Are you ready? Are you excited and so close to exploding before the end? There you go!


"Please…" she moaned beneath him, "please, Severus… I…" she blushed as she stared at him with lust-filled, half-opened eyes, "I want to feel you the whole day…" she finished her whisper and like a spell, it freed the rage in him, consumed him as he possessed her, pressing deep within her, hard and fast wishing to leave an imprint within her, desiring nothing else but to fulfill her wish, to be able to leave at least this small insignificant sign on somebody, on Hermione, should his fears come true.

Her breathing was laboured beneath him as she pulled him closer, her first orgasm showering over her – he could feel her clamping around him as he pulled out, still not finished.

"On your fours, witch." She complied without another thought and he thought naught as he plunged into her from behind, stroking her from a new angle that had her crying out into the hazy dawn. She was hot beneath him, lithe yet strong as she held herself up, carrying a portion of his weight that he didn't manage to withhold as he stayed up on one arm only.

She pushed against him still, rolling her hips slowly as she'd learned to just the evening before, the two of them out of tandem, but perfectly in rhythm and he groaned as he felt her walls fluttering around him, heralding her second orgasm that he knew he would not be able to withstand.

"Hermione…" he huffed into her neck, just before he bit it, leaving angry marks on her soft, delicate skin. On cue the witch clamped down on him, her body shaking beneath his as bliss overtook her, and he followed her swiftly, still leisurely pumping in and out of her as she milked him for every last drop, before they fell aside, limbs still entangled and he kissed the mark he had left.


"I'm sorry." She heard him say, as she turned to him and he hovered above the mark she could feel burning in her neck with a hand that she was sure would heal away all of it – she stopped him.

"Don't be – I want it." And if it is the last thing I can have of you.

She was glad when he put his hand away and instead stroke over her skin the way he had done before as he lay beside her under the big blanket he had transformed the night before. Hermione would never say it, but she might have cried the next few minutes if he wouldn't have pulled her close to him, enveloping her in the tight hug that she hadn't known she needed that instant.

"Should anything go wrong…" he said silently, and in truth Hermione did not want to hear it. She did not want to hear what she should do 'in case of', she wanted him to promise her that he'd survive – but then, not even she could forward that promise, how could she ask it of him? "You are my heir." He whispered. "I do not have… a lot of things, and the few possessions I do have, I want to give to you."

Hermione could not help the tears this time as she nodded into his chest, hoping that somehow he would not notice.


Fawkes looked at her friend. She had not seen him for years now, and humans might have forgotten an acquaintance such as him in the times that the two hadn't seen each other, but as he chirped his greetings, she just knew that it had to be him – there would never be another note as his.

As she came closer on delicate feet, she noticed that he'd grown in the years – much as she had, she supposed. His talons had elongated, his head was gingerly formed, his black, bright orbs taking in the scene below him at the window. Reaching his side, she perched next to him to observe the happenings below them.

For some time now she'd known that this would happen. Young people that called themselves wizards would enter a fight with another, grown, dark, wizard that attacked their territory. She could tell that while she didn't understand the details about the working – this war – whatever happened today would influence the people they'd observed for another few decades, if not centuries.

Phoenixes had watched 'wizardkind' since its beginning; they'd been the ones to teach people how to fly, how to heal, they'd sung them songs of peace and love but those for naught – for mankind was treacherous and spiteful, desiring often what belonged to another and ever more than often, not below using their gifts to gain the trinket in question.

Next to her, he began to hum silently, singing to her in low, almost inaudible, tunes the story he'd brought along with him. The story of the women he'd protected until now, the ones that she had known to live within these walls but had watched strive and help where it had been in their power. She had watched with the headmaster as the youngest amongst them died and had sung to him songs of peace for weeks, before he'd found them. And now heard of the parts that she hadn't known before, the hunger, the fear, the loyalty and the love they shared, the strength they built up together and all the tears they shed when no one else looked.

What he wanted of her was clear; he'd always been a protest with wings. Phoenixes had decided to not interfere with the matters of the humans anymore, they had deemed it no longer possible to instill any knowledge at all to the people that called themselves wizards and thought themselves superior to everyone and everything. Normally they also wouldn't take sides – phoenixes were impartial, knew that everything that happened did so for a reason that history would one day reveal.

But even she agreed that something had to be done, if not because she took sides, then because she had seen history repeat itself over and over again, this wizard alone had already walked this earth once, had shook this country with his terror – it would not happen differently this time. She knew, too, that these witches were a possibility for phoenixes too to take a new position in the wizarding-world, Fawkes knew that such thing as listening wizards existed too, there was always a possibility to try, wasn't there?


"Harry?"

He turned from the large window to look at Ron and Remus, who had both just appeared behind him, Ron pale as he had been when he'd been saved from Riddle in second year, Remus as pale as he always was when the full moon was not far away. The older wizard had called him and so he directed his eyes at him, seeing him smile shakily at him.

This would be Remus' second war, but he was as nervous and shaky about it as his first one – a fight, Harry presumed, would always be a fight. It would always send you on edge, make your nerves burn, your mind work on overdrive until the moment when the first hex was shot, everything in you would shut down, concentrating solely on fighting to survive.

"We are ready – the dorms are locked and the Aurors are here, we should get into position."

Nodding Harry tore away from the grand window in front of him, the coloured glass that, pieced intricately together, depicted the four founders, still peacefully united for the construction of the magical castle of Hogwarts.

Hermes, he remembered, had promised to return at the day of the battle exactly and for hours during the day he had driven himself mad by searching for any sign of the bushy-haired, young man, but finding none. Finally to calm his stormy head, as he had taught him to, he had gone to find a secluded spot and had found peace in front of the moving window. He had no way of knowing where Hermes had been all through the year and could hence not tell, if his friend – for even though the curly-haired wizard had renounced that description, Harry still befitted it to him – would arrive or not.

It was only when he descended the stairs that he was met with great uproar, for the Aurors were already shooting at what appeared to be three intruders that weaved skillfully through the crowd.

"Halt!" Remus' voice boomed instantly, and Harry was glad that the Aurors had agreed to submit to the Order, for the shooting stopped instantly. "What is the meaning of this?" the werewolf bellowed. "You need not exhaust your strength sooner than it will and you certainly must not endanger the students anymore!"

Kingsley raised his hands placating as Remus made for one particular Auror that had sent a Bone-Shattering hex through the crowd. "Now, Remus, it was never our intention to – quite the opposite actually. We had opened the gates to send out a few spies, when these three here, dashed in."

Pointing to his right, the wizards only now noticed a brown wolf, a polar fox and a black panther who peeked out of the masses. "Animagi?" Ron asked next to him, his wand drawn, but before another question could be asked, the three transformed, leaving Harry to stare at wonder as Hermes' figure emerged from the wolf – annoyed the young man shook his hair to tie it back in his usual low-knot.

"One should wonder, Professor Lupin, just how true the Ministry has stuck to their words when they said to set up the Trust-Wards, if they shoot spells at incomers from the outside…" he sniffed.

Harry grinned broadly at the young man. "I've been looking all day for you." He admitted as he walked down the stairs to stand in front of the cleverest, most powerful wizard his age to greet him.

"Told you I would come, didn't I?" the boy smirked instead.

"What about the kidnappings?" Kingsley asked, interrupting their reunion, but Harry was relieved to see all of the assembled students smile slightly.

Hermes answered for his own. "Sir, with all due respect, Parcival and Lysander have been my best friends throughout the years – nothing could make me hurt them, but both have turned eighteen this summer, and surely you know just on whose side the families Parkinson and Lovegood are."

Nothing else was said and Harry finally went to hug Hermes loosely for welcome. "I am glad that you managed to come, really, Hermes. With you on our side, how can we lose?" he smiled – behind him, Remus and Ron descended the stairs and he was pleased to see that the red-head at least nodded at Hermes.

Remus however, had still one last question. "How did you know it was today? I thought you were cut off intelligence? For all you know by this time of the day we could have already been vanquished…"

Of course this got Harry a thorough stare from Hermes, who didn't say a word, but instead turned back to Lupin. "We were lucky enough to find a soul deserted enough to agree to be our informant. He's been keeping us up to par ever since the beginning of the year…"

A thought seemed to strike him and he reached into the beaded bag that hung around his back, to take out a parchment with broken seal and a small booklet – he seemed nervous all of a sudden.

"Harry, I am very sorry for forwarding you this only now, but… it was brought to us by the phoenix and we couldn't afford to not have you at Hogwarts. It would have torn apart the whole plan, you would have been the target number one, and the DA would never have come to this point. I am… sorry, for only now delivering to you, the will of Albus Dumbledore, directed to you."

He received the parchment with a dry mouth, flying over the few lines and then skimming through the book – his brows furrowed. "It's a child's book…" he mulled, "why would he have left me a child's book?"

The question, directed at Hermes, seemed to put the questioned wizard more at ease, seemingly pleased that he would now be able to explain the why to his action. "Actually, hidden in these stories are the whereabouts to Riddle's Horcruxes. You remember them, don't you Harry? From second year… We all know about his desire to live forever, and these Dark Artifacts should have made it possible for him to be revived over and over again… we managed to destroy them… If you kill him today, you kill him once and for all."


It was a lie and Remus could well taste it, but he was surprised enough that the rest of his speech had been the truth.

"Dumbledore's ring… the hand…" he mumbled, his curly-haired student nodded understandingly. "The headmaster tried, and unfortunately failed, to destroy Slytherin's ring, a Horcrux – he should have died on the spot, but managed, for whatever reason to hold out… until his… passing."

In Remus' head questions popped up like mushrooms after a rain that had been provided by Hermes Granger. He was not a dumb man and knew that if anyone could have stopped the surely untimely death of Albus, it would have been Severus, whose brews could cure almost everything, but it appeared that this time around he had only managed to lengthen Albus' stay. And the kill?

Harry had told him that Dumbledore had pleaded with him, two words only, if the boy was to be believed, Severus, please – could it have meant that Albus had told him to? Had he asked him to release him from his worldly live? But then, why had Severus not stayed to explain? As if anyone would have listened to him… his mind supplied, and Remus knew that it was right, after all he'd always been a double-spy and they'd always been a bit wary about him, most of them anyways, others had been surprised by his turn.

For once as he stared at his student, he wished that he knew how to occlude people, he wanted to see within his mind, wanted to know what exactly was going on in there, what he really knew, but by the way Granger stared back, and from what he'd heard from Albus and Harry himself, Granger knew very well how to deflect an occlumentic attack and carry them out himself.

"So…" Harry's voice interrupted his musings, "so he'll be gone forever? He'll bite the dust and from hence on will push the daisies?"

"If you succeed, Harry, and we all believe that you will – we wouldn't be here if not." And Remus nodded sagely at the very well chosen words of Hermes Granger.


Pansy and Luna both flanked Hermione – not a muscle moved, though each knew of the other just how terrified they were.

While Hermione could think of nothing else but Severus' well-being, Pansy hoped for the same where Draco was concerned. Luna, however feared to face her own father and so the three of them stood in silence, quivering on the inside while on the outside their wands were hid stealthily in their sleeves, their strength at its height.

Next to them and behind them stood numerous other students, all of them staring with unseeing eyes into the dense fog ahead of them – the Black Phoenix Witches had charmed their ears to not be betrayed by silencing-charms that could be used by the enemy. It was not needed as they found out a minute later.

A voice echoed over the fields in front of Hogwarts and surely also the halls that lay behind them. It was high, cold and clear, sending shivers down the students' backs. There was no telling from where it came, for it seemed to be everywhere at once, issuing from the walls, or perhaps even from the fog they stood in.

"I know that you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts." Next to Pansy Remus growled wolfishly, "I do not want to spill magical blood."

But then of course, he did not deem muggle-borns or half-bloods to be 'magical' – did he? In a surprising show of courage, all of the assembled army in front of Hogwarts, stepped forth only once, their faces grim, their wands drawn as they waited with baited breath.

"Give me Harry Potter," he said, "and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter-", his voice took on a sickenly sweet tone, "and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight."

Midnight?

As if on cue the fog lifted in front of their eyes to chance them a sight at an empty battlefield, only Voldemort at the far end of the green lawn, standing just out of the shadows of the Forbidden Forest, before he vanished therein.

Slowly the troops returned to the safety of the school, where they went in search of Harry – as Hermione had predicted, the whole castle had heard the words and was mostly looking at the raven-haired boy.

"You stay." Hermione ground – she had slithered through his defences before he'd been able to concentrate and had been able to see each and every single thought, and Harry had noticed. "I swear Potter, if you leave now, there will be no chance in hell for us – he'll trample on us like he would on ants. You are our moral, if you go, no one else will – there will not be a fight, least of all if something should happen to you, anything. Do you understand?"

The young man opposite of her said nothing as she stared him down, a spell on her lips should he try to dash, should he even think of trying. He was lucky that he didn't. Silently he nodded and Hermione turned to the professors and Aurors around her, searching for someone – anyone – who would listen to what she had to say; ironically enough her questing stare was answered by Remus Lupin.

"Midnight is only half an hour away, we should get into position – what's the plan, sir?"


Casting a Sonorus-charm on himself, he cleared his throat, catching the attention of the students around him, before he cancelled the charm – there was never a telling, how far a Sonorus reached and the least they needed now was to unwittingly inform the enemy of their plan.

"Students of Hogwarts, Aurors, Order members, Fighters. We will divide into groups – three of them, led by Auror Kingsley, Order member Weasley and Professor Flitwick, will position themselves at the highest towers of the castle: Gryffindor tower, Ravenclaw tower and the Astronomy tower. Leaders, select your groups."

It took hardly any time at all to select those that had stayed – everyone was willing to fight, no matter where. The towers were the perfect spot from where to fire spells without being directly touched – that, and they had prepared their battle-stations throughout the whole week, stealthily sneaking potions, and casting repelling charms.

"Professor Cudlaw, Order member Moody and I will take groups into the grounds. We'll need somebody to organize defence of the entrances of the passageways into the school-"

"Sounds like a job for us!" Called Fred, indicating himself and George, Remus nodded his approval. They might have broken off school in the year of their NEWTS but they were both practiced Chasers, used to protect people from attacks – they had an eye for it and a feeling for the other wherever they went. Molly called it twin-magic once and he remembered Percy scoffing at it, but in the end, he supposed that the mother of so many might just have been right.

"To your positions, fighters! Merlin guide your wands!"


Hermione looked at Luna and Pansy – they'd retreated to the farthest corner they had found, watching with steely eyes as the wizards milled out on the battlefield. Half an hour ago they had been single-minded, had mingled with the rest, but their plan had changed.

Voldemort knew something – they were sure of that. Of course being as he was, he could have held that little speech earlier even without some extra intelligence, but it would be foolish to suppose so – no one ever went into war without thinking himself to be in advantage.

"We need to finish Nagini first." Pansy whispered determinedly. "We cannot risk him having an advantage indeed, Hermione, three-quarters of these fighters have gone to school with us, are even younger than us. We need to make sure that Harry really confronts him..."

"Strange," Luna said, furrowing her brow, "how we are talking about Harry as if he was a pawn to sacrifice all along."

Hermione solemnly looked at the young man who received and gave out encouraging shoulder pats. Everyone relied on him, everything relied on him, no matter how much work the Black Phoenix Witches might have done in the background – on the surface, everything still relied on Harry.

"I hate to say it, but this is war – I need to lie to Harry to make him believe he could win, when I know that he will not see the end of this night..." she turned to her friends, clearing emotions from her face. "We need to reach Nagini, before Harry reaches him – there would be no time for it afterwards."

The two nodded as Hermione pulled out the Marauder's Map that had always been a loyal companion – it was surely a small advantage to the Death Eaters, knowing where they were. But it was a pity that this war, lead and planned by men, would hardly allow the finesse of ambushes rather than the brute force of magical power against magical power. "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good."

Tom Riddle was in the Shrieking Shack – pacing up and down. In a corner of the same room sat Lucius Malfoy, while Severus Snape, Carmenius Yaxley and Fenrir Grayback were obviously in the first story of the small hut.

"When they begin, we set off. Think of disillusionment, sound and smell most of all – we cannot have weres or vamps following us."


Severus was lucky that he was pale as a sheet, for surely if he ever would have had some colour in his face, the vanishing of the same would have been an indicator of his allegiances. The first hexes had flown, red and angry and he could see the angry mob departing from the Forbidden Forest, meeting the determined troops of Moody, Cudlaw and Lupin in a lethal battle.

Flashes tore through the night, illuminating the darkness like fire-crackers and bonfires. Yaxley and Grayback were both in that mayhem, killing and maiming but he could care less for the two bastards. Was Hermione amidst the troops? Was Luna or Pansy? Would they live through the night? He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in order to calm his thoughts – he needed to play his role perfectly.

The wand he'd handed Voldemort was a fake – he knew that and he supposed that the Dark Lord would soon find out, if he hadn't found out already. He'd written his will the night he'd handed the Snake the wrong wand; he'd never thought that the forgery would not be detected.

As of now Lucius was upstairs, hoping to escape death that could await him for the flight of his son to which Snape had helped. The boy had confided to him when he had already written him off, but his godson had unwavering confidence in him, hoping that somehow he would find a way out – and Snape had. In the early hours of the day he had transported the boy away, along with his will that was charmed to not open before his death. After all it wouldn't quite do to reveal that a woman carrying the last name of Hermes Granger would be his heiress.

"Severus...?"

He turned as Lucius descended the stairs and he allowed himself to slip a little, enveloping the lower arm of his long-time friend in a tight grip as they stared long at each other, before Severus leant in.

"They are both safe, Lucius, do not worry." And before his friend could reply, he had pressed a button into his hand and whispered the spell that carried him far away, out of the country, to the land-house he'd already transported Draco to – they would join Narcissa without preamble, he was sure of it.

Liberated by his actions, Severus ascended the stairs and entered the room in a perfect show of humbleness. "My lord..."


"Immobilus." Hermione whispered panting, before they had even reached their target, running over the battlefield as if they could outrun Death himself – she so wished she could. No one noticed that the leaves of the Whomping Willow stopped moving in the slightest breeze for a few minutes before it groaned angrily at being shot and joined the mayhem, swaying and thrashing – the three witches were already in the secret tunnel by that time.

She spearheaded their little troop, daring hardly to breathe as she crawled half-blind over the slippery floor beneath her. Any minute she could be detected, right next to her could be Nagini, hidden away in a dark tunnel where she liked it best – shivers of fear ran down her back and she could no longer distinguish her sweat from the small drops that landed on her, falling from the narrow ceiling above her.

And then, after what seemed to be years, she heard voices ahead of them – one unmistakingly his while the other one, her heart lurched... Severus.

"I have a problem, Severus," said Voldemort softly, and from her hiding spot she could see the flat, snake-like face of the older wizard, the gleaming red eyes and the pale skin, daring not to breathe any longer, she ducked down and watched.

"My Lord?" said Severus – he was unusually pale as he stood there, his head bent just ever so slightly in a perfect show of humility.

"Why doesn't it work for me, Severus?" The short silence that followed allowed Hermione to survey the room and find, there just a few steps away from Voldemort, Nagini, hissing in what appeared to be a magic-proof cage – magical handiwork of surely none other than Riddle himself.

"My-my Lord?" Severus played his part perfectly – he'd always done, but in these moments Hermione realized that she should have portkeyed him away this morning, she knew he was in danger, she could feel it, and surely he could too. "I do not understand. You – you have performed extraordinary magic with that wand."

She applauded him silently for appeasing that brat's ego, but as always a killer would not hear what the victim has to say. Voldemort praised himself, chided the wand, continued to ramble and then said the few words that had Pansy and Luna put a hand on Hermione's shoulder in case she should dare to jump – she almost did wouldn't it have been for them to remind her that this was war... and Severus, as she and Harry, and everyone, really were just pawns ready for sacrifice.

"All this long night, when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here," said the deformed man, his voice barely louder than a whisper, "wondering, wondering why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner... and I think I have the answer."

Severus did not speak – Hermione did not speak. She had known it from the moment she'd seen Severus in that room, with that man and that Snake – but she didn't want to see, didn't want to be witness. But that was not her choice anymore, she was. She had a front-row seat for the death of the man she loved.

"It cannot be any other way," said Voldemort. "I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last."

And then it all happened too fast for her to digest – Nagini flew through the room, Snape in her cage, the bite and then silence.

"I regret it." Said Voldemort coldly before he vanished from sight.

"Severus! Severus!" Hermione cared for nothing as she bolted forth, cradling the head of the man she loved in her hand, placing it on her lap as she grabbed his hand. There was blood everywhere, gushing from his torn neck. Without thinking she pushed her hand into her bag and retreated to object that she thoughtless stuffed into his mouth – she hoped that it was the bezoar and the blood replenisher she'd prayed for when she'd stuck her hand into the bag.

"Stay alive, please, stay alive..." she whispered as she kissed his gurgling mouth. "I return."

And when she was sure that the bezoar had done its wonders, she kissed him one last time. Petrificus Totalus


"You have fought," said the high, cold voice, "valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish for this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured."

Hermione listened cool-heartedly to the snide voice echoing over the battle ground. Their mission to kill Nagini had failed – instead though they had now gathered more intelligence, she had to concentrate on that. Concentrating on that would mean defeating Voldemort earlier and that meant being able to treat Severus earlier.

"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall for one hour in the Forbidden Forest wait for you. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."


Harry stood grief-stricken in the Great Hall. The bodies of the dead lay in a row in the middle of a hall and he fought hard to contain his tears as he recognized so many there. But the loss of Remus and Fred weighed the most. Remus had been his greatest support and Fred... Fred had been a brother. He watched, from afar, as the Weasley men cried over their loss.

It was Hermes who tore him out of his grim thoughts. "I have... good news, Harry, despite all." He said silently, eyes taking in the ever growing amount of dead. "He thinks he is at an advantage, he thinks he has the Elder Wand – which is said to always let its wielder win in a battle. What he has, though, is a very convincing fake. Our informant placed it there... and we need to plan. Where is that Auror from earlier when Lupin talked?"

Kingsley, Harry was sure of it. Now that Remus was no longer, the black had the commando and Harry immediately led Hermes towards the man in question, where the young wizard relayed his information as well.

"Do you understand? Despite the odds, we have a huge chance here. We can use this to our own advantage, can draw him out – he thinks he is superior..." Hermes gushed and Kingsley immediately caught fire.

"We can counter-propose, take him to the field immediately, instead of sending Harry to the Forest, alone, without protection, we can make sure we can win." Hermes nodded, before he drew his wand and held the tip to his throat, waiting for a nod of the Auror – he gave permission freely.

"You shall meet whom you desire at the middle of the plains of the castle. You could wait… You could come to get what you sought…"

Harry could hear the timber of Hermes' voice carrying over the fields and could almost see it penetrating the deep Forest, where Voldemort sat, surrounded by his loyal Death Eaters. Hermes said no more and waited not for a response, for surely none would come. "Go there." The young man said, after cancelling the charm, "We will walk with you, and stand with you until he arrives – for surely he will, he wants his candy. So, sir, I hope you can make things up on the go."


Kingsley was surprised with the young man that flanked Harry's other side. He treated the battle as if he'd seen hundreds of them already, he threw ideas around quicker than Kingsley could even think them up and he had to admit that by the time they had reached the middle of the field on front of the castle, the plan they'd come up with stemmed mostly of the young man.

He'd heard of Hermes Granger – he'd listened to Severus' rants when he'd still seen him, he'd listened to Remus' musings when he'd still been alive, he'd listened to Arthur's praises, he'd listened to Albus' worries, he'd listened to Sirius' thanks. So much depended on Hermes Granger, so much background work, that Kingsley seriously considered offering him a post at the Auror office.

True, he didn't look like much and if it wouldn't have been for the curly hair and the straight nose he'd have thought him a relative of Severus – the same stride, the same determination in his eyes, the same dedication and even the cloak billowed the same way!


If this goes wrong, then flee – fetch Severus, and go wherever you can

Neither Luna nor Pansy had answered to her plea, but as she chanced a look backwards, she could see her two best friends in the foremost lines, arms locked in front of their chests, Severus' cloaks billowing around their feet. She wondered for an amusing moment, if her cloak billowed the same way – it would be nice to have something of Severus when she died.

She knew what made her walk with Harry to meet his fate, she knew that it was guilt and remorse that made her walk next to him, guilt and remorse that would make her watch as her friend would probably die in front of her very eyes, while she had to trudge on as long as would be possible for her.

No matter what plan she had made up with Kingsley, it had all been a lie, Harry was a pawn, she was a pawn, even the Auror was a pawn. If Harry would die, she'd be able to kill the snake and then if the Auror reacted quickly enough, he'd be able to kill Voldemort, or perhaps he'd reform the forces... but he was a good thinker and excellent strategist, she was sure that should anything happen, he would take over the commando and he would do a good deal about it.

Voldemort apparated three meters in front of them, Nagini floating in her magical cage-bubble behind him, Kingsley and Hermione both stopped, watching as Harry bravely trudged on, meeting the man that had been the bane of his existence for his whole life and the masses of Death Eaters appearing behind him.


"Avada Kedavra."

Hermione watched motionless as Harry did not even defend himself. Next to her Kingsley stood just as dumbfounded – Harry had not even drawn his wand, he'd simply walked towards the ugly grinning man and had embraced his Death without a word.

Silence settled over the field.

"Dead...?" she could hear Voldemort ask as he inspected the young man at his feet. But when he realized that indeed, he had won, a cackling laughter filled the silence and men could hear him over the whole field, without a Sonorus-charm.

"Look at your hero now! Dead! Dead as a mouse!" he cackled as he turned, raising his hands in his glory. "Harry Potter is dead! The coward!" But then, as if regaining his senses, he lowered his hands, his Death Eaters walking forth just behind him, as he cast the voice-enhancing charm and held his wand to his throat.

"The battle is won." He said, and she could have heard the nasty grin in his face if she wouldn't have seen it, as he directed it straight at her. "You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle, now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live, and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."

Hermione could feel the masses advance behind her to the spot where she stood, still rooted to the spot – half of her mind reeling over with the fact that Harry had not acted accordingly to plan, half of her mind set on the task that she still had to fulfil.

Lysander and Parcival were flanking her as she waved her hand in an imperceptible way, accioing the sword of Gryffindor out of her beaded bag – she had been angry at Severus before for forwarding it to her, when obviously it should have been Harry's to wield, but maybe the dour magician had foreseen things that she had had no idea of.

"Well, well, well..." Voldemort sang, as he neared the three of them, cries of sorrow echoing through the rows behind them at perceiving Harry's dead body, "if it isn't Hermes Granger. Gave me some headaches with your kidnappings." He was almost too close now and she could feel her heart beat at too many hours a mile for it to be healthy for a human body, outside she showed nothing.

"I am truly inconsolable." She ground out. "Next time I shall endeavour to kill the whole of the family so as not to give you a headache..."

Kingsley went rigid on his spot, but Hermione knew that this was the only way to come closer to Voldemort, to incapacitate him, she had to infuriate him, heaten him up, make him slow, if such a thing was possible... The Snake smirked humourlessly at her, and just as he bent down to look into her eyes and prod her walls, she got perfect view on the Snake.

"Gladius oppugno."

And without her truly moving, Gryffindor's sword surged forward, piercing, ignorant of the spells around it, the scales and the throat of the floating snake.


From his point he and Fawkes had the perfect view of the last seconds of the Snake. He remembered still the sword that had served him well already once, but he had never thought of using it once again. He understood now, understood what had been necessary and awed hence all the more at the ability and the cleverness of Hermes Granger.

The snake writhed once, trying to dislodge the enchanted weapon which, however, was set on killing its target and pinned the head down to the ground – successfully dislodging it. Nagini's head rolled lifelessly to the ground, stopping right in front of him. He grimaced – he really hadn't wanted to get to know the snake that close...

"Godric's sword..." Voldemort's voice quivered as he turned back, white with rage, facing off Hermes, who still stood as tall and straight as he had always done, his billowing cloak gifting him with the ultimate appearance of a hero who had just rid Voldemort of his last Horcrux – he could not have been anymore prouder.

"I will not ask, how you got your hands on it, filthy mudblood. Unfortunately your actions have quite exhausted my respect towards you..."

Voldemort drew his wand with a dramatic swish, and he watched as Hermes did the same, as did Lysander and Parcival – but the maniac only smirked. "But children, have you never heard the prophecy? No man can kill me." He murmured sweetly, as if explaining a child the simplest of things.


"Then it should come as a surprise to you..." he began slowly and he could see how his eyes darted to his two companions.

"That I... am not a man!"

At once the shimmering glamours around Hermes Granger vanished and he was confronted with a fierce looking woman, curly hair framing her delicate face in a wild mane, her eyes aflame as she directed a twelve-inch, ebony wand at him. His world crumbled, his mind shut down as the first rays of the sun appeared over the Black Lake, illuminating her.

"I know it's complete barmy!" Castor bellowed. "Godesses! How could the Romans believe that women held power?!"

Tom strolled behind him, still mulling over what they had learned in Magical History today. He had studied the topic thoroughly, inspecting not the fever this subject had caught him with. There was no rational explanation for his interest in powerful women, were they heroines or goddesses, or even magical creatures. He could not help but dive into the few books he could find, hoping to find a scrap of anything, a pureblooded woman who'd risen, who'd revolted – for surely that had to have occurred once.

Fact was that save for the women whose families had paid for the private tuition because they were the last surviving member of the clan (or, in Sprout's case, the first witch of an affluent muggle family) there were hardly any witches to speak of... and McGonagall could really not be counted as a witch.

Still, as he followed his yowling Housemate, his mind stayed back at the class. There had been powerful women, women with the power to decide who was allowed to go to paradise and who not, women that guided the fallen heroes to Walhall...

"A Valkyrie." He sighed, finding himself looking up at her, the sun now setting her hair aflame, the dome creating wings out of her back, her wand a sword that striked down on him.

"Avada Kedavra."


Harry sat up when Voldemort fell, looking with huge eyes at the three women in front of him – the three women that had just been Hermes Granger, Lysander Lovegood and Parcival Parkinson. There was a short silence on the field, before the three of them were grabbed by the strong talons of a black phoenix and vanished without a sound.

Fawkes sang a victorious tune, unfreezing the masses around him.

"Harry!" he could hear Ron's shout, but as he turned to look, all else he could see was a horde of Death Eaters, still looking at the spot where their master lay, his eyes empty yet strangely content.


I admit that Hermione's phrase was very much inspired by J.R.R. Tolkien... (but I love the scene and it fit so well!)