A/N: This stupid chapter… it was longer than I intended it to be and it's pretty boring. Well, those are my thoughts anyway; I'll let you people be the judge. Erm, thanks to gothic-hands, meg, radicalangel7, and pureangel86. Lol—I enjoyed everyone's guess of Ron's house being targeted. DUDES! So sorry about the really long wait, but I couldn't post anything for like two weeks! My account was temporarily suspended 'cause of some of my ancient stories that violated the rules or whatever! I was so pissed! But whatever. It's over now and I can finally post again.

Lock and Key
Chapter 30

According to the article, small armies of rebel and wild goblins attacked numerous wizarding communities all over Britain. Some of these places included Diagon Alley and a town very close to the Weasleys' residence. (The Gringotts employees put up a fearless fight against their brothers). The goblins had joined forces with Voldemort and fought on his behalf. Indeed, the evil wizard was seen in person himself helping to demolish Diagon Alley. A large team of Ministry workers dispatched to stop him, and Voldemort killed about half of them before Apparating away to an unknown location.

For the most part the goblins were defeated, which meant death, though some of the settlements they raided were virtually annihilated. The wizards had casualties as well, some of which were children, a few bound to return to Hogwarts. Tom Riddle had put a hit on Ollivander and sent about ten goblins to rid of him, but that venture failed when all of the store owner's wands flew out of their boxes to protect him and viciously combat the creatures.

The school's students were seriously frightened by the news. What was the Dark Lord going to pull next? What terrifying things was he going to keep coming up with? How long until something purely destructive took place, such as a massacre? As for the kids arriving back to Hogwarts from vacation, intense safety measures were taken. Dumbledore himself, and various members of the Magical Law Enforcement Department, rode the train to the station and back again. (Other law enforcement officials were positioned to stay and guard Platform 9 and ¾). The students thought it odd to see this, but were acutely grateful. Draco Malfoy had something to say, of course, and vocalized that things were being handled ridiculously.

The students whom had stayed at the castle for Easter were happy to see their peers make it back safely, and bombarded them with questions as to whether or not they had witnessed the goblin assaults. For the four pupils lost in the goblin rebellion (a Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and two Hufflepuffs), banners were created in their honor and a moment of silence was given during the drab dinner that night. Hermione had been severely distressed for Ron and Ginny's well being what with an attack so near to their home, and Harry had to admit that he had too worried. So when they saw the two Weasley children in the common room with Neville, surrounded by their friends, it was a relief. It did, consequently, make the Head Girl sad; she wanted to be able to approach them as in old days and demonstrate her gratitude for their safety, but could not. The redheads in turn saw Harry and Hermione looking at them from a remote corner of the room. To Harry, it seemed as if Ginny was peering back with an unusual glint in her eyes. Ron, on the other hand, held the same bitterness in his before he ceased looking at them. Their reunion via a short staring sequence ended with Hermione desolately leaving the common room and Harry following her. That same night, Harry awoke in bed suddenly with his scar deliberately tingling and almost panting. He had heard distinct, gleeful laughter that unnerved him. Although most of the goblins were deceased, the Dark Lord was apparently happy with the damage they had done.

The goblin battle appeared to have woken something within Harry. It was the realization that Voldemort would not cease his reign of terror and that it would only grow worse. People he knew and cared for were at risk and could die at any moment; no one was infallible, especially not him. The prophecy, after so long of taking a backseat, began to swim in his mind once more, more resounding than ever. When was he going to tell everyone? When was Harry going to confess that the key to stopping Voldemort resided in him?

He started to speak less each and every day, giving in to the thoughts of his fate. He appeared in classes and at meals but was evermore silent, often staring off into space. His companions noticed his alternation and wondered what could be causing it. They deduced that everyone's attitude towards his relationship with Hermione was beginning to take its toll again, and for this they felt responsible. Hermione herself did not know Harry's dilemma and became fretful. She questioned his behavior and he always responded that things were fine—he simply had a couple of things on his mind.

These couple of things (also known as the prophecy) soon led to Harry isolating himself, even from Hermione. He was generally unresponsive and gave direct, concise answers when he did speak. In his room, the hangings were always shut, and any place else, he sat alone with his head in his hands. Quidditch practices consisted of him sitting in the stands while his teammates flew around overhead, carrying out the plays and worrying slightly. (Ron was a bit curious as to why Harry was acting this way but refused to show it). DA meetings were practically ran by Hermione, who threw dismayed glances at a transfixed Harry who sat lifelessly on a beanbag.

After about a week of this, she could no longer take his silence or elusive responses.

"I don't understand what is wrong with you," she shouted at him, clearly crying, "Why won't you tell me?"

"Hermione, please," Harry begged, a hand on the side of his head, "You're not making this any easier!"

"And what exactly is it! You are not helping me, either! You are not helping by locking me out! What is the point of that Harry! You're the only one I have left, and if you start ignoring me…"

"Hermione, I just can't talk to you right now. It's so complicated!" Hermione scoffed and sobbed harder.

"No it's not Harry. You just don't want to tell me." The Head Girl then virtually ran out of the room of requirement, hair flying behind her.

"Hermione!" Harry called, going after her. When he was outside he looked both ways to detect her path, but she was nowhere in sight. He had no clue as to how she had done it, but Hermione was gone. Crying out in frustration and despair, Harry turned back around and began to rapidly destroy objects inside the Room of Requirement with his wand.

It happened during a training session with Severus Snape, of all people. They were battling in a cleared out dungeon and their brawl had begun to really escalate when Harry merely snapped. Snape flung three curses at Harry in succession, and the boy hardly had time to stop them. (Dueling with Snape was the worst; he had neither mercy nor any form of compassion).

"Pathetic, Potter," the Potions master declared, delivering another hex. Harry moved inelegantly to the side to avoid it, breathing heavily, "Is this the best you can do! You are dueling with the abilities of a second year Hufflepuff! You have learned nothing!" Snape barked out a spell. Harry retaliated, yelling:

"Confuto!" The incantation stopped mid-air and evaporated, then Harry commanded his own hex. Snape, however, stopped it in an almost bored fashion.

"Where is your head, Potter! You are wasting my time," he snarled. He then began firing off jinxes terribly fast, glaring at the Gryffindor, "You will not last two minutes before the Dark Lord! He will defeat you with absurd ease! The amount of credit everyone gives you is laughable! You do not have the right to be called a wizard!" Harry, whom had been having immense difficulty dodging Snape's sudden rapid ambush, scowled at his professor before being hit in the abdomen. He shouted out in pure anger as he grabbed the tender spot, eyes closing briefly.

"Continue to fight in this manner and you will surely die!" Snape heatedly said, "Cacocous!" A gray light shot from his wand, directed at the Boy Who Lived. Harry's eyes shot open.

"Confuto!" he growled. Then, with every negative feeling he had due to his teacher's words, he bellowed back, "AFFLIGO!" A deep, red beam burst from Harry's wand at frightening speed. Unaltered shock overtook Snape's face, and he barely had enough time to combat it.

"Protego!" The spell bounced off the shield, pushing the man back from its sheer force, and hit two of the walls, leaving them to smoke. Harry slumped to the floor as Snape lowered his wand, half gawking, half glaring at him. Harry knew at that moment that he had to tell everyone about the prophecy as soon as possible. His old plan to stall was not going to work anymore; he had to finally reveal the secret of two years, or crumble from the weight.

"Potter…" Snape commenced.

"I might just die, you know," Harry abruptly, not looking at him, "By Voldemort. It's a possibility. The other is that I kill him. Me. Only me. It was in the prophecy. I have to be the one." It was quiet for some time, with only water dripping in a far corner serving as sound.

"I know," came the professor's voice, strained. Harry looked up at him. His arms were folded and he wore an uncomfortable look upon his face. A bit of aggravation also seemed to be a part of it. Harry then realized that Severus Snape had been the first person to hear the truth—Severus Snape, and he had known! The man who incessantly made him feel like an idiot.

Harry didn't care how Snape knew of the prophecy. He simply didn't. As he got to his feet, all he cared about was leaving the man's presence, post haste. It was out and he suddenly felt mildly sick. Harry made for the door.

"Where are you going," demanded Snape, uncharacteristic surprise springing from him, "I did not permit you to leave!"

"Oh well. This session is over," Harry rancorously spat, already halfway out the dungeon.

He had to plot it all out. As Harry sat in a dingy, deserted fifth floor classroom that night, he began to miserably think of how he was going to relay the prophecy and to whom. He supposed letters would work well enough since he was too frightened to explain his destiny in person, but knew there was one person for whom a letter would simply not suffice. Remus and the Weasleys had to know immediately. Ron's family might indeed be disappointed with Harry, but he felt mandated to tell them; they had been like his family as well. He needed to tell his roommates, all of his Gryffindor peers, and the DA—his friends. As for Order members, Harry would allow Dumbledore to tell them. And as much as he didn't want to recognize or do it, Harry knew Ron had to find out about the prophecy.

The next day Harry spent all of his time in classes writing. (No one bothered him due to their assumption that he was taking extensive notes). Hermione had ceased speaking to him two days earlier, and it pained him to see the look on her face in Charms as she sat by Padma Patil, but he could not be deterred, not yet. She would understand very soon. She would understand how sorry he was.

By the time lessons were over for the day, Harry had all four letters written out to the Weasleys, Remus, the DA, and his close friends (Neville, Dean, Seamus, Parvati and so on). He went to Dumbledore's office instead of dinner, hoping the headmaster was present. He was.

"Harry," Dumbledore said when he stepped in the office, "How can I help you?" Harry looked at him and then down at his written confessions.

"I wrote these today," he muttered, "They're for most everyone I know, a-and they're about the… prophecy." There was utter silence but Harry did not have the nerve to make eye contact with the older wizard and see his reaction.

"I reckon it's time I told… told everyone. You can tell whomever you feel needs to know in the Order, or at the Ministry. I don't care." The Gryffindor then quickly turned on his heel and grabbed the door's handle. It, however, opened on its own, startling him.

"As you wish, Harry," Dumbledore softly guaranteed. The boy hesitated for a moment as if he wanted to say something additional, but left with a shake of his head and not with one backward glance.

The DA was scheduled to have a meeting that night, but the members received a surprise when they walked into the Room of Requirement. Harry was nowhere in sight, nor was Hermione. The students waited for a short amount of time but after fifteen minutes became anxious; Harry was never late and always the first person present. Perhaps he was going through emotional turmoil again…. It wasn't until Ernie Macmillan discovered a lone piece of parchment on a tiny desk in the front of the room that they began to comprehend Harry's behavior.

Ernie read it aloud, and as each sentence ended, he found it difficult to maintain an even voice. It told of Harry's destiny: the prophecy, his inevitable battle with Voldemort. It was noticeably devoid of emotional appeal; he gave them the straight forward truth, leaving out any of his feelings on the subject. When the Hufflepuff finished it was deathly still. For those students to whom the revelation was somewhat logical, it was still mind blowing to actually hear. Perchance during the silence, the DA started to fathom exactly how heavy Harry's burden was and how the past weeks had done nothing to alleviate it, only make it profound. Dean, Neville, and Seamus were the first ones to leave, rushing out. A sniffing, red-eyed Ginny followed. Luna's eyes had a teary film as a pale Colin slowly went after his girlfriend, with stone faced Lavender and Parvati right behind him.

When the three Gryffindor boys entered their dormitory, they hastily whipped their heads around for a sign of Harry. He was nowhere to be found, but three messages on their beds were. (They were the same letter, merely copied). As they commenced reading the more personal, in depth context, Ron walked in. The fact that all three were reading and looked woeful prompted Ron to speak.

"What is it," he questioned, searching their faces. Dean and Seamus stared at him, "What's wrong? Did something happen?" They returned to the parchment, saying nothing. The redhead frowned sadly, not enjoying or understanding their ignorance of him. Something was not right!

"It's Harry." Neville quietly remarked when they were through. He folded the letter and looked at Ron.

"That," Ron asked, face showing repulsion, "I took one look at it, saw his handwriting, and chucked it." Neville suddenly shot up and stormed over to the Weasley boy. He slammed the paper into Ron's chest.

"Get over yourself and read it," he demanded, snarling. Neville then left the room. Ron held the note to his chest, mouth agape, and stared at the two best friends helplessly. They had no condolences or explanation, and wouldn't have given them to him if they had.

Harry did not sleep in his room that night. In fact, no one knew where he had gone. The preceding day, Hermione observed that their friends were much more subdued, almost mournful. She did not let it consume her thoughts, however, because something else already was. It had been three days since their spat and she was only becoming more broken over the fact that Harry was still aloof with her. Consequently, he planned on talking to Hermione that very night. The time had arrived at long last for him to speak with the one person whose response he feared the most.

Harry sighed as he ascended the staircase. Lunch was in session but he was not very hungry. He had no idea as to how his friends were going to react to the news of his fate, and was weary of this. He had sent everyone the news the previous evening, and had to deal with Hermione thisevening. That was going to be painful. Harry opened the door to his room, remembering he had not returned to it for sleep the prior night-- the thought of his roommates had been too much. Coincidently enough, Seamus, Neville, and Dean were conversing in the center of the room as Harry took one step in. They stopped talking and looked at him. Oh no…

"Harry," Dean said. He uttered no answer. Well, it was a bit late to run out now, wasn't it? You could, and look cowardly. Harry lethargically closed the door most of the way, gazing at them. Had they (Dean & Seamus) been in Transfiguration? He hadn't noticed.

"We… we got your note, a-about, well… you know." Seamus told him. The four stared at each other a little longer before Harry dropped his gaze.

"I—" he murmured.

"Why didn't you tell us earlier Harry," Neville sternly pondered, "You should've talked to us sooner, about this, about Hermione—everything! We've always been on your side!" The Boy Who Lived looked immediately at Neville, incredulity striking him.

"Y-Yeah?" he croaked.

"For Merlin's sake, mate—we're your friends!" In any other situation, Harry would have probably refrained from his next gesture, or been appalled by it. But at the moment, the fact that he heartily hugged his three friends while feeling terrifically relieved seemed to be all right.

Harry stepped out of the common room and began his path to the Head Room, extremely worried. According to the Marauder's Map, that was where Hermione was and so it was there he had to go. He had spent much of the day mulling over what to say to her and had gotten nowhere. Harry had come to the conclusion that there was no way to prepare for something such as this.

He hadn't gotten but a few paces from the Fat Lady when a choked voice called his name. He turned around and saw Ginny coming towards him from the opposite direction. Dear God… did she want to talk to him? Harry was at a lost for what to say, but even if he had had words in which to reply they wouldn't have mattered. Before he knew what to think the Weasley girl had thrown herself onto him, sobbing.

"Oh goodness, Harry—I'm so sorry! Merlin, I wanted to come to you before, you and Hermione both! Right after Easter! After the attacks, I realized how stupid I was being, all of us! We were being petty. There are more important things, like friendship, and l-life!" she spilled earnestly, continuing to sob. Harry leisurely raised his arms and put them around her, a sad happiness commencing to grip his heart.

"Your relationship with Hermione… we took it the wrong way. It wasn't our place to be angry with you! Shock turned into something nasty, and… and now, this, V-Voldemort! Gosh Harry!" Ginny said. She pulled back a bit and wiped her eyes on her left sleeve.

"It's… it's not so bad, Ginny," he quietly admitted, looking down at her. He had on a half-smile and seemed to be reveling in the fact that she had apologized.

"How's Hermione taking it?" she wondered as he let her go, studying his face.

"She doesn't know yet," Harry gravely reported, "I was on my way to tell her now. I'm… I'm scared, Ginny." The Chaser was looking at him with a tragic expression.

"She needs to know. She cares about you, so much. Just… tell her," instructed Ginny in a hushed voice, "God, Harry—I'm just so sorry!"

Harry James Potter nimbly shut the door the door to his dormitory, staring anxiously at the brunette who chose to stand next to Seamus' bed. Once planted, she crossed her arms and stared right back, though with minor rage. He swallowed a lump as he nervously ran a hand through his hair.

"Well?" Hermione prompted. It had not been an easy task getting her to agree to listen to him, let alone in his room. (It had also not been easy to get his roommates to confirm that they'd be able to keep Ron out of the area for two hours, at least). For one frightening moment, Harry was afraid he had messed up so badly he had lost her.

…

"What are you doing in here Harry?" the Head Girl asked coldly, struggling to hide her shock. She had stopped on the steps from coming back down to the first floor. He looked up at her, forlornly.

"I have to talk to you, Hermione. Please."

"Oh, now you want to talk? Am I worthy now?"

"Hermione, please—I know I've been acting dumb recently, but don't—" he began to plead.

"Don't what? Why should I let you? Tell me that! Do you know what you've put me through?"

"Merlin, Hermione—don't do this, please! Not now. I have to talk to you. I was an idiot, I know!"

"I want to be alone, Harry. Go away," she abruptly commanded, moving to the sofa and refusing to show anguish.

"No! Hermione, I-I won't leave! I won't leave until you listen to me! I swear. I'll explain everything, please. I swear!"

…

"Harry," Hermione firmly stated, "Are you going to say anything? Or were you simply lying?"

"No," he sighed, "It's just, this is… hard." The Muggleborn did not answer, waiting for him to carry on.

"It started at the end of fifth year. Well, that's when I found out anyway. I've only begun to tell people now, after all this time…" She furrowed her brow, a diminutive, unsure frown on her face.

"Everyone at Hogwarts knows… well, everyone I want to know. The Weasleys and Remus will know soon enough. Maybe the truth isn't so shocking, if you've paid attention to everything that's happened to me since first year and just connect the dots." Harry said.

"Harry… what are you going on about?" Hermione inquired, slowly unfolding her arms. Her fury was practically gone. He exhaled, rubbing his forehead.

"Remember the prophecy, and how it broke without Voldemort hearing it? Well, I heard it. Dumbledore told me. He heard if from Trelawney on the night she involuntarily foretold it. He never bothered to tell me before fifth year. Once again, he just thought I wasn't ready," Harry's voice had started to take on an irritated tone as he glowered at his trunk, "What I wasn't ready for was having to accept something that huge right after…after losing Sirius. So, I didn't tell anyone about the prophecy because I still couldn't full grasp it. I was also scared of how… how people would react. But, but it's overdue—my confession is overdue. The War is not ending by my not saying anything."

"What… what did it s-say, Harry?" she quietly wondered, a miraculous dread overcoming her. He glanced at her before closing his eyes. Sighing, Harry recited the prophecy for her, or rather muttered it.

When he was done, his eyes remained shut.

"The training sessions I told you about, they're not for if Voldemort comes after me, they're for when. They're for my final duel with him. Some of the spells are meant to… kill." Harry opened his green opticals. Hermione still stood by Seamus' four poster, but her hand covered her mouth and she wasn't looking at her boyfriend. A stream of tears made its way down her face as her right arm hugged her stomach.

"They have to be that intense, because if I don't beat him, then… I'm the one who—" he dully remarked.

"No," Hermione shakily said. Harry looked at her.

"No," she repeated, removing her hand, "No! Don't say it! No! You're not the one who has to defeat him!"

"Yes I am Hermione," he said, teeth clenched.

"No you're not!"

"Yes!"

"NO! It's not fair! Why is it always you! Why do you have to be the one! You're continually sacrificing something, and in this case it's your life!"

"You think I don't know that," Harry yelled furiously, going over the brink, "I'm perfectly aware of it, all of it! I've had 24 months to think about it! Voldemort has taken every normality away from me, every sense of safety! He's stolen things and people I love, and still can! The prophecy only proves he can now take my most personal possession: my being! But it makes sense! It makes sense that Voldemort has the power to destroy me physically! He already did so spiritually!" Hermione put her hands up to her ears and shook her head, the tears coming in stronger torrents.

"Stop it," she cried. She wanted Harry to be quiet, and to be wrong. Oh so wrong. He was talking about his possible death—his death! It was repulsive and made her feel sick.

"I'm the one, Hermione, whether I like it or not. And I don't. I just am," he told her in a cracked voice, advancing near her.

"No!"

"Yes," Harry took her hands away from her head and held them, looking at her tragically. She could not stop sobbing, "If I have to be the one, then I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill him for everything he's put the wizarding world through, every vial thing he's done. I hate him. I have too much a desire to see him fall, and I have too much to live for to die."

"No." Hermione mouthed desperately, trying pitifully to get out of his grasp. Why did it have to be Harry? Why! Why her Harry? She vainly tried to convince herself that he was lying, but she knew it was the horrible truth. In a hideous way it was rational, did complete the disturbing circle.

"Yes," he whispered, wiping some of her (many) tears away and keeping his at bay, "He may have taken a lot from me, but I still have so much to live for. I have you, Hermione, I h-have you." The Head Girl hitched several sobs as Harry dried her face, looking miserable. The second he was complete, she flung her arms around his neck and smashed her lips against his.

It registered in Hermione's head that she and Harry had not truly kissed, or snogged, since his fight with Ron. That had been in the start of April and it was currently the second day of May. Their misery had indeed prevented the two from physically showing their affection, and had even made them forget about it on a certain level. But at the moment, Hermione felt thrice as wretched as she had the day Ron attacked Harry, and was sure that if she didn't kiss him, kiss him now, she would die.

Harry inhaled as Hermione initiated a deep, desperate kiss. It had been so long since they had last kissed like this, and he knew she was doing it out of grief but he did not care. He suddenly needed to feel her just as much, to let him know he wasn't alone, to know he was alive. Harry grabbed her waist and began to forcefully kiss her back. Hermione's hands went astray in his black hair as fresh tears started to fall down her face. She wanted it to go away and sought oblivion in this reckless snog.

Their kisses grew to be more wild and rash, and were chalk full of utter despair. Their tongues clashed against one another as he gripped the small of her back and base of her head. She closed her eyes and sobbed when he moved from her lips to her neck. Why couldn't he have peace, for once in his life? Why did he have to be the savior of the damned wizarding world! He was only seventeen! Hermione placed her hands inside his robes and under his shirt, leading him back to Seamus' bed. She felt his bare chest as Harry's hands shot to un-tuck Hermione's shirt from her skirt. She helped him by quickly removing her robes before returning to his abdomen. They fell back on the bed, with her underneath him.

Harry kissed her mouth again as she started to unbutton her shirt with unsteady hands. She was still crying, and now appeared to be doing so with more of a fervor. Hermione tugged at his shirt roughly and began to lift it up, indicating she wanted it to come off. (His robes had been discarded not long after hers). He got to the fourth button from the bottom before stopping. He lightly ran a hand over her stomach before daintily kissing her.

"Hermione," he murmured. Recognizing her actions and what had just occurred, she put an arm over her eyes and wept, a sob shaking her body. It was still there and it still wasn't fair. He had people who needed him, didn't anyone understand that!
Harry shifted from being on top of her to right by her side. He put his arms around her middle and gathered her in his embrace. Hermione sunk gladly into it and continued to cry, clinging to the one for whom she shed tears.

A/N:In voice of Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons: Longest chapter ever! Seriously! J/k! Anyway, there. Finally. Harry tells everyone about the prophecy. It's really sappy, but it should be that way, right? I didn't know how to make everyone respond, so forgive me if it's stupid or anything. But I don't really care so…. Next posting next week. One of these weeks, I have to get two chapters up but I don't know when that will be. Three weeks left of my first year in college and professors are starting to go insane, giving us crap loads of work. I hate it.