Hermione

Mudblood

There it was right there in angry, grotesque, raised scarring. It has been a week since the terrifying encounter at Malfoy Manor and it was hard to keep my focus on much else for longer than an hour. Whenever I tried to help Harry and Ron coordinate the next step I found myself regressing more and more into my head and becoming painfully aware of the markings. Eventually, I would just be stuck staring into space looking absolutely mortified. I was no help and they eventually stopped including me.

I just can't get out of my head. I want to shed my skin and start over again. It was hard to rationalize why it was necessary. We were captured insects waiting for the vicious spider of course for appearance sake it was necessary. Honestly, I got off extremely easy. If things had gone the way I'm sure Bellatrix had planned I would be a lot worse for wear with a lot more than just a psychologically damaging scar. This is the woman who tortured the Longbottom's to insanity so she had a bit of a standard of practice to live up to.

Of course, I'm unequivocally grateful that Dobby showed up precisely when he did. This was the second time the free elf's loyalty to Harry had given us the upper hand. I personally dubbed him our very own Dues Ex Machina. There was barely any time to mourn. I already miss him.

Again, I found myself feeling the jagged lettering as I seemed to do most of the time now. I wondered why the dark witch chose this particular scar first. Of course, I have more than enough less cohesive scars to show for the encounter, but this was the single most defining one. Did she come up with the idea on the spot? Or was this an idea that played in her mind more than a few times before? The thought was disturbing. Even more disturbing is my ability to seemingly forget all the evil this woman is capable of in favor of falling victim to her twisted charm and nefarious way of functioning. She has killed and tortured many. This mark was absolutely in her capabilities.

Just then Harry enters the tent. I must have looked an absolute sight to him. Staring, unseeing, at the sleeve that was hiding the grotesque mark on my forearm. He came silently and sat at the opposite end of the four poster.

"Ron has first watch tonight." He stated simply. It wasn't necessary. I barely looked at him in response. "Hermione, you've barely said anything since we escaped. I'm worried about you." He kept his voice quiet and level.

Sighing, I knew there was no easy way out of this. "It's been a lot to think about. I've been marked in a way that will make it plain for all to see what I am. To make things worse it was done by someone who is our ally. Forgive me for needing a bit more time to process it all."

He was silent for a moment, his face washed in derision. "Why do you call her that? She is no ally the events of that night should have made it clear. She's a traitor and she's absolutely mad. You have to stop this unhealthy obsession with her! There is no good in that woman. Never was."

He called himself being sensible. There was no possible way Bellatrix Black would ever leave the Dark Lord's side. She is his most loyal servant and proudly so. This was all just an elaborate rouse of some kind. I, however, saw something different. He found himself in much the same situation not too long ago.

"Harry, do you not see the similarities here?" He stared in confusion so I elaborated. "When you found out about Sirius you had one thing on your mind at any given moment. You were utterly obsessed and when you found that he was innocent you defended him. You were ready to go to the Minister himself."

"That's different." He interjected. "Sirius was innocent. Let's not forget that he would still be here if that madwoman hadn't murdered him!" His face grew red with anger.

I was taken aback by the outburst. Clearly, he didn't mean to get that emotional. "Don't you think I know that?" I couldn't make the words any more than a whisper. "Don't you think I considered all of this as I lay on the floor being carved up like a ham? Or being held with a knife at my throat? Or when I was getting this filth carved into my arm! It didn't physically hurt, but I am trying to deal with the consequences of having faith in a madwoman! I can't explain it and I don't know why I'm fighting you on this so hard, but I have faith that something good will come out of this." Tears were threatening to fall, but I refused to let them. It seemed inappropriate. I wasn't fighting on behalf of a disgraced friend or a spurned lover. I was defending a stranger, a criminal at that. Even as the months dragged on I forgot that everyone else, especially Harry, didn't have this bizarre need to give Bellatrix a chance beyond helping us win the war. I was the only one that strangely didn't want to see the witch crucified and burned. But, these were strange days. My parents had no clue they ever had a daughter. The wizarding community was in absolute chaos. We were hunting for pieces of a man's soul. Anything seemed possible. "I didn't mean to upset you, but you didn't know a single thing about Sirius until you came face-to-face with him and found out the truth. I just mean that there are two sides to every story and we only know one side of Bellatrix'."

"Would you be saying the same thing if it were Him who had shown up that night?" Harry asks sullenly.

"Perhaps. It would be dependent on the circumstance. I believe anyone is capable of change; some for better and some for worse. Of course, I'm always wary and cautious, but everyone deserves the opportunity." It sounded delusional even to me. The atrocities were impossible to ignore, yet here I sat once again defending a woman that lacked a single redeeming quality. To someone who has just recently been on the receiving end of her malice. The only way to make this situation any worse would be to replace Harry with Neville.

"It's just hard to believe. Why after everything she's done? Does she want leniency? Why, of all people, does she deserve a new life?" His voice is steely but this was a start. Him asking these kinds of questions, even if they were saturated in bitterness, meant that he was thinking about the possibility.

"We'll need to win this war to find out."

Bellatrix

Hogwarts.

The final battleground.

How I dreamed of this night.

We were silently aware that Hogwarts would be the last stand. The Ministry was our front, but Hogwarts was where we built our stronghold. The Dark Lord knew that Harry would eventually find his way back, unable to stay away from the place that was his home for so many years and unable to leave his friends behind to suffer in his stead. He did not expect it to take this long, but once he knew for certain what they were doing, what they were hunting, he knew this was where he needed to be.

He was not happy. Make no mistake, as the days stretched into weeks and the weeks morphed into months The Dark Lords temper worsened. As he felt each Horcrux die his torture methods grew more gruesome in turn. His perfect plan was falling apart and he could do little to stop it.

The disaster at Malfoy Manor only made him worse. Everyone felt the strength and fire of his wrath, but I bore the brunt. I let him down the most. I was expected to fill his robes in his absence and I failed him. I regretted it as he took out his anger on me. Wished I had just forgotten this delusion and complied as always, but I hadn't and everything seemed to fall apart the moment I decided to disobey. It felt like a curse. To be quite frank, if it weren't for that damned house elf I'm not sure if I could have gotten them all out alive with the plan I had lined up. Not without giving myself up and taking a few imbeciles out along the way.

The Dark Lord showed no mercy that night. It would have been merciful to finish me off. No, The Dark Lord hit me with everything he could imagine and some things that had yet to be named. It was agonizing and more creative than anything I could have done to the Longbottom's in my worst state. He pushed me to the very edge of my breaking point time and time again. There was no clear line between the spells, the damage more like a stream of consciousness. Starting with the nerve-rattling pain of the Cruciatus Curse then my veins were pushing fire and needles instead of blood and magic making me scream until my throat was raw and my head woozy with the lack of oxygen. My skin burning morphed into a bombardment of spells that knocked me off my feet leaving me bloody and battered. It worsened from there and by the time he was done I was a bloody nearly unrecognizable mess. I don't remember how I found Narcissa, but I'm thankful that I did. Thankful that she took to healing when The Dark Lord settled in her home. She hasn't stopped staring at me with those haunted eyes ever since. Unable to see anything other than the dying monster she saw then. That was far from the first time I had been on the receiving end of The Dark Lord's wrath, but the memory has stuck with me the most. I could only compare it to my time in Azkaban. The memories of what I sustained there were forevermore a part of me and were one of the many flames under my hindquarters that kept me moving forward with this insane plan.

The icy voice of The Dark Lord roaming over the grounds brought me back to the present. He was calling them out now. This was the moment. This was the last chance. After tonight I would either die, my secrets dying with me, or everything would change by the morning. Either way, my heart was pounding away in my chest ready to take flight if it weren't trapped in its cage. I already knew my plan of attack. Go in raging and take out as many deadly threats tp the others as I can without being too obvious. It sounded easy enough, but it would be chaos down on the ground. Who knows what will happen or who will find out what I've done.

However, before the chaos started there was someone I needed to speak with first. Breaking away from The Dark Lord's side I pushed my way off to the side where the trees were casting dark shadows. It didn't matter, her porclean skin stood out against the black.

"Bella." Narcissa was waiting fretfully, away from the sickening fanaticism. Her eyes kept flitting nervously to something just over my shoulder. I turned to see Draco standing tall and proud, however the spark was missing from his eye and the smirk from his lips. Just a boy doing what he was told, not at all ready for the consequences.

"I'll try my best to keep him safe. You know I will."

"And who will watch over you!" The reply was barely contained to a whisper. Not that it mattered, most others were focused on the school and going over plans of attack.

Turning away from the others I faced Narcissa so only we could see each other. "This is my last stand, Cissy. I either die here or become undesirable number one by morning light. This is my only chance to do something right! I'm trying to take back my freedom, but there are too many stakes. I've played all my cards, now I wait."

"Everyone on that ground wants you dead. Am I not supposed to worry? Draco is a boy with few allies, but you…" She let it hang, it did not need to be said.

"I expect you to worry thrice as much as you normally do, but not many down there can match me for power or skill. I'll be alright and if I'm not, well that's the end of this business." I'm resigned to this fate. There was no turning back now. Now, all that was left was to jump head first.

Things were steady. If you can call being in the middle of a battleground with spells meaning to maim or kill flying by your head every second steady. I don't know how we found ourselves locked like this, but I suppose it was going to happen eventually. I'd been picking off my supposed dark allies with a few discrete and well placed spells. Nothing too drastic, just enough to take them out of the fight and be rounded up by the others. There was no set pattern to my method I just sent spells where I saw fit, moving almost semlessly through the massacre. Somehow, by some act of chance, I roundabout gearing up to throw one nasty stunner only to come face-to-face with my niece Nymphadora with her little pup in tow. They block what was meant to be a merciful relief from this nightmare with ease. Realization of who we were meant to be dueling hit us simultaneously. I would not make the first move. Although the wolf hadn't been hostile with me as our meetings grew more frequent, he'd been amicable even, my niece was still slow to trust. What is to be expected of any Black, especially with these circumstances.

I was trapped. I could not run for fear of exposure as neither side was making any headway. If I dueled then they or even other members of the Order might happen upon the scene and get the wrong impression. Surely, standing here dumbstruck would be just as suspicious.

Perhaps it was a vote of confidence, a gut feeling, or maybe he could read the fear in my eyes. For whatever reason, the wolf, Lupin, was the first to cast with only the slightest nod of acknowledgment as a warning. It was nothing serious, easily reflected, but it was enough. Tonks picking up on her lover's play joined in shortly after. I figured I would keep them occupied for a few moments before apparating to another part of the school. Just enough to make the struggle seem real. That plan burned to ashes as a familiar figure appeared in smoke beside me.

There wasn't enough time to process it all, to react.

"Lestrange!" Dolohov's voice cut through the air as a ray of green light left his wand. There was no scream. No last shout of awe as the witch was struck by surprise. Just the dwindling of light as it left her eyes as she collapsed.

I stared in disbelief as Lupin did the same. Dropping to his knees in silence as he clutched his wife's limp hand. Time seemed to slow. The deep mournful sobs raking his body morphing into a primal scream of rage. Still cluthing her hand he pointed his wand at Dolohov every ounce of his contempt and unbridalled rage at the tip. Before he even had a chance to utter a word Dolohov had pulled his card. The unforgivable hit him squarely in the chest. The anger instantly melting into disbelief. The same empty gaze as his wife entering his eyes as he collapsed next to her, hand-in-hand.

This was not how it was meant to go. No one was meant to die, she was supposed to keep them all safe. Every one of them. To prove to the Ministry that I could be relied upon, and to prove to myself that it wasn't too late to change things. That death and destruction didn't follow me like a shadow. But this…They were barely wed with an infant son waiting for them to return. I approached them warily, unsure if this was real or some elaborate hoax at my expense. Not ready to believe what I already knew.

Nymphadora lay flat with her head toward her companion. The last sign of her life leaving as her hair, once vibrant and lively like the witch I neglected to know for so long, returned to its natural black. In the end she was the spitting image of Andromeda. Andromeda, who would never see her daughter again. Andromeda who would be waiting for her daughter to come bouncing through the door even after the Aurors informed her of the news. Who would never see her son-in-law again. Poor Lupin. Who held his wife even in death, unseeing eyes alight with a longing smile as they settled on the mother of his child.

This could not be.

"Hey! Lestrange!" I'd forgotten Dolohov was even there as I mourned for family I did not know.

"My husband is dead." It was cold and disconnected, but he wouldn't know the difference. Just take it as more mad ramblings. What else was I to say to him? Leave me a moment to mourn. That was too personal and Dolohov was a rat. He'd have me captured within the hour I believe.

"Like you'll ever marry again. Oh and a thank you would be nice for the man who helps you out by dropping two Aurors." Was the snide reply.

"Look around you idiot. Aurors are dropping everywhere. Taking two by surprise is no feat." I levelled, pushing pass him.

"Push off! What the hell has gotten into you?" His self-righteous indignation was showing in his demeanor. Turning on the spot I did not speak as I placed my wand directly between his eyes and the last thing he saw was a flash of green.

I did not linger to see who saw the encounter deciding instead to try and uphold a promise I made to someone. It seemed that the more desperately I wanted to find Draco to ensure that he was still alive and breathing, the more blonde students seemed to streak across my peripheral. Never the one I wanted. I was on autopilot, deflecting and sending spells as I searched for the tall boy who wanted to be a man and never catching sight of him. Fear began to nibble at my neck. What if I was too late? Draco was lying dead somewhere and I failed to protect him. Failed to protect again.

"Hey!" The scream pulled me from my search. It was the Girl Weasel.

"What do you want Weasel?" I asked, my limbs were antsy with the need to keep moving, to keep searching.

"I saw you. I saw what you did to them. You and that Dolohov killed Lupin and Tonks!" She was altogether red and absolutely enraged. I did not have time for this. I couldn't explain that she had it all wrong, not when Draco was still unaccounted for.

"No. I did not kill them. I need to find Draco." It wasn't enough to detere her.

"Bullshit!" She threw a hex that I deflected with ease. The duel was unavoidable.

I did not want to fight. This was pointless, there were people wanting to do harm and kill and I was stuck with the child who got everything wrong. I let her work out her anger, deflecting everything she threw without breaking a sweat, but it was clear she had remarkable stamina. A side effect of war most likely. I felt the anxiety and fear rising in me, threatening to overflow.

"I need to go!" I pushed her hex back with surprising force, knocking the witch off balance. I raised my wand again preparing to push her back so that I could escape when another awfully red figure appeared in front of her. Mama Weasel.

"Not my daughter you bitch!" With a twist of her wand and surprising speed the matriarch sent something nasty my way which I deflected at the last second.

"She killed Tonks and Lupin, mum. She has to pay." The lie was unintentional, but it still stung. I was angry. Angry that she did not know the entire story, angry at Molly for being such an adept duelist and keeping her longer from her search, and angry at Dolohov for killing them in the first place.

I let the anger flow through my wand with each spell. Coating my words with conviction. "I. Did. Not. Kill. Them." Each spell knocked the witch back a few feet, but she remained standing. "If you had been there, if you had seen you would know. Dolohov killed them, and I killed him in return."

Both witches slowly lowered their wands, staring at me in uneasy disbelief.

"If you'd spied long enough you would have seen three murders, not just two." My voice was steel and coated with annoyance.

"I-I saw you dueling and I just…Why were you dueling then?" The Girl Weasel asked.

"To keep them occupied. Dolohov was unexpected." I didn't want to relive the memories still fresh in my mind.

We stared. It was maddening as time ticked by. They couldn't decide whether to trust me an I was beginning to think that I didn't want it either way when an explosion and the screams of young ones ran out. They both glanced behind me where the commotion came from. Torn between helping or staying trapped in this stalemate. Eventually their conscience won out and with only a passing glance they were off down the corridor.

"Wait!" I called after the young red-head. She turned, curious. "Draco?" I was desperate and it was obvious.

"I saw him going up the stairs with Crabe and Goyle. I think he's following Harry." Was the direct response before she took off again.

Relief washed over me. If he was with Harry he was safe. Harry would never kill. Hardening my resolve I refocused my efforts. Vowing that no other incidents like Dolohov's would happen while she stood.

He came. The foolish boy actually came. Alone and outnumbered, he came.

The Dark Lord called for a temporary retreat and ceasefire. Both sides tended to their wounded or dead. Narcissa busied herself with healing in order to keep her mind off Draco's absence. I felt guilty. He should be here, I should not have assumed. I should have gone after him and made sure he returned to his mother. Now I can only make hallow platitudes and hope that he was alive.

The camp grew quiet as he emerged from the trees, utterly at peace it would seem. Ready to embrace his fate. We watched and listened as the Dark Lord won his longest battle and final beat The Boy Who Lived. There was stillness when he fell. None of us believed it. No battle, no trick, no spell to keep him safe. It didn't seem real. It was almost anticlimactic.

"Ms. Malfoy." The raspy voice of the Dark Lord was loud in the silence. He motioned toward where the boy lay motionless on the ground. "If you would."

She stared at him for a moment in shock. She had not meant to be close with him afterward. He was just a boy after all. A boy so much like her son whom she could not account for. Lucious gave an impatient push with his cane and with a respectful tilt of the head she slowly crossed the field to him. She bent over him, checking closely for vital signs, I assume because she still could not believe that he was dead either. Her face was turned away from us as we waited and when she finally stood she nodded.

"He is dead."

A raucous uproar sounding around me, but I only noticed the look in my sister's eye as she locked with mine. She held my gaze longer than necessary to make sure that I knew. That I picked up on the deceit. A finger pointed down at the boy and she shook her head almost imperceptibly. Everyone else was too caught up in their celebration, but I read the signs she was sending me. Harry Potter was not dead. The Boy Who Lived simply would not die.

Hermione

I was the first to see the body hanging limply in Hagrid's hands. The early morning light glinting off his glasses as his head jostled against the half-giant's chest. I'd never seen Hagrid cry so heavily. Yes, for Griphook he mourned and Harry told me what he was like after Aragog, but this was the first time I saw him truly weep.

Hot tears ran down my face. I could not believe it. My stomach fell to the ground and my body with it. Ron saddled up beside me, a protective arm wrapped around my back as I cried for my fallen brother. We failed. We failed to kill the snake and end this Horcrux business and we failed to stop Voldemort.

Voldemort stepped forward, his face taunting. "You see? He is dead. Your great hero is no more! It is time to end this fighting between magical beings such as we. It is time to choose a side. Those who would join me may do so now, with no consequences. Those who choose to defy me, will pay the cost."

No one moved, not even dared to say a word. All ready to die for the same cause Harry gave his life for. Not seeing a better option. That is until Draco pushes pass, limping, bloodied, and covered in soot. That was expected, in fact I'm surprised he was hesitant at all. I watched as he fell into his mother's embrace, a sense of longing tearing away at my insides. I would never see my parents again. At least they would be safe, living a long happy life without ever knowing they had a magical daughter. So many lives were affected and lost by this war in other ways than death.

As I watched, I got the feeling of being watched. It didn't take long to find the reason. A certain madwoman was staring intensly at me, the slightest nod the only indication that, yes, she did intend to get my attention. She did something peculiar. Very softly, almost as if she didn't want anyone to suspect what she was doing, she tapped the tip of her nose twice and then slowly pointed to Harry's body which still lay dead in Hagrid's arms. I didn't understand. It was a signal of some kind, but what did it mean? Was she taunting me? Teasing me for foolishly believing that she came to us wanting to do good. Taunting me for trusting her as my best friend lay dead. I stared back confused and only slightly hurt. Her gaze intensified and she repeated the action, this time more deliberate.

My mind was racing with the possibilities, coming to the conclusion that I was indeed the butt of her joke once again. However, Draco, who was previously hiding in the safety of his mother's bossom, suddenly turned to stare at Harry's body in wild disbelief. He seemed unable to control his reaction as his mother tried to pull him away. I stared once more at the body wanting so desperately to see what they saw. I looked back to Draco only to find that he and his mother had now joined Bella in staring at me, only sending urgent glances to Harry. Then it hit me. What an absurd notion. Where they trying to tell me that he was not dead? It was hard to believe as I saw his body so lifeless. As I watched Hagrid fall to pieces over him.

The scraping of metal on stone brought me back to harsh reality. Harry was dead. There was no use trying to come up with some contingency. The proof was right before my eyes.

Neville limped forward, dragging the Sword of Gryffindor behind him. His face was covered in blood and it was clear that he was still bleeding elsewhere on his body. I listened to him make his stand. If only the scared boy from first year could see the young man he was now. A true Gryffindor. He was so sure of himself and his confidence was infectious. Needless to say he surprised us all, including the laughing Death Eaters, when he beheaded Voldemort's beloved Nagini. His moment was short-lived however as Harry jumped from Hagrid's arms, the half-giant staring at the boy in watery shock. We were all shocked, The Boy Who Lived becoming The Boy Who Rose.

My heart wanted to leap from my chest. It was only Ron who kept me from running and wrapping Harry in a crushing hug. The war was still going. We still had a chance.

Neither side moved as Harry and Voldemort seized each other up, bickering, trying to draw the other to attack first. There was an audible gasp as Harry suddenly rushed Voldemort, the two wizards apparating from the side of the bridge. When they vanished there was a moment of bewilderment. Both sides staring at each other, unsure if they were to continue fighting now as well. Ultimately, an unknown Death Eater fired the first spell and the school was alight with magic once again.