Italics: flashbacks

Non-italics: present day

An.

This story contains many themes not suitable for those under age. Please be warned that some scenes in this story may offend certain readers even though this is not the intention, please beware that the rating of 'm' is for a reason that encompasses themes, language, violence etcetera. Thankyou.

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His office was much the same as the last time she had been there, the only difference, the fact that much of the soft glow that seemed to emanate from this very room had disappeared, as though the magic had evaporated from the headmaster's domain. Hermione was wheeled carefully to sit before the headmaster's chair, soon the elderly wizard sat before her, his once twinkling blue eyes, a dull gray. Hermione waited as he surveyed her, those eyes staring into her own as if he were trying to see her very soul.

"Hermione, I hope that you may call me Albus, I think after all these years formalities are a bit tedious." Hermione nodded cautiously and the man placed the tips of his long, bony fingers together to study her severely once more. "Lemon drop?" he asked lightly and Hermione felt her patience waver for a moment.

"Pro-Albus, please can we just get to the point, excuse my haste but I am in no mood for pleasantries." Dumbledore placed the treat in his mouth and looked down at his polished desk whilst he sucked on it thoughtfully. Hermione almost growled in frustration, typical old man! She thought angrily, realising that her head was starting to hurt once more.

"Hermione, I find myself in a position… a position which forces me to ask you alone something that I should never ask anyone to do for me, especially you." he glanced at her quickly as if the gauge her reaction. "I ask you to kill, to rip your soul in two, to murder." He whispered gravely and Hermione nodded, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Sir, if it is a matter of Harry's safety, I will do it-" a strangled noise emitted from the wizened man and Hermione froze, waiting for him to say something, anything to quell the concern welling up inside of her.

"In a way its sickly humorous that you have said that. It is a matter of Harry's safety, a matter of all of our safety's. You must defeat Voldemort, kill him." Hermione nodded quickly her face full of relief.

"Sir, I believe that to split my soul for the death of that- thing would be an ho-… but isn't Harry supposed to do it?"

"In the process of defeating Voldemort, you must destroy all of the fragments of his soul." Hermione nodded once more, her mind growing tired. "Including the fragment inside of Mr. Potter." At this, her senses returned, her mind was sharp, a look of pure contorted rage appeared on her features.

"And how sir shall I do that?" she spat and Albus sighed heavily, his eyes swimming with emotion.

"Kill him."

Her sob escaped in a frenzied way, as if all of the air from her lungs was trying to flee at the same time. She felt her throat fill up with tears and she shook her head, closing her eyes tightly.

"Why do you ask this of me?" she squeaked and Dumbledore looked away.

"It's the only way, Harry is the final horcrux… if Harry is to die by Voldemort's hand, you are to kill Voldemort, but I have faith in Harry that he will be able to kill that snake." She knew the colour had drained from her face, her breathing was shallow, panic rose within her.

"And you are just going to let him die?"

"If we do not, he shall become the next Voldemort."

"He's going in BLIND! He doesn't know that he must die! How can you keep this from him? Why don't you tell him!"

"He mustn't know! You cannot tell him!" the elder man shouted angrily and Hermione hissed in fury, her hands shaking. "Hermione… please."

"You are a manipulative bastard. Why should I listen to a word you say, why? I don't want to-to kill… how long?" she asked, her shoulders slumped in resignation.

"Years." Hermione nodded, understanding the assignment she had been given, the task that would end in her own agony, at the loss of him. "Savour every moment." She nodded once more; tears flowing freely now, down her face. "Forgive me, I don't want to ask this of you but it's the only way we can-"

"Save it Albus. When he is gone and our world is free, and we are all safe to return home, I wont have a home, any hope of it would have died the moment Avada Kedavra escaped my lips." She whispered and Dumbledore looked as though he was about to speak, until the office door slammed open and an enraged Harry Potter entered, his eyes sparking with fury.

"What is the idea of all-"

"Harry, stop." Hermione whispered and watched the young wizard calm down and nod quickly in acceptance. "I think, we are done here Headmaster." Hermione stated firmly, her hand flying to her temple to gently massage it. She felt herself being pushed along the corridors, until they were almost at the hospital wing.

Harry stopped and moved to stand before her, gazing firmly into her almond shaped eyes. "What did he do to you? What did he want?" Harry asked darkly and wiped away her now drying tears.

"It was something that I have to do, alone, a task of sorts, don't worry yourself its nothing important… in time I will tell you, I promise…. Please Harry believe me." At that moment, Harry knew, somewhere deep inside of Hermione, she was testing him, testing his trust, his faith in her. He knew that he mustn't fail her, he mustn't do anything to hurt her in any way. So, even though his better judgement were against it, he nodded, returned to his place behind her and escorted her through the double doors leading to the infirmary.

Madam Pomfrey looked up irritably but turned back to the two beds nearest her office, both surrounded by a privacy screen. Hermione pointed toward the screened beds and Harry moved forward toward the petulant medi-witch slowly and Hermione reached out and tugged slightly on her healer robes.

Poppy turned to her quickly and smiled sadly, her face grief stricken, her eyes hollowed, it was odd to see such a look on the usual caring, yet strict face of Hogwart's resident healer. It was then that Hermione realised just whom was behind the screens, Dean Thomas and Susan Bones.

Hermione froze and placed a hand on Harry's to prevent him from moving forward. Poppy walked around the screens to attend her patients whilst Harry looked down curiously at the witch before him.

"Harry, I must tell you… behind the curtain… Dean and-and Susan." Hermione said in a choked whisper, she watched as his knuckles whitened on the handles of her transfigured chair.

Harry moved onwards, in search of the medi-witch, gently wheeling Hermione through the privacy screen and into a dimly lit space where two small white beds lay parallel to each other, the occupants of said beds staring at one another blankly, well until they noticed the boy who lived and the brightest witch of their age enter.

When Dean turned Hermione felt her heart break. His once handsome, dark face was marred with scars, of his dark expressive eyes, only one remained, the other, empty socket covered with a white patch. He beckoned them forward with what Hermione would assume was his good hand, his left hand which only had the forefinger missing. His other hand, a hand that had been the creator of many masterpieces was missing, a jagged scar left in its place, it was obvious that whoever had cursed Dean, never wanted him returning to normal. Harry's shallow breathing brought her out of her daze and she turned quickly to the other patient.

Susan looked, what Hermione would say was normal the only difference in the usually beaming, blonde haired Hufflepuff, the fact that her large, round blue eyes were covered, as if a cloud had shifted infront of the sun which was her eyes, forever more. Susan frowned, her unseeing eyes looking at a place just over Hermione's left shoulder. Hermione placed both hands stiffly onto the arm rests of her seat and rose gingerly to her feet, feeling the wobbly sensation of blood rushing back to her once dormant limbs.

She hobbled forward and sat on a sliver of bed besides Susan, whom immediately turned to stare unseeingly at Hermione's nose. "Susan…. It's-"

"Hermione Granger." The woman whispered and Hermione held her oddly cool hand. "You sound different… what did they do to you?" the young woman whispered and Hermione felt a tear roll down her cheek.

"Pain…" Harry turned to Dean who had been glancing between Hermione and himself for the past few moments. Harry saw a small trace of a familiar knowing smile on the dark mans face.

His old dorm mate had changed, both by what the death eaters had done to him and by time. It had been almost a year since Harry had spoken to Dean, Harry somehow felt that all of this was his fault.

"Hey Harry." Dean said in a deep baritone voice, its cadence calming, reflective almost. Harry moved forward and stood beside his friend looking directly into his dark eyes.

"Who did this to you?" he asked quietly and Dean laughed, a laugh of the hollow kind.

"Straight to the point aren't you? Same as always." Dean winced as he sat up and answered Harry's concerned look quickly. "My ribs are.. healing, the old fashioned muggle way." Harry nodded solemnly and his peer sighed heavily. "Cheer up mate, you're Harry-effing-Potter." Harry snorted at this and met Dean's eye which was lit up in merriment.

"It's good to see you Dean. How are you feeling?" Dean closed his eye for a moment before looking back at the bespectacled man before him. Dean looked over to where Susan lay and a miniscule smile appeared on his face, as if feeling his gaze Susan turned and a smile appeared on her face, before she turned back to Hermione.

"So." Dean said nodding towards Hermione, whom was engrossed in a deep conversation with her former classmate. "You and Hermione…?" he whispered and chuckled when Harry's face turned beetroot red. "I thought so, how long have the two of you-"

"We aren't… together, its one sided… just me. Ron left… a few months ago, left her…" he trailed off and allowed his gaze to fall upon Hermione whom was resting heavily on her arm to keep herself upright.

"Rig-g-h-t-t." he dragged out the word in a bored, knowing tone and leant back when Harry stood and moved to place an arm around Hermione's waist to support her.

"-I just can't take feeling these th-" her sentence was cut off by Harry's arm coming around her waist in support of her dwindling strength.

"Hermione, for once, just relax and accept what you cant change, yet… rejoice in the moments you have in time. Do not over think the future Hermione, for to do so would neglect what you have at this very moment, to neglect the present will change the future adversely." Susan whispered her voice full of pain and knowledge of the world beyond her years.

"You are very wise, very much like your aunt." Susan nodded and Hermione looked up at Harry oddly.

"The same goes for you Harry." Susan whispered and closed her eyes in exhaustion.

"Goodbye Susan… Dean." Hermione whispered and gasped when Harry lifted her into his arms and carried her back to her bed. She stared at him, mouth agape once he had released her. Devour her. He thought smirking at the image of her beneath him.

"Harry that was not necessary." She seemed flustered in Harry's opinion the fact that she also seemed outraged by his act of kindness angered him so greatly that darkness crept into him. How dare she. Kill. I must punish her. Hermione swallowed heavily when his bright green eyes darkened to almost black, a look of murderous rage appeared on his face and it contorted his features, he almost for a moment looked like Voldemort.

"Harry?" she squeaked as he turned around and pulled the privacy screens around her bed, his wand flying through the air as he warded and silenced the area. His head was bowed, his wand hung loosely in his right hand, his left clenched so hard that blood dripped from his white knuckled fist onto the ground.

Hermione watched, her body trembling as he turned, eyes closed, a hiss emitted from his throat, Parseltongue. The thought rang through her mind for a moment as the words she could not understand were hissed furiously from his mouth.

'you sshall die, my teeth will sink into your flesh, I will taste your fear, no one shall ever dis-s-respect me again.'

He advanced and his eyes sprung open, black eyes staring back at her, his face pale, veins erupting over his skin, grey in colour. He edged closer so that his face was directly infront of her. He hissed once more 'mine' and Hermione cringed when his tongue traced her jaw.

"Harry stop… p-please." She stuttered, tears rolling down her cheeks. A laugh, emitted from deep within him and Hermione shuddered against the deep baritone of his laughter, so much like his own, yet the sinister edge that dominated it seemed to pierce through her skull.

Wand- I need a wand…. Damn it, bedside table- need to get to bedside table. She thought desperately as Harry's strong body pinned her to the bed where she lay.

I shall claim you, mark my scent upon your body, fill you with my- Hermione? Idiot! What am I doing- essence- stop stop stop! The need for her was consuming him, the need to cause pain, the need to claim, the possessive nature of it all.

Something was wrong, Harry saw himself doing things, to her that he would never dream of doing, he would never touch her, not like this. He swallowed and cracked his neck to one side, as if he were a machine clicking into gear. He pushed her hospital dress up her creamy thighs, then caught both of her fighting wrists and held them above her head. He felt the stinging sensation over his face and neck that was wrought from her fingernails in her desperate attempt to push him off of her. His weight was pushing her down, he moved between her thighs and smirked when he heard her yelp, tears rolling down her cheeks. Hermione- friend, not enemy, stop hurting her.

"Harry." He stopped moving and looked to her, head to one side, as if he were appraising her. "I-I will let you have me… b-but n-not li-like this." She stammered, not even believing how she could be saying these things to this possessed form of her Harry. He seemed to be reflecting over her words but then his white teeth gleamed in an evil smile and he tore away her underthings.

Oh Merlin, save me. Hermione thought desperately as he reached towards the fastenings of his trousers. She looked away, turned her face away, biting her lip and closing her eyes in total and utter fear and defeat, she were too weak to fight him, even now she could feel the first glimmers of unconsciousness beginning to overcome her.

"Harry, please don't do this." She hated begging, but somewhere within this shell of a man, was her Harry. Something large and hot was nearing her most sacred centre, she could feel it against her thigh, she let out a sob, a heart wrenching, soul exposing sob.

Hermione walked swiftly into her apartment and once inside the confines of her dark, deadened room, she let out her grief, a cry of outrage at all that had been done to those around her.

She lay down on the dark velvet sheets of her bed and stared at the parchment that lay near a photo of a happy couple.

"Derek." She read and screwed up her face in some lame attempt to prevent more tears. She turned away from the table and stared at the empty side of the bed, the left side, Harry's side. She fluffed up the pillows and brought one tightly to her chest closing her eyes and letting the tears fall down her face she whispered "Harry."