Hermione managed to get out of bed some half an hour later after Draco left, painfully sensing how weak her body had become. She felt dizzy when she stood up, so she had to walk slowly. The cottage was small, so it didn't take long for her to look around while she tried to keep her thoughts away from Harry and what was waiting for him. There were two more rooms save from the one she slept in, as well as a living room connected to a small kitchen. She went there to make a cup of tea. Thankfully, the gas stove was working. She didn't feel like eating neither the salad nor the still-warm soup Draco had made her but she couldn't resist tasting it – all she could think was that Draco should stay with cooking potions.

She felt a pang of grief and guilt in her chest that hit her upon remembering Mipsy. Hermione wasn't all that sorry the Manor was burned down – even thought she grew used to it, but there were also many horrible memories related to that place. However, the loss of Mipsy was dawning on her slowly but surely. When the kettle whistled, she let out a small sob, hoping nobody heard her even though she was all alone at the cottage. She didn't cry. She wanted to, but the tears refused to come.

She sat by the window with her cup of hot tea, staring ahead at the sea. The waves were hitting the sandy shore like wild animals, and the wildest of them almost reached the terrace of the cottage. The wind was howling, making the windows rattle, and Hermione had half a mind to go outside but the weather seemed cold and windy and she didn't trust her healing body to keep her steady enough to withstand it. All she could do was wait.

When Hermione heard a familiar pop of Apparition outside the bedroom, she ran there, almost spilling the now-cold tea on the way, forgetting all about her fragile state. Harry and Draco were already there and Hermione rushed to assess their state with a single glance – they both seemed sound, physically at least. Harry was pale, his body seemed languid with deep dark shadows under his eyes, his jaw seemed tight and somehow more defined during the last few days as if he had been grinding his teeth all the time they've been apart. Although he was looking around the cottage curiously, when his eyes met hers, there was endless sadness in them.

The tears finally came.

Hermione ran to hug him, choking out, "Oh, Harry…"

He hugged her back, burying his face in her neck just like they did when they were children after spending the summer away from one another. She saw his lower lip tremble momentarily as if he were about to cry too, but the next moment his face hardened, and determination shone in his gaze.

"It's going to be over soon," he told her. "We will win this."

"Harry," she sniffed. "I'm so sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry for anything. This is what needs to be done. This was always meant to happen, no matter how hard we tried to postpone it." When they drew away, he looked her up and down. He frowned. "Malfoy told me you were attacked."

"Nagini bit me."

"Are you alright?"

She nodded. "Draco saved me."

Only then did she come to her senses enough to look at her loved one. And she gasped when she saw a bloody gash on his cheek. She went to him, but only caressed his clean cheek which, unfortunately, was also scarred.

"What happened?" she asked, trying to determine how bad the damage was. He had a scar of similar caliber on the other side of his face, but this one seemed deeper, although upon closer inspection she verified that it was caused not by magic, but physically, as if someone was trying to gouge his eye out.

Draco's face was hard as stone. "Pansy," he drawled. "She fumed when I told her I had to kill her boyfriend. She attacked me with bare hands, which was brave. To say the least."

Hermione flinched imagining the pain and betrayal Pansy must be feeling right now.

"I tried to explain everything to her," Harry said apologetically. "But she wasn't listening."

Hermione knew she wouldn't be listening too if someone threatened to kill Draco. Without another word she took her wand (although it still didn't feel hers) and, speaking healing charms softly, watched the place where the injury was just now turn into a slightly reddish spot. She released a sigh of relief when she made sure there will be no scarring.

She turned back to Harry. "What are we going to do now?"

She watched Harry's eyes cloud over once more. "I'm only here to say goodbye. Malfoy and I talked about it and… I want to spend my last moments at home."

She frowned, not understanding.

"Godric's Hollow," he specified.

Hermione didn't expect anything else.

"Okay," she said. "I'll grab my coat."

"You're not going anywhere, Granger," Draco's harsh voice stopped her.

"What?" she bit out at him.

"You heard me. I brought Potter here because you wanted to say goodbye, so say it. You're not going with us."

The expression on Draco's face left no space for arguing, but she still did.

"Of course I'm going," she snapped.

"You're healing from the venom. Your body is still weak. I won't be able to protect you properly."

Hermione went to him until their chests almost touched. Harry averted his eyes as if watching something he shouldn't be witnessing in the first place. She looked into Draco's eyes, daring him to look away first, daring him to not give her this.

"You can't do this to me," she told him, her voice open like a bleeding wound. "You can't take these last moments with Harry away from me." She considered saying, I would never forgive you for this, but she knew she wouldn't mean it and also believed that would be too low of a blow.

She watched his jaw muscles work as if he were chewing an especially bitter bite – that bite was her attitude. She knew she won the moment she saw an annoyed glimmer in her eyes. Draco sighed heavily. "Fine. Take your sodding coat."

She did.

Godric's Hollow was dark and empty, and even if there were somebody here, they wouldn't be able to recognize Harry – he had long hair now, he was tall and broad-shouldered, no longer reminding of the seventeen-year-old boy he once was, he wore no glasses, and his hair were now shoulder-length.

The three of them walked around silently until they reached Harry's parents' home. Harry entered it slowly, softly as if going into a sacred place while Hermione and Draco followed him. Draco had the sword hidden in his robes just like the last time they went on a Horcrux mission.

It was quite dark inside but none of them wanted to cast Lumos in case it brought unnecessary attention. Harry walked around, watching all carefully, taking the small details of what could've been his home in. they climbed the second floor and checked the two rooms. One of them had a king-sized bed – they didn't step into that room. The other room still had a baby crib – dusty and rotting. Harry went in while Draco and Hermione stayed behind. He cast a Lumos which illuminated the green in his eyes and the black in his hair. He looked around, then turned to Draco, "Here. I want to finish it all where it started."

Hermione cried again. She ran to hug him, chanting I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, and he hugged her back, this time very tightly, and this time crying together with her. They sobbed, holding each other in their arms, trying to keep the little time they had left standing, but of course, it went on.

When they managed to control their tears at least somewhat, Harry leaned away slightly and took a packet from his pocket. "I've got something for you," he said, his voice breaking. He gave the packet to her, and Hermione took it with trembling hands. "It's my father's Invisibility cloak, the Resurrection stone, and the mirror shard Sirius gave me. I want you to have it."

"Thank you," Hermione whispered, holding the packet close to her chest.

"And tell Pansy—tell her that I'm very sorry… And that I love her so much…"

"I will," she assured him, her face twisting in agony, her cries turning ugly.

"And don't—don't use the Resurrection stone when I'm gone… I will be with you forever," he put his hand on her chest where her heart beat, "here."

Hermione nodded, tears spilling freely from the movement. She felt Draco's hand on her shoulder, steadying her.

"It's time," he said softly. She doubted she ever heard him speak like that.

Hermione turned to Draco, ignoring the sword he had in his hands. She didn't ask how Harry will die, she didn't want to know it – just like the many other things she didn't want to know throughout her time with him. She nodded.

"Goodbye, Harry," she said.

Harry smiled softly. "Goodbye, Hermione," he echoed, speaking her name one last time.

"It's better if you leave," Draco said with that same tender voice again, and Hermione couldn't do anything else but nod.

She left, climbing down the stairs, trying not to think of what was going to happen above her. She went out of the house and unwrapped the things Harry had given her, wrapping the Invisibility cloak around herself and putting the other two things in her pockets.

She stared walking – away, away, away. The farther away she went, the harsher her sobs got, but she let herself cry all the pain out until her body shook with tremors. She tried to remember the way to the cemetery, and when her rational mind started to work again, her steps focused on a singular goal.

She spent a quarter of an hour searching for Harry's parents' grave. The wreath of flowers she had conjured five years ago was still there, almost all intact – it was a miracle. She charmed a new one, this time green, like Harry's eyes. She sat in front of it, protected by the cloak, and let herself cry as much as she wanted.

She though of Harry and of how cruel his destiny was. His parents died when he was a baby, he was raised in an abusive household, the dark wizard that murdered his parents spent every year trying to kill him, until in the end he still had to die at the awfully young age of twenty-three. When he was born God must've thrown a coin that was more than unfortunate to him. Harry's generation were all children of war turned adults of war, but no one had suffered as much as The Boy Who Lived did, and no one died as tragically.

Hermione should've done the bloody deed herself; she shouldn't have allowed Draco to take all the burden of the killing, but truth be told, she was a coward. She didn't have it in her to kill her best friend, even though that would've been just and merciful. Deep inside she knew it would only be right and that it was her duty, one that Draco had nothing to do with. She even loathed herself for not offering to kill Harry so that Draco wouldn't have to do it. He would've refused without a single doubt, he wouldn't let her go through such misery, but she could've at least pretended she cared about him enough to spare him from becoming a murderer times thousand.

The disgusting part of her, the one that thrilled when Draco killed Bellatrix, the one that felt fascinated by his obsession to kill – that part, however, knew that would be tortured by no moral trepidations of killing Harry Potter, not because they used to be enemies, but despite that – this would be just another murder for him, the one that didn't require second thoughts.

Hermione was so lost in her dark contemplations that she didn't hear Draco's steps, she only felt a light tug on the top of her head when he lifted the cloak. She turned her teary eyes to him.

"It's over," he said, his face soft and vulnerable – not because of what he did but because of how it affected her as though her tears and pain made him physically ill. "He didn't suffer."

Hermione rose to her feet. The Gryffindor sword was hidden, and she purposefully ignored the bloody mark on his left hand, hugging him.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Don't," he spoke out.

He didn't understand she was thanking him for doing what she couldn't bring herself to do.

And still, he wrapped his hands around her, encouraged by her closeness, and let her lean into him, shielding her from all the terrors of the world.

"We will bury him here with his parents," Hermione choked out. "After we kill Voldemort, we will rebury him properly."

Draco nodded. "Okay."

"And we will build a memorial for him, for all he did and all he was."

Another nod. "Okay."

Hermione looked into Draco's possessive gray eyes, seeing her own reflection in them. "Now we kill that monster."