DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but this twisted so-called "plot".
Some of the dialogue here has been borrowed from DH.

.

There they were, Hermione and Ron, staring at the snake-engraved sink tap that was the key to the Chamber of Secrets; tense, anxious, frightened, exhilarated... And Moaning Myrtle descended on them.
"Oh look! It's Ginger and the kitty-cat!"
"Not now, Myrtle!" Hermione snapped, while Ron made another series of hissing sounds at the tap.
"You're always so rude," she wailed, "Where's Harry?"
Ron's fifth attempt at Parseltongue fell flat.
"The last time I saw him, he hurt poor Draco so badly. They were fighting over me..."
Ron hissed. Hermione told Myrtle to shut up.
"Angry little pussy, aren't you? You think you're better than lonely, miserable Myrtle... but I don't see any boys fighting over you..."

The squat and sullen spectre fell silent as a low rumbling sound pervaded the air. The sink began to rotate and disappear into the ground.
"You did it, Ron!" Hermione gasped.
"Bloody hell. I did, didn't I?" he said with that quintessentially Ron look of gobsmackedness, "Um, alright then," he continued as he peered down the narrow tunnel that had revealed itself, "Geronimo!"

xxx

The Chamber was long and filled with snake-engravings. Every last surface was covered. A bit much, Hermione thought. Yes, Salazar, you like snakes. Got it.
At the far end was an enormous statue of the man himself, all bearded and stern, like an ancient sculpture of Poseidon. A diffused and faintly green mist filled the space, and twisting, turning, coiling all over the stone floor was the skeleton of a colossal serpent.
"Look at the size of that thing," Ron breathed.
"The Great Wall of China," Hermione blurted with mindless awe. Harry had taken this monster on all by himself. At twelve. Jesus.

They walked around the chamber, searching for the creature's head...
"Here!" Ron called from between two (snake-covered) pillars. Hermione rushed over and baulked at the sight of the massive skull with spiky, yellowed, scythe-like teeth. She stepped forward, and a couple of severing charms later, there was a small pile of Basilisk fangs before her. She swallowed, delved into her bag, and took out Hufflepuff's golden cup.
"Here," she whispered quiveringly, holding it out to Ron.
His hand half-lifted... but then dithered and dropped back to his side. "No," he stated with a shake of his head, "You do it."
"Me?" she squeaked, startled, "Why?"
"You haven't had the pleasure yet," Ron shrugged, "It's only fair that you get a go."
Right.
Like they were in a playground, and he was offering her a turn on the swings.
"Okay."

Kneeling on the damp, slimy ground, with the cup placed in front of her and a fang in hand, Hermione found herself unable to move.
"Go on," Ron murmured encouragingly, crouching down next to her, "Just do it."
Just do it. She was hit with a paralyzing, primal fear that seemed to be emanating right out of the cup. Just do it. Just –

She raised the fang high above her head and, eyes fixed on the Horcrux, took a deep breath and struck. There was a deafening, awful screech – and it wasn't that of metal being pierced. It was human, but only in the loosest sense of the word. From within the small gash her strike had made, a wisp of black smoke seeped out, and within seconds it got larger and sturdier till it towered over her, a solid, vaguely anthropomorphic form.
"The Brightest Witch of her age," the... thing... the behemoth... the golem... spoke in a chorus which was a culmination of so many voices she recognised, "Hermione Granger. What a tragic waste."
She stared up at the mountainous figure feeling all the various voices tug at different heartstrings.
"Brightest Witch... so much talent... such potential... that determination to prove yourself... all squandered to be the doomed sidekick of a reckless martyr."
"HERMIONE!" Ron shouted, "STAB IT AGAIN!"
"Such a brilliant mind... such promising abilities... I can show you how to harness them... I can teach you everything..."
Everything?
"You will be unstoppable... all those arcane secrets about magic that you wonder about will be yours to hone..."
Ron put his hands on both her shoulders and shook her. Hard.
She gasped. Lifting the fang up again, she brought it down on the cup with twice the force; a feral grunt – almost a roar – tore out of her throat. The monstrous apparition exploded into billions of feathery particles, and a painful scream echoed around the chamber.

The contrasting silence of the seconds that followed was breathtaking, and in a rare instance of synchrony, Hermione and Ron let it linger.

"Well," she panted after a while, "Just two more to go."
"Yeah."
"Did it..." she faltered, "Did it try to... distract... you as well? When you, um..."
Ron laughed nervously, and his entire face turned red. "Oh, you have no idea. It was worse. Much worse."
"...What –"
"We should go," he said hurriedly, "Hopefully Harry's had some luck with the diadem."
"Yes. All right."

Her legs were shaking as she stood up, and Ron and she picked up a good dozen of the Basilisk's fangs between them and shoved them into her bag. But as they were exiting the chamber and walking into the tunnel that would lead them out, a high, steely voice cut into the gloom. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, from all around and within her head.
"I know you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood. Give me Harry Potter. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you shall be rewarded. You have until midnight."

Hermione and Ron shared one horror-stricken and distressed look, before he swiftly mounted the broom he'd been carrying, and she hopped on behind him, and they took off.

They ran from corridor to corridor, passing clusters of students ready to fight, suits of armour springing off their stands... from the windows they could see threads of white-blue enchantments swirl around the grounds. The entire foundation of the castle seemed to be trembling with magic and exhilaration.

"Hermione, Ron!" Dean called from beside a courtyard archway where he stood with Justin Finch-Fletchley, Parvati, and Alicia Spinnet.
"Have you seen Harry?" Ron asked.
"At the Great Hall about half an hour back... what –?"

They shot off without waiting for him to finish.

They scuttled down one passageway... two... and at the third, someone skidded around the corner and stumbled right into their path. Harry's frenzied green eyes widened and he bellowed, "Where the hell have you been?"

On the seventh floor, Hermione, Harry, and Ron encountered Ginny and Tonks staring out of a shattered window, watching Grawp stomp around on the grounds, growling threateningly into the night.

"Let's hope he steps on some of them!" Ron said boisterously.
"As long as it's not any of our lot," Ginny whispered and aimed a jinx into a throng of Death Eaters below.
"Good girl!" hollered Aberforth, suddenly appearing through a cloud of dust. He had a small army of students behind him. "They look like they might be breaching the north battlements; they've brought giants of their own."
As he continued to charge down the corridor, Tonks yelled after him, "Have you seen Remus?"
"He was duelling Dolohov – haven't seen him since!"
"Tonks, I'm sure he's okay –" Ginny began, but Tonks wasted no time in running off after Aberforth.

Running a hand through his hair, Harry mumbled, "They'll be all right," not sounding confident in the least. "Ginny," he went on, "We'll be back in a moment. Keep out of the way, keep safe..."

Just as they got to the wall beyond which the Room of Requirement lay, Ron exclaimed, "Hang on a moment! We've forgotten someone!"
"Who?" Hermione asked.
"The house-elves, they'll all be down in the kitchen, won't they?"
"You mean we ought to get them fighting?" asked Harry blankly.
Ron gravely shook his head, "I mean we should tell them to get out. We don't want any more Dobby's, do we? We can't order them to die for us –"
"SERIOUSLY?!" Hermione burst out, gawking at him, "Now? NOW? You choose now to have your lovely, endearing moment of enlightenment?"
"Er – What."
"I mean... now? There isn't time for me to feel proud, or amazed, or vindicated, or –"
"It's now or never, innit?" Ron grinned widely, glowingly, "Imagine if I had died an unenlightened oppressor –"
"Excuse me," Harry cut in dryly, "But could you save the banter for after the war?"
"Yeah – right – sorry –" Ron muttered.

Harry had to pace in front of the wall five-and-a-half times before a door appeared. They entered, it shut behind them, and it was like they had entered a different world.
All the crashing and booming of the battle outside disappeared. They stood in absolute quiet in the middle of a massive, post-apocalyptic landfill... A madman's curiosity shop... Salvador Dali's brain. Towers of random objects sprawled across the cavernous room, some touching the high ceiling.
"This way," Harry said softly, as though too much volume could cause damage, "I think it's down here..."
For a while, they wandered aimlessly among the heaps, centuries' worth of rubbish piled up and abandoned... Harry really didn't seem to have a clue about where he was leading them.
"Accio Diadem!" Hermione murmured, but nothing happened.
"Let's split up," Harry suggested, "Look for a stone bust of an old man wearing a wig and a tiara. It's standing on a cupboard and it's definitely somewhere around here..."

So they each veered off in different directions. Hermione peered closely through all the junk – the trumpery and the frippery, the bits and bobs, and this and that...
Sometimes, she'd get so close to being sidetracked. She saw a beautiful bronze astrolabe with Persian inscriptions... jars full of glowing liquids... so many books... a tall, inornate cabinet made of dark wood...
She stopped dead as she stared at that last item. Was this, perhaps, the infamous vanishing cabinet that Malfoy had spent nearly a year mending? Was this innocuous looking object the very thing that had marked the beginning of the nightmare they were stuck in?
Move on, Hermione.
She took a turn to the left and circled around a tower of old wooden chairs. She saw bottles, vases, satchels, figurines... but no bust, no diadem.

By and by, as she neared what looked like a large stuffed river troll, Hermione heard voices. One was Harry and the other –
"...gonna be rewarded," Vincent Crabbe purred gleefully, "We 'ung back, Potter. We decided not to go. Decided to bring you to 'im."
"Good plan," Harry commended sarcastically, "So how did you get in here?"
She could tell he was trying to keep Crabbe distracted. Gingerly, she peeked from behind the troll's thick arm, and saw that it wasn't just Crabbe; evidently Twiddledum and Twiddledee could never be separated.
"We was hiding in the corridor outside," Goyle said in his gravelly voice while looking supremely pleased with himself, "We can do Diss-lusion Charms now! And then you turned up right in front of us and said you was looking for a die-dum! The fuck's a die-dum?"
"Harry? Are you talking to someone?"
Hermione swore under her breath. And Crabbe, showing surprising agility, pointed his wand at a looming hill of furniture and trunks, and yelled, "Descendo!"
One by one, things began to go crashing down around the region where Ron's voice had come from. Harry aimed a quick finite at the teetering pile, and restored its stability.

"Harry?" Ron called once more, still hidden behind the junk, "What's going on?"
"Harry?" Crabbe scowled and mimicked, "What's going on—no, Potter! Crucio!"
WHAT?!
She leapt out from behind the troll and sent a Stunning Spell straight towards Crabbe. From the corner of her eye, she saw Harry crash into the ground after a fearsome leap, and something small and glittering flew high up in the air and fell in the middle of the mess of recently fallen furniture.
"It's the Mudblood!" Crabbe roared, "Avada Kedavra!"
She dived to the side, winded, and barely had time to react when she heard Goyle growl, "Crucio!"

But the spell never hit her. Instead, Goyle's wand flew out of his hand and disappeared within the clutter beside him. Then, from the shadows between two towers, Malfoy emerged.
He walked slowly towards his former lackeys, (and as he passed Hermione he whispered ever so softly – "That's thrice now,") somehow managing to coerce his face into that grating old smirk of his.
"Draco?!" Goyle spluttered.
"Goyle," he nodded, "Crabbe. Leave."
"What the fuck d'you mean leave?" Crabbe thundered.
"I mean go away. Run along. Exit. See yourselves out."
Crabbe seethed. "NO."
"Listen, you idiot... you're in over your thick head here. Get out."
"I don't take your orders no more, Draco. You an' your dad are finished."
"Yeah," Goyle spat, "I know what you's doing. You want 'im to yourself. Want to take 'im to the Dark Lord and make up for all your cock ups."
"Oh, splendid deduction, Goyle," Malfoy drawled, "Really excellent stuff. You're such a genius."
"Fuck y–"

All of a sudden, Ron emerged from between the rubble, shouting "Petrificus Totalus!"
The spell just grazed past Crabbe, who spun around lividly to retaliate.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Ron jumped behind a cello case to dodge the curse. Crabbe and the wandless Goyle both charged after him.
"Shit," Malfoy growled, and followed...
Harry grabbed Hermione's arm and pointed at the heap before them, "It's somewhere here! The diadem! Look for it while I go and help R–"

A thunderous rumbling from behind had them spinning around... Ron, Malfoy, and Crabbe were sprinting towards them, followed by a desecrating row of blazing flames.
"Like it hot, motherfucker?" Crabbe boomed.
The fire was spreading inordinately fast... "Aguamenti!" both Hermione and Harry howled. All that emerged from their wands was vapour.
"RUN!" Malfoy screamed through a cough. Hermione and Harry loped along after him.

What followed was a haze. All Hermione knew was run run run run and FIRE. And it was no ordinary fire. From the way it was consuming and annihilating everything it touched, she recognised it to be Fiendfyre... and the only way to survive was to get as fucking far away from it as possible.
She scampered around like a headless chicken, shrieking as flames licked the air around her. Drenched in sweat, dizzy, terrified... every shallow breath brought with it the sickening chary smell of smoke and ash. Her hair tumbled out of its bun, and streaked out behind her as she ran. Shit, if the fire were to catch it! She threw an arm behind her head and pulled the lot over her shoulder; all the while running, running, running...

She hit a dead end. Before her was a wall, and around her was a ring of Fiendfyre. To her horror, she saw that only Ron was with her – they'd lost Harry, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle...
She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think; this was it, the end, and the end was a hissing, roaring, blazing orange.
"What can we do?" she screamed, "What can we do?"
Ron ran around in a circle, looking for a way out, but she knew it was hopeless... the inferno was closing in... The end...

"RON! HERMIONE!"
The call came from above, and she nearly melted at the sight of Harry and Malfoy hovering over them on brooms.
"HARRY! HARRY – HELP!"
They dived, splitting when a flare rose up to guzzle them. Harry flew straight to Ron, seizing his arm and –
"GRAB ON, GRANGER," Malfoy belted. She took his hand, he hauled her up, and then directed his broom straight up. Hermione bit back a wail of alarm, pressing herself tightly against Malfoy's back. Her arms locked around his waist, and as they rose higher and higher, she buried her face between his shoulder blades.
It was only when her axis had righted itself that she risked looking down. The burning sea stretched endlessly. Only small islands remained – the tips of the tallest piles. Everything else – historical treasure and debris alike – had been wiped out like it had never been.
"HARRY, LET'S GET OUT, LET'S GET OUT!" Ron shouted.
"MALFOY!" Harry called, "CAN YOU SEE THE DOOR?"
"NO!"

They flew around wildly, skimming close to the walls. The flames had begun taking shapes of savage beasts with yawning mouths, desperate to swallow them whole. Lions, dragons, crocodiles, snakes...
Fucking snakes.
She hated snakes. She was so sick of snakes. Fuck snakes.
"OVER THERE!" Harry roared, pointing. So it was, like the photo negative of the light at the end of a tunnel, a dark opening visible through a blazing archway.

But Malfoy wheeled around and shot off in the opposite direction.
"WHAT? What are you doing?" Hermione squealed, "What are you doing?"
"GOYLE," he yelled.
She craned her neck to look over Malfoy's shoulder, and saw Goyle balancing precariously on top of a crumbling pile of... something.
"GET ON!" Malfoy ordered the moment they were close enough, "HURRY UP!"
Goyle jumped on behind her, and the broom tipped backwards dangerously. Hermione screamed and once again pushed her face into Malfoy's back. Oh god they were going to slide right off and fall into the Fiendfyre and –– Malfoy lurched forward, taking her with him; the broom straightened.
"THE DOOR, GETTOIT, THE DOOR!" Goyle chanted frantically. Malfoy sped up, zooming through the thick smoke, through the fiery creatures, through the random objects being tossed around... until Harry and Ron were visible once more.
Then it was Harry's turn to abruptly spin his broom around and dive.
"WHERE ARE YOU GOING?" Malfoy cried.
"GO – GO – FOLLOW HIM," Hermione urged.
"FUCK'S SAKE... WHAT IS HE DOING?"
Harry... and Ron... were circling a fire-dragon, even as the beast tried to close its jaws around them. Then, swiftly, Harry dived again, and when he re-emerged, something charred but vaguely sparkly hung around his wrist. The diadem. Damn it, why hadn't she ever told him that Fiendfyre could destroy Horcruxes?

"LETS GO," he nodded, and shot toward the exit again. ("BLOODY HELL!" Ron exclaimed.)

Both Harry and Malfoy rolled into whatever the broom equivalent of sixth gear was. The hot air beating against her face scalded her eyes, so she squeezed them shut. Involuntarily, she fisted the front of Malfoy's shirt.
Goyle was screaming in her ear... her lungs felt like they were constricting... sweat dripped down the length of her spine...

"Get off me, Granger."
Hermione's eyes flew open, and she pulled in a gulp of fresh clean air. The smoke, the heat, the crackling, thundering noises of fire were gone: They were back in the seventh floor corridor.
She jumped away from Malfoy, stumbling backwards off the broom and right into Ron's chest, and he dragged her away to the opposite side of the hallway. She slid down to the floor, wheezing, pressing her hands against her buzzing heart. Harry and Ron dropped down on either side of her, similarly staggered and out of breath. Goyle was lying on the floor like a beached whale, whimpering and staring blankly up at the ceiling.

"C-Crabbe," Malfoy choked, slumping against the wall, "Fuck. Crabbe..."
"He's dead," Ron muttered unnecessarily, and Malfoy's brow furrowed with genuine regret.
Harry looked away. Hermione couldn't.

The professors' enchantments had given way – Death Eaters were everywhere. The fifth floor was completely chaotic with seven groups of people locked in violent duels. Malfoy immediately dashed off to lend a hand to Neville, who had two cloaked and hooded figures shooting hexes at him.

Hermione looked around for someone to help, but suddenly, Fred and... Percy?!... jumped in seemingly out of thin air, both trying to overpower a Death Eater each. Hermione pitched forward, wand raised, incantation on her lips... and along with her spell, three more jets of light hit the person duelling Percy. He fell to the ground and his hood slid off, revealing the clammy face and streaked hair of Pius Thicknesse.
"Hello, Minister!" Percy sneered down at him, "Did I mention I'm resigning?"
Fred incapacitated his opponent with a jaunty flourish, and turned to beam at his older brother. "You're joking, Perce! You actually are joking, Perce... I don't think I've heard you joke since you were –"

BOOM.

Sheer energy tore ferociously across the air. Hermione was lifted off her feet and flung backwards. Her hair whipped forward, blinding her. She could hear the wind whistling in her ears as she flew.
"Protego Maxima," she shrieked, raising her hands to cover the back of her head. She landed hard against a pillar and slid down its length; the harsh jagged stone shredded her knuckles. The blow had knocked the wind out of her, and she gasped, her head spun, tiny stars bloomed across her vision. She stayed absolutely still while her body pulled out of its state of shock.
One breath. Two Breaths... Four.
Slowly, she opened her eyes. The entire side of the castle had been blown away. Before her, the floor cut off abruptly, and beyond it was the night sky. She couldn't see Harry, Ron, Fred, or Percy anywhere. However, a short distance away, Neville was helping Hestia Jones to her feet... Malfoy was pushing a pile of rubble off his legs...
"Are you all okay?" she called. Her voice was so frail; she didn't think they'd heard her. But Neville waved a hand at her, before offering it to Malfoy.
With feeble motions she lifted off the ground and got to her feet. Her entire back exploded with pain. She winced, and dipped her fingers under her clothes to feel – fuck even the tiniest of pressure hurt. Her fingers came away wet with blood.
A noise from behind her: Harry was stumbling over the wreckage, making his way to her.

"No – no – no! No! Fred! No!"

Harry grasped her hand and together they tottered and staggered towards the source of that terrible cry...
At the other end of the hallway, Ron and Percy were on their knees next to Fred's prone form... Fred who was spread-eagled, still, and glassy-eyed.
"No," Hermione whispered in disbelief.
Harry and she began moving faster; a skid here, a trip there, till they were standing by Fred... by Fred's body. Hermione could only stare, her hands shaking, as Percy wailed into his chest and Ron's stricken eyes were fixed on his brother's face.

"GET DOWN!"
Harry took hold of her and pulled her down. Neville and Malfoy sprinted by while parrying curses with three Death Eaters.
"Percy, come on, we've got to move!" Harry urged, but Percy only shook his head.
Hermione turned, blinking away tears and gazed at the gaping hole ahead of them.
"Percy!" Ron begged, "Percy, you can't do anything for him –" (Something large, thick, and hairy peeped in from the opening...) "– We're going to –"

She screamed. The large, hairy thing was an Acromantula. Harry and Ron simultaneously sent a jinx its way, and the strength of their combined spells knocked the creature down.
"It brought friends!" Harry bellowed. At least a dozen giant spiders – poured in. "Let's move, NOW!"
He finally managed to pry Percy off Fred, and together, they towed his... body... to a relatively hidden alcove.

Spells came out of nowhere; one whizzed dangerously close to Hermione's head... one struck Ron on the knee...
She grabbed hold of his arm and began pulling him away...

"ROOKWOOD!" Percy's roar was as fierce as Ares' war cry, and he streaked across the floor behind his target.

Ron immediately launched after him, but Hermione desperately held him back. It was difficult – he was so much bigger and stronger than she was – "Lemme go, LEMME go," – but somehow she held down his flailing arms and pushed him behind a tapestry.
"Ron! Ron... listen... please calm down – Harry, in here!"
"I have to go! I have to – need to –" he growled almost incoherently. He was trembling.
"Listen to me," she sobbed, "LISTEN RON!"
"I wanna help – I wanna kill Death Eaters –"
"Ron, we're the only ones who can end it! Please – Ron – we need the snake; we've got to kill the snake!"
Gradually, he stopped struggling, till finally, all that was left in him was grief, and he stooped till his head dropped onto her shoulder.
"We will fight!" she promised him, stroking his hair gently, "We'll have to. But let's not lose sight now of what we're supposed to be d-doing! We're the only ones who can end it!"
Ron lifted his head, looked closely and sorrowfully at her... then Harry... and nodded.
She wiped the tears off her cheeks and looked at Harry to say the words she never in a thousand years thought she'd say: "You need to find out where Voldemort is, because he'll have the snake with him, won't he? Do it, Harry – look inside him."

It would forever remain one of the most impressive things she'd ever seen: A battalion of bounding desks stampeding down a hallway, being led by a tousle-haired Professor McGonagall. "CHARGE!" she hollered.

"Harry, you get the Cloak on," Hermione hissed, "Never mind us –"
Of course he tossed it over all three of them.

xxx

The fourth floor was packed with fighters. Students, teachers, Death Eaters were all over the place... it was like Renoir's Bal du Moulin de la Galette... except nobody was dancing and making merry.
Dean versus Dolohov, Parvati versus Travers; Neville's bloody grandmother versus Amycus Carrow, ("That's for tormenting my grandson, you scoundrel!")

In that state of unrelenting flux, she didn't know where to aim her wand.

Whooping and cackling, Peeves hovered overhead, bombing Death Eaters with Snargaluff pods.
"LET'S GO!" Harry shouted.

On the staircase, they encountered Kingsley duelling a masked Death Eater... a little below, Flitwick and Yaxley were exchanging hexes. At the foot of the stairs, two bodies came crashing down from a hole in the ceiling; Hermione made out the savage, gristly, animalistic form of Fenrir Greyback as he made to sink his teeth into...
"NO!" she shrieked, blasting the monster off Lavender, who remained on the ground barely moving. She wanted to check on her... she so did... but one of the boys steered her away...

Trelawney was dropping crystal balls from a balcony... Sprout was tossing about Venomous Tentaculas...

The three of them were moving so fast – everything was a blur of motion, lights, and whizz fizzle crash boom bang.
She saw a hefty fifth year Hufflepuff boy emit a growl and slide-tackle his opponent.

Then there were more Acromantulas scuttling about, snapping their fangs menacingly. Hogwart's soldiers and Death Eaters alike, stopped in their tracks to try and contain them...
"Don't hurt 'em, don't hurt 'em!" Hagrid cried appearing around a bend and running towards his supposed friends.
Harry tore off the cloak and chased after him – "HAGRID, NO!"

"...HAGRID, COME BACK...!"

"...HAGRID...!"

The Acromantula's retreated hastily from the onslaught of spells, and their favourite half-giant got carried away with them.

xxx

A giant roamed the Entrance Hall nearly unopposed. He was enormous, massive, making even Grawp – who suddenly burst through the large doorway – look runty. The giants sprung at each other, and got entangled in a brutal wrestling match.
They crashed against the marble staircase, eviscerating a chunk of it, both growling and gnashing their teeth...
They barrelled into the house point hourglasses, sending a cascade of glass and colourful gems across the floor.

Harry grabbed Hermione's hand – "RUN!" – and they raced onto the grounds. They saw the swarm of giant spiders disappear into the Forbidden Forest. But they'd covered no more than six paces, when the atmosphere turned arctic, and the din of war mellowed. Dread, despair, and hopelessness bubbled deep in her heart, and all Hermione could do was keep herself standing.
Dementors – thousands, millions, trillions of Dementors – formed an arc in front of them. The deadening mist that they carried along clung to her skin; their scratchy breathing told of all the horrors that were soon to come...
She gave herself a solid shake. "Come on! Patronuses! Come on! Expecto Patronum!"
Her otter bounced out of her wand, twirled, then evaporated. Shit! Happy thoughts, happy thoughts... Christmas with mum and dad... sitting by the lake with Theo... dancing with Ginny... laughing in the common room with Harry and Ron...
"Expecto Patronum!" ...a mere wisp of silver.
Ron's terrier flickered and faded. His brother had just died... of course he couldn't... but Harry! Harry had always been able... "HARRY, COME ON!" she yelled.
He was frozen. He hadn't even lifted his arm.
Provence... mum and dad... "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" she tried again, but it was Fred's blank eyes and Hagrid that her head was full of; a puff of mist was all the came out of her wand.

But from behind them, a silver hare, a boar, a fox, and a manta ray flew over their heads, soaring straight towards the Dementors. Hermione looked around her in shock; Luna, Ernie, Seamus, and Theo were unexpectedly by their side, holding up their respective wands.
"That's right," Luna egged them on, "That's right... come on, think of something happy..."
"Something happy?" Harry whispered throatily.
"We're all still here. We're still fighting. Come on, now..."
Hermione looked at Luna... at all of them... at her friends' marvellous faces... and an otter, robust and full-bodied shot out of her wand. Harry's stag and Ron's terrier joined it. The Dementor's didn't stay for much longer after that.
The unbearable coldness let off, and Hermione turned to Theo. "Where did you – how did you –"
"Luna taught me," he replied, smiling wanly.
"Can't thank you enough," Ron muttered, nodding at their saviours one by one, "You just saved –"

He was interrupted by a sound like ten simultaneous thunderclaps. Another giant, even larger than the one destroying the entrance hall, burst out from the forest.

"RUN!"

"The Cloak!" Hermione said in an undertone, "Put the Cloak on!"
Harry complied, and snuffed out his wandlight.

She crawled behind Ron, who crawled behind Harry, down a painfully narrow tunnel. The opening at the end was concealed by a large, rotting crate, and the three of them crouched to look out through the minuscule gap between the crate and the wall. The Shrieking Shack was shambolic as always: Grim, dingy, and dusty. Nagini was suspended in a sphere in the centre of the room; Hermione blinked, and in that split second when her eyes were closed, she saw that damned snake darting towards her in Bathilda's bedroom.
A table stretched across the length of their peephole, at one end of which, a ghostly pale, skeletal hand tapped its fingers rhythmically against the wood.

At the brink of death, Severus Snape lost all his cold, sneering stateliness. He was bloodless and slumped against a wall, with his limbs all bent at awkward angles like a discarded puppet.
Hermione didn't want to see this – she did not want to be present for the moment in which his last breath would leave him, and his heart would stop, and his face would slacken. But what could she do but observe helplessly as Harry moved towards their fading former potions master?
Was he feeling pity... Would he tell Snape that he deserved such an end? She bit her lip to contain a whimper... Ron took hold of her hand, but she shook him off. She didn't want comfort, she wanted to leave.
Harry crouched by Snape's side, and they both stared at each other – one impassive, the other devastated. Snape started to cry – dear lord – and burbling through the tears, he choked, "Take... it... Take... it..."
His tears turned silver – the silver of ejected memories – and Hermione promptly conjured a flask and shoved it into Harry's hand.

Snape's memories filled the flask to the brim. With his final burst of energy, the sorry, despicable man grabbed Harry by the collar.
"Look... at... me..."

Hermione turned around, unable to watch any longer.

A while later, the sound of Snape's rasping, rattling breathing stopped completely.

The Death of the Hired Man.
Everything was suddenly very still... and very quiet.

xxx

The strange, disturbing calm thereafter didn't last long. As before, Voldemort's awful voice resounded inside and out:

"You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.
"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then the battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

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A/N: Yes, #Frexit really sucks.

I've written another palette cleanser... a silly, absurd, not at all slow-burny songfic called 'Ra-Ra-Rasputin'. Over the next couple of months, there will be more of those.

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