My entire life, I've been burdened with this need to make sense of things. I need to believe that there's a reason for everything. I need to believe that life is logical. That life makes sense.
But sometimes it doesn't.
Sometimes...life doesn't make sense. Sometimes it's cruel and painful and wrong. And God, how it hurts.
But even then, even after all that...
I have to believe there's a reason.
"Hermione."
"Hermione."
"Hermione!"
Her eyes shot open and she found Harry's face looming over her, expectantly.
She instantly felt worry seep through her as if by reflex and sat up quickly, nearly hitting him in the nose.
"What's wrong? Harry? Are you all right?"
"It's okay, everything's fine," he replied, trying to calm her down. "More than fine. I'm great. There's someone here."
The momentary calm that passed over was quickly replaced by terror.
"What do you mean?" she said frantically, taking in his pleasant demeanour and wondering if he'd gone mad.
But before Harry could reply, she heard someone clear their throat near the entrance of the tent. Whipping her head around, she was met with a most bizarre sight: Ron, holding a sword in one hand and what appeared to be the locket in the other, dripping wet from head to foot.
Hermione squinted, as if not quite sure she was seeing right. Her brain was still slightly foggy from sleep, but as she got up to walk slowly towards him, reality was finally beginning to set in.
She came to a stop in front of him, gritting her teeth roughly as he gave her a weak, hopeful smile.
Hermione wished nothing more at the moment, than to wipe that stupid smile right off his face.
Did he really expect to just waltz back in here and pretend like nothing happened? Like he hadn't broken the most important promise he had ever made her? Like he hadn't abandoned his best friend when he needed him most? Abandoned him like the selfish, disloyal, coward that he was...
Hermione was beginning to feel her blood boil within her veins. Months of pent up anger was swelling inside of her, ticking away like a bomb. And at long last, she exploded.
She launched herself forward and started punching every inch of him that she could reach. And it felt absolutely amazing.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Hermione realized that there was probably a much more mature way to handle the current situation. However, she quickly silenced these thoughts. There would be plenty of time for maturity later.
"Ouch—ow—gerroff! What the—? Hermione—OW!"
"You—complete—arse—Ronald—Weasley!" she shouted, causing Ron to back away fearfully as he shielded his head.
"You crawl back here after weeks and weeks—oh, where's my wand?"
She turned around swiftly to face Harry who was slowly retreating backwards.
"Give me back my wand, Harry," she attempted, calmly. "Give it back to me!"
"Hermione, will you please—"
"Don't you tell me what to do, Harry Potter!" she said, fiercely. "Don't you dare! Give it back now!"
She was suddenly angry at Harry, as well. How could he just stand there? How could he not want to crush Ron into a pulp for what he'd done to them? Even before he left, Ron had made their lives miserable. Always complaining, always whining, always trying to tear everyone apart. No—she wasn't just going to forget everything he'd done. It wasn't that simple.
"Hermione, he just saved my—"
"I don't care!" she shouted at Harry. "I don't care what he's done! Weeks and weeks, we could have been dead for all he knew—"
"I knew you weren't dead!" bellowed Ron, drowning her voice for the first time.
Hermione turned back around with her arms locked tightly over her chest, glaring at him with such intensity that he had to look away.
He explained how Harry was all over the papers and the radio, how they were looking for him everywhere, and how he would have heard straight off if they were dead. He then proceeded to tell them all that had happened after he left the tent that day and how he had tracked them down with the Deluminator.
But none of this mattered to Hermione. She didn't care how much he'd wanted to come back. She cared that he'd left in the first place.
"I just had to hope that one of you would show yourselves in the end—and Harry did. Well, I saw the doe first, obviously."
"You saw the what?" said Hermione sharply.
Harry and Ron told her what had happened, and she was so bewildered she even forgot to appear angry for a moment.
"And it led you to the sword? I can't believe this! Then what happened?"
"Well, I saw Harry jump into the water and I waited for him to come back up, but...he didn't," said Ron.
Hermione threw Harry a 'we'll-talk-about-how-stupid-that-was-later' look, causing him to blush mildly as Ron continued on with the rest of the story.
"...So then, Harry opened the locket with Parseltongue...and...well..."
Hermione stared, waiting for him to continue, but he was suddenly refusing to meet her eyes.
"—and Ron stabbed it with the sword," Harry cut in.
She looked over at Harry. "And...and it went? Just like that?" she said, unbelievingly. She noticed him glance at Ron for a moment
"Well, it—it screamed," he added.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. Harry had never been very skilled in the art of lying. And by the looks that he and Ron were currently sharing, she knew that they were hiding something from her.
She sighed heavily, feeling the sleep that Ron had so rudely interrupted begin to overtake her once more. Whatever their little secret was could wait until morning, Hermione decided.
And so, without another word, she climbed back into her bed and fell asleep.
Hermione awoke the next morning to find Harry's bed empty and Ron still fast asleep.
She scoffed, getting up and making her way to the opening of the tent to check if Harry was outside. But the clearing was quite empty.
Typical.
She groaned slightly, wondering when he would finally grasp the meaning of 'leave a note'.
"Harry?" she called lightly into the open forest.
No response came.
"Harry?" she tried again, this time louder.
Hermione pulled out her wand and crunched her way steadily through the dead leaves on the ground, looking all around her for any sign of raven hair. She had just reached the edge of their wards, when the sound of a twig snapping erupted from somewhere to her left.
She whipped her head around at the sound, her heart nearly leaping in her throat.
"Hermione, what are you—?"
She gasped suddenly at the voice, and turned around sharply to come face to face with a confused Harry.
"Harry! What do you think you're doing!" she said, glaring angrily at him. "You nearly made my heart stop!"
"I was just—"
"Where did you come from?" she cut him off, abruptly. "You just popped out of nowhere!"
"I was wearing the Invisibility Cloak," he said, defensively.
"Well—well—don't do that!" she spluttered, giving him a hard shove in the chest for good measure.
"Hermione, relax. I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to frighten you," he said, holding up his hands in surrender.
"You don't just sneak up on someone like that," she muttered, annoyed. "Where were you anyway?"
"Just went for a walk. I was trying to figure out where that silver doe came from last night, or who could have conjured it," he replied. "There's no one else around here as far as I can tell, though."
"Well, that's all well and good, Harry, but for the umpteenth time, can you please just tell me when you head off somewhere?" she said, crossing her arms and giving him a severe look to rival McGonagall's.
"I forgot..." he replied, lamely.
Hermione rolled her eyes and turned around to make her trek back to the tent.
"Wait up!" Harry called, running to catch up with her. "So, what do you reckon this whole Patronus thing is about, then?"
"Oh yeah..." she said, letting her arms drop to her sides in defeat. "I don't know...I have to admit it's quite strange. I mean, maybe it was someone we know, someone from the Order? But then, why wouldn't they show themselves? And how could they have found us in the first place? And how did they possibly know we needed the sword? How'd they even manage to retrieve it?"
Harry stared at her blankly.
"So many questions!" she exclaimed in frustration, sitting herself down on a large boulder nearby.
"Well...maybe none of it really matters."
Hermione looked at him strangely. "What—you don't think we should be worried?"
"I don't see why. Whoever it was...they were trying to help us."
She sighed. "I know, but—either way, I think we should apparate out of here. Just to be safe," she added.
Harry nodded slowly, gazing out into the trees.
"Oh, by the way," she said, suddenly. "Are you going to tell me what really happened when Ron destroyed the horcrux?"
He looked over at her. "What do you mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It was nothing, Hermione, really. Nothing worth mentioning."
"Harry, I need to know," she insisted. "There's still three more horcruxes out there. I need to know what we're up against."
The expression on Harry's face was hard to read. It seemed as if he were having some sort of internal struggle, but she thought she detected something else, as well. He almost looked uncomfortable.
"I mean I don't understand...is it...is it too gruesome or something? Because I can handle it. I'm not that delicate, you know," Hermione said, feeling slightly put out.
"No—no, Hermione, it's nothing like that," Harry replied.
"Then, what is it?" she asked, confused.
Harry exhaled loudly. "The locket affected Ron more than it did us. It fed upon all his insecurities, made them seem real to him...even if they weren't. So...when he tried destroying the horcrux, that's how it fought back. It made his fears come to life."
Hermione nodded slowly. "His fears? What...like spiders? Was it like a Boggart then?"
Harry shifted on his feet slightly. "Er...sort of, yeah. But like I said—it was more of his insecurities than his actual fears."
"Listen," he said suddenly, "It's not really my place to tell you all that happened. It was Ron's battle to fight...not mine."
"I understand, Harry," she said, quietly. "I just wanted to know—you know, for the future."
He nodded, looking away from her again. For some odd reason she felt as if he had been avoiding her eyes all morning, but perhaps she was just imagining things.
"Well, anyway, I'm going to go make breakfast," she said getting up swiftly.
But she stopped suddenly when she felt Harry touch her shoulder.
Ignoring the slight shiver that ran through her, she turned to look at him. "What is it?"
"Don't be too hard on him, will you?" he said, softly. "He really does regret everything."
"I can't make any promises," she said abruptly, turning to leave again.
"Hermione," Harry said, seriously.
She exhaled loudly. "I know that he regrets it. I knew from the second he left, that he'd regret it. But that doesn't change anything, Harry. He still left. So—so, I'm not just going to pretend like it never happened. He needs to learn a lesson. About friendship and loyalty and what that means," she said, emphatically.
"I'll forgive him," she continued in quieter tone. "I promise I will. It's just going to take some more time."
She was about to walk away again when she heard Harry speak up.
"He really cares about you."
Hermione stopped in her tracks. She looked over at Harry but he was intently staring at a tree in the distance.
"I-I'll keep that in mind," she replied, walking away before he could respond.
When she reached the tent, she made her way straight toward the kitchen, not even checking if Ron was awake yet. Her body mechanically went through the motions of making breakfast, but her mind was somewhere completely different.
She kept replaying Harry's words in her head, wondering what on earth could have elicited him to say such a thing. And what did he mean? Of course Ron cared about her. They were still friends, after all.
But then...perhaps he meant something different. Something more than friendship.
Hermione's stomach squirmed uncomfortably at the thought.
Did Harry think that Ron fancied her? Why would he possibly think that?
Well, because it's true.
We don't know that for sure.
Pretty safe bet, though.
Hermione's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a knock on the kitchen door.
"Morning," came Ron's uncertain voice.
She gave him a fleeting look over her shoulder.
"Er...what are you up to?" he asked.
Hermione wordlessly held up a pan, before placing it noisily back down on the stove.
"Ah...well...do you need any help?"
She snorted loudly in derision.
"Listen, there's no need to get shirty with me," Ron said suddenly, a tinge of anger in his words.
Hermione slowly turned around, her arms crossed tightly around her chest with one eyebrow raised.
Ron gulped audibly and backed away.
"Right...sorry..." he said, faintly.
He hesitated by the door, as if contemplating whether or not he should just leave. But then he finally spoke up.
"Can't you just say something? Anything..." he said, looking desperate. "I'm sorry, Hermione. How many times do I have to tell you I'm sorry?"
She sighed impatiently. "What is it you're sorry about?"
Ron seemed too surprised at the fact that she had actually spoken to comprehend what her question meant.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"What is it you're sorry about?" she repeated.
"Well...leaving. I shouldn't have left you and Harry."
Hermione gave a humourless chuckle, and turned around so her back was facing him again.
"What? What did I say?" Ron exclaimed.
"Nothing."
"Hermione," he pleaded.
She brushed past him without a word, setting the plates down on the table.
"Look, I'm sorry about everything! I'm sorry for being a downright prat. I'm sorry for abandoning you. I'm sorry for all the nasty things I said. I'm just—I'm sorry, okay?"
"You promised me!" she exclaimed suddenly, placing the last plate on the table with extra force. "Don't you remember? You promised me that we would stay by Harry's side no matter what happened. You looked me straight in the eyes and you promised me."
"Before that I was terrified," she continued, her voice shaking slightly. "I was terrified for Harry, but you made me believe everything would be okay. And I thought—as long as all three of us were together, everything would always be okay. But then you left! And suddenly it felt like everything was crumbling to pieces. For days, Harry and I barely said two words to each other. But it didn't matter because we both knew what the other was thinking. And do you want to know what that was? Do you?"
Ron remained deathly quiet.
"We started wondering if we could even trust each other, if we could depend on each other," Hermione said firmly. "Or would one of us just walk away. Was Harry going to decide that he could do everything on his own again and leave me, or would I decide that I had enough and start packing my bags like you did?"
"You tore us apart, Ron. You broke us down," she said, finally. "But even after all that, we still managed to put the pieces back together. And now...now I trust Harry more than any other person in this world."
He looked up at her, and they both stared into each other's eyes for a long moment.
And for the first time since Ron had returned, she saw just how truly sorry he was.
Hermione sat by the fire, bundled up in about three jumpers, two of which she thought might have belonged to Harry or Ron. But it was too dark and too cold to be choosy.
She had readily volunteered to take first watch tonight, if only to get away from the tense silence that always seemed to permeate the tent these days. Or at least, the tense silence whenever she and Ron were in a room together.
Save for the occasional 'bless you' and 'pardon', their interactions had been nothing short of nonexistent. And if she were being completely honest with herself, it was getting a bit tiring acting so angry all the time. The initial rage she'd felt towards him was slowly beginning to ebb away into sort of dull irritation at this point.
Hermione's ears perked up suddenly, hearing what sounded like hushed voices whispering. Realizing it was coming from the tent, she relaxed back into her seat.
However, the whispering was becoming more incessant, and she could clearly make out Harry's voice now.
"Just go," he urged.
"No way."
"Ron, go."
"It's not happening."
"Be a man!"
"I don't want to."
"Why not?" Harry demanded.
"Because I don't fancy having my head detached from my body!" Ron replied.
"It's Hermione, not a Hungarian Horntail."
Ron made an odd noise that sounded somewhere between a snort and a painful whine.
"For Merlin's sake, just go," Harry said, amidst Ron's protests.
Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw someone being pushed out of the tent and stumble toward her.
She looked up with a blank expression.
"Hi," Ron said, in a shaky voice.
"Hello."
His eyes opened wide and he turned around to give a thumbs-up signal at what she assumed was Harry hiding behind the flap of the tent.
She rolled her eyes before looking back up at him.
"Erm...can I sit?" Ron asked, hesitantly.
"It's not my forest," she shrugged.
Ron took that as a yes and plopped down on the ground across from her. "So, listen...er..."
She waited for him to continue, but he just sat there looking uncomfortable.
"I'm listening," she said, bluntly.
"Right..." he replied. Then gaining some resolve, he continued. "When I left...I wasn't thinking straight. And I know what you're going to say—when do I ever think, right? But...afterwards I did think. A lot. And the more I thought the more I hated myself. I wanted nothing more than to find you guys again, and to hear you yell and scream at me for what I'd done. Because I deserved it. And to be honest, I wasn't expecting Harry to forgive me so easily. But...that's just the type of bloke he is, I guess. He's a good person, Harry. A better friend than I'll ever be."
"And you, Hermione. Even though you physically and verbally attacked me," he continued with a small smile, "I deserved a hundred times worse than that. You were right about everything you said the other day. And I know I've told you a thousand times already—but I am so sorry."
"I know," Hermione replied quietly.
She grabbed a stick nearby and started moving the pieces of wood around in the fire, more out of wanting something to do than of actual necessity.
"Hermione," Ron said, suddenly, closing his hand around her wrist.
"What?"
He opened his mouth a couple of times to speak, but no words were coming out. "Blimey, I'm terrible at this," he muttered to himself.
"What is it, Ron?" she said, her voice less harsh then he'd heard in a while.
"I-I just wanted to say that...that—I didn't forget about that promise."
"Oh."
"I thought about it every day," he said quietly, staring at his trainers. "And about...everything I said to you. Before I left. I know I hurt you a lot and—and you don't deserve that, Hermione. You don't deserve that one bit."
Ron opened his mouth as if he wished to say more, but then visibly swallowed and stood up to leave.
"I haven't forgiven you," she called as he was walking away.
He froze in his tracks, his shoulders slumping in a dejected manner.
"But I will."
He didn't turn around, but she could see him take in a deep breath.
"Thank you," he choked out.
Hermione sighed impatiently, tapping her fingers steadily on the table as she bit her lip.
It just didn't add up.
She looked over at Harry, then back at the book. Then over at Harry. Then back at the book again.
Finally, she stood up from her chair and approached him.
"We need to talk."
Harry stared at her with confusion and what seemed like a hint of fear.
"What?" he said, apprehensively.
"I want to go and see Xenophilius Lovegood."
He visibly relaxed before appearing confused once more. "Er—why?"
Hermione took a deep breath, as though bracing herself, and then proceeded to explain that the mark she'd originally found in the Tales of Beedle the Bard seemed to be cropping up continuously around them.
"We can ask Mr. Lovegood. He was wearing the symbol at the wedding. I'm sure this is important, Harry!"
He seemed hesitant, though, looking out into the surrounding darkness, thinking. After a long pause he said, "Hermione, we don't need another Godric's Hollow. We talked ourselves into going there, and—"
"But it keeps appearing, Harry! A symbol that links Dumbledore, Grindlewald, and Godric's Hollow? I'm sure we ought to know about this!"
She stared into his face, willing him to trust her, but he was gritting his teeth, stubbornly looking away.
Finally, however, with the help of an adamant Ron, he agreed.
Later that night as they were preparing for bed and Ron was outside keeping first watch, Harry silently approached her so that they were standing side by side.
"I don't want anyone to get hurt," he said out of the corner of his mouth
She looked up at him with her brows furrowed. "Neither do I."
"Then why don't we just call this whole thing off," he practically begged, turning to face her.
"Harry—"
"It was my fault we went to Godric's Hollow, it was my fault that we followed Bathilda. I nearly got us both killed, Hermione," he stated, firmly.
"Well, if anything happens this time, we can blame it on me," she said airily, walking past him to get to the loo.
He moved quickly to block her path.
"I want to go alone," he stated.
"Sorry?"
"To see Mr. Lovegood," he replied. "I want to go alone."
Hermione blinked.
"So, we're back to this, are we?" she asked, smoothly.
"To what?"
"I think you know what," she responded.
"Hermione—"
"You think you can do this by yourself?" she asked, evenly. "You think you can find the horcruxes, destroy them, and still manage to stay alive? Because if you do, by all means, go ahead."
She gestured vaguely toward the door.
"Here, take my books," she said, making her way over to her bag. "You know what? Take everything. You never know what you might need."
She threw her beaded bag into his hands, making him stumble a bit from surprise.
"We should go tell Ron. He might be a bit miffed that he had to go and destroy that horcrux when you could have done it, though," Hermione continued in that same conversational tone.
"Stop."
She looked over her shoulder to see Harry intently staring at the bag in his hands.
"I never said I didn't need you," he stated, quietly. "For Merlin's sake, Hermione, I would've died ages ago, if it wasn't for you. I'm not that thick, you know."
"So then why do you insist on going alone again?" she demanded.
"Because I don't want to put either of you in any more danger than you already are. You could've died last time, Hermione. Died."
"You seem to forget that I was the one who had to nurse you back to life," she bit back.
"Well it could have just as easily been the other way around," Harry argued.
"I'd sure hope not. My life resting in your hands?" she said, sardonically. "Why don't you learn what a healing charm is first, and then we can talk."
He stared at her. "That was low."
Hermione pursed her lips into a thin line. "Sorry," she muttered, grudgingly.
Harry sighed loudly, running a hand through his hair. "Why are you being so...malicious, anyway?"
"Because, Harry," she said, fervently. "I'm tired of you trying to protect us. We don't need protection. Especially not from you."
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, suddenly.
"It means that you have to worry about yourself right now. Not us," she said, softly. "I promise you, we can take care of ourselves."
There was a long pause of silence, and then finally, Harry nodded.
"And besides," Hermione continued, "we're just going to the man's house. What's the worst that could go wrong?"
...
"That treacherous old bleeder!" Ron exclaimed, as they all fell panting onto the grass in the corner of a field.
Hermione immediately stood up, running in a circle around them, and casting the necessary enchantments.
When she was finished she turned back around to face Harry and Ron.
"What's the worst that could go wrong, eh?" Harry said in a weak voice.
The whole fiasco at the Lovegood house had been nothing short of pointless, in Hermione's opinion. And she was prepared to take full responsibility for it. The only problem was, Harry seemed to think otherwise.
Ever since they had escaped, he had been adamant about discussing these Deathly Hallows. It was maddening. It was as if he'd completely forgotten everything they'd been doing and everything they were supposed to be doing.
What about the horcruxes? What about their mission? What about ending this godforsaken war? Did he suddenly just forget about all of that?
She hated it when he got like this. When he would become so absorbed with one thing that he would forget about the world around him. It was just like sixth year all over again. And sure, in the end he was right about all that. But this was different. Dumbledore told him what he needed to do. Surely he would have mentioned these Hallows if they were so important? Wouldn't he? Wouldn't he?
Hermione groaned loudly, dropping her face into her hands. She never dreamed that there would come a day when she would miss talking about horcruxes.
Life was simpler then... she thought dryly.
"Hermione! Hermione, I got it!" Ron exclaimed suddenly.
He had been seated next to the wireless for the past hour, attempting to find the correct password to get onto Potterwatch.
He called Harry into the tent as well, and the three of them sat around the little radio excitedly, listening to voices other than their own for the first time in months.
It filled her with such an extraordinary sense of hope to hear the familiar voices of friends. To know that they weren't alone. That people all around them were fighting this war as well.
Hermione quickly wiped away a few tears that had escaped her eyes. "It's so brave of them," she said admiringly. "If they were found..."
"Well, they keep on the move, don't they?" said Ron. "Like us."
"But did you hear what Fred said?" asked Harry excitedly. "He's abroad! He's still looking for the Wand, I knew it!"
"Harry—"
"Come on, Hermione, why are you so determined not to admit it? Vol—"
"HARRY, NO!"
"—demort's after the Elder Wand!"
"The name's Taboo!" Ron bellowed, leaping to his feet as a loud crack sounded outside the tent.
Hermione felt as if a ton of bricks had suddenly been dropped in her stomach. And then she heard the voices, voices ordering them to come out with their hands up.
They'll recognize Harry in a heartbeat!
She instantly whipped her wand out and pointed it at Harry's face, uttering the first spell that came to mind.
A burst of white light shot out, and she could see him buckle in agony, his face swelling rapidly with blisters.
Hermione closed her eyes, taking a shuddering breath in. She silently prayed that they would all stay alive long enough for her to be able to apologize for that later.
But all too soon, unknown hands grabbed her around the waist, pulling her roughly from inside the tent. It was too dark to see a face, but the putrid smell of metal and blood immediately reached her nostrils and she had to fight the urge to gag repeatedly.
She could just see Harry being shoved to the ground and Ron wrestling against his captor. There was the unmistakable sound of knuckles hitting flesh and Ron grunted in pain.
"Leave him alone!" Hermione screamed.
She let out a light gasp as the arms around her tightened painfully.
"Your boyfriend's going to have worse than that done to him if he's on my list," said the rasping voice in her ear.
She shivered uncontrollably as the realization struck her.
It was Fenrir Greyback.
"Delicious girl...What a treat...I do enjoy the softness of the skin..."
Hermione's stomach turned over and she very nearly vomited all over her shoes. The smell was becoming too much, his voice prickled uncomfortably in her ears, she needed to get away. She needed to get away.
In a sudden movement, Greyback cast her to the ground next to Harry, and they were soon joined by Ron, as well. She had never breathed in a breath as fondly as she did at that moment.
The Snatchers questioned each of them in turn, but they seemed to linger longest on Harry.
Hermione's heart was beating so fast, she thought it might explode out of her chest any second.
They can't know it's Harry, they can't know it's Harry. Please don't let them know it's Harry! Please!
"What's that on your forehead?" Greyback asked Harry softly, as he pressed a filthy finger to the taut scar.
"Don't touch it!" Harry yelled, suddenly.
Hermione turned to look at him fearfully. She could tell by the sickened look on his face that his scar was currently causing him excruciating pain.
She bit her lip, silently continuing the desperate mantra in her head.
"I thought you wore glasses, Potter?" breathed Greyback.
"I found glasses!" yelped one of the Snatchers.
The werewolf seized them immediately and rammed them onto Harry's face.
"It is!" rasped Greyback. "We've caught Potter!"
Hermione forced back the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes. She was beginning to feel light-headed and white spots were clouding her vision.
They would take Harry...they would take him and they would kill him. Just like that.
Just like that...
They would kill him...
NO! No, stop it! Stop thinking like that! We'll get through it, we always do. We'll get through it.
I can't lose Harry...
Please...
Please not Harry...
The most painful lump was forming in the back of Hermione's throat, but she fought endlessly to gulp it back down.
"They say he's using the Malfoy's place as a base. We'll take the boy there," came Greyback's voice, cutting through her thoughts.
"And what about the rest of 'em, what'll we do with 'em?"
"Might as well take the lot. We've got two Mudbloods, that's another ten Galleons," said Greyback. "Grab hold and make it tight. I'll do Potter!"
Hermione saw him seize a fistful of Harry's hair with his long, yellow nails and she wanted nothing more in the world than to shoot the most powerful curse in that filth's direction.
But she felt someone take hold of her as well, and within seconds they had Disapparated away.
Hermione had always prided herself on her innate logic. She made sense of things, and she liked for things to make sense.
But sometimes it wasn't that simple. Sometimes things were illogical.
For example, for the life of her Hermione couldn't understand why Draco Malfoy had not identified Harry to the Death Eaters.
It would have been so easy. He would have surely been rewarded. He would have lost nothing and gained everything.
And yet...he chose not to.
And now, as Hermione stood within the clutches of Bellatrix Lestrange, she was faced with one of the most illogical moments of her life.
Because none of it made any sense.
"Where did you get that sword?" Bellatrix hissed, clutching Hermione roughly by the hair.
"I-I don't know," she choked out. "We just found it."
Bellatrix snarled, throwing Hermione swiftly to the ground.
Her body met the cold, hard stone floor with a thud and she let out a small grunt of pain.
"You think that hurt, Mudblood?" Bellatrix whispered, kneeling down so her face was centimetres from Hermione's. "Crucio!"
Hermione immediately let out a blood-curdling scream as every nerve in her body exploded with fire. It was the worst pain she had ever felt in her life, and no matter how much she twisted and jerked, absolutely nothing could bring her any sort of relief. She clawed her nails into the ground and bit her tongue until it bled. She was just starting to see black spots in front of her eyes when as suddenly as it had begun, the pain stopped.
Hermione was panting heavily and every single muscle of her body was throbbing like mad.
"Did that loosen your tongue, Granger?" Bellatrix said, with a wild look in her eyes. "I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get that sword? Where?"
"We found it—we found it—PLEASE!" she screamed.
"You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!"
Bellatrix shot another Crucio that seemed a thousand times more painful than the first one, making Hermione scream even louder in agony.
"What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!"
Hermione felt tears streaming down her face as wracking sobs began to take over her body. "I didn't," she whispered erratically, "I didn't!"
All of a sudden, Bellatrix grabbed her arm, shoving her sleeve up roughly. She grabbed what looked like a silver dagger and a wild gleam erupted in her eyes.
"PLEASE!" Hermione pleaded, her face wet with tears and her throat constricting painfully.
But as the dagger made contact with her flesh, Hermione screamed so loud, she nearly choked on her own tears. She pounded her free fist to the ground and starting kicking her legs, trying desperately to free herself.
She couldn't see, she couldn't think, she couldn't breathe.
Again and again Bellatrix tortured her, and each curse seemed to be even more painful the last. The blood that was steadily dripping from her arm kept showering her in the face as she thrashed about on the ground.
She continued to sob agonizingly, as she begged like a small child for it to stop.
Make it stop!
MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!
It was all too much.
She couldn't...she couldn't...
I want to die...
Let me die...
Please...please...
Hermione vaguely heard the sounds of new voices enter the room, but she didn't have the energy to open her eyes.
There was shouting, a lot of shouting, but it made no sense to her.
None of it made any sense.
Any sense at all...
A/N: Thank you all for being patient with me, I know I've been horrible at updating and I apologize deeply! And thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed last chapter. I really appreciate it so much and I absolutely love hearing what you guys have to say. Good things, bad things, suggestions, it all makes my day because I know you took that extra time to write something so thank you again! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I wish you a very happy day :)