Chapter V

Broken Promises / The Revelation

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. And in Soviet Russia, Harry Potter doesn't own me.

Author's Note: Heh, yeah, accidentally left out the section breaks in the last chapter. Not to worry, it's fixed now and I promise to pay more attention this time. :-)

Ah, here we go! We're almost to the crux of it, guys, the story's halfway point will be in about a chapter or three. Thank you for your patience, and enjoy the update… I promise, anything not answered in this chapter will be covered in the next one (well, maybe the next two, but I'm doing my best!).

Oh, and it seems my stats on this fic have frozen. It shows I've gotten 0 hits on Chapter IV, even when I've gotten plenty of reviews for it. Here's hoping a new update dislodges the pipes. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Soundtrack Note: The Hall of Prophecy, from the Order of the Phoenix soundtrack.


"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

-Mark Twain

She'd regretted coming here almost immediately. She'd forgotten how horrific the night had been.

"HERMIONE!" the boy roared, falling to his knees beside her crumpled form.

The Death Eater kicked hard at the Longbottom boy's head as he crawled towards his friends, his wand held up in front of him. The blow snapped his wand in two and connected with his face, causing him to give a howl of pain and twist back clutching his nose.

The boy spun around, his own wand held high, and saw that the Death Eater had his wand pointed directly at him, his mask tossed aside, revealing a twisted, sinister grin.

With his free hand, the Death Eater pointed at the small glass orb in the boy's hand, then to himself, and then to the girl. The message was clear. Give me the prophecy, or you get the same as her

The rage she saw in the boy's eyes made it clear he didn't give a damn about his own safety anymore. "Like you won't kill us all the moment I hand it over anyway!" he snapped.

"Whaddever you do, Harry," said the other boy fiercely from under the desk, lowering his hands to show a clearly broken nose and blood pouring down his mouth and chin, "don'd gib it to him!"

There came a crashing noise from the open doorway, and the Death Eater looked over his shoulder, his mouth dropping open in horror and revulsion.

In the doorframe stood a full-grown wizard, clad in the same black robes as the Death Eater, his skull disproportionately small in comparison to the frame of his body. For atop his shoulders sat the screaming, bawling head of an infant.

The boy struck hard and fast. "PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!" The two Death Eaters toppled to the floor, rigid as boards and unable to move an inch.

He immediately turned his attention to the girl, shaking her shoulder. "Hermione, Hermione, wake up…" His voice caught, desperate and pleading.

He shook her harder, frantically, his expression one of horror and desolation. He was saying something, whispering it again and again under his breath, and again she cast the Supersensory Charm just so that she could make it out.

"Don't let her be dead, don't let her be dead, it's my fault if she's dead…"

"Whaddid he do to her?" said the other boy, crawling out from under the desk again to kneel at her other side, blood streaming from his rapidly swelling nose.

"I dunno…"

He groped for Hermione's wrist. "Dat's a pulse, Harry, I'b sure id is…"

The boy looked so relieved she thought he might swoon. "She's alive?"

"Yeah, I dink so…"

She could see the boy's mind begin to race, thinking furiously as he tried to find a way to get the girl out of here safely, get her some help.

"Neville, we're not far from the exit," he whispered. "We're right next to that circular room… If we can just get you across it and find the right door before any more Death Eaters come, I'll bet you can get Hermione up the corridor and into the lift… Then you could find someone… Raise the alarm…"

"And whad are you going do do?" said his companion, mopping his bleeding nose with his sleeve and frowning at the boy.

"I've got to find the others," he replied.

"Well, I'b going do find dem wid you," said the other firmly.

"But Hermione—"

"We'll dake her wid us. I'll carry her—you're bedder at fighding dem dan I ab—"

He stood up and seized one of the girl's arms, glaring at the boy, who hesitated, wanting only to get her out of here as soon as possible, then grabbed the other and helped hoist her limp form over the Longbottom boy's shoulders.

"Wait," said the boy, snatching up the girl's wand from the floor and shoving it into the other's hand, "you'd better take this…"

"My gran's going do kill be," said the other boy thickly, blood spattering from his nose as he spoke, kicking aside the broken fragments of his own wand as they walked slowly toward the door. "Dat was by dad's old wand…"

She followed after them, her heart aching for the boy as they reached the room in which the other students had sought refuge. She knew they would all make it out in one piece. What she hadn't seen before was how determined the boy was to save them all. Oh, she had known, of course, that was who he was, after all, but never before had she seen his face like this… He looked like a caged animal as he lead them all towards the exit, desperate, eyes flickering every which way as he tried to figure a way out of it all, get his friends to safety…

"There they are!" screamed the bitch, and again the battle raged, Stunning Spells rocketing across the hall and suddenly everything was happening at once, as if she'd sped up history with the Time-Turner, even though she hadn't even touched it…

She saw the boy rescue his red-headed friend from the vengeful brains.

She saw him run, trying to lead the Death Eaters away from all of his friends, thinking that even if he died, at least they would all be safe…

She saw the boy surrounded by them, desperate enough to even offer up the prophecy if it would save the lives of the others.

She saw the Longbottom boy stand by him in his most hopeless moment, and she saw the orb shatter as the Order arrived, keeping the Death Eaters occupied while they ran and saving the two from certain death.

And she saw the bitch when she struck his godfather in the chest with a spell, causing him to tumble back through the veil shielding the mysterious arch.

"SIRIUS!" the boy bellowed, "SIRIUS!"

"He can't come back, Harry," cried the werewolf, his voice breaking as he struggled to contain the boy, grabbing him by the chest and holding him back. "He can't come back, because he's d—"

"HE—IS—NOT— DEAD!" roared the boy. "SIRIUS!"

It was only his cries of rage and despair and the whizzing and shrieking of flying spells that hid the sound of her, crying as she was beneath the cloak.

She loved him. She'd always loved him. And though she tried to tell herself that it was too late for all of that, the way she always had, to convince herself that she couldn't feel that way about him…

She knew the truth. And it absolutely destroyed her, to see him in so much pain.

And so she wept.

She wept until the battle was over, even as she followed him, though she still retained enough sense to cast a Silencing Charm upon herself so that her sobs would not alert anyone to her presence. She witnessed the bitch corner the boy, saw the duel between Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, saw how the boy's love for his godfather drove away the poisonous malevolence that threatened to consume him…

She saw the Minister and his Aurors arrive, just in time to be of absolutely no use whatsoever. And thus was the boy whisked away to Dumbledore's study.

When she saw him again, he was entering the infirmary, being taken to a bed by the Matron, who fussed over him as he sat there numbly. She knew that the pain he was still suffering from could not be mended by healing spells or Calming Draughts. A piece of his heart had been torn out, torn out and thrust through that veil in the Department of Mysteries…

She was not worried that he would have gotten to the boy in the time that she had been apart from him. In fact, she knew for a fact that he hadn't, for if he had the scene she was about to witness would never have happened…

She should have realized this sooner. It would have saved her so much time. And yet…

She suspected that she had indeed known all along that the moment would come after tonight, but had wanted to start at the beginning anyway. To relive it all, experience anew the feelings that had led her down this long and twisted road…

And there was another reason, too. She knew now that the confrontation loomed ahead of her, that she was coming upon it rapidly, and that knowledge frightened her. In her heart of hearts, she dreaded what was to come. She'd been putting it off, in choosing so many other moments, because she was afraid. She was afraid, and had needed to begin her journey where she had, to gain along the away the strength she would need to see it through…

Eventually the Matron left, darkening the hospital wing for the night. The boy had not had the chance to speak to his friends, though he had been assured that all would be just fine. In the bed across from him lay the Longbottom boy, fast asleep under the comforting pull of a sleeping potion. Next to him slept the blonde, and beside her the red-headed girl. On one side of the boy lay the red-headed girl's equally ginger brother, across from whom lay the monster, thankfully catatonic, the fiend who had tortured the boy all year-long in detention…

On the other side of the boy lay the girl.

A few hours passed. She stood there at the foot of his bed, just watching him, waiting patiently. He did not sleep. He stared at the ceiling, mostly, and it hurt her to see the emotions that flickered within his emerald eyes.

Anger. Self-loathing. Loss. Guilt.

Such terrible, terrible guilt.

Finally, unable to wallow in the pain anymore, he sat up. The moment she had been waiting for had come.

She followed him as he got out of bed and moved to stand over the girl's. He looked around. There was no sign anyone else in the ward was awake, but he drew the curtains around them and warded them with Silencing Spells all the same.

He said nothing for a long time. He just looked down at the girl, his eyes intense and unreadable.

It sent a shiver down her spine, to see that now familiar expression upon his face, to see how the boy had looked at the girl with that frightfully intense, alien gaze years before the night on which she had first seen it…

"I failed you," he said at last.

The girl's eyes were closed. She would recover well enough, in time, but tonight she was so far gone that she would not even dream. It was as if she had been Petrified all over again.

"Three years ago," the boy told her. "Three years ago, I told you that I would never let anything like that happen to you ever again. I swore."

He paused for a long while, as if trying to maintain his composure, keep himself from shouting.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered finally. "This is all my fault, you never should have been there, never would have been there if it wasn't for me…"

It was good that the girl was unconscious, she thought. She would have slapped him for daring to be so stupidly noble in front of her.

As it was, nothing interrupted the boy, so he kept on speaking. "You keep getting hurt, 'Mione, all because of me… and I can't lose you!

"You're my very best friend," he continued. "You've always been there for me. I… I don't know how I would go on without you. I love you, Hermione."

The boy sighed, suddenly looking very, very tired. Deflated. Defeated. "I love you, Hermione," he whispered again. "And I'll always be there for you, always, but now… I'm beginning to wonder if it would be better for you if I weren't."

He drew back the curtains and cancelled the Silencing Charm, climbing back into his bed and burying himself in blankets. She watched him from her place beside the girl's bed. He tossed and turned, fitfully, and she doubted very much he would get any sleep at all this night.

She had a choice now. There were only two real moments left. Oh, there were others, other moments she could choose, but deep down she knew that there were only two left that he would have chosen to make his move on.

She thought she knew now where all of this would come to a head. It made the most sense, really. But she would save that trip for the last, she decided. She was ready now to face him. After all, her next destination might very well be the moment he had chosen. But she thought she knew how his mind worked, and he would choose the other.

One last trip through time, then, one last look at the life of the boy and the girl before his meddling had torn it all apart. One last rush of heartbreak and infatuation and regret and love. One last chance to change her mind before it was all over.

No. There would be no surrendering now. It had to be done. He had to be stopped.

Her hands clutched at the Time-Turner and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to focus herself. One last jaunt down memory lane, and then she would end this all.


"You saw me?" Hermione asked, taken aback.

"Yes. And I hated myself for it." Harry's voice was monotonous again.

"Why?" asked the Healer.

"Because seeing her meant that all these years, I'd been living a lie."

A fresh row of sobs overtook Ginny. She broke down, sinking down into her chair, weeping. Tears began to sting Hermione's eyes as well.

"It was always you," he told her, his eyes gazing directly into hers. "I'm so sorry, Ginny… forgive me…"

"You… you never said…" blathered Hermione, to stunned to say anything coherent.

"I did say it," Harry cut in. "The night after the battle at the Department of Mysteries, I told you I loved you, but I couldn't find the courage to do it while you were awake…"

Hot, stinging tears ran down her cheeks freely now. This can't be happening, she thought, not after all these years...

"Why?"

"I pushed you away," he said. "And then you were with Ron, and it was easier to just pretend I had never felt anything at all for you…"

She began to get angry with him now. "So all those years, you lied to me? You lied to Ginny?"

Harry did not speak for a moment. When did answer, his voice sounded tight, as if someone had reached their hand into him and clutched it around his vocal chords. "No. Not the whole time. That summer, after the war ended… and after that I had to accept that I would never have you, that you would never feel the same way… I learned to love Ginny, I really did, and our children… Oh, God, our children…"

He broke off, and his eyes began to flutter dangerously. "Eventually I convinced myself I had what I'd wanted all along, that I'd never really wanted anything else… and then it showed me you, and our own children, and I knew that I would never be satisfied with anything else…"

"The Memory Charm, Harry," Chatterjee said quietly. "Can you remember anything?"

"I was with her… with Hermione. And then… he was there. Told me that if I wanted to keep her safe, I would have to let her go…"

"Who?" Hermione demanded, her voice so fierce that she'd hardly believed she was capable of such fury.

"He came to me, said that you had died, and that if I wanted to protect you, I had to give you up…"

"When?" asked the Healer. "When did he cast the spell on you?"

But Harry did not answer. Instead, with one last, intent look at Hermione, he closed his eyes, and began to mutter. She did not need to read his lips this time to realize he was once more saying "I'm sorry" over and over again.

Ginny sobbed until she had no more tears left to cry. Neither woman could look at the other. When Harry's wife could finally breath normally again, she got up and left the room.

Mercifully, Chatterjee said nothing to Hermione, only nodded grimly and left himself, leaving her alone with Harry.

It was her fault, then.

She knew. She knew who had cast the Memory Charm on him. She knew of only one man who would go to such extreme lengths to protect her, who would manipulate the mind of a young boy if it meant saving her… She knew of only one wizard still living powerful enough to even cast such a spell.

She clenched her hands into fists so tightly that her nails began to slice into the skin of her palm. She was so angry with him…

And herself. She felt sick to her stomach. She was responsible for all of this. Poor Ginny…

She threw up. She'd managed to get to the dustbin in the corner of the room in just enough time. She gagged, and closed her eyes tightly, until her stomach was empty and it had passed.

She felt like dying.

How she wished that that thing Harry had found had never shown him the truth! He could have just lived his life, believing he was happy. And she wouldn't feel so guilty, so responsible

She wiped her mouth and stormed out of the room, leaving Harry alone, unable to be anywhere near him right now. She had to get away from him.

She felt like dying, and if it weren't for Rose and Hugo she might have considered doing something about it.

Oh, God, Rose and Hugo…

The thought of her own children made her immediately think of James, Albus and Lily, and she felt a fresh wave of nausea pass through her. How could they possibly handle something like this, their father in a bloody coma because he'd realized that his entire life had been a lie, that they and their mother had been lies?

She didn't dare think of what Ron would say, if he were ever to find out.

She didn't know where to go. Couldn't go home, in case her husband showed up there. She couldn't face him right now. After tonight, she wasn't sure she would ever be able to face him. She couldn't stay here, at St. Mungo's, not when Harry still lay catatonic in his bed. She couldn't go to the Burrow, couldn't bear to try to explain things to Molly and Arthur, couldn't handle trying to tell Hugo why she was so upset…

She Apparated to the Ministry, to her office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It was late, and there was nobody left on the floor. Wearily, she collapsed into her chair, her head slumped over her desk. She felt angry again, angry at Harry for taking the coward's way out, for lying there in that bed unable to even open his eyes and speak to them without a potion forcibly poured down his throat. But a part of her understood, a part of her wanted to lay down and never get up again too…

Emotionally exhausted, she fell asleep with her head on her desk but found no rest, haunted by terrible dreams. Dreams where they were seventeen again and she tried to tell Harry how much she loved him, but he wouldn't listen and kept pushing her away, laughing at her and clutching Ginny to his side, snogging her. Then the dream changed, and she was looking down at a miserable eleven-year old Harry, his eyes filling with tears as he told her that she was in love with him. She and Ron laughed at him, guffawing at his stupidity, and she raised her wand and pointed it at his heart and hissed, "Avada Kedavra!"…

A light shining through the frosted glass of her office wall awoke her. Someone was coming closer, their wand shining brightly, and she could see the silhouette of a woman reaching for the handle on the door…

The door swung open, and she stepped into the office, the Lumos light of her wand so brilliant that Hermione was momentarily blinded, unable to see the woman's features at all.

"Nox."

The light went out, and Hermione's blood ran cold. Her eyes were now readjusting to the sudden darkness, but she knew that voice, knew who the woman standing in front of her was…

It was Ginny Potter, and she had her wand pointed right at her, and the look in her eyes, Merlin, it was like looking into a sea of pain…

"We need to talk."