I regain consciousness slowly, wincing as a stabbing pain races up and down my spine. As best I can, I take stock of my surroundings. I'm face down on the softest bed I've felt in years, but I have no idea where I am. I'm neither tied up nor drugged, nor do I notice any other signs that I've fallen into enemy hands, so that's good, at least. I try to push myself upwards, to sit, but a voice stops me.

"Don't." I turn my head on the pillow and am surprised to see Draco sat in a chair beside the bed, his wand drawn and his brows furrowed.

"Don't," he repeats. "I need to check your wounds first." For the first time, I notice that my torso is encased entirely in thick bandages, a faint smell of mint wafting from underneath the bindings. Since I can't move particularly well, I just nod and rest my head on the pillow once more. Draco mutters a spell and the bandages split neatly down the middle, cool air hitting the bare skin of my back. A tingling sensation spreads across my skin as Draco intones another spell, this one almost like a song, and the pain dims.

"That's better," I murmur without even realizing it. I flush at the embarrassing slip-up, but Draco just nods.

"Good. And the salve seems to be working – you'll have scars, but the damage isn't terrible."

"Well, I already have plenty of those," I say with a snort. I fall silent as I process his words. "Draco…what happened?"

"You got hit with a Sectumsempra," he says. "I saw it happen and brought you back here with my emergency Portkey – Snape taught me the counter curse after that fiasco in sixth year." The response is short and to the point, but it gives me a hell of a lot of information, probably more than Draco intended or wanted to give me. I decide to cut right to the chase.

"You saved my life," I say bluntly. "Why?" Draco sighs.

"I thought we went over this, Granger. Potter would've snuffed it as a first year if not for you. Of all the members of the resistance, you are one of the ones who absolutely cannot die." Again, I suspect that this statement is more loaded than it seems.

"How do we know you haven't compromised your position?" I ask. "It's too much to hope for that no one saw us leave – regardless of what side they're on, they'll have expected you to kill me." Draco just shrugs.

"It couldn't be helped. As I'm very likely the only person alive who knows the counter curse, it's not like we had loads of options. If saving your life means that the final battle comes sooner than we'd like, so be it."

"Well then, let's get to it," I say determinedly. Again, I try to push myself upwards, and again, Draco forces me back down, this time with a hand to my shoulder.

"Stay down, Granger," he commands. "It hasn't even been twelve hours – yes, the salve is doing its job, but you need to stay still and let yourself heal if you don't want your wounds to reopen." I bury my face in the pillow and groan in frustration, knowing he's right. He has personal experience with this particular curse, after all.

"Can I at least sit up?" I whine. "I'm horribly uncomfortable."

"You can sit up when the second round of salve is done soaking in twenty minutes from now, and not a moment before," Draco replies sternly.

"You sound like Madam Pomfrey," I grumble.

"Good. Somebody needs to keep you bullheaded Gryffindors in check. You don't even have bandages on, for Merlin's sake." I flush again as I realize he's right – many salves need to dry completely before wounds can be covered up again, so he hasn't yet replaced my bindings. Wounds aside, sitting up is impossible right now if I don't want to give him a show.

"Oh, shut it," I say in an effort to stave off my embarrassment.

"'Shut it'? Whatever happened to, 'Oh, thank you Draco ever so much for saving my life'?" He affects a ridiculous falsetto on this last question, and I roll my eyes.

"I'll thank you to stop insulting me, how's that?"

"You're impossible."

"So are you."

We're silent for a long moment as we glare at one another, but then we both involuntarily snort at the same time.

"So much for that," I mutter. "Seems like no matter what, we can't resist acting like a couple of bratty first years around one another." I pause and sigh heavily. "Thank you, though." I pause again. "How bad is it?" Draco raises his eyebrows.

"Never took you for a vain one, Granger," he comments. I roll my eyes again.

"I couldn't care less what it looks like," I say. "I've got plenty of other scars already. I meant, what's the extent of the damage?"

"Nothing major – no major organs hit, no internal damage. Your back will look like a jungle cat got its claws in you and the scars might feel stiff on occasion, but other than that, you'll be fine. The scarring itself won't even be that bad – the salve ensures that." I nod as best I can. A thought occurs to me then, and I frown.

"You said it's been about twelve hours since the attack," I say. "Does anyone else know what happened to me?"

"Potter does," Draco informs me. "We'd been here for about an hour when he barged in, demanding to know if I knew where you were – your group was already back at headquarters when he got there, and they told him what happened. He was just getting in the way, though, pacing everywhere and worrying over you, and I told him to get the hell out of here if he wanted you to live. He's not here at the moment – he left when I told him you were stable, presumably back to headquarters to tell everyone else. He mentioned something about a debriefing, but he'll be back when that's over, I'm sure."

"Yes, we were all going to meet afterwards, since we'd been forced to split up." I bite my lip. "Do you…how bad was it?" Draco sighs and shakes his head before running a hand through his hair.

"I honestly don't know," he says. "Potter didn't have details yet when he first showed up here, but you saw what happened at Westminster." My entire being feels heavy at his words. There's not a snowball's chance in hell that we didn't lose anyone last night.

"I hate this," I mutter. "I hate that you know exactly what's going to happen but can only tell us bits and pieces of it if we don't want the Death Eaters to suspect a traitor. All those trains blown up, all those people dead – and for what? We're one step closer to taking down pure evil, but who are we to decide who lives and who dies in the meantime? Who are we to even deserve that opportunity in the first place?" Draco sighs again, but it's someone else who answers my question.

"This entire situation is complete and utter troll shite, Hermione. We just have to keep believing in what we're fighting for and hope that whatever's waiting for us on the other side is better than what we've got now."

"Harry," I breathe.

"Hey." Harry leans over and drops a kiss on the top of my head, then snags the other chair next to Draco. "Good to see you awake."

"I'm fine," I reassure him. "What are a few more scars in the grand scheme of things? Just waiting until this one" – I nod at Draco – "decides I'm allowed to get dressed and sit up like a civilized person." Draco rolls his eyes.

"Gryffindors," he mutters. "So bloody impatient." Nevertheless, he waves his wand over my back once more. Whatever he sees in the diagnostic spell must satisfy him, because seconds later I feel fresh bandages snaking their way around my torso. I then feel something soft land on my back, belatedly realizing it's a shirt.

"Thanks," I say quietly as I slowly sit up and pull on the shirt. Both actions are, admittedly, a bit of a struggle – Draco's healing work notwithstanding, my back is still incredibly stiff and sore. It's not as bad as I was expecting, though, and the pillows are almost sinfully soft. I sink back into them with a sigh, then turn to Harry.

"Tell me what happened," I say. "The debriefing…" Harry shakes his head.

"It's…not good," he replies. "We killed or incapacitated roughly thirty Death Eaters, but we still got hit pretty hard. Almost everyone was hurt in some way or another, and ten of us died." My heart clenches. I don't ask who, because it doesn't matter – every loss hits hard. Thirty Death Eaters, though? That's much better than we could've hoped.

"Oh, and the Scotland group finally arrived early this morning," Harry adds.

"The Scotland group is here?" I say. "That's huge!"

"Yeah. Everyone's here now, so we'll be ready for the final fight."

"About that…" I look at Draco. "We really can't afford to wait much longer, Harry. I know we're going in blind when it comes to the last Horcrux, but somebody will have seen Draco leave Westminster with me when I got hit. The Death Eaters don't know who I am, thanks to this" – I tug on a lock of my blonde hair – "but they know what I look like and that I'm not on their side. As soon as they see that I'm very clearly not dead, they'll know someone on their side's turned traitor, because they'll have fully expected Draco to kill me."

"So, we'll do it tonight," Harry says.

"No," Draco counters.

"And why not?" Harry demands.

"Do you want Granger to be able to fight alongside you, or not? I just replaced her bandages literally two minutes ago – unless you want her bleeding out on the battlefield, she needs a few days' rest before we try anything. Ideally, she needs weeks of recovery time, but I know we haven't got that much to spare, so we have to make do." Harry slumps in his chair.

"Dammit," he mutters. "I hate it when you're right."

"I do vividly remember my own recovery from this curse, you know."

"Don't rub it in, Malfoy," I say sharply, deliberately using his surname so he knows I mean it. "I'll do my best to lay low until absolutely necessary, but you know that might not be possible."

"That's probably the best I'm going to get from you, so I'll take it." Draco then gives me a series of instructions that he insists I absolutely must follow if I'm not going to adopt his preferred recovery method. There's a series of potions I need to take, and I need to apply more of the salve at regular intervals. Finally, he gives me leave to return to headquarters with Harry, reminding us to keep an eye on our coins and to be ready at a moment's notice.

Chatter erupts from half a dozen different places all at once as soon as Harry and I cross the threshold at headquarters.

"Hermione!"

"She's alive!"

"What happened to you?"

"Oh, I'm so glad you're alright…"

"Enough!" Harry commands, chuckling slightly. "Let the poor woman breathe, yeah?" We make our way into the kitchen, which is far more crowded than usual, now that the Scotland group's here. I feel happy tears welling in my eyes as I spot so many familiar faces – Neville, Professor Sprout, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Oliver Wood. Penelope Clearwater raises her mug in greeting – she was several years ahead of us at Hogwarts, but we'd struck up an acquaintanceship of sorts after having been Petrified together – and Susan Bones grins and waves as best she can while balancing on a pair of crutches, her left leg bandaged from ankle to knee. The most welcome sight is Madam Pomfrey – McGonagall and Fleur have proven themselves capable healers when we needed them most, but having a trained mediwitch around feels like a huge weight off our shoulders.

"What happened to you, Hermione?" Ginny asks again, voicing the one question everyone really wants answered.

"I got hit with a Sectumsempra at Westminster," I explain. Several people around the room flinch – the London group, at the very least, is familiar with this spell, as we long ago shared everything in our arsenals that could potentially be used against the Death Eaters. "Harry's contact saw me get hit – he knows the counter curse, and he's the one who Portkeyed us back to his safe house and healed me."

"Hang on," Ron says, his eyes narrowing. "Sectumsempra? But that was one of Snape's. We're trusting someone who knows the counter curse for a spell Snape invented?"

"Of course we are," Harry says without hesitation. I look at him curiously.

"Ron's got a point," I say. "Snape?" Harry looks confused for a long moment before a mix of recognition and shock crosses his face.

"Oh, hell," he breathes. "You don't know, do you? None of you do…"

"Know what?" I ask warily.

"About Snape." Harry looks to the room at large. "You might want to sit down if you can – this is kind of a long story, but it's important." Once we've all managed to find somewhere to perch, Harry takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair.

"I think everyone here knows that Snape was a double agent, and that he killed Dumbledore…but the story's a lot more complicated than that, actually. Ron and Hermione were with me when Snape died – he gave me his memories, and I viewed them in Dumbledore's Pensieve during the armistice hour. For his story to make sense, we've got to go back to the beginning, before his Hogwarts days, even. See, Snape was friends with my mum."

"What?" Gasps of disbelief, my own included, ring throughout the room, and several people start talking at once.

"Let Mr. Potter finish," McGonagall commands sharply. The room quiets, and our former professor nods at Harry to continue.

"Snape was friends with my mum – they grew up near each other and met before they even went to Hogwarts. Snape was the first person who told my mum that what she could do was magic. Even when they were Sorted into rival houses, they were still basically best friends."

"I'd forgotten all about that," McGonagall says. Harry turns to her, looking surprised.

"You knew they were friends?" he asks.

"Well, yes," she replies. "Gryffindor-Slytherin relationships of any sort are always noticeable because they don't happen all that often. Severus Snape and Lily Evans weren't inseparable – they each had their own friend groups – but they studied often enough together, and they got along in class."

"I never had problems when they were paired together in my lessons," Flitwick pipes up. He frowns and adds, "Through their first few years as students, anyway." Harry nods.

"They had a permanent falling-out at the end of their O.W.L.s," he says.

"What happened?" I ask. It must've been something big for them to end what sounded like a pretty solid friendship. Harry sighs heavily.

"The Marauders and Snape were like me and Malfoy at school – worse, even. They loathed each other. They played a really awful prank on him after one of their exams, embarrassed him in front of a whole bunch of people. My mum stepped in to stop it, and Snape, in his anger, told her to back off, that he didn't need help from a…you know." Several people around the room gasp or hiss. Harry didn't speak the slur aloud, but we all understand what happened. His mum's blood status isn't exactly a secret.

"Yeah. Their friendship was already on the rocks – my mum couldn't understand why Snape hung out with people who were on their way to becoming Death Eaters one day – but that was the last straw. Snape definitely regretted it, but my mum never forgave him.

"Anyway, that's not all. See, my mum wasn't just Snape's best friend – he was in love with her, and that never changed, not even after they'd stopped speaking. By chance, he overheard the prophecy Trelawney made about me when Dumbledore was interviewing her for the Divination job. Snape told Riddle the prophecy, but as soon as he realized Riddle thought the prophecy pointed to me, he went to Dumbledore himself, begging him to protect my mum. When Riddle killed her anyway, he committed himself fully to the Order's cause and has been on our side ever since. The doe Patronus that Ron, Hermione, and I saw in the forest? That was his, and he sent the sword of Gryffindor to us, which we then used to destroy the locket."

"But how does Dumbledore's death fit into this?" Ginny asks. "Snape killed him; you were pretty adamant about that."

"It's a valid question, Gin," Harry agrees. "The memories had the answer to that as well. Snape did kill Dumbledore, yes – but he did it on Dumbledore's orders." Chatter erupts throughout the room at Harry's words, and this time, it takes a blast from McGonagall's wand to silence everyone so Harry can continue.

"None of us knew it at the time, but Dumbledore was already dying, for practically the whole school year before Snape killed him," Harry says. "Dumbledore found and destroyed a Horcrux – the Gaunt ring – the summer before my sixth year. But he made a mistake. Before he destroyed it, he put the ring on – I suspect I know why, but it's not important to this particular tale. Anyway, when he put it on, he activated a curse Riddle had put on it. I'm sure those of you who were at Hogwarts that year remember his blackened hand? The curse caused that, and it was slowly killing him as the year went on. Honestly, it seems like sheer dumb luck that Dumbledore made it long enough to die by Snape's wand in the first place – who knows how long he actually had left?

"Dumbledore knew about Draco Malfoy's assignment from Riddle, and that Snape had made an Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa Malfoy to both help Draco with the task and to complete it for him if Draco couldn't do it himself. So, Dumbledore arranged it with Snape ahead of time – he suspected Draco wouldn't be able to kill him anyway, but he didn't want a sixteen-year-old to have to become a murderer if they could prevent it.

"I'm not saying Snape was a good person, because he definitely wasn't. He was a horrible teacher who showed blatant favoritism towards the Slytherins and mercilessly bullied everyone else, and he was only on our side because of my mum – and that part of the story is all sorts of dubious as well; I'm not sure you can really call it 'love' when it was more of an unhealthy obsession, as he very clearly didn't give two shits about my dad or me. Questionable motivations aside, though, he was on our side, and in this case, that's the important part."

Everyone is quiet for several long minutes as we process Harry's story. Then Ginny speaks.

"I think it's important to acknowledge that Snape wasn't the only one with an agenda – Dumbledore definitely had one as well," she says with a frown. "He sent these three" – she gestures to Harry, Ron, and me – "off to find the Horcruxes with practically no help and insisted it had to be kept a secret. Would it really have been so bad for an actual adult to know what they were doing and help them out, especially if he knew he was dying and wouldn't be able to help them himself for much longer? It's not like they were even good at Occlumency, so that wasn't a fair argument. And he seriously knew what Draco Malfoy was doing that entire time, and not only didn't try to stop him, but didn't try to help him, maybe find him a way out? Honestly, if anyone could've done that without drawing Riddle's attention, it would've been Dumbledore. You can't tell me the only solution was to leave an increasingly desperate teenager to his own devices for the entire year."

"Did you forget that Katie and I almost died because of that twat, Gin?" Ron asks sharply.

"No, of course not," Ginny snaps back, "but come on. The necklace and the mead were half-assed attempts at best – there's no way either of them would've made it to Dumbledore even if you two hadn't been hurt. I sure as hell didn't like Malfoy, but it was obvious to anyone with eyes that he wasn't himself that year. He was practically skin and bones by Christmas, for Merlin's sake – isn't it the headmaster's job to look out for his students' well-being? Malfoy was obviously falling apart, so why didn't anyone do anything about it?"

"Dumbledore also knew, or at least strongly suspected, that I was a Horcrux and didn't tell me – I found that out from the memories as well," Harry says. "He kept a lot of important information from me, actually. But he and Snape are both dead, so it's no use speculating or rehashing everything they did wrong – we'd be here for ages if we tried that. The point is, Snape was on the Order's side, so even if he did most of what he did for the wrong reasons, we can trust the outcome, at least."

The room falls quiet once again, all of us deep in thought. It's a lot to take in, for sure. We've spent years believing that Snape was Voldemort's, through and through, and it's clear from Harry's story that Snape's reasons for siding with the Order were dubious at best. Still, it makes sense why Draco would know the Sectumsempra counter curse – aside from having been hit with it himself, Draco was always Snape's protégé, and if Snape had made an Unbreakable Vow with Draco's mother promising to protect him, he probably would've seen that counter curse as a valuable asset after the accident. It's not a widely-known curse – Snape did invent it himself, after all – but you never know. Clearly, someone else knows it, since they hit me with it just last night.

"This is a lot to take in, Mr. Potter," McGonagall says. "However, regardless of Severus' loyalties, we cannot deny that your contact's knowledge of the curse and its counter saved Miss Granger's life last night. We trust you, and therefore if you trust your contact, that is acceptable enough." Murmurs of agreement echo through the room, although some people are clearly still wary of trusting a Death Eater. I don't blame them, really – after all, most of them are trying to kill us all.

"We need to be ready," Harry says then. "We know that a few of you in the Westminster group saw my contact leave the battle with Hermione, so it's too much to hope for that none of the other Death Eaters saw them as well. As soon as they next see Hermione, they'll know she's not dead and that someone's turned traitor, which means the next battle needs to be the final battle. Hermione and I will still go to the Ministry with my contact to retrieve the final Horcrux, but the rest of you will need to be ready to go as well. Riddle could feel the destruction of the other Horcruxes, so he'll feel this one, too – he's liable to intercept us as we're trying to leave. We can't give him the chance to make another one. When the Horcrux goes down, he goes down with it."

The assembled fighters nod solemnly at Harry's words. Ready or not, the end is here. As soon as Draco sends word, it's go time.