They made it to the seventh floor in record time, and Hermione had trouble calming herself enough to slow down in front of the wall to be able to even get into the Room of Requirement. But Ron was there to grab her shoulders and hold her still.

I need to find Harry. I need to get to Harry.

He was talking as the door appeared, and she didn't know to whom, so she barely waited until it was clear before she rushed inside, following his voice to find Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle all pointing their wands at Harry, and whatever help Malfoy had given them before was out the window with his cronies behind him.

Hermione quickly disarmed Malfoy and expertly caught his wand, shoving it into her bag just in time to hear "Avada Kedavra!" come from Crabbe as Harry dove, pushing Hermione out of the way enough for her to fall into whatever was next to them. She immediately worried that he'd gotten hit, but Crabbe had terrible aim, and the green light crashed into something else in the room.

Hermione shot another spell towards Crabbe that hit a small table, causing its contents to go flying. Harry cursed.

"The horcrux!" he panted. "It's up there! Come on!"

Harry began climbing a mountain of precariously-stacked furniture while Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle all ran, with Ron on their tail.

"Ron!" Hermione called, about to go after him when Harry grabbed her hand.

"He'll be fine! Help me get the horcrux!"

He'll be fine. He'll be fine. He's capable. Reluctantly, Hermione turned to help Harry, because of course she did. Ron would be fine. She began climbing as Harry frantically searched, pushing furniture down almost on top of her. She knew the urgency, and just paid attention, ducking out of the way of chairs and lamps. Where all this had come from, she didn't know, but what a place to hide something. She caught up to Harry and helped him pry a large armchair away just enough for him to reach through.

"Got it!" he yelled, holding in front of her a beautiful silver tiara adorned with blue jewels. At least, it would be beautiful if it didn't have a part of Voldemort's soul trapped inside of it.

Their heads snapped to the direction Ron had run as something akin to a roar bubbled up through the clutter. Harry jumped down to the floor and helped Hermione down as well, ready to take off, when Ron came sprinting back in a panic.

"Crabbe's set the bloody place on fire!" he yelled, grabbing Hermione's hand as he ran past and dragging her along with him.

Sure enough, the whole room was quickly going up in flames, spreading faster with the amount of flammable objects in its path. Furniture, statues, and tapestries didn't even stand a chance. And it was coming straight down the narrow walkway towards them. Harry took off to follow Ron, grateful he'd pulled Hermione away before it got too bad. It didn't take long for him to catch up to the two of them, mostly because they had to keep backtracking. It seemed that the fire was following them, cornering them, no matter which path they tried. It took the form of animals, and Harry had never seen anything like it before. But they'd make it. They had to make it.

There was no way out - in a small fork in the paths, fire was quickly getting closer again, and in a twenty-foot blaze, a dragon made of flames dove down towards Harry, and Ron had to grab Hermione to stop her from rushing towards him.

A shield of water erupted from Harry's wand to stave off the fire for a brief second, but the force of the impact knocked them back onto the floor. Harry looked behind him for Hermione as they stood back up - finding that in moments of high adrenaline, her energy was difficult to locate like they could in the forest during their duels. He wouldn't always know where she was.

"Harry!" Ron called, scrambling to his feet and tossing brooms into their hands. Genius.

He wondered for a moment if the room put them there, and how amazing that would be, how grateful he would be if it were true, but there wasn't time to dwell. He let Hermione and Ron go in front of him in case Hermione fell behind - she wasn't the best flier, after all. But as soon as they rose above the flames, where it was a little bit cooler, Harry spotted Malfoy and Goyle standing on a table barely out of danger, which quickly collapsed underneath them, forcing them to hold onto the edge. Crabbe wasn't there.

Harry groaned in annoyance at his own heroism. "We can't leave them!" he called out, doubling back to go get Malfoy, and Ron nearly fell off his broom.

"Seriously?!"

"He saved our lives, Ron!" Harry yelled back. "Let's go!"

"If we die for them, Harry, I'm gonna kill you!"

Not being able to fly well enough to keep herself on the broom, much less trying to help anyone else, Hermione just circled around them, ready to act if anyone fell. Harry and Ron missed the grip the first time around, and Hermione flew a little closer. She'd hate to see anything happen to them, especially after he'd kind of helped save her life, but Harry and Ron were still her priority. Malfoy wasn't going to kill Voldemort. Malfoy wasn't going to end this war.

Harry reached a hand out to Malfoy on the second pass, and Malfoy grabbed it with no hesitation. As he pulled Malfoy off the pile, Harry's broom faltered a little bit with the extra weight, and Hermione darted closer before Malfoy was able to pull himself up onto the broom behind Harry. After a similar struggle, Goyle was on the broom behind Ron, and Hermione could relax a little. She flew ahead of the boys to create a small opening through the flames as much as she could for them to get out, and as soon as feet touched the ground, the Slytherins were running off who knows where, and Harry had the diadem.

"Harry!" Hermione called as she tossed him the fang. He caught it almost without looking, and for a second, Hermione wondered why she even bothered to get his attention.

In a mirror of Hermione less than an hour prior, Harry drove the tip of the fang into the center jewel without even thinking about the consequences. He stumbled against the wall, cursing and clutching his chest again as Hermione, too, was suddenly hit by a wave of pain. She cried out and fell to her knees while Ron kicked the diadem into the still-blazing Room of Requirement to get rid of it once and for all before the doors closed.

For a moment, Hermione's vision blurred and it was like her brain had shut off temporarily. She couldn't see, couldn't think… could barely remember how to breathe. She felt hands on her arm - Ron's probably - but pushed them away, just pressing her palms to her eyes to try to get through it.

Then, as suddenly as it started, it was gone, and she shivered violently. Harry looked like he was trying to concentrate on something.

"It's… it's the snake," he panted. "She's the next… the last horcrux." He looked up at Hermione, and… did he know? She couldn't tell. Maybe he had an inkling. Would she tell him? After the snake. After they killed the snake. Then she'd tell him if he hadn't already figured it out. How long had he known? Had he been holding her so close the last few months because he knew he was about to die? Had he been insistent on this bond he knew would have to break? She crawled over to him, putting her hands on his knees, and he didn't pull her closer.

He knew.

"Harry…" she whispered, fighting back tears.

"Look inside him, Harry," Ron interrupted. Now wasn't the time, though there'd never be a right time. But it could wait a few more minutes. "Find out where he is. If we can find him, we can find the snake and… we can end this."

He looked up at Hermione's neck, not into her eyes, before closing his and taking a deep breath.

"Shit," Hermione groaned as nausea flooded her stomach. Her vision went blurry again - he hadn't had visions like this since they'd done the rune ritual, and this was something she hadn't expected. Ron had a hand on her shoulder again as she used Harry's knees to keep herself from collapsing. She shut her eyes tightly, enduring as long as Harry needed and just trying to breathe through it. Finally, after what seemed like forever, it passed, though she was still panting from the lingering effect.

"I know where he is," Harry answered, getting to his feet and not even pausing to help Hermione up before he ran off. He was pushing her away. Harry was pushing her away so it wouldn't be so painful. So he didn't have to say goodbye. But he was barking if he thought she'd let him get away with it.

They followed him down the stairs, through hallways, past classrooms they'd studied in that were now crumbling. The whole castle was crumbling before their eyes. They were dodging falling chunks of ceiling on the way, praying none of them would get trapped while fighting off Death Eaters and avoiding the rush of students still fleeing for their lives. That would have been the smart idea, but there the three of them were, running towards the danger, not away from it. Like they always did. Like they always had to. Would Harry be running towards danger for the last time?

Hermione nearly tripped over a body that fell in front of her, dead eyes staring into hers on the way down, and she almost puked. She couldn't freeze. Not again. They were in this together, and she refused to leave Harry to die. She had to keep going, to keep following him. People were going down all over the courtyard, and Hermione knew (and prayed) that she'd never see this amount of death and destruction again. The walls of the courtyard were being demolished by spells and monsters alike. Clearly Voldemort had gained the trust of some of the most powerful creatures in the Wizarding world. Giants were swinging around clubs and axes, tearing through whoever and whatever stood in their way. Acromatula were swarming, werewolves were tearing people apart. Random students. Their friends.

"Lavender, no! Sectumsempra!" The pieces of the werewolf on Lavender, maybe Greyback, she hoped, were shot back into the night, over the cliff, and Hermione didn't feel bad at all. "Don't move!"

Lavender was crying and bleeding - she'd been bitten - but it wasn't too bad yet. But running, she'd be in more danger. Hermione cast a Disillusionment charm on her before Ron pulled Hermione forward again ("Come on!") and they started running. She'd save as many people as she had the opportunity to before she let her friends die.

Distracted, she felt a strong arm push her back from the chest as a green light whizzed by her face. Harry had instinctively held her back, saved her life again. And as brief as it was, the contact gave her a little more courage. She tried to keep an eye on him as they wove between duels, ran through monsters, ducked behind pieces of the castle to shield themselves from spells.

At the mouth of the courtyard, nearly free, they paused when the temperature around them seemed to drop 40 degrees. Where there was no happiness left, no light in the midst of death, came Dementors, so many they couldn't even count, that froze them to the spot.

Harry's Patronus erupted from his wand before Hermione could even think, pushing some of the Dementors back, but it wasn't enough. Hermione pulled out her wand and closed her eyes: Harry was her happiest memory, meeting him, kissing him, losing their virginities on Christmas Eve in that tent that felt like it was a lifetime ago. She forgot about what Harry was bringing her right now, in this moment, and remembered what it was like before. Before the war. Before last year. When he became the first true friend she'd ever had.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Where she expected an otter to appear, a doe galloped forward to stand strong next to Harry's stag. A tear slowly fell down Hermione's face - of course it would change. Of course it would match Harry's.

A small Jack Russel ran between the legs of the two deer, circling and trying its hardest to help, but even with the three of them, Hermione felt her concentration start to falter as the cold seeped into her fingers. It wasn't enough. There were too many.

A shock wave that almost toppled all three of them flooded the area around them, instantly warming their bodies as it passed through and soared out over the cliff, a Patronus powerful enough to push all the Dementors back at once.

"Go!" Aberforth's voice sounded from behind them, and the stag, doe, and dog disappeared as Harry, Hermione, and Ron ducked out of the blast and started making their way down the many flights of stairs to the boathouse.

The steps seemed to never end, but Harry knew they were getting close because the further down they descended, the stronger the burning in his scar became. It hadn't been this bad in a while that he could remember, but he kept going. He had to keep going. It wouldn't last much longer at this rate.

By the time they got down there, they could hear Voldemort talking to Snape. Something about the Elder Wand. Surely Snape knew how it worked, right? He knew it wouldn't work for Voldemort, but he was trying to convince him it would. Harry frowned - it didn't make sense. Had Snape been working on their side this whole time? He couldn't be, though. He killed Dumbledore. Harry's head felt like it was spinning as well as trying to split itself apart, and he could barely think.

He heard Hermione gasp when Snape's head hit the glass as the snake struck again and again, and he thought about reaching a hand back for her, but he couldn't. He couldn't take his eyes away in case they were spotted. Comforting Hermione would be a distraction. As soon as Voldemort was gone, he moved with Ron and Hermione on his heels. Hermione hesitated at the sight of Snape, barely alive, bleeding out as Harry looked into his eyes.

She handed him a small vial out of her bag, barely hearing his words, but watching as he collected Snape tears. She could hear her heart beating in her ears. As much as this man tormented them, tortured Harry, killed Dumbledore, he didn't deserve to go like this. He'd helped them, hadn't he? He wasn't on Voldemort's side - he was on theirs.

Hermione buried her face into Ron's shoulder as Harry stood and turned back to them. He already looked defeated.

"I need to go to Dumbledore's office," he sighed, holding up the vial.

"Harry, you don't have time," Ron started, but Harry shook his head.

"I'm going to honor his last wishes, Ron. It's the least I can do. There may be something he knows that I need. Voldemort will wait for me."

As if on cue at hearing his name, Voldemort's voice pierced through their heads, echoing off the insides of their skulls in a hiss.

"You have fought valiantly, but in vain." Hermione put her hands over her ears as if it would make it stop, but it really just made it worse. Harry stumbled against the window. "I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilt is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat."

Harry's head snapped up at Voldemort's words, and he moved out from the boathouse to look up at the castle from the small vantage point they had. There were no flashing lights of spells going through the courtyard or raining down from the sky. He swore he could still hear screaming, but the fighting seemed to have stopped, and he wasn't sure if the screaming was real or in his head. "Dispose of your dead with dignity.

"Harry Potter, I now speak directly to you." Harry closed his eyes, listening, waiting. He could feel Ron and Hermione's eyes on him, but he didn't dare look back. They'd hear this too. "On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the Forbidden Forest and confront your fate. If you do not do this, I will kill every last man, woman, and child who tries to conceal you from me."

Then, the pain was gone, the screams were gone, and Harry's thoughts were finally quiet. Only when he was sure it was done did he dare look back at Hermione, who was on the verge of tears. He swallowed thickly and turned away to start the long journey back up the stairs towards the castle.

Their pace was agonizing, but Harry was stalling. He wasn't ready for Voldemort yet. He needed to make a plan, didn't he? What would he do? They had a basilisk fang and he had a perfectly good wand. It wasn't his, but he wasn't sure if that mattered. And even though Voldemort had the Elder Wand, it wouldn't work for him. Maybe that was his advantage. If that was all he had, he needed to roll with it.

They tried not to take too much time looking at all the destruction in the courtyard now that it was empty, but it was still a shock. Harry took a deep breath - this was all his fault.

"Where is everybody?" Hermione asked softly.

Suddenly, everything felt so small. Every year, they walked through this courtyard so many times on their trip to the castle. He didn't have a lot of important memories here, but now, all of them seemed important. They took deliberate steps toward the Great Hall, even though none of them really wanted to go in and see who made it and who hadn't. What if there was no one left? No, that would be stupid, Harry reminded himself. Someone rounded everyone up. They'd be okay.

But would Hogwarts recover from this?

You have allowed your friends to die…

It seemed like that was very much the truth as they walked through the door. The walls of the Great Hall were still standing, but pieces of the ceiling rafters had fallen. The tables were broken and strewn all over the place. People were sitting on them, leaning against them, and it seemed like those who were alive were at least trying to be in good spirits.

Those who were still alive.

His eyes landed on a congregation of red hair a little further in. Where it looked like they'd laid the bodies. Harry couldn't move.

But Ron did.

Who had they lost?

Fred. Harry felt like vomiting. For some reason, he'd thought the Weasleys were invincible. He thought everyone was invincible. Then, he saw Lupin and Tonks lying next to each other, dead. Their son, now an orphan because of him. He'd done all of this.

There is no greater dishonor.

So, while Ron was grieving and Hermione had tried to distract herself by helping where she could and with the supplies she had, Harry left. He couldn't let anyone else die tonight except himself, to finish this. He'd go to Dumbledore's office, see what Snape wanted to tell him, then he'd go and face Voldemort. Alone.