Author's Note
Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!
Any dialogue you recognize comes from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Most is changed at least a bit though to fit right.
I'm not J.K. Rowling, so I don't own anything.
Ch 32: Unnecessary and Necessary Sacrifices Alike, or The Cost of War
The castle hallways were significantly different this time when they made the trek between the bathroom and the Room of Requirement. People were hurrying around, barking orders, setting traps, doing whatever they must to prepare for battle. They passed Fleur, who was directing students to different windows where they could fire at enemies on the grounds. Then they saw Susan Bones, Michael Corner and Professor Flitwick, who were busy charming objects throughout the corridors to attack intruders.
"Where the hell have you been?" Harry demanded suddenly as they ran towards him, each holding up a couple basilisk fangs as though in answer.
"Chamber of Secrets," Ron gasped, palling at the sight of Harry. Hermione could tell he'd just remembered what he'd learned about their friend. It was like her guts were being wrung out and brutally twisted.
"Tell him what we did," Hermione urged Ron, letting him have the moment and willing him to pretend everything was going to be all right for just a little longer. Hermione wasn't ready for it to end yet. "Going there was your brilliant idea."
He did, though it was a shockingly concise retelling of events. Not once did he exaggerate or embellish the tale. Hermione smiled faintly at him when he recounted her stabbing the cup, skipping over the bits involving Severus and Lily's relationship, as well as the part about Harry being a Horcrux. But she jumped in, again showing Harry the fangs they'd collected right on cue when Ron concluded his tale.
"So…so," Harry tried, surprise leaving him temporarily speechless.
"So we're another Horcrux down, and only a couple more to go. Hermione stabbed it. Thought she should. She hasn't had the pleasure yet," Ron summarised again, giving her an uncomfortable look over the mention of precisely how many Horcruxes they had left to destroy before Voldemort could finally be killed.
"What about you? Is it the diadem? Have you found it?" Hermione asked quickly, hoping to get past the lingering awkwardness before Ron caved and spilled everything.
An explosion sounded overhead, rocking the walls and sending a shower of dust raining down. Hermione staggered, bumping into the wall as the miniscule grey specks settled over them, making Harry look like he'd aged forty years. James Potter had never reached an age where he'd been given the chance to go grey. And now, neither would Harry.
Hermione froze at the sight, caught part way in the act of regaining her balance, and hardly noticed the panicked screaming sounding from different parts of the castle as the fighting began in earnest.
"Yes," he announced, startling her. She'd not actually expected him to have discovered the final Horcrux. If he hadn't, he'd be spared for that much longer. Apparently, that wasn't to be. "I even know where it is."
"You do?" she asked, stunned.
"Yes. I've even seen it. He hid it exactly where I hid my old Potions book, where everyone's been hiding stuff for centuries. He thought he was the only one to find that room. Come on."
More explosions bombarded the castle, making the walls tremble and quake. Shouts echoed through the corridors and flashes of light from spells briefly illuminated the way as they ran full out, chasing after Harry as he used every shortcut he knew to get them there sooner.
Hermione's side ached, a stitch forcing her to press her hand tightly to her middle as she doubled over, panting while Harry threw open the door. She didn't bother following him inside as he conversed with the only two occupants in the room, Ginny and Mrs. Longbottom.
"Are there still people in the passage to the Hog's Head?" Harry demanded impatiently, and far less breathlessly than Hermione felt – bloody Quidditch players. Ron didn't look too winded either.
Harry quickly scanned the room as he waited for a reply.
"I was the last to come through, and I sealed it behind me since Aberforth is here fighting," Mrs. Longbottom said briskly.
"Is everyone okay?" Ginny asked, probably terrified that every member of her family was currently engaged in one fight or another while she'd been stuck in this room.
"'S far as we know," Harry answered, rushing on to say, "we need the room though."
"We best be joining the fight then. Have you seen my grandson?" Mrs. Longbottom declared, striding grandly from the Room of Requirement. No woman so advanced in years had a right to look so spry, but Hermione was grateful that she was, even if she felt out-of-shape herself.
"He's fighting."
"Naturally. Excuse me, I must go assist him," she said proudly, moving faster and shedding a bit of her prim composure.
"Wait for me!" Ginny called, pausing only long enough to kiss Harry hard and fast before rushing off, giving him no chance to protest as he blinked twice, utterly dazed.
"Oi! You're coming back, right? Ginny!" Harry yelled, a startled look on his face as he realized what she'd just done.
"She's not coming back, mate," Ron said, worry pinching his face, but it didn't stop him from yelling after his sister, requesting, "Keep an eye on Lavender, will you?"
"I'll try!" Ginny promised, making it clear she'd had no trouble hearing Harry.
"She ignored me," he stated, dumbfounded.
"Get used to it," Ron chuckled, a bit of his usual humor making an appearance. "She'll not let you coddle her or try to run her life. Not even Mum has much success trying with that."
"I thought we had a diadem to destroy?" Hermione reminded them, her breathing only then returning to some semblance of normalcy.
"Right. Sorry," Harry muttered, blushing as he reset the room while the fighting seemed to intensify around the castle.
The constant blasts were generating a hazy cloud of dust that made seeing more than three feet in front of a person impossible, and left Hermione coughing as the grit scratched her throat and settled uncomfortably in her lungs. The air had even begun to smell of ozone from the sheer number of spells being fired all around the area.
It was almost a relief to enter the room just for the chance to escape the growing chaos engulfing the castle.
Towers of broken, useless…junk formed makeshift aisles. All sorts of odds and ends were stacked haphazardly around them. Stools with missing legs. Bent bird cages made of twisted wire. Spotted and checkered tables with stacks of teacups sporting the odd feather or orange scales. Rumpled bags with jacks and cards spilling out. It reminded Hermione of some sort of hoarder's lair. The Room of Hidden Things? More like the Room of Discarded Trash.
"And he never realized anyone could get in? Where did he think all the stuff in here came from?" Ron asked, stunned by Voldemort's hubris, particularly after all the hoops involved with obtaining the other Horcruxes. This was bafflingly simple in comparison.
"He thought he was the only one." Well, Hermione supposed it hadn't been that easy to find – Dumbledore never had, and it'd been right under his nose for ages. "I don't think it ever occurred to him that this stuff was added by other students. Too bad for him I've had to hide stuff in my time…this way, I think it's down here," Harry announced, heading down a random aisle.
He'd barely gone ten feet before he stopped. They'd reached a juncture where the aisle split into three separate paths.
Hermione turned in a circle, searching for a clue, only to discover that the door they'd entered through was no longer behind them. Despite not making any turns, they'd managed to lose themselves in the maze-like room.
"Do you see it?" Ron asked doubtfully before she had a chance to point out what she'd discovered. Though it was probably for the best. No sense panicking before they'd done what was needed.
"No. Maybe it was down here," he ventured uncertainly, gesturing down one of the forks, but Hermione noticed when he shot a furtive glance down one of the other avenues.
He didn't know, and they didn't have time to search the mammoth room. At least not together.
"Accio diadem!" Hermione tried, not expecting it to work, but still frustrated when it didn't.
"Let's split up," Harry suggested.
"Split up? You're the only one who knows what it looks like," Hermione reminded him. "And, in case you didn't notice, the room has a mind of its own."
"It's a tiara. There can't be that many in here. If you see one, grab it, and I'll let you know if it was the right one or not. It was on top of a bust," Harry explained, sounding nearly desperate. "We can meet back by the entrance."
The entrance? Like it was going to be that easy to locate.
"He's right. How many tiaras could actually be in here?" Ron tried, going for something that resembled optimism but only managed to stress the daunting challenge before them.
"How many, indeed," she muttered, taking the left fork and stalking off rather than waste anymore time arguing. Every minute they wasted was one more Severus was spending trying to stall Voldemort. The quicker they found the blasted thing, the sooner she could get him away from the monster.
And the sooner Harry learns his fate….
Hermione shook off the morbid thought, and managed to search two rows without any luck. The two had ended up being a dead end, but when she turned to retrace her steps, she came face-to-face with the very last person she expected to find.
Crabbe.
The basilisk fangs she held slipped from her numb fingers, clattering uselessly to the floor and rolling away, under a cabinet and far out of reach.
"Granger," he sneered, stepping closer.
"W-W-what are you d-doing here?" she stuttered, a cold sweat breaking out and making every rational thought in her brain evaporate like rain on a scorching summer day when it was so hot the precious liquid never even had a chance to reach the thirsty ground before it vanished.
"I followed you. I wanted a word with you, Mudblood," he grunted, pressing on his knuckles until they popped, the cracks sounding unbearably menacing in the quiet room.
"Why?" she asked, barely able to force any sound into the word.
He shouldn't be there. He shouldn't be cornering her. Severus had erased his memory. Hermione was nothing to him. Merely a former classmate that he'd never bothered to notice beyond distantly hating because of her association with Harry.
Her hand groped blindly for her pocket, trembling and slipping over her robes as she tried and failed to discreetly withdraw her wand. Oh, why had she been carrying the fangs rather than her wand? They were in the middle of a battle and she wasn't even holding a means to protect herself! When would she learn?
Her attempt drew Crabbe's notice, and she stilled when his beady little eyes tracked her movements. Her heart skipped a beat before taking off at a dangerous gallop when he grunted and cracked his knuckles again.
"My father recently had an interesting story to tell me – one he was surprised I didn't remember, considering he'd told me about it already," Crabbe explained, letting his lips curl back in a vicious snarl. He was a feral, rabies-infected dog.
"What story?"
Hermione took a single step back, but Crabbe mirrored the movement. She felt like a cornered rabbit, searching for an escape that wasn't there. Her whole body had begun trembling, and her palms were so sweaty that she feared that even if she was holding her wand, it would slip from her slick grasp as the fangs had if she tried to raise it against him.
That didn't stop her from continuing to fumble in her robes for it. She simply couldn't let herself be completely defenseless around this wizard again. Unfortunately, her fingers were too weak to clench it any harder than a newborn babe grabbing its mum's finger when she did get her hand into her pocket.
"Come now, surely you remember," he said darkly, bearing even more teeth. "Or did your memory vanish too? I don't think it did, though. You're too smart for that. No, you've done something. That's why Draco left, isn't it? Father thinks you've done something to both him and Snape."
Hermione took another step back, this time feeling a wall of discarded objects press against her. She was out of space. Boxed in. There was no more retreat.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione denied, hating the way her voice shook from fear.
"He was there that first night. My father. He was the one that suggested I have fun with you. He doesn't like that we always get left out. He thinks we should be rewarded for our service and loyalty. We should be the favored ones. We don't mess up," Crabbe ranted, grunting and scowling menacingly at her.
If she'd thought before that Severus wouldn't show up to save her, now she knew with absolute certainty that he wouldn't. Because even as this was happening to her, she could feel his alarm growing in the pit of her stomach. Wherever he was, he was in as much trouble as she was.
"It was your fault," he suddenly accused.
"No," Hermione tried, tugging her wand free, but as she did, Crabbe leveled his at her chest.
There was nothing she could do. No help. No escape.
"I don't like to disappoint my father, and he was very upset once his friend filled him in on what happened."
Friend?
Lucius. It must have been. That's how he knew about his memory being erased. So much for Narcissa muzzling her husband. And if he was willing to spill to Crabbe Sr., who knows what he intended to share with Voldemort.
Was that what was happening to Severus? She didn't sense any pain coming from him, only apprehension and anxiety. It was probably pretty similar to what he was picking up from her.
Damn Lucius and his big mouth!
Her arm throbbed just thinking about her last encounter with the man. It had been aching on and off all day, and she could tell it'd started bleeding again, the bandage was sodden and heavy. The pain dulled her senses and made her dangerously sluggish. Or was that her fear doing that?
Probably, it was both.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said again, casting about for a quick exit, but she was at a dead end, and Crabbe blocked the only way out.
"Mr. Malfoy said differently. We were with him earlier tonight. He said you had Snape Obliviate me," Crabbe said angrily, rage making him look as unhinged as Lucius Malfoy had become. "You turned my head of house against me – against the Dark Lord."
"I…I…."
Denial had seemed her best option, but he was clearly too well informed for it to work.
She shook, stumbling over a response, but she couldn't come up with a plausible explanation. Not one that wouldn't endanger Severus in some way. It wasn't her that turned him against Voldemort, but Crabbe wasn't likely to care one way or another. Not right now. Right now he just wanted to see her pay for her part in everything.
"You what? You'll suffer for what you did? Yes, I think you will," he threatened, creeping forward until she could smell his foul breath. "I'm going to finish what I started – not that I can remember exactly what I did to you, but I can guess. I have a number of things I'd like to try."
"No," she gasped, dreading what he had in store for her.
"Go on, scream. With everyone else screaming tonight I doubt anyone will think twice or come rushing to help you."
Desperation finally stirred her into action, and she cried, "Stupefy!"
The spell missed, her grip too loose to aim properly as it soared just under his raised arm, and it hit a mountain of tottering books. The tomes toppled, cascading down and blocking even more of the path she'd come down. Worse, it forced Crabbe to advance on her even more as he avoided being hit. His chest pressed against hers, pinning her in place.
"Try again, Mudblood," he said, grabbing her. His right hand gripped her bandaged arm and he grinned when the pain had her gasping and dropping to her knees.
"Confringo!"
Crabbe jerked as the Blasting Curse hit him directly in the back and shoved him hard against the cabinet her back had previously been against. Like a house, he crumpled, his heavy weight settling over her as he collapsed.
Severus had come for her. Again. Her heart fluttered, wondering if what she'd felt from him had been his worry over finding her. Probably. How was he still always saving her?
Hermione shrugged out of Crabbe's slackened grasp, and tried to crawl out from beneath him, but he had her squashed, completely pinned. A second later he was rolled aside, and Hermione was staring up into Ron's contorted face.
"Ron?" she asked hesitantly, confused by his presence.
Glancing around, Hermione saw that she'd been wrong before. It wasn't Severus, but Ron who'd come to her aid.
"Are you all right?" he demanded, helping her up and scanning her for obvious injuries.
"Thanks, yes," she said shakily, catching sight of the blood soaking through Crabbe's robes from the spell Ron hit him with.
She couldn't immediately tell if he was breathing or not, and it horrified her to realize she hoped Ron had managed to kill him.
"Let's go. Goyle is around here somewhere too. Harry found the diadem," Ron said, fury only barely contained, but he seemed intent on getting her away from Crabbe as quickly as possible, something Hermione wasn't going to argue with.
"Yes, all right," she agreed, letting him lead her back down the aisle.
"Harry?" he called loudly, his free hand opening and closing repeatedly.
"Over here!" Harry returned, sounding very close. Only a small, makeshift wall separated them. "Have you still got the fangs?"
"Yes," Ron answered, just as Hermione realized she'd dropped hers when Crabbe appeared, and hadn't thought to grab them up again. "Should have stabbed him for what he said and did to you," he muttered, voicing the thought that she'd nearly had herself.
"You're not a murderer, Ron," she chastised, but he only snorted, stomping ahead of her.
The path opened a little ways ahead, and they hurried towards it, but when they reached it, they saw it didn't turn the right direction.
"This way, come on," Ron urged, gritting his teeth. "We'll go round and meet up with him."
"I'm not sure…," Hermione trailed off, not having a better suggestion, and followed after Ron, down one path then another, both leading away from where Harry had been.
Frustrated, they continued winding through the maze-like paths, periodically calling to Harry as they worked their way back towards one another and the door.
"Harry?" Hermione called for what she hoped was the last time, though she somehow doubted it. The room seemed to be getting bigger somehow, and the door never got any closer. It was almost as though the room was trying to hide Harry from them as it was the objects from the rest of the castle. Probably, it was because he was the one to call the room into being.
"Shhh!" Ron hissed, straining to see down the aisle they were traversing. "I think I just saw Goyle."
"Where? Does Harry know he's here?" she shrieked, wincing at the high-pitched sound that escaped her.
Her blood froze in her veins at the sound of the voice that answered her, just out of sight, hidden behind a barrier of discarded things.
"Does Harry know he's here?" Crabbe mimicked.
"What? Where'd –" Harry gasped.
"Crucio!"
"Descendo!" Hermione screamed, aiming at the area Crabbe's voice had sounded from. The jigsaw wall collapsed, falling into the aisle and making it possible for her and Ron to clumsily scramble over the remaining debris to join the two wizards facing off.
"Crucio!" Crabbe shouted again, still aiming at Harry.
Harry dropped the diadem as he dove aside, and Ron lunged forward to grab it, rolling into a crouch with the silver tiara clutched to his chest. The whole exchange looked like a move they'd practiced for a Quidditch game, where the diadem was the Quaffle, and Ron had just stopped the game winning goal.
"Petrificus Totalus!" a voice cried, and Hermione turned, only barely managing to avoid being hit. Goyle had come up behind her, and she'd been so focused on the others that she hadn't noticed.
The full Body-Bind Curse sailed over her head, sending more items tumbling down. A heavy bust, possibly the one that the diadem had been resting on, knocked into her shoulder. She staggered back, stumbling to her knees.
Crabbe's eyes glowed at the sight of her kneeling, alone and defenseless.
"Mudblood," he hissed, "you won't get away this time. Avada –"
"Impedimenta!" Ron yelled, freezing Crabbe in place. "Bloody bastard just won't quit."
"Stupefy!" Goyle retaliated, firing at Ron, but he'd already darted out of the way, those months of practice paying off.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry returned, disarming him while he was distracted. "Ron, have you got –"
"No," he grunted, hoisting a three-legged chair up so he could see if the diadem had rolled beneath it.
Hermione crawled forward, ducking down to see if it had rolled under the large wardrobe while the boys continued searching the area nearest them.
"It's got to be here somewhere!" Harry grumbled, annoyed that they were wasting time they didn't have. They'd been so close.
The knot in her stomach twisted, warning Hermione that Severus was trouble. There was nothing more in the world she wanted to do than go to him. So many times he'd been there for her, and she'd never been able to return the favor. Not really, at least, though he'd argue that she had the previous Easter.
The scent of a campfire alerted Hermione to the problem first, but then she heard the spit and pop of crackling flames too. She sat up quickly, looking around as waves of heat rolled over her head. The curls on her head kinked up, lifting and frizzing until it was as bushy as it'd been pre-puberty.
They were there, erupting just before Crabbe in a mirage of gold and blue and red. But they weren't normal flames. No, lifelike creatures leapt forward, trying to escape the inferno. Chimaeras and dragons, their fanged mouths stretched in silent screams, reached out, consuming the objects nearest in a single instance. Not a trace remained in the wake of the flames. They obliviated everything near them, incinerating even the dust it burned into.
"HARRY!" Hermione screamed, scrambling up and towards the boys.
He ignored her, his entire arm disappearing beneath a twisted owl cage to scoop up the diadem before he looked up to discover the out-of-control flames racing mere steps behind Hermione. Ron was suddenly at her side, yanking her faster, forcing her to stay ahead of the fire.
"Aguamenti!" Harry tried, pausing to watch the water sprouting from his wand boil in the air without putting a dent in the growing inferno.
"Forget trying to put it out. RUN!" Ron ordered, and they ran, taking off down a different aisle than the one Crabbe and Goyle took, though they were all now being chased by living flames.
Her skin blistered where a whip shot out, striking less than a foot from her back, but the heat was enough to singe her despite the distance, blistering the skin that had only recently recovered from being burned in Gringotts.
It was getting closer, they'd never outrun it. It was fiendfyre. It had to be. There was no way to stop it, only the caster was able to control it, but Crabbe obviously didn't know how, seeing as he was running from it too.
"What can we do? What can we do?" she screamed, needing Harry to come up with one of his insane ideas – quick.
"Here!" he cried, rising to her challenge and throwing an old broom to Ron while he straddled one of his own.
"Oh, no. Not again," she groaned, but didn't protest as Ron pulled her up behind him. Hermione quickly buried her face in his neck, and clenched her jaw shut as her stomach rolled unpleasantly.
Two sets of screams filled the air. She didn't need to look to know they belonged to Crabbe and Goyle. She shuttered, but didn't say a word. They'd chosen their fate.
"Harry, what are you doing? Let's get out, let's get out!" Ron called frantically. His panic was enough to have Hermione daring a glance. Harry had directed his broom away from the exit and was heading back towards the yelling Slytherins. "It's – too – dangerous – !"
Harry ignored him to pull Goyle up behind him.
"Ron," Hermione began, not sure what she intended to say as they watched Crabbe try to jump and catch the ragged tail of their broom.
"I heard him – what he said to you earlier," Ron said, speaking normally, as though not sure he actually wanted her to hear him over the roaring and dying room. "And when you told me what he did to you, I said I'd kill him for it," he finished, turning away and chasing after Harry, leaving Crabbe to the flames of his own making.
When his final scream cut off abruptly, Hermione just held Ron's waist tighter. She hardly even noticed when they soared through the open door and a second later crashed against the opposite wall, rolling onto all fours.
The door slammed shut behind them of its own accord and vanished.
Goyle was unconscious, but Harry didn't seem too concerned as he asked, "Crabbe?"
"I get why you asked Snape to spare him, but I just couldn't. I couldn't risk letting him hurt you again," Ron said harshly, not meeting Harry's stunned gaze. "He deserved to die."
Hermione waited until he looked at her before she nodded, unable to say a word. Ron was right. He looked so shaken though.
"Where's the diadem?" she asked instead.
"One of the flames touched it," Harry said, holding up the twisted, blackened lump. A thick, blood-like substance was dripping from it.
"It was fiendfyre," she murmured, but at seeing their blank looks, explained, "cursed fire – it's one of the substances that destroy Horcruxes, but I would never, ever have dared use it, it's too dangerous."
"Guess Crabbe got what he deserved then for multiple reasons, what with trying to kill us and all on top of the rest," Ron said without a trace of remorse.
Thinking of death reminded Hermione of the truth Harry was still ignorant of. The memories were burning a hole in her pocket. Harry needed to see them. It was time.
As soon as Harry knew everything, she could go to Severus. Hopefully, before it was too late.
"But don't you realize?" Hermione said, shaking her head, stunned, as she glanced pointedly at Harry. "This means, if we can just get the snake –"
More screams sounded, cutting Hermione off mid sentence. Three Death Eaters had rounded the corner, with Fred and Percy dueling them. Ron didn't wait before jumping in, firing spells and diverting the attention of the second fighter targeting Fred.
It was another half second before Hermione and Harry reacted, jumping into the fight as well.
"Hello, Minister! Did I mention I'm resigning?" Percy called, ducking and casting as he danced around the Minister of Magic, Pius Thicknesse, who was obviously under the Imperius Curse. She nearly cheered when Percy got the upper hand and Thicknesse stumbled.
Ron handily dispatched the Death Eater he'd taken on, and was grinning proudly as he turned towards the one Fred was now fighting. On some unspoken cue, Harry, Ron and Hermione all sent Stunners at the Death Eater. The masked man fell like a freshly cut tree in the forest.
"You're joking Perce! You actually are joking, Perce…. I don't think I've heard you joke since you were –" Fred's comment was cut off as the world was blasted apart like a shattered mirror.
Hermione was flying, without the aid of a broom. Gravity disappeared. She didn't know up from down. Everything blurred. Then there was only pain. Then nothing.
The nothingness was brief. Too brief. Starbursts of light replaced it and threatened to split her head in two. Or maybe someone was hitting it repeatedly with a hammer? She honestly couldn't tell.
Nothing made sense.
With effort, Hermione blinked. Her legs and left arm were buried beneath heavy stone debris - part of the castle wall, her brain supplied helpfully. Her ears were ringing as she sat up. It hurt, but not as much as she'd expected. Considering she was being squished, that was.
"Harry? Ron?" she tried, but the ringing drowned out the sound of her own voice, and she had no idea if they'd heard her or not.
A breeze from the newly missing wall stirred the air, clearing some of the floating dust and debris, allowing her to see that Harry was already standing, blood flowing freely down the side of his face, and she struggled to follow suit.
Harry came towards her, then stopped abruptly. She followed his line of sight to see Percy and Ron kneeling over Fred. Hermione still couldn't hear anything beyond a low steady buzz.
She tried again to stand, but it took two more falls before she managed it. More of the dust cleared as she staggered forward. Harry was there to catch her arm, guiding her as they picked their way through the wreckage and over to the huddle of red-haired Weasley brothers.
He was so still. Not a single muscle so much as twitched. His brown eyes were so vacant, his face utterly expressionless. He was –
That was when the heartbreaking and undeniable truth hit her. Fred was… Fred was dead.
"No – no – no! No! Fred! No!"
The words were faint, carrying to her through a long tunnel, and she wasn't sure which brother had spoken.
No, Fred? But…
Dead.
Unreal. It must be a joke, except…
No one was as full of life as Fred Weasley. He couldn't die. He couldn't be dead.
It was impossible.
It didn't make sense. Fred couldn't be dead. This had to be a trick. A poorly timed, and wholly inappropriate joke. Just another of his pranks. Fred couldn't be dead. He just couldn't!
But he was. His blank eyes held not a single glimmer of life. And Percy's grief was very, very real. He'd stopped trying to shake Fred awake, and instead, had draped himself across his younger brother, acting as a protective shield, as if hiding the impossible truth from everyone.
Dead. The word barely had any meaning just then. None of this was real. It couldn't be. Why wasn't he laughing and suddenly sitting up saying something inane like "Gotcha!" - why?
Even as part of her mourned Fred's loss. She stared, stunned, and unable to process what was happening. Part of her realized the battle was still being fought, that Severus was still in danger, that Harry was still ignorant of what was to come, but all she could see was Fred.
Fred, lying dead on the floor.
Fred, utterly still and silent as he'd never been in life.
Fred, gone while his brothers mourned.
Then a falling body, seen through the gaping hole in the wall of the castle, had her slamming back into the present.
"Get down!" Harry yelled, pulling Ron and her down as curses zoomed past where they had just been kneeling.
The world crumbled, falling to pieces like the foundation of the castle, like so much sand washed away by waves. Harry and Percy began arguing over Fred, but Ron was up and taking off.
"Ron? Ron, are you all right? Where are you going?" Hermione demanded, catching him and shaking him roughly. She'd never been so scared in her life. His stare was completely vacant. It was nearly worse than Fred's had been. "Ronald! Talk to me, please," she begged.
Three legs of a giant spider hooked around the edge of the low, remaining section of the hallway they were in. It pulled and heaved its monstrous body through the gaping hole. Hermione screamed, unable to help herself as it scuttled forward, its great pinchers clicking ominously.
Rage twisted Ron's features, the first spark of life he'd exhibited since Fred's abrupt death, and he fired a silent curse at it, severing one of its legs. Harry had done the same, and the dual spells sent the wounded beast retreating quickly through the hole it had just crawled through.
Ron was staring at Fred again, as though still waiting for him to jump up and start laughing at their expense. Or admit he'd summoned the spider specifically to frighten Ron, as he had with Ron's teddy bear when they'd been kids.
"Ron? Harry is going to move Fred. Come on. We have to keep going. We have to kill the snake," Hermione reminded him, knowing it couldn't be good for him to keep looking at his brother's lifeless body.
Comprehension finally settled over him as they watched Harry lower Fred into an emptied cove, the suit of armor that usually occupied the space having gone to fight on McGonagall's orders.
"Then it's Harry's turn," he said bleakly. "No. Just no."
There wasn't a chance to say more before Percy had taken off after Rookwood, and Ron was trying to follow. Hermione grabbed him, holding on as she wrestled him behind a tapestry and called, "Harry, in here!"
"Ron, the snake, the memories – I can't do this alone, please! Think of Harry," she begged, sobbing as she empathized with the agony her best mate was going through, and knowing it wasn't over yet.
"I'm going to make them pay for this – all of them – everything they've done…all the people they've –," he growled, twisting and thrashing to break free of her stranglehold.
"Don't make me tell him alone, please! Ron – Ron! Listen to me – LISTEN, RON!"
"I wanna kill Death Eaters," he growled, reason abandoning him as he went feral before her eyes. "Every last one of them."
"We will. We will fight, we'll have to, to finish this, and I'll help you, but you know what we have to do first," she continued, repeating it several times before he suddenly sagged in her arms, hot tears splashing onto her neck.
"He's dead, Hermione," he sobbed, nearly shaking apart as he finally accepted the truth.
"I'm so sorry," Hermione gasped, crying as well, "but, Ron –"
She kept one arm around him, but used the other to retrieve the phial Severus had given her. She held it up then for him to see. It seemed to center him, and he slowly calmed.
"What is that?" Harry asked. Hermione wasn't sure when he'd joined them, but his eyes were fastened on the cylindrical tube Hermione held.
"I know. Do it," Ron muttered, caving further into himself as this next blow hit him. Hermione wasn't sure how much more he could take before he broke. She wasn't sure she could take anymore either, for that matter.
"Harry, Severus asked me to give you these," she explained, the glass shaking violently as she passed it over. "Dumbledore had a message for you, and trusted Severus to pass it on. He gave me that just before he left to stall Voldemort."
"You know what the message is?" Harry asked, an eerie calm descending.
"I think so…well, yes…but I don't know all of it, or all that Severus wished to share with you – there's more than one memory in the phial, but I know the gist," Hermione said, trying and failing to confess what she knew, just as Severus had known she would.
She couldn't be the one to break the news. And judging from the state Ron was in, he couldn't either.
Severus had been right, just as he nearly always was.
"Dumbledore's office is just around the corner. Will you guys wait here for me?" Harry asked, clutching the memories tightly in his fist. "Make sure no one interrupts while I watch them."
"Harry –"
"I should watch them immediately, Hermione," he insisted, and she got the impression he, like them, had already figured out what he would see. "It was important he get them to me, right?"
"Yes, Harry. All right," she capitulated, unwilling to argue with him about it.
"We shouldn't have let him go alone," Ron said quietly, staring after where Harry had disappeared up the twisting staircase.
"I know, but he asked us to wait, and I don't have the heart to go against him just now," she admitted, scanning the empty corridor on the seventh floor. Even the portraits had abandoned their frames and the statues had all vanished. The sounds of fighting had faded into the distance, the scrimmages all migrating to other parts of the castle since the wall was breached.
"Me neither. Are you curious about what he'll see?"
"Immensely," Hermione admitted, wondering if seeing the truth would make her heart hurt more or less.
Just thinking about Severus made her anxious. Somehow, and she had no idea why, but the bond between them had faded to a quiet unease that she actually found a great deal of comfort in since it meant he was still alive and not in immediate danger. Hermione had no idea what he was doing that had managed to keep him alive and unhurt for so long, but she hoped his luck held a bit longer.
"Do you think he'll show Harry about…." Ron broke off, flushing, and Hermione knew instantly what he was referring to.
"Lily? Probably. Severus loves her. She is the reason he's fought so hard to look after Harry. Severus likely believes Harry would need to understand that in order to believe the rest, especially given their interactions over the years."
"You don't think he'll show Harry about the two of you?" Ron asked suddenly, refraining from insisting that Severus loved Hermione as he had in the Chamber of Secrets.
"There's nothing to show," Hermione said stiffly, not sure why she'd not considered the possibility herself. Their encounters were intimate and private. Surely he wouldn't…. "Besides, he only married me because Dumbledore ordered him to."
Ron snorted, but only asked, "How long do you think it will take?"
"I'm not sure," she answered, wishing she had something more helpful to add as she watched him shift impatiently. Time passed differently when you watched a memory. The memory might be several minutes long, while only a few seconds actually passed.
"It's awfully quiet in this part of the castle," Ron said without a trace of animation a few minutes later. His face was still completely drained of color, and he'd slummed against the wall, defeated.
"Shame we aren't occupying ourselves with a bit of fighting while we wait," Hermione acknowledged, though even as the words left her, she felt as though she were jinxing them.
"Didn't realize you were so eager," Ron stated, staring at her as though he was expecting Polyjuice to wear off at any second and reveal her to be an imposter. "Thought I was the only bloodthirsty one."
"I'm not! But I promised you, and we have to stop this, before ..."
"I want to make them pay. But you're worried about Snape, aren't you?"
"I can't bear the thought of him dying, especially not for me," Hermione confessed, exchanging an empathetic look with Ron. After Fred, and soon Harry, he understood.
"I wonder how many people a person can lose before they break?"
"I think it depends, but I don't want to find out," Hermione said, an ominous shadow sweeping through the corridor, reminding her that she may have to.
Ron took a ragged breath, and Hermione saw a sheen of tears coat his eyes. "Hermione, I'm – did you hear that?"
"Yes, the fight is heading back this way," she said, instantly alert as she strained to detect any threats.
The sound of running feet echoed towards her, approaching swiftly. Hermione and Ron both raised their wands, ready to attack.
"Time to go!" Harry called, alerting them that it was him before they started firing off spells.
"Harry –"
"Don't. I know what I have to do. I'm ready," he said, clenching his jaw and standing straighter. He was one of the two bravest people she'd ever met.
Deciding to respect the strength he was displaying rather than questioning it or forcing him to look after her, she insisted, "Then find out where he is. He'll have the snake with him, won't he? Do it, Harry – look inside him."
Never would she have believed she'd actually be the one advising Harry to take advantage of the connection, but she was now. There didn't seem a point in fighting it anymore. Not when it would be over soon enough. Harry closed his eyes, letting his consciousness fuse with Voldemort's.
Hermione addressed Ron while they waited, "We'll fight our way there, all right, Ron?"
"Yes," he agreed, the edges of the word sharper than any blade.
"He got the Wand," Harry began, but he was staring at Hermione with what she could only describe as horror.
"What is it, Harry?" she demanded, dread clutching her heart, pining it in an iron maiden. Blood weaped from the many punctures, filling her chest and slowly suffocating her.
"He's with Lucius Malfoy. In the Shrieking Shack. We should hurry," Harry said dully.
"Lucius told him," she guessed.
"Everything. Yes," he admitted, lines forming in his brow as he watched her anxiously.
"He's going to kill Severus," she stated, terror making her voice quiver.
"He's sent for him," Harry acknowledged. "We've got a bit of time since Snape is checking on the Forbidden Forest for Voldemort, but it's just a matter of when he returns. Hermione, I'm so sorry – about everything. I wish…well, it doesn't matter now, but I promise we'll try to save him."
"Those must have been some memories he showed you," Ron said meaningfully.
"They were. I just hope…," Harry trailed off, wincing as he locked eyes with Hermione.
A distressed whimper escaped her, but Ron had already turned for the stairs, intent to start fighting already. "Let's go," he urged savagely.
"Voldemort knows I'm going to come to him," Harry warned, falling in step behind Ron.
"Then we best not make him wait," Ron said darkly, "I'd hate to disappoint him."
They'd barely made it down one flight of stairs, with only six more flights to go, before they met up with a group fighting.
"POTTER!" a voice cried before sending a jet of blue light flying towards them.
"Glisseo!" Hermione cried, turning the stairs into a slide as Ron knocked the Death Eater off his feet and sent him tumbling rapidly downward. "Duro!" Hermione added, turning the tapestry at the bottom solid so the wizard smashed headfirst against it, knocking him out cold.
The encounter served as a reminder that all of Voldemort's forces in the castle were out for Harry, so he quickly threw his invisibility cloak over all three of them and they continued to make their way through the castle, firing at unsuspecting Death Eaters as they went.
Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione caught a fleeting glimpse of Lavender just before a Death Eater pushed her over the third floor railing looking out over the cavernous Entrance Hall. Just like that she was gone.
Hermione barely had a chance to gasp before she heard the sickening sound of her longtime roommate hitting the marble floor some thirty feet below, several bones breaking on impact if the echoing crack was anything to go by.
"No," she gasped, ducking out from the cloak and racing down the steps, taking them three at a time and nearly tripping as she flew, desperate to reach the girl and help her before Ron realized what had happened to his girlfriend.
He'd already suffered enough for one night.
Hermione jumped the last bit and skidded to a stop at the sight before her.
Greyback was hunched over Lavender's prone form, a pool of blood already spreading around them, and when he looked up, Hermione could see more blood dripping grotesquely down his chin.
Ron roared behind her, "Sectumsempra!"
The curse missed, his werewolf nature making his reflexes exceedingly fast, particularly in light of how close to the surface his beastial half was. Hermione didn't waste time checking to see if Ron intended to chase the fleeing wolf.
The open doorway was right there. If she left right then, she might have a chance to intercept Severus before he reached Voldemort, and what was certain to be his death – a death he was walking towards with his eyes wide open if the dread she felt in her gut was anything to go by. The emotion definitely didn't belong to her. There was far too much adrenaline coursing through her blood to feel such a thing right then.
Her heart was already out the door, but her body stayed in place. Because Lavender was right there, and if Hermione didn't try to save her, she'd never forgive herself. And neither would Ron.
It only took a precious second to push thoughts of Severus away and focus on the broken girl.
To that end, she threw herself down beside Lavender, pressing her hand to the gaping hole in her neck where Greyback had bit her jugular. Hermione shuttered at the wet warmth, but drew her wand and sang, "Vulnera Sanentur."
Harry was there a second later, withdrawing the beaded bag from her sock, probably planning to get the dittany, just as Ron squatted beside the pair, though he didn't try to help. He was too busy cradling her head in his lap and stroking her blood-matted hair from her face.
"Lav? Lav, open your eyes. Hermione is going to fix you right up," Ron coaxed, his voice turning thick as tears coursed down his cheeks.
The spell hadn't done anything. And Hermione knew it was because it didn't work on the dead.
"Ron," she whispered, unsure if Lavender had even been alive when Greyback tore out her throat or if the three-story fall had killed her instantly.
"We had a deal, remember?" he said, choking on the words as he wept openly. "I was going to make up for the last year. Just open your eyes, and I will. Come on, Lav. I love you."
"She's gone, Ron," Hermione said softly, her heart breaking for him. "There's nothing we can do for her."
"Lavender?" he said again, and the lost note she heard nearly did her in.
"Don't hurt 'em, don't hurt 'em!" Hagrid yelled, racing past them and outside as he tried to stop the various fighters from attacking his beloved creatures.
Hermione felt the urge to hex the half-giant herself. He'd clearly lost it, his priorities all mixed up. Didn't he notice how the spiders didn't care which side their next meal was fighting on, so long as they got a tasty treat?
None of that stopped him from running straight into the thick of things, the massive spiders swarming all around him until he seemed to vanish within their mass as they fled the castle and the fighters within.
"HAGRID, NO!" Harry called, leaping up, but he hesitated, glancing back at Ron.
Hermione took Ron's hand, squeezing it, but he just sat there, staring blankly as hell opened up to unleash all of its demons upon them.
"Harry, we can't help Hagrid. We have to kill the snake. That's what matters," Hermione said hollowly, knowing she had to prioritize the mission over her heart, even if it meant sacrificing Severus. "Come one, Ron.… We'll get the rest afterwards. You'll make them pay for this," Hermione said, reminding him of their mission.
They had to go, but she couldn't just leave Ron sitting there. He'd be an easy target, especially considering how well known and recognizable he was.
Ron was a zombie, but at least a little of what she said must have registered, because when Harry took off after Hagrid, Ron stood and allowed Hermione to direct him as they raced to the secret path hidden beneath the Whomping Willow.
They fired curses at Death Eaters as they went, darting over the makeshift hills caused by the stomping giants while dodging aside to avoid being trampled. When they ran into dementors, all Hermione could see was Snape lying in a pool of blood, much as Lavender had been. Were they already too late? Where was he?
Other members of the DA joined them, helping clear a path for them to reach the swinging tree, and the boys began fighting in earnest, engaging in duels with the various Death Eaters scattered around the grounds, but all Hermione wanted was to reach the man waiting at the other end of the path, even if she knew that shouldn't be her focus. Each step and passing second made it more impossible to remember what they were really after.
"Harry, Ron, please! We have to go now!" she begged, calling to them to hurry up.
She'd already pressed the knot by the time they caught up to her, then they were all crawling down the cramped passage on their way to the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade.
"The Cloak! Put the Cloak on!" Hermione ordered Harry, the opening only just ahead of them.
"My Lord, I was only doing what I believed you wanted. You said you didn't want the boy harmed," Severus said stiffly, trying valiantly to talk himself out of trouble with his infamously glib tongue. He was so skilled at evasion and double talk.
The sound of Severus's voice made her pause midstep. He was still alive. They'd made it. She could protect him – save him. He'd been wrong. He would survive this war, but only if she –
Then Ron's arms were suddenly around her, his hand covering her mouth.
He squeezed her to him, curling around her as she fought to break free, not caring that Voldemort would kill her too. She had to reach Severus. She had to help him. Nothing else in the world mattered as much as saving him. She couldn't stand there and do nothing as he was murdered.
The rest of the conversation failed to register as she fought Ron's hold for all she was worth. Absently, she noted a sliver of light coming in through a crack in the opening, and that Harry was probably watching the scene unfold, but she didn't care. From the moment she recognized Severus was only a few feet away, and that she was about to lose him, everything else ceased to matter.
Her nails clawed at Ron's arm, gauging lines and tiny half moons around his wrists and forearms, but he didn't relent or acknowledge the pain. Probably he welcomed the physical outlet for the emotional trauma he'd already suffered that night.
The wet warmth of his blood mixed with the remnants of Lavender's still coating her arms, but Hermione only fought harder, digging her nails deeper.
"Shh, shh, Hermione. You've got to stay quiet. We can't get caught. We can't help Snape if we're dead too," Ron tried, begging her to listen as she'd done to him earlier that night.
The reminder of what she stood to lose fueled her, gave her a strength she didn't know she possessed as she yanked and twisted. But Ron's hold was unmovable.
"I promised him I would keep you safe. If you go out there, Voldemort will kill you. I can't let that happen. It's not what Snape wanted," Ron cried, and she heard the fresh tears clogging his throat. "I can't lose you too. Not on top of everyone else. Please, Hermione. Please."
Still she fought.
As much as she loved Ron, those feelings didn't compare to how she felt about Severus.
One sound penetrated the haze of fear shrouding her, Voldemort's serpentine voice instructing Nagini, "Ssekt."
Hermione didn't need to be a Parseltongue to translate the order.
Kill.
