The bleakness and taint of Malfoy Manor cast a long shadow over Hermione's heart. She couldn't believe Dobby had died saving their lives when all was said and done. The little elf is as dear to her as Topsy or Pippy, her favorites. The thought of one of them dying would nearly break her heart into pieces. But one thing rings true. There's no greater love than sacrifice, especially one's life, so that others may live. That's part of the Deep Magic. Hermione supposes it's also the way of those who serve in the military. Every day they lay down their lives in defense of their countries, knowing full well the possible outcome if at war.
Some people say a person's life doesn't matter until you do something for someone they could never repay back. Well, Dobby's life mattered. It mattered because he made the ultimate sacrifice. Even if he hadn't, his life would still be meaningful. The elf's special gift is one that no one can ever reciprocate for him, and some would even loathe duplicating it. For sacrifice is a part of life, as it should be. It's not a regret but something to aim for with an eager yearning. This surrender is a great thing- difficult but great.
Whenever Hermione paused to think about Dobby, it made her question her life and choices. Dobby believed in Harry. He believed in the cause of fighting Voldemort to live in a free society. His actions proved that. So, how much is she willing to give up in order to achieve victory over this evil? That answer is darn near everything, including her parents, the love of her life, comfort, and health. All these and more have been surrendered to this cause because she believes in it too.
And as the journey drew near to the final fight, it made the witch think of something else. When they achieve victory, what does that look like in reality? What happens after the last goal has been accomplished, after Voldemort is vanquished? That aspect hasn't actually been spoken or "dreamed" out loud. She guesses it's time to begin thinking about that, especially since they're on their way to get Ravenclaw's diadem.
Those introspections helped distract her from the fact she was riding on the back of a dragon. Marcus would never believe it. Hermione can barely believe it, and she's the one on the beast. There's a reason Marcus is a flyer, and she is a ground lover. But the witch must say, flying without him feels lonely. It's not the same. Her heart's been longing for him since he left for Australia, but even more so now. During those times, the petite brunette reminds herself of a simple truth. Seasons of loneliness and isolation are when the caterpillar gets its wings.
All wonderful and special things are lonely at times. It's during those seasons that growth happens. And any kind of growth is a struggle. There are just some things in life, some steps, that need to be done alone. So it's not as bad as it sounds, not really. It's an opportunity to find yourself again, to find purpose. Truthfully that's what Hermione has done. These months she's had time to think about and meditate on many things. The Gryffindor has pondered stuff like what she wants to do after Hogwarts, where she wants to live, and other future implications.
The remainder of the trio's time together was spent searching the Room of Requirement for the lost diadem, avoiding Malfoy and his thick-headed goons, destroying the cup, and seeking a way to get to Nagini. And even though Professor Snape was the most prickly of the professors, Hermione mourned his loss. The dour man pushed her in ways she despised, but it helped her in the end. He helped to build her up and hone her mind, even though it was unappreciated and unnoticed at the time.
It shamed her when she learned the truth about her potions professor, the truth of who he was. There's an enormous loveliness of spirit in those who were great sufferers in this life. Professor Snape was one of them. Telling her Slytherins about the death of their head of house will be tough because she knows what the professor means to them, especially Marcus. When her guy returned from breaks, a little more bruised than most, Professor Snape would send him a bottle of bruising paste and soothing ointment. She knows the man took care of his students, and underneath his gruff exterior, he had a heart of gold. So yes, telling Marcus and the guys about the man's death would be hard. But the witch put those thoughts into a box in her mind for later pondering.
When the final battle took place, the adrenaline ran rampant. It's either fight or flight, and Hermione chooses to fight. While curses were thrown left and right, her sharp mind recalled one thing the Rosemont sisters stated. It was Ms. Amelia that said, "Unless the exchange is done in love and kindly justice, it will fail." Time slowed down like an arrow to the heart as Hermione also remembered what that alluded to... another sacrifice.
Her eyes scanned the area for Harry, and when she couldn't find him, she could scarce choke back tears. A lump formed in her throat, and she had to pause to catch her breath. It welled up within her as the witch moved to a spot out of the line of fire. Once safely ensconced in a shaded area, hidden out of view, the witch allowed herself to view the site. It was a fearsome and frightening thing to behold. The evilness made its presence known with the moon casting its eerie glow. With wolves, ogres, evil spirits, sharp teeth, wraiths, horrors, and everything vile, a chill ran over her tiny body, and gooseflesh broke out on her arms.
Out of nowhere, a horrific howl of success raised to the heavens. That's when she knew he had done it; Harry had made the exchange. Cruel laughter and more bone-chilling howls sounded throughout the night air. The evil started closing in on all sides and seemed to find its courage. It only grew bigger and bolder the more the moments passed. Despite that, Hermione caught her breath and recalled another conversation with the Rosemont sisters.
After she had gathered her thoughts and fixed her face, she pleaded, "But isn't there something I can do about the Deep Magic? Isn't there something you can work against, or come up with, to appease it without the sacrifice of Harry?"
The sisters all eyed each other, and Ms. Cecilia, most of all, looked displeased. The Deep Magic is written in their family's history book. It's embedded in their ancestry and the fabric of their beings. Why, it's as old as time itself. To go against it would be going against everything they've kept, everything they've believed. It would be fighting magic itself, and that is just not done. Harry's life is only one side of the coin, and the other is everything governing the laws of magic. So, the Grand CC stated with the utmost care and sincerity, "No, Hermione, there is not."
The remarkable women helped her to see why Harry must make that sacrifice. Though Voldemort knows of magic, the Deep Magic he doesn't understand. The devilish wizard could never attain it. So in his quest to obtain what he doesn't know, the dark sorcerer has become twisted. His being has become vindictive, greedy, and cruel by taking magic and making it impure. He's tainted it. And when a pure sacrifice is made, it cleanses the flow. It restores order and balance to that which has been improperly misused and abused, not only in the magical realm but in the mundane as well. While it hurt the young witch, she also understood the importance. That's why she'll fight, even when Harry is gone. She'll fight that massive intolerable abomination of magic and end Voldemort in any way possible. Those were her thoughts then, and they're still the same now.
It all became clear when the detestable group of foes entered the courtyard carrying her friend's body. Harry's sacrifice had not quenched the hunger and thirst of evil. The glee and joy of his death were a sickening sight. And when that vile demon spoke his words proclaiming Harry's death and his wish for them to join or die, it only emboldened her resolve.
Then it happened, what she hadn't expected, her dead friend awakened and began fighting. Hope sprang up through the weeds, smoke, and stench of decay. There's light in spite of all the terrible darkness, and once it had jerked into action, the hope rose too. It grew and increased more massive and more fierce as the evil had done. And that's when the real fighting began.
At this moment, there are 7,984,388,659 people in the world. Each one is fighting something in their lives, whether good or evil, demons of the past, a disease, heartbreak, death, finances, growing up, or just struggling to be born. There are seven billion people in the world, and Hermione is just one. But sometimes, that's all you need to make a difference because we all have one life to live. What we do with it is up to us. When we stop fighting, we stop living.
And right now, Hermione's fight has become closer to home. A voice she hadn't heard before rang out from behind her, deep and taunting in her ears. "Well, if it isn't my idiot son's mudblood," the menacing voice spat.
The antagonized witch whipped around and became acquainted with Maxwell Flint. She could see the resemblance to Marcus in the man's height, hair, tan skin tone, and facial features. That's where the similarities stop because Marcus is a more handsome, big-hearted, and kinder wizard than his father ever could be. Hermione's not sure what to say to the man, and would it do any good? Probably not.
She didn't have to speak because the miserable man went on to say, "If I had known he was dating you, I would have you taken care of long ago. Never has a Flint associated with a mudblood, much less dated one. He's defiled himself and the family name, you know. His mother and I knew Marcus was imbecilic as a child. He's always been slower than most, but to have it thrown in our faces is something the boy can never recover from."
The man gripped his wand tightly and inched his way closer to Hermione. He sneered as he stepped, and though Malfoy had done that numerous times it wasn't nearly as horrific as Marcus's father. His green eyes flashed with hate as he snarled, "It's a shame you didn't die from the curse Dolohov cast, even more so that you didn't buckle under the weight of Bellatrix's torture. I guess I'll have to remedy that. When I'm through with you, girl, there will be nothing left for Marcus to identify. And then no one will stop me from punishing him severely."
Everyone needs something, or someone, that's worth fighting for. So when you find your fight, you fight like hell for it, and you don't give up until victory is won. Those words of Maxwell's seemed to snap Hermione out of her stupor. Then she did something that made the wretched man pause. She thanked him. "Thank you, Mr. Flint. Thank you for reminding me that I'm a survivor. I survived some of the brutalist cruelties I've ever known. I'm tougher than anything life throws my way, including nasty words from you. And as for your son, I would die a hundred times over just to save him from the brutality of a father like you. There's a difference between a great love and a right love. What's incredible is when they're both found in the same person. I love your son and will fight for him and our love every time."
The man placed his wand in between his thumb and index finger. Then he began to clap a slow, methodical, condescending clap. "Bravo, Miss Granger. I never thought anyone could be so stupid as to love my neanderthal son. Yet here you are, proving me wrong. At least if Marcus had to fall in love with a mudblood, he would choose the best one. It really is precious how you defend him. Too bad he's not here to defend you," Maxwell scolded just before he cast the first curse.
It grazed past Hermione's face, a brief miss. That's when she stopped seeing this man as the pathetic excuse of a father he is and saw him as a death eater. She began fighting him in earnest, casting spell after spell. Both opponents were able blockers, and their fighting dragged on. Just when she thought she had Maxwell where she wanted him with his back up against the wall, the man knocked her to the ground. In a sudden show of exertion, the elder Flint made a swishing movement and cast a tripping jinx. The witch hadn't been prepared for it as simple as it was.
The jinx knocked the wind out of her lungs and possibly bruised her backside. Maxwell stomped over to her body as she lay there, thinking this could very well be it. He crouched on the ground and pointed his wand right in her face. He began talking in that intimidating way of his. "What shall I do, Miss Granger? You leave me in a predicament. Do I cast an Aveda and be done with you, or do I obliviate any memory of Marcus and magic?"
Hermione's heart sped up, and though she'd never admit it, her eyes became moist. To live without magic or Marcus is a fate worse than death. If she had to choose, she'd rather be killed outright. The evil man must have seen the fear in her eyes at being obliviated because he decided, "Obliviate then. Let's get it over with, shall we?"
Maxwell raised his wand, aimed it at her head, and opened his mouth. Hermione shut her eyes tight as a few tears dripped, her stomach tangled in knots. But before the man could utter the spell, he was hit with a stunner. Turning her head in the direction it came from brought Luna into her line of sight. The blonde rushed to her side and helped her up. The two friends embraced, and Hermione shed a few tears.
"What should we do with him?" Luna asked in her whispy voice. She had also cast a spell to bind his hands and feet and gag his mouth.
Both stood over the tall bound body of Maxwell Flint, staring at him with disgust. As tempting as it seemed to cast her own Aveda on the man, Hermione couldn't do that. He was still Marcus's father. So, she announced, "We leave him tied up and summon the Aurors to take him to Azkaban. That's what we'll do."
That's precisely what they did by summoning the Aurors. Four law enforcers deftly popped into their space and thanked the pair for their handiwork. Then they took the lord of Flint Manor straight to Azkaban. The brunette questioned her friend, "What happened to Harry?"
Luna held Hermione's hand for support and responded, "While you were fighting Marcus's father, he killed Voldemort. It's over, Hermione. We did it!"
Looking out over the battlefield, the Gryffindor couldn't believe it. It's over; Voldemort has died. That's when it hit her. Everything they'd been through, all the torture, the people who lost their lives, all she'd given up, made their presence known through her tears. Shuddering sobs wracked her body as it brought her to her knees. Luna joined her on the ground with tears too. They both wept, hugged, then got up to face what was left of the world.
Together they braved the minefield of bodies to find familiar faces. Ron came barrelling out of the remnants of the castle to embrace his brunette friend. Only he didn't embrace her. He kissed her straight on the lips. And it... was... wrong! Hermione pushed him away. "Ron! What are you doing?" she asked. That kiss was worse than McClaggen's slobbery one.
Ron stood there astonished she could ask such a thing. He pointed his finger at her and repeated, "What do you mean what am I doing? I'm kissing you, that's what. Everything has led up to this moment. Every argument, irritation, conversation, everything has brought us here. It's you, Hermione. It's always been you for me."
Oh no, no, no. The shocked Gryffindor witch could not believe her ears. Even if she wasn't dating Marcus, and he wasn't the love of her life, there was no way she'd date Ron. None. Mainly because, "How can you say that? We both get on each other's nerves. Plus, you've said some mean things to me over the years, whether in jest or not. I'm sorry, Ronald, but I don't love you that way. Besides, I'm already dating someone."
The redhead scoffed. "Dating someone? Please, you don't have to lie, Hermione, on my account."
Her dark, honey eyes narrowed as she told him, "I'm not lying. I'm dating someone. I have been for a long time." Then Ron wanted to know who. "Marcus Flint," she declared.
But Ron being Ron laughed out loud, only making Hermione's ire rise. Through laughs, he noted, "A famous athlete with tons of money, not to mention troll blood, would not be dating you. Why would he when he has prettier witches hanging all over him?" He realized his blunder the minute it left his mouth.
Rounding on him like a shark on its prey, the hurt witch reminded him, "That right there is why I'd never date you. I don't have to tell you, but I will. Marcus and I have been dating since my fourth year. We love each other and have a future together. As for you, grow up."
The ache, and disappointment, in her chest, grew. Luna, Harry, and Ginny confirmed her words. Ron's face turned angry, and he walked away like he did when he left Hermione and Harry alone. That's when her body could take no more. Hermione Granger buckled under the weight of all the pressure she's been through and passed out cold. In their haste to tend to their friend, no one noticed the glow of the rose bracelet. The glow magnified and burst out of one of the ruby roses. In the blink of an eye, it engulfed Hermione's body and disappeared with her leaving her friends speechless.