A/N: Thanks to everyone who followed, favourited, and most importantly, reviewed this story after reading the prologue. Your support is much appreciated. :)

This chapter took a little while to nail down. It had several versions, but I ended up liking this one the best, despite remaining slightly uncertain about it. In any case, I hope you enjoy this installment of THOA. If you can spare a moment, please let me know your thoughts on the chapter in a review or PM.

Also, I'm going to go out on a limb here by anticipating a question and then answering it: in terms of when we'll see Rhaegar in this story, it will be a few chapters yet. Hermione has to establish herself in Essos before anything can happen between them, after all, and there is another flashback chapter after this one to get through before we really get to Hermione making a name for herself in Asshai and beyond. And then there's a little matter of...well...I suppose you'll find out soon enough, won't you? XD

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, ASOIAF, or Game of Thrones. No copyright infringement is intended in the writing or sharing of this story.

I. Divergence

BEFORE STYGAI, Part I

HOGWARTS

When Harry appeared from beneath the Cloak, so gloriously alive, to shield Mrs. Weasley from Voldemort's curse, Hermione's heart soared, the accompanying swell of joy nearly choking her in its intensity.

Her best friend—her little brother—had survived yet again, and there was a fire in him now, a new hopefulness that had Hermione responding in kind. She could see it in the way he held himself, in the confidence of his expression; for once, Harry really believed that he could end it...that he could win.

He stepped up, bold as the House he'd chosen all those years prior, to face the madman who'd wanted him dead since his infancy.

Slowly, methodically, he ensnared Voldemort in a web of old, powerful secrets, engrossing everyone on the sidelines in the process. Every pair of eyes in the Great Hall was fixed on the two of them, watching as they prowled in a circle, never looking away from one another. They were a pair of rival predators, each searching for the right moment to strike at the other's jugular.

The aura of tension in the Hall thickened with each revelation, culminating when Harry revealed that he'd beaten Voldemort to Draco, the previous master of the Elder Wand, and Disarmed him while at Malfoy Manor.

"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" her friend whispered, and despite the quietness of his voice, everyone in the Hall heard the speech. "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does...I am the true master of the Elder Wand."

Dawn chose that precise moment to make itself known as streams of sunlight blazed through the panes at the far end of the Hall, throwing both Harry and Voldemort's faces into fiery relief. In the next breath, each shouted their last hope to the heavens-adorned ceiling above.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

Two jets of light raced towards each other, colliding between their casters with a loud bang.

Brown eyes wide, Hermione stared as the spells fused into one long beam, connecting Harry and Voldemort. So this was Priori Incantatem, she realized, an undeniable awe sweeping through her as she watched the magic roil and pulse within its constraints, the odd clusters of sparks bursting from one point or another along the unstable beam.

Then, just as quickly as the spells had joined, it was over.

The Killing Curse rebounded, striking Voldemort directly over his shriveled, black heart.

The Elder Wand pried itself from his hands, flying in a high arch through the air.

Harry reached out a sure hand and snatched the Wand from its trajectory just in time to watch Voldemort's corpse crumple like a fallen tower to the unyielding ground.

Time seemed to stand still.

Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief as the new reality sank in: Voldemort was dead.

But in that same moment of stillness, before anyone had recovered from the awe that had struck so violently, a startling shock of green light shot out from somewhere in the crowd—and collided with the small of Harry Potter's back.

Hermione stared, utterly incredulous, as Harry's stance wavered.

Then, right before her eyes, his body began an abrupt descent towards the floor.

A primal shriek of alarm tore itself from Hermione's throat, sounding vaguely like a name; and yet, as though they'd all been Petrified, no one in the crowd moved a centimetre.

Two sharp Crack!s split the air in quick succession, and at her side, Ron froze.

Hermione turned sharply to face him, just in time to witness Ron's blue eyes bug as a second jet of light, in that same wicked hue of green, struck his torso.

For what felt like a small eternity, Ron and Hermione gaped at each other in mutual horror.

And then, Ron's legs gave out.

Hermione swooped to catch him, dropping harshly to her knees on the stone floor of the Great Hall, her disbelieving gaze fixed on the slack features of the redhead in her arms.

The only thought that managed to penetrate the fog that blanketed Hermione's mind was the staggering reality that in the space of seconds, both of her boys had been stolen from her.

A flurry of movement caught Hermione's eye and her head snapped up to spot the source, her wand flying to her hand. She narrowed in on a faint glimmer in the air, made visible by the morning sunlight that was filtering into the Hall.

At last, she understood: somebody had Disillusioned themselves and was using their invisibility to pick off survivors. Their invisibility and Apparition; somehow, the wards that prevented the latter were failing.

Even as a curse began to form on Hermione's lips, the shimmering specter disappeared, another Crack! ripping through the Hall with an unsettling air of finality.

Hermione's shoulders sagged in defeat, her eyes suddenly burning. Salt water streaked her cheeks in rivulets and she did nothing to stem their flow, beyond caring.

She bent over and lowered her forehead to press against Ron's. Forcing back a sob, she lifted her head to touch her lips to his brow.

"I'm sorry, Ron," she whispered.

Her fingers trembled as she slid his eyelids shut, wiped her tears from his skin, ran her fingers through his waves of brilliant red-orange hair.

"I'm so sorry."

A strange, instinctive wave of determination took over Hermione's body. Without questioning her actions, she gathered Ron in her arms, cradling the undersides of his knees with one limb and wrapping the other around his back, her hand finding purchase on his shoulder. Then, with a huff of exertion, Hermione hauled him off the ground, struggling to her feet one leg at a time.

Stooped by the burden of Ron's weight, Hermione shuffled forward. She faltered a few times, shifting Ron's body in her grasp out of strain but never once surrendering to the protests of her muscles before she reached her destination. At last, with a sigh of release, Hermione let herself fall back onto her knees, mindful of her precious cargo.

Painstakingly, the young woman laid her beau next to their best friend, her throat constricting at the sight of the two of them, side-by-side and empty.

Numbness spread through her system like morphine.

Hermione began to fuss over them, her manner a parody of absentmindedness. She closed Harry's eyes just as she'd done with Ron, straightened both their sets of limbs, and combed her fingers through their disarrayed locks. Hermione was vaguely aware of the whispers of the crowd and the occasional sound of distress or sorrow, but none of it mattered to her.

She just couldn't bring herself to look away from them: Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.

Her boys.

A soft, warm weight settled on Hermione's shoulder. A spark of annoyance flickered in her chest at the disturbance but then dissipated just as quickly. She ignored the touch in favour of her continued observance of Ron and Harry.

However, it seemed that whoever had touched her wouldn't be dissuaded, because the next thing Hermione knew, the air was shifting as they knelt at her side. Gentle fingers brushed Hermione's cheek, and she shivered.

Finally, the young witch turned her head, and her bleary stare was met by the equally deadened gaze of one Ginny Weasley. Her brown eyes looked into Hermione's knowingly, and then the girls were in each other's arms, clinging to one another.

"I thought they were safe," Hermione rasped, the confession safely stifled by the curtain of Ginny's long, red hair.

"So did I," her friend agreed, the murmur hoarse. "I believed for a moment—I really did. Thought it was over…that they'd made it."

—Crack!—

Hermione and Ginny started at that all-too-familiar sound, scrambling out of their embrace and to their feet, moving back-to-back. All around the Hall, people had their wands out and were scanning their surroundings, frantic with fear.

All the while, Hermione and Ginny rotated their stances slowly, staying back-to-back as they scoured the Hall for any hint of the invisible attacker. Hermione, hit with a sudden bolt of inspiration, brandished her wand in a sweeping motion.

"Finite Incantatem!"

At the wave of her arm, a dark mass materialized in Hermione's peripheral vision. Both she and Ginny whirled to face it, and an uneven breath hissed between Hermione's teeth as she realized who she'd unveiled. Her body stiffened, and her heart gave a stutter of pure, instinctive fright.

There—with black curls as riotous as ever, dark eyes twinkling with rabid delight, and yellowed teeth bared in a grimace of a smile—stood Bellatrix Lestrange, obviously and impossibly alive.

Hermione and Ginny acted in unison; several bright hexes flew from the tips of their wands, trained at the witch who ought to have been dead. Bellatrix conjured a Shield with ease and Hermione watched in dismay as her and Ginny's spells were dodged or deflected into the crowd. Thankfully, neither of the girls had tried anything lethal, so those too slow to perform their own Shield Charms were Stunned at worst.

Despite the lack of collateral damage, Bellatrix's grin widened as she thwarted the girls' efforts and to Hermione, her smile was the literal stuff of nightmares. She fought to suppress a shudder.

As soon as there was enough of a gap between hexes in the volley of spells thrown her way, Bellatrix spun on her heel, Disapparating with a mocking wink in the girls' direction.

Ginny let out a muffled scream and Hermione grimaced in sympathy, just as furious.

"I know, Gin," she said quietly, giving her friend's hand a firm squeeze even as she struggled to keep her own fear and frustration at bay. "But we have to focus. She's not finished yet, there's no way she is. Any second now..."

Hermione's grip on her wand tightened. She sank a little deeper into her stance and concentrated on the rhythmic cycle of her own breath to try to keep her hands from shaking.

—Crack!—

Immediately, Hermione began casting Finite Incantatem, her arm swooping methodically as she repeated the incantation in her mind. Ginny too was murmuring the spell aloud, copying Hermione's movements, but despite their efforts, neither witch managed to unveil Bellatrix before the sound of Disapparition rang out once more.

Hermione's jaw clenched as she bit back the shriek that threatened to escape her throat; Ginny, on the other hand, had given up any semblance of restraint and was cursing violently under her breath.

Abruptly, Hermione noticed that something had changed.

"Ginny," she asked, a strange edge to her voice, "is it just me, or is Voldemort's body gone?"

Ginny whipped around, eyes darting to the spot where her once-tormentor had been lying sprawled on the ground, only to find nothing in his place.

"Bloody hell! Why—no, never mind, forget why. How is this even possible?" Ginny hissed, disbelieving. "Mum killed her! We both saw it. She died."

"She did," Hermione said slowly, her thoughts racing, "but we didn't destroy her body. Which means..."

"What?" asked Ginny. "What, Hermione?" she snapped as said girl failed to answer.

Cold dread oozed down Hermione's spine, making her shiver.

"She has a Horcrux. It's the only explanation."

"A what?" Ginny demanded, impatience and trepidation colouring her tone in equal measure.

Hermione paused, closing her eyes briefly as she debated whether to tell her more. She'd spent so long keeping the secret of the Horcruxes from everyone outside of Ron and Harry that withholding the information was a reflex. But as her mind rushed to imagine the consequences of telling Ginny, Hermione's eyes widened in realization.

With Harry, Ron, and Dumbledore gone and Slughorn burying his head in the sand, Hermione was the only person—at least, that she knew of—who had any knowledge of the Horcruxes and how to get rid of them. And if Bellatrix got to her...

"It's Dark magic," Hermione blurted to Ginny, and then it all started pouring out. "A Horcrux is an object that's used as a container for a piece of a person's soul so that the rest of the soul is tethered in this plane of existence and the creator of the Horcrux can't die." Her words gained speed as she spoke. "Voldemort had six, maybe seven of them; that's what Harry and Ron and I were doing this year, hunting them down and destroying them. For the most part, he used really ostentatious things to make them, family heirlooms and magical artifacts—"

"—Ravenclaw's diadem," breathed Ginny, understanding dawning in her eyes as she turned to meet Hermione's gaze.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, exactly. I'd bet Bellatrix chose something similar. I don't what exactly, but it's somewhere to start. But I need you to know, Gin; they can only be destroyed with Basilisk venom or the Sword of Gryffind—"

—Crack!—

Before Hermione could even react to the noise, her wand had ripped itself from her hand and she was being yanked backwards by the scruff of her neck. Sharp nails pierced her skin, entangling themselves in her wild hair in a vice grip. Hermione gave a startled yelp as she staggered, and then her back hit something soft but solid—another person's body.

Immediately following the collision, a jet of brilliant green light shot out over Hermione's shoulder.

This time, it was Ginny who fell.

Hermione watched her collapse, eyes bulging in their sockets, mouth open in a silent scream.

All the while, hot, dry breath wafted in puffs against the curve of Hermione's bare neck and she froze as she felt her captor lean closer, terrified and repulsed by the proximity and the knowledge of who had her prisoner. She struggled to break free of their hold, but the grip on her hair only tightened in response, forcing Hermione to bite her lip to keep from crying out.

Just then, a low, throaty rasp sounded right next to her ear.

"You know, Mudblood," whispered Bellatrix Lestrange, pressing the tip of her wand into the underside of Hermione's jaw, "we never did get the chance to finish our little chat, now did we? But I suppose it's better late than never.

"Stupefy."

And with that, Hermione was sent hurtling headfirst into darkness.

—Crack!—

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Again, please let me know your thoughts in a review or PM if you can spare a moment. Until next time, my dear readers!