry smiled and shook it gently, just once. 'Always.'
They returned to the castle together, knowing that the more difficult task – talking to Ron about their agreement – would be horrible, but unescapable. However, when they arrived in the Great Hall, the Weasleys were nowhere to be found. Fred's body was gone, too.
'Oh, they went home forty-two minutes ago', Luna told them, smiling as Professor Slughorn padded a piece of cloth with a foul-smelling substance on it against the wound above her eyebrow. 'Something about a funeral that needed arranging.'
Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance and silently agreed that they would go in the morning. Their stomachs were empty and had been for too long, dusk was falling, and their limbs couldn't possibly move another hour if their lives depended on it. McGonagall arranged for a meal in the courtyard while the deceased were moved from the Great Hall, and the students ate in solemn silence until their bellies were about to burst. The sky above them turned darker, and the stars in it brighter. After that, Hermione took care of the wound on Harry's and Neville's heads, arranged for a change of clothes, and curled up in the corner of the Great Hall, her head resting against the crumbling wall, her jacket covering her body for warmth.
Just as she was about to doze off again into a sleep she thought couldn't possibly give her much rest, someone draped a blanket over her body. When Hermione opened her eyes, Harry looked at her apologetically. 'Professor McGonagall arranged for them.'
She blinked.
'I just thought you'd need one.'
She nodded slowly and watched him turn his back to leave. 'Harry.'
He turned to her, his fingers clenched into anxious fists as he waited.
'Will you stay?'
'Oh', he said, considering for a moment the uncomfortable-looking piles of rubble surrounding her. 'Yeah. Of course.'
He slowly slumped against the wall next to her, pushing a piece of stone out of the way for his legs.
Quietly, Hermione pulled the blanket from her body and handed it to Harry. He looked at her in surprise but didn't protest. He knew better, and he was thankful for the comfort.
Hermione smiled softly at him.
'Goodnight, Harry.'
'Goodnight, Hermione.'