"Ron. It's me. It's Hermione."

"Stand back."

His wand. It was aimed straight at her.

"Move again. I'll detain you."

Her mask. Of course, he wouldn't recognize her with it on. She gripped it. As her hands left her stomach, a loud whine emerged from her throat.

Take off the mask. Take it off and it will all be over.

"I'm not- I'm-" she struggled to say.

She clawed at her face, nails tearing into the metal.

They stung at each release. Silver. Hard silver. It was melded onto her face.

Take it off, come on.

She looked at her nails. They were broken, blood trailing down the cuticles.

Snape was there. His long form shot out from the side.

"No. I'll do it…myself," she yelled out through the pain. If Snape struck, the fight would instantly be over. He obediently lowered his wand in response.

She reached one hand out, begging, "Ron, let me explain-"

Then she screamed. Her hand, she couldn't feel it. When she looked at the disfigured, crimson shape on her wrist, she realized it was her hand, but bent inwards. The shock numbed her entire arm.

Wetness. A copper taste trailed down her cheeks and into her mouth.

She couldn't do this alone.

"Snape?" she called out into the emptiness, but it was too late.

She searched the room. The lights flickered in and out and her vision grew hazy with each passing second. Where was he?

"Somebody? Anybody?"

She shivered. Before her, stars flickered. She took short, ragged breaths.

Focus on the breaths. It's only a dream. Breath, she told herself.

It wasn't stars that surrounded her. Flames. Blue flames formed a giant circle, enclosing her and Ron in the room. They sprung out of the earth and shielded her away from the mass of onlookers, running around in a mad panic.

Muffled human screams were the only remnants of their presence, and then they too faded away.

Every plank on the polished, wooden floor cast off the color. Even her reflection flickered under her in a blue hue.

She had to get up, had to stop the bleeding.

Rolling to the side, she used her only good fist to press a mound of black fabric into her stomach, to the place where the pain pulsated the hardest.

It made the pain so much worse, as though an Unforgivable curse was surging through her body in waves.

Swallowing back a cry, held her hand firmer still. She had to stop the bleeding.

Be brave, Hermione.

She thought Ron was a good Auror. She was wrong. He was much better. He was merciless.

Through her lashes, she raised her gaze to find his approaching shoes. They stood in front of her. Black and glossy. She panted quietly as his wand pressed into her neck.

"Who are you really?"

"Herm-"

She screamed as a thin blade of magic sliced into her flesh.

He spat. "Mask off."

She couldn't take it off.

His fingers wrapped around her chin. His firm touch enveloped her face and he pulled. She screamed louder.

When he finally released her, she sank back down, head hitting the wood.

She breathed in heavily, spluttering out copper liquid from the mask's slits. Head turned to the side so she wouldn't choke on her own blood, she watched it flow out of her in a thin stream, settling in the cracks of the floor.

"Bloody hell."

She heard him wiping his hand on his robes.

Then her body turned over. She was lying on her back.

"Won't show us what you look like?"

Red brows and piercing eyes looked at her with fascination. He wiped his wand on a cloth in his pocket, then threw it on the floor.

Her back felt cold and wet from lying in a pool of her own blood.

In that unfortunate moment, an unwelcome phrase in her mother's voice ran through her mind.

Be careful what you wish for.

To be seen by Ron. Isn't that what she wanted?

He was looking at her alright, but the cost of her wish was heavily draining every drop of life from her.

This is how she was going to die.

Her last hope was that he would scrape the mask off her face and look at her one last time. For him to see he was mistaken.

Please, please just take off the mask and look at me, she repeated in her head amidst the throbbing pain. I'm not who you think I am.

He smirked. "Longbottom, look at this."

Neville approached.

Oh, Neville, sweet Neville who wouldn't hurt anyone without knowing who they were. She would be saved. He approached and soon a second pair of boots, smelling of soil stood before her, but he did not lean down.

"Think we should unmask her first?" he said.

Yes, yes, she repeated in her head.

Ron let out a short laugh. "What for?"

"Suppose we should let her die with her true face?"

"This might as well be her true face. Scum," Ron said. "Said she was Hermione too."

"Well?"

"Well, what?" Ron grumbled. "You think Hermione would look like this? Think I wouldn't recognize her?"

Neville said nothing. But she could tell from the shift of his boots that he regretted having this conversation.

"Help me bind her, let's take her up to the Ministry."

Her arms were rudely ripped from her stomach and bound in wires. The cut stung and a coolness swept over the blood-soaked spot.

As she Levitated into the air, head back, her eyes came face to face with Ron's wretched button. Open, as he decided it should remain. It taunted her.

You made the wrong choice then. You made the wrong choice now, it seemed to whisper. You will always make the wrong choice, Hermione Granger.

She bit her lip as a tear slid down her cheek. She could not wipe it. Helpless and useless like everyone probably thought she was. She let her breath hiss through her teeth slowly as she tried to ignore the pain within her.

"Gotta admit, she's alright." Ron's voice came. "Always thought they'd be ugly things, those Death Eaters."

"Wouldn't agree," came Neville's disgusted reply.

"Just pulling your leg mate." Ron laughed. "Say, didn't think 'bout how we'll get her in the crate."

"Say we double her over?"

"Not bad."

Hermione's legs jerked into her chest. Her mouth was forced open and vomit flowed right out. Her head rang as though it was stuck inside a giant bell. She was going to lose every organ inside of her. She tried to wrench herself out, moving from side to side, struggling like a snake in the grasp of a large fist.

Help, someone help. She tried to yell, but every time she opened her mouth, the copper would come spilling out. Out, out. I want out.

And then, she saw Snape standing behind the wall of flames. Help, help me.

She whimpered with every passing second, as his shape blurred in and out of her sight.

Please, please. I'll do anything.

Her chest stung, the cords tightening and in one excruciating pull, pierced her waist so hard she was sure she was being sliced in half.

He seemed to be saying something, but she couldn't make out the movement of his lips.

What did he say before? Something about the mask's power and being approached?

Approach me.

"A- a-" she said, taking in a deep breath, swallowing down air hungrily.

Approach me, I'll accept. I want to live.

Waves shook her, trailing up into her head, into her ears, through her mouth and nose.

"Ron, think she's saying something?" Neville said.

"What?"

Approach me with your offer. Approach me and I'll accept. I can't die like this, oh please.

"Approach. M-me."

"Hear it too mate. Oy. You. You still want more?" Ron said, and the binds grew tighter.

With the last breath, the last spit of copper, her body coiling in response to her dying body, she screamed. "Approach me, I accept!"

At once, the mask grew hotter and her skin burst into flames. It burned on the surface of her skin and sank deep into her body until it reached her bones. Her mouth fell open, though no sound came out.

Needles, millions of them seemed to prick her at once, waltzing down every begging inch of her skin.

Air, sweeter than any wine, trailed through her lungs.

With every single pleasurable moment, her body came back to life.

Her toes moved, her fingers twitched, her shoulders rustled.

Her lashes fluttered, her nose crinkled, her lips tingled - instantly wet.

She spun in the air, the binds around her loosening and disappearing.

Her hair spilled over her face, and staring at the tips began to burn like a fuse.

With one swift movement, her arms rose up and she touched her bare head, her bare body.

She was free.

When her feet planted firmly on the floor, she raised her fingers to her eyes. They were no longer bloody. Her stomach was sewn together. No cuts, no pain.

Then she looked at Ron and Neville, their wands at the ready and pointing towards her.

They must have struck her, must have because her body rippled from a sudden force. With a wave of her arm, both wizards fell on the floor.

Neville's body hit the blue fire and was instantly consumed by flames. He flailed against them, screaming.

She turned over her hand that defended her and looked at her fingers. They burned with sparks of magic, tingled at the fingertips.

Intoxicating.

Snape was right. It was an indescribable power and she wanted to burn in it.

Spluttering now, Ron raised his wand and struck again. Again the flash of magic was absorbed by her.

She moved, gliding along the wooden floors, and stepping over the old blood that had spilled from her. Her footprints left marks on the gloss.

She stood above Ron. With one wave of her hand, cast his wand aside.

How could he do this to her? She trusted him.

He clamped his empty fist, realizing he was at her mercy.

"Who the h-hell are you?" he whimpered. "Who-who-"

She looked at him, then stepping over him, moved to Neville's body. She had to see if he was hurt. Luna would never forgive her if he was.

Bending down, red slashes trailed down his arms and neck. Poor Neville.

"He's hurt," Ron yelled, voice shaking. "Have a heart, he's hurt."

She wouldn't hurt Neville anymore than she had.

Oh gods, what had she done?

Lifting one hand, she trailed it down his arm and whispered a healing incantation. When it was lifted, the cuts were covered in silver, and no longer leaking blood.

Satisfied, she walked back to Ron.

"What have you done to him?" his voice was angry.

Standing above him, naked and powerful, he flinched, his head looking to the ground.

"Who are you?"

"I am who I said I was."

"What?" he said to the floor.

"Hermione."

She ran her hand along the edge of her mask, finally lifting it off her skin and throwing it on the ground before him.

"Look at me."

He shook his head, and propped himself up on his elbows, trying to find his wand somewhere on the ground.

"Just look at me-"

"You're not her. She's not here. She's- she's-"

His hand snaked out, grabbing her ankle and twisting it sharply. She tugged her foot away. He held it firmly in place.

"Look up."

Silence.

"Look up!" Her voice rose. Then, so did her foot. She stamped down on his arm. Hard.

"All I'm asking you is to look at me. Just once. Will you notice me? Just once!"

"Sod off," he said between groans.

"I'm Hermione. Your Hermione," she said, pressing down harder.

"Hermione doesn't give….as good as she gets," he yelled.

"Oh yes, she fucking does." She lifted her foot off his hand. "Get up."

Then seeing his refusal, hoisted him up herself. With silver strings around his body, he stood upright, but his head drooped down like an old rag doll and a loud crack resounded from his neck.

The red before her eyes swam, then slowly dimmed. She said his name once, twice. Then walking over, held her breath.

She touched his cheeks, slapped them. She let her hand trail along his neck. Feeling nothing but a slow coolness, pressed her fingers in harder.

"Ron? No."

She let him fall to the ground, hardly noticing that the blue flames around her fell too.

She whispered his name through tears, as she tore open his shirt and pressed down on his chest in a quick rhythm. Opening his mouth, she pressed her lips to his and breathed with him. His chest did not rise and the taste of his blood sat in her mouth.

"Hermione," a voice said behind her, hands on her shoulders.

She had to wake up, now. This couldn't be happening.

She killed Ron.

"I- I-" she struggled to say between pumping his chest.

"We need to leave," Snape said.

A warm cloak sank over her shoulders as he hoisted her up.

"I need to go back, I need to wake up," she repeated deliriously.

He dragged her out of the room, down the candlelit corridors. Her eyes stayed on Ron's until he was out of her sight.

She dug her eyes into the black velvet and compiled. In what felt like a second, she was in her own bed, her head buried in a pillow. She curled up and sobbed.

All the while, a firm hand stroked her back until she fell asleep.