Hermione joined her parents for an early breakfast. They looked at her a little oddly, especially as she kept glancing between a letter addressed to her and the clock.

Eventually, her mother, Emma Granger, cracked and asked, 'Dear, is something the matter?'

As though caught with her hands in the cookie jar, Hermione blushed. 'Sorry, it's just Harry sent me a letter last night and I'm only supposed to open it at seven.'

Emma laughed lightly, hiding it behind her hand as her mind wandered back to the sort of notes she would receive in the middle of the night from boys. Her husband, Dan, shifted his odd look to her, but she was certainly not going to clue her overprotective husband in.

Hermione, for her part, missed it all as she alternated between a mouthful of buttered toast, looking at the clock and looking at the letter.

Then, in the hall, the grandfather clock struck seven and she pounced upon it.

'Dear Hermione,

'Dear dear Hermione, truly the most amazing witch ever alive. You're utterly amazing, did you know that? Really indescribably amazing – no other word will do. Honestly, you are. I loved you so much, though I don't know if it was in the romantic sense, but at the least I loved you like the big sister I never had, who always kept me out of (most) trouble and helped me be the best person I could be. You're beautiful too, gorgeous, even if you don't think you are. Everyone else thinks it, ever since the Yule ball. Merlin, even Fleur was jealous of you that night – not me though, I was happy you finally realised you were beautiful. Then again, I'm not one to talk since I only realised a week after my name came out of that bloody goblet.

'I don't even know why I did. Nothing changed really, but I guess it was that little more time we had together. The way you would nibble on your lip when you had a tough problem or how you'd swipe aside your fringe like a cat swipes a loose bit of thread or how you'd wriggle your nose before you sneezed. Really though, as embarrassed as I am to say it, I properly realised you were a girl when you hugged me and told me it would be okay after I crashed that week. In my defence, I'd like to blame teenage hormones, but, well, it's all your fault for being such an attractive witch.

'Eh, I just read that back and I'm quite far off topic (and that was a terribly cheesy cat metaphor.) I'm not sure of the best way to say what I want to, or if there even is, so I'll just say it: I'm going to kill myself.

'No, that's not quite right in two ways. First of all, it's a bit too blunt, there's more it than just that, I promise. But secondly, I've probably already killed myself, so no mad dashes across the country to save me. Hedwig is only going to deliver this once I've done it, so since I didn't stop her from sending it, I'm either dead or unconscious, nearly certainly the former.

'I guess I should start at the beginning. Remember the diary in second year and all your research? Well, I've got a soul shard in my head. It's not me being dense or stupid, it's how it is. My own little reading on the side made it quite clear that genetic magical abilities, like Parseltongue, can only be shared if there is a fragment of a soul present and I made use of the soul detection charm you uncovered.

'Then Dumbledore told me about a stupid prophecy I should've known about years ago. You can bother him if you want to hear all of it, but the important bit is, "Neither can live while the other survives," which doesn't make the best of sense, but whoever said Divination made any sense? I've boiled it down to basically, "As long as Voldie's around, my life's gonna be crap," only with the added condition that at least one of us has to die since he'll always be around in my head otherwise.

'So that's the why. The how is that I'm going to sacrifice my life and all my treasured possessions in a ritual. Best case, I live and Voldie along with all his soul shards die; worst case, I die and that's it. I've put a bit of effort into it: I'm using Ancient Egyptian runes for Sacrifice and Retribution and I'm offering seven items. Oh and I'll be asking magic to take my life in return for protecting my loved ones, like my mum did, so hopefully you'll be good for an Avada Kedavra, but please don't test it out – I'd rather not see you again for a long time (which I mean in the best way possible.)

'I've sent out a few other letters, but you probably saw them since Hedwig should be coming to you first. Ron and Ginny, Luna, Neville, Hagrid, Dumbledore, Moony and Padfoot (if he's out there, Hedwig will find him) will be getting one. Please try and help Luna stand up for herself and help Neville get some confidence – I owe both of them a lot for their help and I'm leaving it up to you since I know I can trust you. Moony's probably gonna be a wreck, but I don't think anyone will be able to help him, so maybe leave him to Arthur. Hagrid, well, just make sure you keep visiting him (I've also asked him to keep Hedwig – I would've asked you to, but I think he needs her more than you right now.) As for Dumbledore, I've got more than a few issues with him, but I've told him in the letter that I'll forgive him if I don't off Voldie and he does. If I did take Voldie with me or Dumbledore doesn't take care of Voldie, then I trust you to continually glare at him during meals, attempt to steal his Lemon Drops whenever you're in his office (though I doubt you will be without me getting you in trouble) and doing anything else to fight the system.

'Lastly, I just want to thank you for being you. Merlin knows I needed a considerate and encouraging (you're definitely not a "bossy know-it-all" no matter what people say) girl to keep me on the straight and narrow. My advice to you is to never settle for anyone or anything below what you're worth and you're worth a lot more than you think you are. Any guy would be lucky to snag you (with your permission of course) because you truly are amazing. If you haven't realised how amazing you are, then I'm just going to make it my last request for you to accept it and there's no way you're going to deny my dying wish, are you?

'There we go, I've got you smiling again, haven't I? Thanks for everything Hermione. For five years you've been my rock and I can only hope you forgive me for doing what I truly believe to be the right thing to do.

'Love, with all my heart, Harry "Just Harry" Potter.

'P.S. I added you to my will before we left Hogwarts – I know it won't replace me, but you can do a lot of good with it, I know you will (pardon the pun.)

'P.P.S I nearly forgot, never push away your family. Take it from someone who has never had his parents to tell him that they love him that nothing is worth losing anyone you love. Be happy for me, because I'll finally be able to hear them say that while pulling pranks with Sirius.'

Emma watched with amusement as her daughter began to blush so fiercely she could've cooked an egg on Hermione's face, not to mention the uncharacteristic giggle, but then all that colour drained out in a flash, leaving her daughter ghostly white.

All Emma could do is watch as her precious daughter finished reading the letter and then stared despondently at it. After several minutes of deathly silence, she tentatively asked, 'Is everything okay dear?'

There was no immediate reply passed the tensing up of her daughter's body.

'No,' Hermione whispered, the first tear breaking free and trickling down her face.

'What is it?' Emma asked, her instincts warning her of the impending complete and utter breakdown she hadn't had to face for years.

Crackles hummed in the background as the emotion seeped out of Hermione in a black fog akin to thundery clouds, shrouding her away as her chanting, 'No, no, no,' continued, quiet and broken. Her chocolate eyes were muddied into desolate orbs before her lids drooped, breaking the contact between them.

'Hermione, speak to us, please,' Emma begged, daring to move closer to her daughter, but stilled her hand when Dan tried and got a painful shock for his effort. Running out of theoretical options, she turned to the note left upon the table. Hastily she tore through it, only the seriousness of the situation preventing the ringing of wedding bells as she read the first, but then she came to the crux of the matter and couldn't help her own despondent, 'No…' as her mind's eye projected the little boy from years prior, so full of life with dazzling emerald eyes combined with the dozens of letters about him from her daughter.

In that instant she knew that the wound upon her daughter was deeper than any before, possibly too deep to fix, but by any God she could swear by, she would not give up on her daughter and that single purpose gave her strength she didn't know she had.

'Dan, get a blanket, sheet, anything to wrap her with,' she snapped, running over to the cupboard beneath the sink. He followed without questioning while she pulled on a pair of rubber gloves, desperately hoping it would work. 'Hermione, sweetie,' she affectionately mumbled with a baseline of empathic fear behind it as she half-crouched. Her tentative hand approached her daughter, the miniature thunder staying true to nature and avoiding her. With a last movement, she touched her daughter's knee.

Immediately the magic recoiled, though still left her glittering darkly. 'He can't be gone,' Hermione distantly whispered. 'He can't be, he can't be, he can't be. No, not after everything, after trolls and basilisks and dragons, he can't be, he just can't be, he can't be, he can't be…' she continued, her voice fading into mouthing those three words over and over.

'Hermione,' Emma softly said, half-standing up and bringing a seat beneath herself before extending her other hand upon Hermione's other knee.

Hermione's lips stilled and eyes opened, staring straight into her mother's and Emma couldn't help the terror in her mind as her loving daughter's eyes looked so dead. 'Tell me it's not true, mummy, tell me I'm dreaming, that this is just a nightmare, a horrible nightmare that I'll wake up from and laugh about how silly it is to be afraid of a nightmare. Please, tell me it's not true, that it's a figment of my imagination, a twisted figment that I can forget forever. Please, please, please, please, it can't be true, it just can't, can it?' she asked in a child-like voice, a mixture of whine and despair with a subtle cracking.

Emma held back her own tears, because she knew she needed to be strong. Dan had entered while Hermione had talked and took the brief pause to slide the duvet behind and drape it over her shoulders, ending the ominous glow. With her own heart breaking as she did, Emma said, 'You're awake, Hermione, it's real,' and to prove it so she pinched her daughter's knee.

A pair of tears ran down Hermione's face before she flung herself forward, grabbing hold of her mother and pulling her tight as they stumbled to the floor, Dan's own half-catch half-fall preventing any injury beyond discomfort. Together, lying on the floor, Hermione sobbed pained tears into her mother's shoulder.

'It's not fair, it's not fair,' she cried, weakly beating against the floor and her mother's shoulder akin to a tantrum. 'Not him, he's always been so sweet and innocent and his life's been full of shit since he was two. It's not bloody fair!'

Gently, Emma continued rubbing her daughter's back, though she was surprised it took so long for Hermione to give up her policy on swearing considering the situation.

'His fucking uncle and cousin beat him, his aunt starved him, they made him live in a cupboard under the stairs and do all the cooking and cleaning and gardening and that was before he even got to school! They told him he was worthless and a freak and that his parents died because his dad was an alcoholic and drugged up and crashed the car one night!'

She could feel her husband tensing in rage, but all she could do was to alter the mental picture she had of that sweet little boy, adding in a bit of a limp, an aversion to eye-contact and a consciously kept distance between himself and the nearest person, flinching if they came too close.

'Then Hogwarts and it's not much better! He nearly got killed by a troll to save me; the person who killed his parents jinxed his broom; for fucks sake, he ended up killing a man! An eleven year old boy and he had to fight for his life! Then there was flying a car to school, a bloody enchanted bludger that was out for his blood, giant spiders the size of cars and, to top it all off, the king of snakes, a bastard of a basilisk that actually bit him! It's the fastest, most deadly venom known to the world and the fang was as big as his arm!'

Slowly, the life drained out of the little boy's eyes and his frame shrunk down, physically stronger yet appeared weaker.

'Oh then those stupid fucking dementors! I can't even imagine how he coped with hearing his parents die for an entire year and that's not even counting that he nearly got his soul sucked up by them three times. Then that stupid fucking tournament and he had to fly against a dragon and fight for his life in a stupid lake and then that stupid maze where he ended up watching Cedric die just like his parents while being used to resurrect the tosser who killed his parents. Then, last year, he spent hours being tortured by stupid Umbitch and her stupid blood quill and being bombarded by horrid nightmares from Voldemort and having his mind raped by the only person in the world who hates him more than Voldemort. And, and then, he got tricked into that battle and he… he lost Sirius and it's not fair, it's not fair at all.'

The little boy grew taller, though not as much as he should have, while his face grew darker and colder, much older than it should be. Messy black hair turned from cute to indifference in appearance and a weak rebellion against authority.

'But… He shouldn't have had to. He should have had a family, a loving family… Someone, anyone, should have told him they loved him…' Then, so quietly Emma had to wonder if she actually heard it, Hermione added, 'I should have told him I loved him…'

The dark teenager looked up, a lopsided grin on his face as Emma compared him to the actual Harry she had seen at the station barely a week prior. That Harry looked, not happy, but at least at peace. He looked as though he was comfortable around his friends and pleased to be with them. Definitely not like a boy, no man, who had taken more of a beating, literally and metaphorically, than most adults could take.

Slowly the sobbing died away, leading to minutes of silence. 'I've got to go,' she whispered, pushing herself up. 'I-I have to see for myself, I can't not.'

Before Emma or Dan could move, Hermione disappeared in a quiet pop, leaving both of them confused as she hadn't said she had taken the Apparition classes.