A/N: I will not even begin to try to explain why it has been so long since I updated this story. I went to live in England, my mom got cancer, I came back and eloped, he went to war, I finished University, I started law school, my father had heart attack. Now, I was looking back at all the reviews and all the people who want me to continue, and one reader in particular took it upon themselves to ask me to pick this back up.

You are the only reason I have returned. I will finish this story. I cannot guarantee there won't be a few things not quite parallel since it's been so long since I wrote the first part, but I'll do my best to give you the ending I had in mind. Hope you still enjoy it.

As always, thanks so much for reading.

Chapter 40: Only a Little

It was abrupt and unceremonious. Of course, that is how parting often truly is. In matters which are truly desperate, there is no time for dramatics, no clinging, no time to lament or wish that things were different. The moment itself is much too urgent and all-consuming to allow such frivolity. So it was then Draco left her company, throwing wary eyes at Neville as though he were a stray dog who may, at any moment, get spooked and bite his new master. His eyes were noncommittal, reluctant. She thought he might refuse, but their unlikely path was the only one he saw as well.

If Harry were there, he might have filled them all with courage and even eagerness at the precipice before them which offered them, he'd say, the chance to become something greater than they were, to give something more than they could normally offer. To be heroes.

Neville certainly felt it; Hermione remembered the warmth of Gryffindor courage, but found her blood had cooled and hardened as of late. No less constant, but a good deal less fiery, she found herself resolute yet not excited, not proud. The truth was an unfortunate series of events had made the horrid commonplace and the terrible would have to be committed simply because they had been left no other option.

It would be unpleasant.

There was something comforting in the honesty of Draco's fearful grey eyes when Neville and Draco left with the Marauders Map and headed towards Hogsmeade.

There, they would slip past dementors and apperate to a safe point on the Malfoy grounds. Until then, Draco would have to trust Neville completely; after that, Neville would have to put ultimate faith in Draco. She smiled only a little at the cleverness of her scheme.

But quickly, her breath hitched just thinking about them walking back into that danger like into a mother's open arms. It wasn't that she did not have the utmost confidence in them both. It was fear. Fear with its soft, cold tones tickling her ear.

"You know, this is really not going to work, my dear."

"Shut up." She said aloud to an empty Room of Requirement. She pushed the whispers out of her mind. She swallowed the worry. Plans had to be made and put into motion immediately. She would have liked time to think, but things were catching up with her quickly. It was like running from the rising tide and her heels felt wet already.

The room around her looked different, as did the whole castle, but she felt something familiar deeper within the walls. It was comforting. Even filled with the enemy, it was home.

She was sorely tempted to go straight to Harry's side, but she knew better. She knew she had to think things through. Think, she told herself.

Ravenclaw's item was hidden in the castle since the Dark Lord returned fifty years ago. Harry and Ron had been in the Chamber of Secrets, where she was willing to bet it had been. The other had to be Hufflepuff's because it was able to be passed from person to person, according to Neville who had come upon the two handling something.

Now she needed to get around the castle without being seen by Death Easters, or anyone for that matter. Then, she'd need to find the staff of Ravenclaw, and how to do that?

"I need," she thought, "Hogwarts A History." It appeared. She leafed through it, half the pages memorized like one's favorite scenes in a film one's seen countless times. Nothing leapt out on Ravenclaw, no particular place in the castle seemed more likely.

Luna was a Ravenclaw, a member of the DA, and she had a different way of looking at things. Perhaps there was something she had noticed.

"I need quill and paper." She took up her quill and began to scribbled a note to Luna trying to find the words that would prove to her and only her—that it was Hermione. She hoped Luna would maintain her usual lack of surprise at Hermione's sudden resurrection.

Dear Friend,

Our mutual, Choice acquaintance is in need of a certain volume; it's Definitely A necessity. The book is in regards to your founder's favorite goblet and coat. If you have the time, pop over the hill for tea and ginger snaps on Wednesday. Her history has always My favorite One of the founders.

Thanks.

Hermione reviewed the note a dozen times, feeling certain almost anyone would recognize it as a code, but few would be able to figure it out. Luna of course, being an exceptionally bright Ravenclaw and open minded to all unexpected and unbelievable, would have no problem deciphering it. The choice friend in need was the Chosen One, Harry. Definitely and A were capitalized as to insinuate the D.A. The incorrect information about the coat and goblet (of which there was none) would make the desire to know about the staff obvious, she hoped. Popping over the hill for ginger snaps referenced the Weasleys, her neighbors. "Her" "My" and "One" were found in the final sentence, though she erased it twice, wondering if it was too risky to sign her name even in code.

She cursed not having the map, though she knew they needed it more. She did not dare wander about in the at night alone, not the way Neville had said things were run now. So many nights the prospect of sneaking would have sounded exciting—risky, perhaps, and tiring if they had classes in the morning. Harry would be well and Ron would not be angry and she would advise against while staying on their heels into the kitchens so her friends could gorge themselves happily as she tried desperately to make evident their enslavement to the little elves.

There was still a way to get around Hogwarts. "Dobby!" she summoned.

Dobby appeared and Hermione felt a wave of heat rush from her body. Relief filled her like fresh air.

"Miss Harry Potter's friend!" He yelped, landing on her. "Dobby was told you was dead, Miss!"

"Dobby, I need you to help me save Harry Potter." The proud smile that spread across his features and seemed to nearly lift him from the ground was answer enough.

"First, I need you to find Luna Lovegood. Can you do this? Give her this and let no one see it."

"That will be easy enough, Miss!" Dobby squeaked. "Does Miss need anything else? An apple tart perhaps?"

"No thank you, Dobby. That will be quite enough for the moment."

"Yes Miss!" With a snap, he was gone and left her alone in hall. Despite the fire that appeared, she felt a chill wrapped all about her as she awaited his return. There was nothing to twist and wrench a gut as moments of waiting in times of such urgency. It felt an hour at least before Dobby returned and she refused to allow herself a clock or allow herself to imagine where Draco was and how he was doing. Or Neville of course.

"Dobby delivered the note Miss! And she took some time reading it and asked Dobby some rather nosey questions, Miss, but all in all she was nice and told Miss hello and sent this reply." He held a neat parchment above his head for her, hopeful he had pleased her and satisfied his quest. She smiled, taking it.

It shook. Were her hands trembling? Only a little, she noticed.

Dear Friend,

It read.

Headmaster Snape has the staff in question. He carries it with him often, but not always. Where it is when it is not on his person is currently unknown. Come tonight at midnight to the Ravenclaw tower and we shall disguise you and find this out. So glad you are not dead.

Your Friend,

Luna Lovegood

Her eyes swelled in gratitude. Luna had recognized her message entirely. Suddenly, it was as if parts of her which had gone missing fell comfortably back into place. She was to be student, if only in guise, once more. She was to be alongside a friend. In Hogwarts. She was to walk these halls. She was to sit in the Great Hall. She, the old Hermione, was to rise to the surface, to come alive again, if just for this one night more. Snape was an obstacle she had not expected to encounter, a considerable one, but somehow she felt the memory of hope. The DA could easily sneak and lie and trick its way into anything, anything for Harry certainly.

This prospect made her breast dangerously full, tightened her throat, burned her face. For the first time in ages, she allowed herself to imagine what may happen, a changed world. She allowed herself to hope for her freedom, for her friend's life, for the Dark Lord's defeat, for a future.

"Wonderful, Dobby," she spoke at last. She destroyed the note and looked down at the elf in seriousness. "What I have need of now can get you in a great deal of trouble. If you do not wish to do this you do not have to. If we succeed, it won't matter much after tonight anyway I do not believe. But if we fail."

"We will not fails, Miss. Dobby knows Dobby is a free elf, free to do as he pleases and he does not have to do anything. But if Dobby is free to chose Dobby's fate, then Dobby would like to help Harry Potter and his nice friends. And Dobby does not care what happens to him."

Hermione grabbed Dobby into a hug that she strongly suspected nearly crushed the poor creature. He smiled eagerly awaiting his commands.

"I need you to steal some polyjuice potion."

Again Hermione found herself pacing back and forth across the floor. She counted her footsteps, echoing unheard by anyone else in the castle. She waited in a suspended orb, not seeing or hearing anything of the outside world. Separate once more, as she had been lately.

Soon enough Dobby appeared, panting wildly, ears flopping. He handed her a bottle of what she instantly recognized as what she needed. There was still at least one important thing that she was very much lacking and had yet to find a clever way around that.

"Thank you, Dobby!" her legs ached to walk the castle herself. "I must find a way to get to Ravenclaw tower without being seen. If I had Harry's cloak-"

"Dobby cannot make Miss invisible, but Dobby can take Miss to see her friend there."

"I'd have to make sure I was not spotted in the halls, though."

"We would not be in the halls, Miss." Dobby shook his big head. "We would be here and then we would be there." He blinked.

Hermione Granger smacked herself in the face. Hard. She had been trying so desperately to see she had been utterly blind. Of course! Houselves could apperate inside Hogwarts grounds with side partners.

"Dobby will apperate Miss there, but then Dobby must go now and see to Harry Potter, Miss. It is Dobby's duty. If Miss should need Dobby again, just call!"

Ravenclaw tower was around them suddenly, a room in which Hermione had never stood. She found herself very much alone, not only sans Dobby, but in an entirely deserted room. This was partially a relief.

There were no tapestries lining the tall stonewalls of the narrow reaches of the tower. The bare rafters were hung only with an eerie echo that made her stop in her tracks and retreat a bit into the shadow against the curve of the wall. From above, columns of grey light trickled in; from below a faint red glow brushed the lower half. Dust twirled in the air.

Other than this, there was nothing left. No furniture, no abandoned quills or open books, no chess sets, no sign of the vibrant student life that had once filled this room when it was used for its original purpose. Only the sound filled it, the sound which reverberated through everything in the room, even her. It set her hair and nerves on end, rippled her skin into goose pimples. It bounced off the bare walls, made them tremble. She felt a thrill run through her, then, slowly, her ears began to recognize it. She felt her legs pull her forward until she was in the main chamber. There she saw people standing on risers, their faces turned towards the grey light, their mouths open. It was bizarre, like the crying out of baby birds, waiting on the heavens to provide. Something about it was familiar.

They were singing. The sound that tightened her chest was the deep and light, airy sounds of a choir. A harp accompanied them, as did a sitar, a triangle, and a pair of large drums playing themselves in a corner. A piece of parchment was slipping at one ear from the wall "Hogwarts Hope Choir: Top Secret."

It seemed strange to Hermione that people would risk their lives to sing. To learn to fight in the DA or serve in Order seemed logical. Even to risk one's life to learn some ancient, secret magic was plausible, but as the notes swelled like waves and soared and cascaded she felt their power. They gave something no potion or enchantment could offer. The Slytherins did what they needed to survive, took opportunities to succeed, careful not to side with anyone who may one day not be invulnerable. Gryffindor assembled a resistance, what few of them were left. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff struggled, in their wisdom and good faith, to keep something else alive other than themselves and their cause. They filled her with hope and she realized it was not dead-just frozen like a butterfly caught in frost. These voices had but to breathe their warmth onto its wings and it was alive again, fluttering delicately in a bitter chill.

She wished Draco could hear their sounds, feel them physically in the acoustics of the room as she could. He could so do with some hope now. She touched her ring absentmindedly, thinking of him, and found the dark voice returned.

"Why should he return? He could win the Dark Lord's heart with what he knows."

The notes drowned its hushed malice out.

As the song concluded, Hermione cast a small spell which cast a flicker of her patronus into a corner. A few moments later, as the choir dismounted and whispered to one another, the slightly curious expression of Luna Lovegood appeared before her like a scared apparition. Her face was pale with the cold and her hair dim from want of sunlight. But she was the same.

It was surprising that these people still existed somehow. As if when they disappeared from her world, they ceased to exist all together. And as it became real, she started to wonder if perhaps the rest had not been a nightmare. For certainly both truths—so great and so terrible—could not be in the same world at the same time.

Luna pressed a finger to her lips, smiling slightly to see her, and placed in her hand hair. Hermione stuffed it into her bottle of polyjuice potion and shook it. Taking her hand, Luna led her silently through the room a few people seemed to take notice,

"Luna they've seen me!"

"Don't worry; they won't dare to believe their eyes." She informed her simply, unconcerned.

The other girl led Hermione to an adjoining one where some of the new Hogwarts robes were laid. Taking a swig, she welcomed the pain of the transformation. Glancing in a mirror she saw a vaguely familiar face, but did not bother to study it in the dim light. She changed her clothes.

"Thank you, Luna. Now, where to?"

"You have to go and get the staff. There can't be two of me walking around." Her gaze shot back to mirror and she recognized her stolen identity as her friends.

"I can't do this alone!"

"You have to. I've done my part of this. I have to stay hidden and be there as soon as you leave so it doesn't look as though someone has disappeared."

"But I don't even know where to find Snape."

"You will think of a way to find him. You're very bright, you know."

"Perhaps I could get into trouble." Hermione tried, frowning and beginning to pace.

"Oh I wouldn't. He doesn't deal directly with discipline anymore. And you don't want to meet those who do."

She shuddered. "Who does?"

"They are calling them the Angels of Justice."

"Oh God. The brothers?"

"You know them?"

"The smell mudblood." She breathed, her eyes widening.

"Yes."

"They will find me."

"And sensing you are someone special, they will take you to Snape."

The cold shipped around her as if she were caught in a winter wind. "Thank you for your help, Luna." Hermione began with gratitude.

"Do you know what the staff does?" The blonde wondered aloud.

"It does something?" Hermione blinked, dumbly. This, undocumented legend, was not her forte.

"I assumed that's why you wanted it. It's said to make you smarter, but that's just jealous rumors spread about Ravenclaw. It doesn't though."

"What does it do?" she remained a bit skeptical.

"Something those who think with logic often forget to do that which defies it." Hermione pondered. "Feel." Luna emphasized, smiling slightly for no reason at all.

"Empathy!" She realized. "Luna, does it really?"

Luna shrugged as if it hardly mattered. Hugging her friend, the Ravenclaw wished her good luck and watched her walk from the tower into the halls as if into sleep.

She walked the dark halls. And she knew the feeling of the men who ran into the battle, towards the bloodshed, looking their own horrible ends in the face. Ran, not marched with leaden legs, when all they wanted to do was run back, hide in the bushes, begin that long trek homeward.

She walked the halls, and felt the shades of memory. Memories of her life, perhaps not all of them but all the important ones. A troll. A polyjuice potion. A ball. Memories that belonged to so many others, some who found it impossible to leave—she spied a glimpse of floating opaque coattail down a corridor. Over a thousand years of memories. Some that brought laughter, some that brought tears. Even when it was dark and it was empty as it was then, the halls rang with them.

At first, she walked like one walking the plank, unsteady shaken by the draft and wind whipping around her, holding herself. But then, it became easier. It became natural. She walked as she always had. As so many had. She walked as Sydney Carton, into death, for what better rest can we go to?

And she came around a corner and she was in the hands of a monster. As in a nightmare, her throat constricted, she could not scream. What good would it do? This was it now. This was happening. This was nothing the fun thrill of being discovered by a friendly teacher who deducts house points and send you on your way. There were no house points. There were no friendly faces.

A tall man, with broad shoulders and dark eyes who might have been handsome if everything about him did not reek of danger and wickedness, grasp her tightly. His brothers appeared from the shadows. She remembered the story of these killers. Of their so called talents. She even recalled first seeing them, dressed as knights in shining armor at a ball which seemed a lifetime ago.

And she let the smell her, and manhandle her, question her, and drag her by the arm to see Snape. She was surprised to find that she felt no fear, that remaining silent as they pulled her hair, or cursed her, was easy. They could only read, smell, the fear on their victims, like beasts do. She no longer felt anything. Their powers were useless.

An odd thought entered her mind: is this how Victor Krum felt before he was killed?

Krum. His letter. Halloween.

"I have little time left to live, of this much I am certain, so let me be frank and brief: Lord Voldemort has taken measures, extreme measures it is true, to ensure his survival, but even this magic can be fought. Moments ago, I destroyed one of the Dark Lord's links to immortality in the form of a silver goblet…"

Krum. Krum had destroyed a goblet. Hufflepuffs. She had not realized when she told Draco…

So, Harry had destroyed a diary. Sirius's brother had destroyed a locket. Dumbledore had destroyed a ring. One was on its way to her and she was on her way to the final two. Every step, every tap of their boots and scuffle of her shoes on the stone, brought her closer the a destiny which no one could make out. She saw the castle, more sullen than it had been during Cedric's memorial. No spirit of the school, no evidence of children. It could have been a military fortress. It probably was.

She expected to be taken to the Headmaster's office, but she was not. It was a familiar trek though— so many times she had made it. She now felt unready.

'This is happening now.' She told herself, trying to keep emotions at bay. 'So it is supposed to happen now.' The clock they passed, moved its iron hands ominously, unable to be stopped or hurried.

They entered the hospital wing.

At the end of the long wing, as a figure in a dream or nightmare, Snape's tall figure stood black against the already dim room. He was tall and sullen, looming over Harry's unmoving form like a gargoyle protruding from the face of a building.

"Master," one of the brothers spoke. She tried not to shudder. "This one smells like a mudblood."

Snape's small black eyes turned towards her and she could not see anything but his silhouette, but felt them. "That's Lovegood, idiot. You must be wrong."

"I am not wrong!" he snapped. So like a Malfoy. With an angry flourish of his cape, Snape strode towards them, crossing the room in minutes. They wavered not. As he grew closer, she saw Snape was shorter and small than these men, but when he extracted his wand, there was a hum of electricity in the air.

"Lumos."

He examined her, his hooknose so close that his breath was on her. She wanted to convey to him who she was. Think, Hermione. Think for God's sake— now is not the time to be brainless. Mentally she wanted to plead, but she must keep her mind free from blame, from fear.

Urgency burned through her as his wand skimmed her robes, her skin. His greasy hair softly brushed her forehead.

The light hit her ring. He either did not or pretended not to notice, moving the wand back to her face. He placed his long fingers, smelling of herbs, onto her face.

She swallowed.

"Leave her." His voice was low, contemptible, not amused or interested. He turned away.

Reluctantly, they agreed conducting about turns and returning to troll the halls for people half their size to torment. Nothing but disgusting, overgrown bullies, Hermione reflected bitterly.

She guessed Snape cast a few wordless spells before he grabbed her hand. She struggled a bit against his firm hand, squirming when she saw his intent, not wanting him to take the ring. He stared at her unreadable as he clutched her hand between them, his grip painful. He let it go with disgust and turned back to his post like a guard. Nursing it, she waited for him to speak.

"Why have you come back, Granger?"

"I need the staff."

"Where is Draco?"

"He'll be here shortly." Again, he shot a glance towards her and she felt his skepticism even though she could not see it. Cautiously, she drew closer, not looking at her friend. "How bad is he?"

"Neither can live while the other survives... Voldemort grows stronger, Potter grows weak. It's hard for me to pity him when his eyes are closed. He looks so like his father."

"I need to take him."

"And the staff."

"Yes."

"This is the end is it?" he asked simply, sounding much older than he was. He was tired.

"It will be soon."

"You do not sound blindly hopeful in your success anymore." He sneered.

"I am no longer blind." Bravely, she laid her hand upon his on the bars of the foot of Harry's bed. "But I still have hope."

"You'll need the sword. Stay here."

He strode from the room, taking the staff with him and she had no choice but to remain in the hospital wing. Taking deep breaths which seemed absurdly loud in the dark, she faced her best friend.

He did not move. He had grown thinner. Circles under his eyes were dark. He looked almost like a child, or a corpse of one. This boy who had torn pink faced through the sky at breakneck speed, laughing. This boy who had feasted, no gorged himself, at so many Hogwarts and Weasley meals. This boy nervously confided in her his crush, who bravely fought a dragon, who loyally comforted Hagrid when he lost his wild pets, who bore all the ridicule and distrust that society could heap upon him.

Unable to open his eyes. To spread his lips and take a sip of water. Unable to speak to her, perhaps even to listen.

She clutched his hand and found it burning with heat. Bowing her head, her tears she would deny fell onto his still, pale face. She touched his hair, smelled it. "Harry?" The door shut. She jerked up and peered through the dark room, lighting her wand. There was no one. A draft must have closed it.

She returned to Harry. The first pink light of morning shot through the grey glass. It was growing near. "Harry I am so sorry…for everything that's happened….for everything that is about to happen. No matter what happens, I will always be your best friend."

A hand on her shoulder made her jump out of her skin and nearly wet herself. She barely contained a yelp of surprise. She turned with her wand upon the aghast expression of Ronald Weasley. She gasped.

"Hermione?" he asked in disbelief.

"Ron, I—"

"You're alive? Really?" he grabbed her and closed her in a massive hug that cut off her air supply. There were no words.

"We have the cup! Krum sent it somehow. It took a while, but—"

"I know. Ron, you have to trust me. More than ever before. You must!"

"Wha—"

The door flung open and Ron disappeared underneath Harry's old cloak.

Snape was at her side in a moment, either unable to see or politely ignoring her tears. "Here is the staff."

"Thank you."

"How will you move him?" They looked down at Harry's weak form under the white sheets.

A tap at the window drew their attention and even with all she had faced, she still could not help the flip her stomach did. Neville climbed from the thin air onto a window ledge and opened the door, stepping inside.

"Hermione! You have to hurry! He knows!"

A/N: I apologize if the Horcrux stuff got confusing or if there were mistakes. I was trying to re-read mine, forget the real book. I feel there are some plot holes since I am picking it back up after so long, so please be sympathetic. Also, please forgive the errors. Just trying to give you guys the ending as fast as I can. Hope you like it!

Please review if you want me to continue!