Luna and I...we didn't always agree. We didn't always see eye to eye. Most of the time we were on completely different ends of the spectrum. And yet, there were times when she understood me better than I understood myself.

Through all her craziness, you tended to forget just how uncannily intelligent she really was.

I was always good with facts, details, and logic. But Luna...she was different. Unlike any other person I'd ever met. She had this remarkable ability to pick up on a person's feelings. It was instantaneous. It was effortless. And it was very nearly always correct.

She just saw the world differently than most people. The world and everyone in it.

It's a shame that it took me so long to appreciate her. When we first met, I was young and foolish, deluded into thinking that every question always had one answer. That every problem always had one solution. But Luna didn't think that. Maybe that's what unnerved me so much.

Her intelligence was different than mine. It always has been.

I'm logic. But Luna...Luna is wisdom.

Hermione opened her eyes blearily, the unfamiliar room around her slowly coming into focus. She had absolutely no idea where she was and was starting to feel slightly panicked.

"You're awake," said a dreamy voice.

Hermione noticed the small form of Luna perched on a window sill across the room.

"Luna?" she asked, her voice feeling unnaturally raspy. "Where are we?"

The girl walked over to her, an uncharacteristically serious look on her face.

"Shell Cottage," Luna answered. "Bill and Fleur Weasley's home."

"Why? Where are Harry and Ron?"

"Well, we've escaped and...they're outside," she replied, simply.

Hermione knitted her eyebrows in confusion. Her brain still felt foggy and she couldn't seem to remember what had brought them here.

"Escaped...?"

Luna gazed at her with a concerned expression as she edged her way nearer to the bed. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but was cut off immediately by Hermione's sudden gasp.

"Oh God," she whispered, horrified. "Oh God!"

The memories of Malfoy Manor were suddenly flashing before her eyes in nauseating clarity, and she wished nothing more than to have remained ignorant of it all. The high ceiling and stone walls ambushed her vision, Bellatrix's shouts rang in her ears, her left arm throbbed with a shooting pain, and Hermione wanted to scream and cry and yell just to drown it all out.

Putting a hand to her mouth, she fought to hold back the sob that threatened to escape her lips. And with shaking fingers, she carefully lifted up the sleeve of the gown she had somehow changed into, and immediately let out a long, strangled moan.

There, etched permanently into her skin, was the word: Mudblood.

"It's okay to cry," Luna said, gently, placing a hand on her back.

Hermione looked up, nearly forgetting Luna was there and shook her head stubbornly, still covering her mouth, as if afraid something might spew out if she wasn't careful.

She didn't want to cry. She couldn't cry. Because crying meant releasing. It meant undoing. But she wasn't ready to be undone.

"Hermione..." Luna said, hesitantly.

But Hermione would not relent. She stayed in that position for a long while, eyes shut and breathing in long, deep breaths through her nose, trying to make the shaky feeling in her entire body subside.

She heard someone enter the room a while after, but didn't register it until she felt a slight indentation on the bed as they sat down.

"Hermione," said a soft voice.

She opened her eyes and saw Ron staring at her in deep concern. He brought his hand to her face, and carefully removed her own from atop her mouth.

Hermione stared at him with a lifeless sort of expression, her eyes glazed and her face white. She vaguely noticed Luna get up and exit the room, leaving the two of them alone.

"Fleur said you were sleeping," Ron stated, quietly.

Hermione nodded in affirmation.

"I came in to check anyway," he continued. "How are you?"

"Fine," she said, automatically.

"Are you in any pain?" he asked.

"My arm hurts a bit," she stated, vacantly.

Ron quickly stood up. "I'll get you something for it. Fleur made a few potions earlier—"

"Ron," she interrupted smoothly, "I don't want anything. I just...I just want to get some more sleep, if that's all right."

"Of course," he responded, earnestly. "But...are you sure? I mean, I could just—"

"I'm sure," she stated. "I'm just feeling a bit tired, is all."

Ron nodded, slowly. "Okay. But if you need anything..."

"I know."

He nodded again before exiting the room.

Hermione lay back down on the bed, turning on her side so she was facing the wall. She knew Ron meant well, but she was simply in no mood to entertain his presence at the moment, or anyone's really.

She just wanted to be alone.

True to her word, she did feel rather tired. But it was less of a drowsiness and more of an all around exhaustion. While her body no longer ached, every muscle felt stiff and uncomfortable, as if she hadn't stretched in ages.

And even though she desperately wished not to see it again, her eyes travelled as if by invisible force to the fresh, red scar on her arm.

"Mudblood," she whispered to herself.

Mudblood.

Mudblood.

Mudblood...

Hermione stared at the blank wall, mentally repeating this one word in her mind endlessly until it started sounding bizarre to her.

Completely and utterly bizarre...

And as her eyes slowly drifted shut, she wondered vaguely how everyone else did not see just how completely and utterly bizarre it truly was.

Hermione could feel the heat of the early morning sun beating against her eyelids, but she kept them shut for as long as possible. She wasn't ready to wake up yet, and tried hopelessly to force her body back to sleep. But she was fighting a losing battle.

Exhaling softly, she slowly opened her eyes to the bright morning sunlight. However, it was not the sun that initially greeted her, but rather two pairs of deep, emerald orbs.

Harry was sitting on a chair next to her bed, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared intently at her. However, when he saw that she had awoken, he immediately sat back.

"Sorry," he said. "Did I startle you?"

Hermione shook her head, sitting up against the pillows.

"How did you sleep?" he asked.

"With a bed and covers," Hermione replied, her attempt at a joke failing slightly due to the hollowness of her tone.

"How are you honestly, Hermione?"

The words 'I'm fine' were at the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back and turned to stare blankly out the window, instead.

"I don't know," she replied, quietly. "I feel tired, I suppose."

Harry waited patiently for her continue, but she couldn't seem to form any more words.

"Well...do you want to talk about it?" he asked, hesitantly.

Hermione looked at him and she could see a quiet distress in his eyes. She knew he was trying to maintain his calm composure in front of her, much like she was trying to as well.

But in reality, she wasn't calm. She was terrified and miserable and angry and every time she closed her eyes, she could see Bellatrix's face and she could hear her own voice screaming and pleading for it to all end.

She had never felt so helpless. She had never wished so ardently to just die. And never in her entire life, did she resent so bitterly the magical blood that ran through her veins.

Hermione felt a single tear roll down her cheek as the last thought resonated loudly in her mind.

Resent my magic?

My magic...

Everything I am...

If I weren't a Mudblood, none of this would have ever happened.

If I was just a muggle, if I had lived a normal life, if that letter never came...

"No," she whispered suddenly. "No."

Her mind was reeling as she fought to push these terrible thoughts away.

"No," she uttered again in a louder voice, her entire body trembling.

She felt a strong, reassuring arm wrap firmly around her shoulders. And just like that, all the tears she had been pushing away suddenly rushed forth as if an invisible dam in her eyes had just broken.

Hermione grabbed a fistful of Harry's shirt and buried her head into his chest, holding on as if for dear life and crying tears of frustration and grief for what felt like hours or maybe years.

She didn't want to feel like this anymore, she didn't want to feel less than anyone, she didn't want to feel ashamed.

Magic wasn't a gift to her; it wasn't something she should have to be grateful for or indebted to. It was her birthright. It was who she was. And she was proud of who she was! Proud of being a muggle-born and a bloody brilliant witch.

Glancing down at the scar on her arm, Hermione gritted her teeth roughly.

Mudblood.

Mudblood and proud.

"Harry," she mumbled, into his now dampened shirt.

It doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter!

Sitting up so that they were facing each other, she wiped the lingering tears from her face before continuing.

"It doesn't matter anymore," she said quietly. "It doesn't matter to me, anyway."

As Harry stared at her, she could see that there was no need for further explanation. He understood.

Wordlessly, he reached for the sleeve of her left arm, lifting up the thin fabric with gentle fingers. But as the dreadful red inscription became visible, the breath instantly caught in his throat.

Hermione saw his eyes begin to glisten as he continued to stare at it.

"It doesn't matter," she repeated in a firm voice.

Harry shifted his gaze to her face, and she saw again that same look of distress.

"Hermione..."

She brought her hand up to his forehead, moving a lock of hair aside.

"It's just a scar, Harry," she said, brushing his own lightly with her finger.

"But it lasts forever," he uttered.

"I know," she stated, feeling a slight twinge in her chest despite herself. "I should start getting used to it then, shouldn't I?"

A ghost of a smile appeared on Harry's face. And before she could even register what was happening, he leaned over and placed a feather-light kiss on her forehead.

The spot where his lips had touched burned with a pleasant tingling sensation, and she had to look away from his piercing green eyes in order to steady her pulse once more.

After all the emptiness she had been feeling, this new, very different emotion hit her much harder than usual.

But then, maybe it had nothing to do with the emptiness at all. Maybe Harry's lips would always have this effect on her, no matter the situation. If only one day she could find out...

Hermione internally scoffed.

Yeah...one day. In another life, perhaps.

"I promised to tell the others when you woke up," Harry started. "But I can stay if you want."

"No, it's fine. I should be getting out of this bed, anyway," she replied.

"You don't have to, you know."

"I know, Harry," Hermione assured him. "But I want to. I can't keep locking myself away in this room forever."

He nodded slowly, and then looked up at her. "Do you feel any better?"

Hermione stared down at her hands and fiddled with the bedding thoughtfully before answering. "I suppose I do," she said, finally. "I mean, I couldn't even think about it at first. I still prefer not to, of course, but...it's a little easier now."

"And it'll keep getting easier," Harry assured her.

She paused, her eyebrows creased in thought. "Are you just saying that or do you really believe it?"

"Of course I believe it," he replied, looking slightly taken aback at her question. "You're already handling this infinitely times better than I ever could. You always do."

"Well, I don't know about that," she admitted, "But...thank you."

"And sorry about your shirt," she added, gesturing toward the large tear-stained blotch on his chest.

"That's the least of my worries, Hermione," he said with a smile.

She attempted a smile in return, but the action felt foreign on her muscles and came out as a sort of grimace instead.

Harry exhaled softly as he stood up to leave. He had a troubled expression plastered on his face and worry lines etched into his forehead.

She recognized his demeanour all too well.

"Let me know if you need anything, all right?" he said, heading towards the door.

"Well, there is one thing," Hermione said suddenly, causing Harry to stop in his tracks.

He turned around with a questioning look on his face.

"I need you to not blame yourself for what happened."

Harry paused, looking like he wasn't quite sure how to respond.

"Please," she said. "Just try."

"But, it's my fau—"

"Please," she repeated, cutting him off. "Maybe you'll never believe me. But I'll keep repeating it for as long it takes you to understand. It's. Not. Your. Fault."

Harry stared at her with his eyebrows furrowed as if concentrating on something difficult.

"Just say you'll try," she pleaded.

He visibly swallowed.

"I'll try," he stated quietly.

"Thank you."

Hermione watched him leave the room, leaning her head back against the headboard.

Maybe he never realized how much it pained her to see him like this. To see him eat himself up over every single thing that went wrong. Maybe if he did know, he would stop.

If only it were that simple. To just...stop.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. But the matted, knotty feeling beneath her fingers made her grimace slightly. She knew she desperately needed a shower, but something about facing her reflection in the mirror filled her with a sudden apprehension. And she couldn't really explain why.

Nevertheless, Hermione was just about to get out of bed when she heard a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," she said, wearily.

"Are you sure?" called the voice behind the door.

"Yes..."

"I just wanted to be certain," Luna said, appearing in the room. "You didn't sound too pleased to be having another visitor."

Hermione gave the girl a soft smile. "I wasn't," she answered honestly. "But I've changed my mind. Have a seat."

Luna complied, sitting herself cross-legged on the edge of the bed. "Your eyes are red. Have you been crying?" she asked with wonder.

Hermione wiped away at her eyes self-consciously, but Luna immediately stopped her.

"No, no. That's good. You should cry," she insisted.

"Why?" Hermione asked bluntly, prepared to hear an answer that involved wrackspurts or dingbobs or the like.

But that answer never came.

"We have to shed our tears in order to see properly," Luna stated.

Hermione stared her.

"Well, I think I've shed enough tears to last a lifetime," she responded, quietly.

Luna smiled. "And can you see now?"

She considered this question for a long time. She thought about what had caused her so much pain to begin with. What had caused her to break down into Harry's arms and cry those endless tears.

The idea of being less than someone. Simply because of her blood. Because of something that she couldn't even control. The grief over knowing that no matter how hard she worked or how powerful she became, she would still be nothing in the eyes of some people.

But just as she repeated continuously in her mind not too long ago, it didn't matter.

None of it mattered. Not anymore.

Yes, she could see that now.

"I've never been more proud to be a muggleborn," Hermione stated finally, causing Luna to beam in delight.

"Well, now it's settled," Luna said, still smiling from ear to ear.

"What is?"

"You really are the brightest witch of your age," the girl declared.

Hermione felt herself blush slightly from the compliment, and she was surprised to hear a small laugh escape her lips. Her heart felt lighter somehow after her proclamation.

"Thank you," she said softly. "I think it's pretty safe to say you're the brightest of your age, as well."

"That's awfully nice of you to say, Hermione," Luna said, sincerely.

"Well, it is the truth," she replied.

"Maybe, but even so..."

Luna stared at the wall vaguely for a moment, as if pondering something. "Is there anything else?" she asked, unexpectedly.

"What do you mean?" Hermione said, confused.

"Anything else that you see now...that you didn't see before?"

She thought about this for a moment, wondering what on earth Luna could possibly mean. But she couldn't seem to figure it out.

"I don't think so..." Hermione answered, uncertainly.

"Oh," she replied simply. "Well then, I should be going now."

Hermione watched in bewilderment as the girl stood up swiftly from the bed and started heading toward the door.

"Wait!" she called after her.

"Yes?" Luna asked, turning around.

"Well—what did you mean by that? What else is there for me to see?"

Luna seemed to be considering this question for a long while before answering. "I don't know...I suppose I just find it strange that you couldn't cry in front of Ron and I, but with Harry..." she paused, shifting her head sideways in thought. "You're comfortable in front of him."

"I am," Hermione agreed.

"You're quite lucky, then. It's not easy to find comfort in another's presence."

"I know. Luna, I..."

But Hermione couldn't seem to finish her sentence. She was quickly beginning to realize just what Luna was referring to. Little did the girl know, however, that she was about two and half years late.

"I..." she began once more. But again, she just couldn't seem to find the words.

It felt strange. She'd never told anyone, never even thought of telling anyone. The only person who knew was her mother and she had managed to guess it herself.

So how could she tell Luna? Dreamy, loopy, wistful Luna. That she, Hermione Granger, was in love with her best friend.

What would she say? What would she think? Would she tell him? Would she tell anyone?

Do I tell her, do I not tell her, do I tell her, do I not tell her...

Tell her.

No.

Why not? You have to tell someone! You can't keep holding this in forever, Granger. You'll explode!

But...

Tell her.

"There is something else," Hermione announced finally. "But, it's something I've been able to see for a while now."

Luna waited patiently for her to continue.

But she couldn't seem to be able to. Her heart was beating abnormally fast, her throat was dry, her palms were sweaty.

"Hermione—"

"I love him," Hermione uttered, suddenly. But she immediately threw a hand over her mouth as if she'd said something wrong.

I just told Luna.

Luna knows.

Someone knows...

Why isn't she saying anything? Why isn't she freaking out?

"Did you hear me?" Hermione asked hesitantly, bringing her hand down to her side.

"Of course I heard you," Luna responded.

"Well...why aren't you saying anything?"

"What would you like me to say?"

Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. "Say something!" she said, beginning to feel frustrated.

"You've never told anyone before, have you?" Luna asked, with her eyes wide.

"No...no, I haven't."

"Why not?"

Hermione sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I guess I'm just afraid of how people will react—namely Harry."

"And do you think he'd react badly?" Luna asked, as if she was genuinely interested in Hermione's answer.

She pondered this for a moment. Some alternate universe where Harry knew about her feelings. Of course, he'd be kind and gracious as usual. He'd try and make sure she never felt uncomfortable or embarrassed because of it. And he would always do his best to treat her normally.

She knew that. It wasn't very hard to guess.

But she also knew that in this alternate universe, Harry would forever be filled with guilt because he could not return her feelings. Because he knew that he was causing her pain. And if there was one thing in the world Harry hated, it was being the cause of someone's pain.

"No, he wouldn't," Hermione answered, finally. "But maybe that's the problem."

Luna gazed at her with a dreamy sort of expression, as if she hadn't been paying attention to what she'd just said.

But Hermione knew better. She'd understood. Perhaps not fully, but she'd understood.

"I think it's time for me to take that shower now," Hermione declared after a long bout of silence.

Luna appeared to be watching her carefully as she got out of bed and grabbed the pile of clothing on the bedside table. She was just about to exit the room when a dreamy voice stopped her.

"But you don't quite see fully, do you?"

Hermione came to a halt by the door and turned around with a frown on her face. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Luna walked slowly over to Hermione, her radish earrings swinging gracefully with each step she took.

"Well, Harry never did leave your side the entire night, did he?" Luna asked. "Strange..."

And with that, she walked past Hermione and all but sashayed into the corridor.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"No, but it's too late now, isn't it?"

A sudden gust of wind blew several strands of black hair into Hermione's face causing her to recoil in disgust. She tried to forget that she was currently trapped in Bellatrix Lestrange's body, but somehow she kept being forcibly reminded of it.

"Ron, could you please stop looking at me like that!" she muttered, crossly.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm a rotten piece of meat with fleas on it."

"Well, in all fairness you do look pretty revolting," Harry offered.

She groaned. "Let's just get this over with. I don't know if I can stand one more minute in her body."

But Hermione's desire was fulfilled all too soon. As she stood in the depths of Gringotts, sopping wet and spluttering for air, she immediately noticed Harry's face contort into horror.

"The Thief's Downfall!" said Griphook, clambering to his feet. "It washes away all enchantment, all magical concealment! They know there are impostors in Gringotts, they have set off defences against us!"

Hermione instantly looked over at Ron who was once again red-haired and beardless. She lifted a hand up to her face, and sure enough, she was back in her own body again, as well.

Why do things never go as planned? her mind practically screamed.

Her heart was pounding furiously in her chest as she heard the sound of voices approaching behind the waterfall.

"Protego!" she cried, breaking the flow of the enchanted water as it flew up the passageway.

"Good thinking," came Harry's voice behind her. "Lead the way Griphook!"

And on they clambered through the dark, dank tunnels until at last they turned the corner that led to deepest vaults of Gringotts. And as they stood in front of the Lestrange's open vault, Hermione couldn't help but stand stunned for a moment.

Never in her life had she seen so much gold and silver compacted into this small of a vicinity. It nearly hurt her eyes to look at it. How in Merlin's name were they supposed to find the Cup among all this?

"Search, fast!" came Harry's voice, shaking her out of her stupor.

She shook her head and quickly began her search. It had only been a few minutes when she spotted a jewelled goblet on a shelf nearby, causing her heart to skip a beat.

"Harry, could this be—? Aargh!"

She instantly screamed as a searing, hot pain met her fingers. The goblet tumbled from her grip and fell to the ground, and to her shock multiplied into several identical goblets, rolling in every direction.

"It burned me!" she exclaimed.

"Everything you touch will burn and multiply, but the copies are worthless," said Griphook. "And if you continue to handle the treasure, you will eventually be crushed to death by the weight of expanding gold!"

Harry, Ron and Hermione all stared at each for a moment.

"Okay, don't touch anything!" shouted Harry, desperately.

But even as he said it, Ron accidentally nudged one of the fallen goblets with his foot, and twenty more exploded into being.

The entire mission was beginning to feel slightly impossible as more and more pieces of metal filled the already cramped room, burning each of them in different spots every time.

The temperature of the room as a whole seemed to be steadily increasing as well, and Hermione was finding it harder and harder to breathe in fulfilling breaths. She didn't even want to think about what would meet them when they left the vault or how in the world they were going to escape.

"It's there, it's up there!" Harry shouted, suddenly.

"And how the hell are we going to get up there without touching anything?" asked Ron.

Harry appeared at a loss and turned to look hopelessly at Hermione, as if begging for her to provide the answer.

She bit her lip. Her pulse was beating madly in her ears and she felt her stomach clench uncomfortably with fear, but she tried her best to ignore it all.

Think, think, think!

"Hermione," said Harry desperately, as the clanking grew louder, "I've got to get up there, we've got to get rid of it!"

Get up there, get up there...

Of course!

She raised her wand, pointed it at Harry, and whispered, "Levicorpus."

Hoisted into the air by his ankle, Harry immediately thrust the sword in his hands through the handle of Hufflepuff's cup, hooking it onto the blade.

But in the process of doing so, he hit a suit of armour, causing the replicas to burst out like white-hot bodies, filling the already cramped space. Now every time Harry, Ron, and Hermione came into contact with something, the new burn seemed to scald their bodies even more.

Then all at once, the entrance of the vault opened and Hermione felt herself sliding uncontrollably on an expanding avalanche of fiery gold and silver that bore her, Harry, and Ron into the outer chamber.

"This way!" Harry yelled, sprinting toward the blind dragon.

"Harry—Harry—what are you doing?" she cried, genuinely wondering if he'd gone mad.

"Get up, climb up, come on!"

Hermione stared helplessly around the open chamber, but there was simply no other way out.

Swallowing hard and feeling like her heart was about to leap into her throat, she hoisted herself up behind Harry on the dragon's back with Ron clambering up behind her.

And just like that, the dragon burst through the ceiling of Gringotts, staggered into Diagon Alley and launched itself into the sky.

It all happened so fast.

One minute they were on a dragon's back, the next they were heading to Hogsmeade. And now...now they were in Hogwarts.

And as Neville pushed open the door at the end of the unfamiliar tunnel, a block of sound instantly met their ears.

"Look who it is! Didn't I tell you?"

"HARRY!"

"It's Potter, it's POTTER!"

"Ron! Hermione!"

Before she could even take one step, Hermione was engulfed, hugged, pounded on the back, her hair was ruffled, her hand was being shaken. She tried to look for Harry and Ron among the crowd, but they two were facing similar fates.

It was quite overwhelming to say the least, and for a moment she wanted very much just return back to the quiet tunnel where they'd come from. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd been in a room with this many people. And while she was more than thrilled to see everyone, it was taking her a bit longer than expected to adjust to it all.

Slowly, however, a warm sort of bubble seemed to be expanding within her. It felt like centuries since she'd last seen these people. Her classmates...her friends. And it wasn't until this moment that Hermione realized just how much her heart had been aching for them.

Their voices, their touch, their joy filled her with a newfound hope. They weren't alone anymore.

"They can help," she heard Ron say quietly to her left. "We don't know where it is. We've got to find it fast. We don't have to tell them it's a Horcrux."

Harry was looking between her and Ron uncertainly.

"I think Ron's right," she stated. "We don't even know what we're looking for, we need them."

But he still appeared unconvinced.

Hermione looked him straight in the eyes, her hand resting on his arm. "You don't have to do everything alone, Harry."

Harry visibly swallowed, turning his head to stare at the expectant faces before him.

"All right," he said quietly.

She squeezed his arm gently, before letting go.

"Okay," he called to the room at large, and all noise ceased. "There's something we need to find."

She watched in silent wonder as Harry commanded the attention of every single person in the room. He could have told them to do anything, and they would have given their entire lives. Because they trusted him and believed in him.

Hermione wasn't quite sure when it happened. When he changed from a boy to a man. But somewhere along the way he did. And it never ceased to amaze her.

Looking up at him then, she couldn't help the gentle smile that seemed to form on her lips. But at that moment, she also felt a strange sort of tingling sensation on the back of her neck as if someone was watching her.

Turning her head slightly to the side, her eyes instantly locked with Luna's. There was a small grin plastered on her face. And just before shifting her gaze away, she did something Hermione had never seen her do before: she winked at her.

A/N: Like always, I'm terribly sorry for the long wait :( I hope you guys can still be patient with me! Especially since we're very close to the end of this whole Phase One ordeal. There's going to be one more chapter of Book 7 and then it's my free reign from there so yay! That should be exciting! I really really hope you guys liked this chapter, it took obnoxiously long to write so it better be worth it. As always, thank you so very much for reading, have an awesome day!