Chapter Nineteen

Hermione told him that it would be painful. She told it to him as an afterthought, merely to prepare him, because she knew that there was no way he would be backing out now. Despite the fact that he was still considered to be a Muggle, Hermione knew that he could handle the physical pain.

It was the emotional pain she was really worried about.

Hermione could see the loss of Bill etched into Harry's forehead and she just knew that he was carrying it with him. For whatever reason, he was convinced that he hadn't done enough to save the oldest Weasley. She wanted to scream at him whenever she caught him brooding, but it wouldn't do well to raise her voice in a house of mourning.

It was dreary and quiet all around them, the corridors carrying the sadness throughout the entire house. It was as if the entire estate was just blanketed in misery and nothing seemed to offer any sense of light at the end of the extremely long tunnel. The only joy that they seemed to have - the only sign of life - came in the form of a tiny pink bundle. But newborns tended to spend way too many hours of the day asleep.

"How is she?" Hermione asked Ron as he closed the door to Fleur's room behind him.

Ron looked worn out but he still managed the slightest of smiles. "She's asleep."

"And Victoire?"

"With Luna."

Hermione took a deep breath. In just the few days since Bill Weasley's death, several things had happened at their new headquarters. One of those was that Fleur blatantly refused to leave the fight. She insisted on remaining at the house, but agreed to never actually leaving it. Ron, Hermione and Harry were still trying to figure out how to convince her that a return to France was what was safest for both mother and child because none of them were brave enough to tell her that she was making the decision out of grief.

Merlin knew that all three of them also knew how stubborn the French witch could be.

"She didn't cry herself to sleep though," Ron mentioned tiredly. "Which is good, I guess. I think that she's run out of tears at this point."

Hermione could understand that. "Did she want to see Victoire today?"

Ron dropped his gaze. "No. She says she's not ready yet."

Hermione just nodded, her heart twisting painfully. Ever since Ron had told Fleur about her husband's death; she refused to see or hold her daughter. Hermione supposed it was some kind of defense mechanism helping her cope with the loss, but it still broke her heart. She could only imagine what it was doing to Ron, Ginny and George.

They'd sent a letter to Charlie but Ron blatantly refused to tell his parents about anything. Harry kept trying to convince him that Molly had to know but Ron wouldn't allow it. What surprised Hermione the most was that George supported it, and that the rest of the house appeared to allow it. Hermione hated to think what she would feel if she ever found out that her younger children hid the death of her eldest from her. She even shuddered at the thought.

Molly Weasley was going to be devastated.

Hermione knew that Ron and George would come to regret their decision, mainly because she knew they were making the decision out of anger. They were angry, and so they felt the need to punish their family for the role they may or may not have played.

Or maybe they believed that they didn't deserve to know.

What was worse was that Ginny had nothing to say about any of it. In fact, she said nothing at all. The only person she spoke to was Neville and even that was when they were alone and in hushed voices. Hermione tried to talk to her, just like Ginny had tried to talk to her after Harry's injury. Now Hermione understood, and she desperately wished she didn't.

This was all too hard.

"Where's Harry?" Ron asked, breaking into Hermione's thoughts.

"Downstairs. In the room." The room was somewhere in the lowest part of the house where the Ritual would be performed. Hermione found it when she went looking and it had everything that she required. There was now no more reason to wait. They would do it tonight.

Ron nodded, visibly steeling himself for his next question. "Is, umm, Bill also in there?"

Hermione reached for Ron and pulled him into a comforting hug. She didn't comment on the fact that he was trembling. When she released him, she wiped a tear from his cheek. "It's actually why I came to get you," she said sadly. "There's, umm, a bit of a problem."

"What?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "It's Ginny," she informed him. "I'm about to move him and, well, I may have made the mistake of mentioning that I'm not really sure what's going to happen once we're in the room. She, umm, won't let me take him. She's holding onto his body. She won't let go."

He waited a moment, trying to wrap his mind around what she was telling him. "Do you mean that there might not be a body left when the Ritual is over?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip. "I mean that I don't know," she admitted painfully. "I've never done this before."

Ron took a deep breath. "Do you think it's all worth it?" he asked, sounding resigned.

Hermione frowned.

"I don't mean, umm, Bill. I know, umm, he would willingly have given his body up if it meant the end of all of this, but I'm talking about Harry." He sighed. "From what I remember you telling us, this Ritual could end up killing him, right?"

She had no response to that, which told Ron all that he needed to know.

"Come on," he prompted. "Let's go. I'll talk to Ginny."

Ron and Hermione walked in silence through the cold house, neither of them knowing the words to comfort each other. They entered the dining room to find a small vigil surrounding Bill's body. Ginny was, indeed, holding on tightly to Bill's body, Neville standing a step behind her, clearly unsure what to do to help his girlfriend.

"Where's George?" Ron whispered to Hermione.

"He couldn't handle it," she whispered back. "Angelina took him out back."

"So it's up to me?"

Hermione didn't answer his question. She rather put a hand on his shoulder, squeezed slightly and then dropped her hand once more. She couldn't offer him much more. Not when she was barely holding on herself.

Hermione watched in complete silence as he walked around the table and gently placed his hands on his sister's shoulders. She continued to look on as Ron started to whisper words to his sister, trying to convince her that now was the time to let go.

Hermione thought that everyone was on board about this. They didn't have to like it but, similar to the fact that the Order did not know who they had killed, it was just accepted. This was what was required from them, in this Third War.

Fleur was quick to agree to it and Hermione hated to use her sudden desire to end the war at any cost against her. But Harry eased her guilt by saying that there was no other way. She knew he was right. In fact, she'd had to convince him of it first, only to have him use her words back against her.

It needed to be done. At any cost.

Because Harry was who they needed, and he needed his magic.

Bill was the only way to achieve that without someone else having to die.

They'd had a small memorial type of funeral for Bill the night before. Fleur had ventured out of her room just to lay eyes on her husband but she hadn't said a word to anyone. She'd just stood in silence for a minute before she left, locking herself away with her own thoughts. There hadn't been a dry eye around as they exchanged stories about the surprising redhead with the fang earring and ponytail.

Hermione had cried for Bill, but she'd cried for everything else as well. There had already been so much pain, deceit and betrayal, and the fact that they were nowhere near the end made the rest of their lives unclear and that scared her to no end.

When Ginny started to cry from whatever Ron was saying to her, which then turned into a full-on sob; Hermione had to leave. She couldn't stand there and watch her friend go through this. Her family. So, without a word, she backed out of the room, her mind and body involuntarily leading her towards the only person she wanted to see.

Harry Potter was sitting in the corner of the room, his knees clutched close against his chest and a distant look on his face. From the sight of him, Hermione could tell that he was thinking about everything all at once. She desperately wanted to comfort him but she also needed for him to comfort her. They needed each other in this.

As if sensing her eyes on him, Harry turned his head to where she was still standing in the doorway, her hand resting on the doorknob.

His eyes narrowed slightly at the pained look on her face. He immediately - though somewhat gingerly - stood up and made his way over to her. Before she could even get a word out, he had her wrapped up in his arms, holding her close against his chest. The hug was tense for a moment before they both relaxed, allowing the feel of the other's body to ease the pain if only for a moment.

Eventually, Hermione pulled herself together and stepped out of his embrace. She wiped at her eyes and cleared her throat. "We have things to do," she said, using her Professor-voice that Harry and Ron knew all too well.

Harry even managed a slight smile as he took a step away from her. Now was not the time to blur the lines. She was right. They had things to do.

Hermione stepped around him and moved towards the centre of the room. She'd brought her bag down earlier in the day in preparation for what was to happen tonight. Tonight, she would perform a Ritual she only recently learned on her best friend, hoping to restore his magic without killing him. Or herself.

She hadn't mentioned that part to Harry. She knew that he would never allow her to go through with it if he knew it would place her in danger. He was just too noble sometimes. When it wasn't adorable, it was painfully irritating. But then again, it was one of the things that she loved most about him.

Well, it wasn't as if she couldn't love the things she hated about him, right?

"Is everything okay upstairs?" Harry asked after a while, remaining standing where he was and watching her dig through her bag.

Hermione paused what she was doing for a moment. "No," she said, not looking at him. Then she resumed her search, eventually pulling out a thick book.

"What's happening?" he asked.

Hermione didn't want to tell him and he could tell. But he still pushed on, needing to know without having to go upstairs himself.

"Hermione?"

She stopped moving entirely and looked at him. "Harry, please."

Harry's eyes softened at the sound of that. The way she said his name, almost begging him not to pursue this line of questioning, tugged at his heart until he could no longer bring himself to speak. Slowly, he made his way over to Hermione. If he were completely healthy, he might have knelt down beside her but he didn't have the wherewithal to do that right now so he tugged at her sleeve to get her to stand up.

She complied, even if her expression revealed her obvious confusion. "Harry?"

He placed a hand on each of her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. "You are the strongest person I have ever known," he said softly, truthfully. The sincerity was so clear in his tone of voice and it broke her heart that much more. "I don't know how you do it. Seriously. I've spent a lot of time thinking about it and I'm convinced that you've got to be some kind of super human or something."

Despite herself - and really, despite everything that was going on - she found herself blushing. She couldn't help it. This was Harry Potter saying these things.

"You never gave up on me," he said, the volume of his voice dropping. "Even when I gave up on myself, you never did. I don't think I've ever told you what that means to me and I don't think I could ever find the right words to convey my meaning. But know this, Hermione Granger, I am so thankful for who you are and what you bring to my life.

"Leaving you behind was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, which is saying a lot, because I've been through quite a bit in my little boring life. There wasn't a day that I didn't think of you, Hermione. I know this is all something I should have told you before but I think now is as good as any, given what we're about to do. I have to to tell you so many things. I have to apologise for so much and thank you for everything."

"Stop," she rushed, lifting her hands and placing them on his forearms. "Don't make it sound like I'm about to lose you," she said. "I'm not going to let that happen. Not this time around. I won't survive going through that again."

Harry wasn't sure what to say to that at first. Everything felt like empty promises right now, in this strange state of limbo in which they were all existing. He cleared his throat. "Believe me, Hermione, if I had my way; I would never leave you again. So long as I live."

Hermione couldn't even bring herself to breathe and the sound of his vow.

"We will get through this," he said strongly, his gaze piercing hers. "One step at a time, right? Together."

All she could do, really, was nod.

Harry wasn't so blind that he couldn't see the dazed look on her face. It actually made him smile, for the first time in what felt like a very long time. I want to kiss you, he thought wildly. He blinked in surprise at his own thoughts before he dropped his hands, forcing her to do the same, and took a deep, calming breath.

Before Hermione could say anything, there was movement in the doorway, Ron suddenly appearing.

"Hey, best friends," the redhead said, clearly noticing how close to each other they were standing. He couldn't help his smirk, even though he felt like never smiling ever again.

Hermione stepped away first, dropping her head to hide her blush. If she knew Ron like she did, he would definitely bring this up later.

Later? If she survived. If they survived...

Ron stepped into the room, his smirk faltering. Behind him was Neville, who was levitating what was clearly Bill's body, covered by a white sheet. Nobody needed to see him until it was completely necessary.

Hermione was tempted to ask how Ron had managed to get Ginny to let go but she was sure she didn't actually want to know. Already, this house had made them use too many painful words to get one another to do too many painful things.

"Where should I put him?" Neville asked quietly, subconsciously not wanting to speak too loudly in the presence of the dead.

It was Hermione who replied. "Right here," she said, indicating to a spot in the middle of the room. The Ritual would have to be built around Bill and Harry. The centre of the room was the only place that made sense. They would draw the pentagram in the centre of the room, allowing sufficient space for the aftermath of the Ritual.

The four of them stood awkwardly for a moment before Neville broke their silence. "Will they know?"

Hermione looked at him. "What?"

"The Order. Will they know that Harry has his magic back when all this over?"

"My understanding of this Ritual is that it will draw on the magic of those who initially participated in the Ritual that took Harry's magic away. I don't know how that will affect them but I'm more concerned with Harry anyway."

"Oh, we know," Ron said coyly, and Hermione shot him a look. Trust Ron to make light of this situation.

"How long will it take?" Neville asked, ignoring the two friend's antics, much like Harry.

"I don't know that either," she said. Merlin, admitting that she didn't know things was painful. "We'll start at midnight and see from there."

"And you're doing it tonight because it's the full moon?"

She nodded. Why was he asking all these questions?

"Do you need any help?"

Hermione fought her urge to say yes. "No, I think we'll be fine."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "You just want to be the only one to see Harry naked, don't you?"

Hermione bustled at that, her heart rate picking up.

"Wait," Harry said; "I have to get naked?"

"No," Hermione said strongly. "This is to do with the magical core, not the body or soul. Don't listen to Ron. He's being an idiot, as usual."

Ron just laughed. "Okay then, we'll leave you two kids to it." He started to leave, gesturing for Neville to walk with him, but the other Gryffindor hesitated.

"Hermione?" Neville asked quietly. "Are you sure you don't need one of us here?"

From the look in his eye, Hermione just knew that he suspected that this Ritual would be dangerous for her as well. But, if he stayed, something might happen to him too, and she wasn't willing to have Ginny lose someone else she loved in this War. And especially not when... No. "It's going to be fine, Neville," she said calmly. "I can handle it, I promise."

He sighed. "Okay."

Ron and Neville said quick goodbyes, even hugging Harry for good measure. Neville even hugged Hermione, which raised Harry's suspicions. Or merely cemented what he already thought.

"It's going to be painful for you too, isn't it?" Harry asked once they were alone.

"Nothing I can't handle," she dismissed as she busied herself with the preparations.

Harry watched as she drew the pentagram into the ground surrounding Bill. She was very precise, calculating angles as she went. Then came the candles. She placed them in position but did not light them. When she was done, she stood up straight and looked at him.

"What?" he asked.

"I know I said that you wouldn't have to be naked, but you're going to have to take off your shirt so I can draw the runes on you."

He nodded. "Now?"

"Umm." She bit at her bottom lip. "I think I should do Bill first."

"Okay," he said, involuntarily stepping back. "I think I'm just going to pop out to the loo. Is that okay?"

Hermione read his desire to leave the room for what it was. "Okay. I'll be here."

Harry couldn't get out of there quickly enough. He closed the door behind him and fought the urge to dry heave. As per Hermione's instructions, he hadn't eaten anything all day. For whatever reason, he needed an empty stomach.

Harry waited ten minutes before he went back inside, to find Bill's body uncovered with runes written on his chest and arms. It hurt Harry to know that this was what Bill would be used for: the sacrifice required to bring his magic back. The same way he now suspected that Remus and Tonks had been used to get rid of it in the first place.

Hermione was kneeling at Bill's side, a flat bowl at her side and some kind of dagger balanced on its edges.

"What is that?" he asked, referring to the dagger.

"It's a Ritual blade," she informed him, not even lifting her head.

"It requires blood?"

Hermione looked up at him, sensing his panic. The last time he'd given blood; the Dark Lord had risen once again. "It'll only be a little," she said. "We need it so that the runes know which core to bind the magic to."

He just nodded before he glanced at his watch. It was almost time.

"Take off your shirt," Hermione eventually said as she stood up. "And remove anything metal, so your belt, your watch and your shoes. The jeans will also have to go; your buttons are made of metal."

Harry did as he was told until he was standing in just his boxers and socks. He noticed that Hermione made a point of not looking at his face as she began to draw on him, sending chills up and down his spine.

Once she was satisfied, she stood up straight and turned immediately, but he caught hold of her wrist to stop her from getting any further away from him.

"Hermione," he began, getting her to look at him. "I don't want you to do anything stupid," he said. He watched her face as she prepared for a retort but he spoke before she could. "I mean it. If it doesn't work, then it doesn't work. I need you to promise that you'll leave it at that. I don't want you doing any heroics, okay?"

She frowned. "That's like the pot calling the kettle black, isn't it?"

"Promise me?" he said, his eyes blazing.

She blinked. "Okay. I promise."

He released her and she moved towards the centre of the room where she put away anything that wasn't required for the actual Ritual. She glanced at her own watch before she motioned for Harry to enter the pentagram. He removed his glasses and handed them to her.

"You have stand with your feet either side of him," she instructed. "Face him, yeah, like that." Hermione bent down to retrieve the Ritual blade before she used her wand to light the candles. "It's simple," she said to Harry. "When the time comes, I'll slice your hand. When I'm saying the spell, you have to drop some blood onto Bill's chest. What happens next, I suppose, is up to whether the Ritual catches or not."

Harry looked at her. "I know there are things you're not telling me."

"And what do you intend to do about it?"

He shook his head. "Nothing," he said, surprising her. "We need to do this."

"We do."

He gave her a lopsided grin. "I'll see you after?"

She had to return his smile. "Piece of cake."

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and held out his hand when he heard the distant gong of a Grandfather clock somewhere in the house. He barely felt it when Hermione sliced his hand. Then she was speaking, and Harry was forced to open his eyes. As told, he dropped blood onto Bill's chest, and he was hit with a blinding light. It emanated from the runes on Bill's body, making Harry block his own eyes with his left arm.

Harry was made oddly aware of Hermione slumping down on his right side. He made a move to go to her but his body felt too heavy, as if something was weighing him down.

"It's okay, Harry," she managed to say, and it was the last thing he heard before it truly started.

It began with the screaming. It pierced his ears, throwing him off balance and he landed hard on his knees, his injured hand toppling a candle over. He couldn't see anything and all he could hear was the sound of the screaming. Someone was screaming; they were obviously in pain.

It took him a moment more to figure out that that someone was him.