AN: Hello, fanfiction and Harry Potter fans. I do not own Harry Potter, but feel free to enjoy this or hate it. If you enjoy it, please leave a lovely comment, if you hate it, then leave some constructive criticism, thanks!

Warning: gory details

Can You Take the Jump?

Chapter 2

"Ron…" Molly hesitated, fear dripping from her voice. "The only other time all dials were pointed at mortal peril was during… the war. It can't be happening all over again, right?"

"I—" Ron choked, unable to finish the lie he wanted to say. "Let's hope not."

…

By the time Kingsley's patronus reached Ron, confirming his worst fears, he'd finished most of the packing.

"Ron, go to the safe house. Do not ask questions. Do not talk to anyone. Use the floo then close it right after. Act natural, take the kids. Now." It was obviously Kingsley's voice, but Ron could tell it was a message coming directly from Hermione. The minister he never called him 'Ron', it was always 'Mr. Weasley'. Why hadn't she just sent the message herself? Was she hurt? Was she being followed? What the fuck was happening?

Trusting his instincts, he ran up to the room where his son was napping. He packed all the necessities in one of Hermione's bags that had the undetectable extension charm on it. He lightly shook his son awake.

"Hugo? Hey buddy. Come on bud, Daddy needs you to get up." He urgently whispered. Hugo's eyes slowly opened and his lips trembled as if he were about to cry. Ron didn't have time for this, if it was as serious as he thought it was, then he definitely didn't have time for his son to start crying.

"Fuck." he whispered in frustration.

He heard a gasp behind him.

"Daddy, you need to put a galleon in the Bad Word Jar. Mummy's rules." Rose was behind him, with her hands on her hips. She still had her primary school uniform on, she really looked like Hermione right then.

"Daddy's sorry," he said as he turned around. "Rose. Please get James and yourself ready to go out, pack your bags, just like mummy taught you when we practiced. Now."

"But—"

"Rose. Now."

His daughter's eyes opened wide. Ron was rarely the disciplinary parent in the house. He could probably count in one hand the number of times he's ever used that tone of voice towards her. Something was very wrong.

"Is it code red?" she asked quietly, starting to shake.

Ron regrettably couldn't remember what each coded colour meant. He'd always assumed Hermione would be the one to initialize them anyway. It was one of Hermione's neurotic and paranoid emergency protocols, the ones he ignored, but let her make if it meant that she'd feel more secure. He should have listened when Hermione was going on and on about this stuff, but at the time he thought it was ridiculous. They had won, the evil ass-swab was gone, he couldn't understand why was she continuously bringing this stuff up like a bad omen.

"WAHHHHHHHH!" Hugo started crying.

Ron's stress level suddenly peaked.

"ROSE. Do not ask questions, and do as I ask. NOW!" His daughter ran off with tears in her eyes.

"FUCK!" he shouted. He'd already broken one of Hermione's instructions: Act natural.

Precisely 1 minute and 27 seconds later, Rose and James met him in front of the floo looking ready to go.

"Uncle Ron, what's happening?" James asked. He held Rose's hand trying to comfort her since she looked like she was going to burst into tears any second now. In that moment, he was really glad to have James there. Although he was only 2 years older than Rose, he was trustworthy when it came to handling younger children.

'At least I know he's safe.' He thought to himself, thanking Ginny's quick thinking to pull James away from the house with two other sick children. "I'm not sure, but we need to get going." He said as he grabbed a handful of floo powder.

"What about my parents and siblings?" James asked.

Ron didn't know that either, but when he looked down at his nephew's eyes, he knew James would start crying too if he told him that. And he definitely didn't need three crying children.

"I'm sure we'll find out very soon." He reassured as he got down to his level, meeting him eye to eye. "James listen to me; I need you to be strong right now. I know you have lots of questions and I want to answer them, but please, we need to get going. Do you understand?"

Brows furrowed with worry, James stared at his uncle. Uncle Ron was almost never this serious except that one day of the year. That day—conveniently coined the 'Sad Day' by the children—was when all the adult members of their family became sad. He didn't really understand because the rest of the world seemed to be celebrating, but his family always seemed so sad. Whenever he had questions, the adults always told him that he'll get the talk before he got into Hogwarts. The talk was something all his older cousins had on August 31, the day before they went off to Hogwarts, but he knew it had something to do with his family—especially his father's—fame.

His Uncle looked really worried. He had the same expression as his mom had when a strange man in a black cloak shouted bad words and almost grabbed him when he was little. After scanning his uncle's face one more time, he nodded. "Yeah, I can be strong. I am strong."

"Good." Ron gave an unconvincing smile at his nephew and handed him some floo powder. He then turned to Rose, wiped a tear from her eyes.

"I'm sorry for yelling baby, now please. Daddy needs you to be a big girl." He said softly.

"O-okay" she replied as she sniffled. Opening her hand, Ron gave his eldest some floo powder as well.

"Both know how to use the floo right?" Both kids nodded. "Okay good. Say loudly and clearly Tonk's Cottage. Now, here." He passed his swaddled, now sleeping son to James, and gave the bag of necessities to his daughter.

Both children look bewildered.

"Wha—"

"I'm going to follow you really soon. I promise. Pinky promise! I'm just going to find out what happened. Okay? No need to worry. I'm right behind you." Ron gave the most convincing smile he could and guided them to the fireplace. "Now, go. Remember, loudly and clearly, Tonk's Cottage."

With loud green flame both Rose, James, and Hugo disappeared. As the kids disappeared, so did his smile. He grabbed more floo powder and yelled, "Minister Kingsley's office."

As the result of Hermione working closely with Kingsley over the years, the fireplace in their home had direct access of the Minister's office. He stepped out of the floo and onto the plush rug and scanned the room with a critical eye.

Papers were scattered all over the room in no particular order, the quill stand was dumped, books were the haphazardly taken off the shelves.

It had been a few years since he quit being an auror and started working at his brothers' joke shop, but with the sudden need for it, his old auror training was starting to resurface. Despite the tumbled items and mess, there were no signs of struggle in the office. It would have had to be someone incredibly powerful and stealthy to overpower Kingsley. No, this was done either by Kingsley himself or someone else who had come in after Kingsley had left. The scattering of the papers looked like someone must have been looking for something. So, if someone else came in here… then, did they leave?

Ron stopped. He closed his eyes and listened. If someone was hiding in here, he would be able to hear it. In panicked situations, people rarely think about putting a silencing charm on themselves, it was always about hiding first.

He could hear it…stifled breathing. Somewhere to his right, behind the curtain.

"Incarcerous!"

"Gah!"

Ron ripped open the curtain to find Kingsley's secretary, Cormac McLaggen on the floor, wrapped tightly in his magical ropes. Ron grabbed his old housemate by the collar and pulled him up.

"McLaggen? What the fuck are you doing hiding behind there? And where the fuck is Kingsley?"

"Bloody hell, Weasley? I thought you were one of those sons of bitches."

"Those sons of…who?"

McLaggen looked at the man looming over him and hesitated. Ron raised his brow at the pause and tightened his grip on the man's collar.

"D-Death Eaters."

Ron's breath hitched. "I swear to Merlin, if you're fucking with me. I will hurt you." he threatened, his wand pressed into the other man's cheek.

"Why the hell would I lie about something like that?" McLaggen asked, giving him an incredulous look. "Look Weasley, all I know is that Kingsley suddenly got a call on his private muggle mobile, then started to freak out. He told me to send an urgent notice to EVERYONE in the entire ministry to go home and stay home. After that he blocked access into the ministry through both public or private entrances except his private floo."

"Why did he leave his floo open? A private call? There's literally like 3 people that know his num…." Hermione. He thought.

"That's why I was here. I thought he left his floo open by mistake, so I was going to block it, when two guys showed up, dressed up like the bastards from my fucking nightmares. And I mean the full works; black cloaks, masks, murderous intent and all. So, I did what every normal person would do and hid. They were looking for something, but didn't seem to find it, so they left. Then you fucking showed up! Now fucking untie me, and get your wand out of my face Weasel."

Ron scanned his face to see if he was lying. Nothing was indicating a lie, but there was something telling him that what he was saying wasn't everything. He pushed the scowling secretary into Kingsley's chair. "Listen here, you piece of shit. I'm quite sure my wife is in danger and I left our kids and nephew alone in this mess to figure what the fuck is happening. I'm not happy right now, and I don't have time for your bullshit. You're going to have to do a lot better than what you just told me if you want me to believe your not part of this new legion of Death Eaters. If you don't tell me everything you know, I'll keep you tied to a chair, snap your wand, and leave you to starve to death. Do you understand?"

Cormac McLaggen had never seen Ronald Weasley's so stone cold serious. He gulped at the very real threat. With the ministry under lockdown, no one was going to show up for days, maybe even weeks. He had a big lunch, but there was no way it was going to last long enough for someone to show up.

"How will you know I'm not telling the truth, it's not like you've got veritaserum on you."

"I guess you'll just have to convince me."

"That's not—" McLaggen was about to complain, but was cut of with a glare. "… l-l-loc-locations."

"Locations? What kind of locations?" he asked.

"I-I don't... One of—one of them just kept asking the other one if he found the locations. That's all I know, really."

Ron stared at his old housemate. There was one reason why Ron never befriended McLaggen like he had Seamus and Dean, the boy had just given him bad vibes from the moment they met and it hadn't changed even though they were fully grown.

"Locations? What kind of loc—" Ron frowned as he thought to himself, then it hit him. "Oh Merlin."

He ignored McLaggen's questioning look, threw a finite incantatum and ran to the floo.

"TONK'S COTTAGE!"

…

As the green flames disappeared, Ron stepped on to the carpet floor of Grimmauld Place.

He looked around, completely disoriented at the incorrect arrival location. Panic started to rise in his chest.

"ROSE! JAMES!" Ron bellowed.

"Ronald?" Molly Weasley stepped out from behind the corner with messy greying ginger hair, but the wand in her hand remained as steady as a rock.

"Mom?"

"What was your favorite teddy bear's name when you were 5?" She asked refusing to drop her wand.

"Mr. Cuddlykins. What was Rose's first word?"

"Trick question. Rose said two words, 'I'm right' quickly followed by 'mummy' and 'daddy'." Molly replied with a fond smile. The Weasley matriarch dropped her wand quickly and rushed to her son's side. She gave him a tight hug and let out a shuddering breath.

"Are you alright? When you didn't come in with Rose and James, I was so worried!" Molly Weasley rushed to her youngest son, hugging him tight.

"Rose and James arrived safely? Oh, thank Merlin." Ron sagged slightly at his mother head nod. She was around half his height, but there was always comfort in a mother's hug. "Why are we in Grimmauld's and not Tonk's?"

"It has something to do with your smart wife."

"What do you mean?"

Mrs. Weasley pulled out a small parchment paper from her apron and handed it to him.

None of the locations are what they're set as. –H

"Where did you find this?" Ron asked. "It's Hermione's handwriting."

"I found it between the first two bags of tea." Mrs. Weasley chuckled. "It's like she knew I would make tea for everyone the moment I arrived. Sweetheart, what in the world is going on?" The nervousness in her voice could not be disguised.

Ron hesitated.

To Ron, Fred was a brother; he felt the pain and the loss, so he struggled and mourned, but as expected, time and positive memories of Fred helped him move on. Working with George in the joke shop helped both brothers significantly filled the hole that was left behind by Fred's death. Of course, no one could possibly replace Fred, but their spouse and their own children helped fill the most of the cervices.

However, to Molly Weasley, Fred was her child. There are words to describe a married individual with no spouse, a child with no parents, but there was no word for a parent who lost a child. It was simply far too horrible for a word to encompass and describe that level of loss. Ron couldn't imagine losing Rose or Hugo, the pain too horrible to even think of.

What would be worse? Knowing or not knowing?

"Ronald." Molly demanded he answer.

Though torn with indecision, he figured his mother would find out eventually. "Death Eaters, apparently. Cormac McLaggen told me in Kingsley's office."

The color on the Weasley matron's face faded. Ron gently escorted his mother to the closest chair and helped her sit. "Mum. It's going to be okay. We're going to be fine. There's been tons of false alarms over the years, but none of them have ever manifested into anything big."

"But to be swooped away like this, with no warning?" Molly rubbed the charm bracelet that Hermione had given her. "What about Hermione? Did you hear from her? What about Harry and Ginny? The kids?" Molly asked in quick succession thinking about the disconnected floo and dials on her special clock.

"N-no," Ron faltered, his stuttering only succeeded in increasing his mother's worry exponentially, "but this is Hermione and Harry we're talking about. I'm sure she's fine and I'm sure Harry's taking care of Ginny and the kids."

Mrs. Weasley watched her youngest son put on his bravest face for her. She was endlessly worried, but there was a sense of old Gryffindor pride as she watched him puff up his chest. "Would you like some tea?"

Ron nearly laughed, how typically British, the world seemed like it was about to end, and the solution was tea. He gave his mother a tight hug, "I'm sure everything will be fine. This was Hermione's plan. It won't fail."

Molly let out a watery laughed and sniffled.

"You certainly picked a great wife." She said.

"Absolutely. You and dad were my examples." He gently nudged her with his shoulder.

He smiled when he heard his mother laugh. Glad to have eased the situation enough to bring out some humor. It felt weird being so unproductive when there was a crisis. 'Everyone will be fine' was the mantra that was playing a repeat in his head and he was starting to believe it.

Afterall, it was Hermione's plan.

…

After calling Kingsley, Hermione spent a few minutes throwing every single defence and reinforcement spell that she knew of around the cottage. Finally, she threw her shirt off and sat in front of the mirror to pull the glass piece out of her shoulder. The numbing spell wasn't doing enough, but she had no potions in the cottage. When she finally pulled the piece out and mended her pierced muscle, nerves and skin back up, she looked around in search of a clock, then remembered that this was a vacation house. No clocks allowed: Ron's rules.

She looked out the window to see the day had grown darker, the sun had colored the sky into a fiery red, orange and yellow. If she'd been in a different state of mind, she would have appreciated the sunset for its beauty, but now, it looked like the world was up in flames, burning everything to the ground.

Hermione knew she should have made the effort to go back to her kids and husband who where most likely going crazy with worry, but she couldn't bring the energy to do so. She was drained, both physically, emotionally and mentally. So instead, she settled down next to Lily. She was such a small little thing, rigid like all the newly dead. She was cold. Hermione shifted her to cradle the child in her arms, as if sharing her body temperature would give the dead child more life. She allowed her stiff spine to relax as she sank into the soft sofa pulling Lily's weight into her chest although her arm protested from the pain.

Her moment of calm was replaced with tension when she felt a presence enter the property. The cottage was only accessible by a handful of people. It was either an ally or Voldemort, but her mind scoffed at her for even entertaining the thought that her intruder was an ally.

With his access to Harry's memories, she knew Voldemort would find her eventually, but she hadn't expected it to be so soon. Her position in the living room could be easily found, but there was no real place to hide in the large open-concept cottage with only two bedrooms. So she didn't hide; there was no a point. Instead, she shrunk Ginny's wand considerably, and gently placed the small stick of wood between her gums and her cheek, careful not to chew on it.

From her balled up position on the couch, all she could see were a pair of black polished shoes. The same shoes she'd bought for his birthday.

"Did you really think it would be that easy Mrs. Weasley?" Voldemort was looking down at her. "By now, I believe I can safely assume that you've somehow notified everyone, which is interesting because I have people stationed at every household of the people you care about, and none of them saw your silver otter patronus run around. You can imagine my surprise when we entered everyone's respective homes and no one was found."

Hermione could feel the piercing stare of the man standing above her. She knew it was pointless, but she held onto Lily tight. She couldn't get Albus or Ginny out, but she needed to give little Lily a proper grave and funeral.

"But," He paused, allowing Hermione to sense the oncoming bad news. "One of my followers notified me that he saw a lynx. That's the current minister's patronus, no? The only other person that would know where everyone is."

"Too bad I erased his memories." Hermione stated softly, finally meeting that man's eyes for the first time since he stepped in.

"Memory charms can be broken through a little bit of torture." Voldemort smirked arrogantly.

"Not mine." Her firm and confident words made his arrogance disappear. There was a twitch in his jaw; a tell-tale signed of irritation or frustration. Without hesitating he threw a Cruciatus curse at Hermione. She thrashed so hard that she crumbled to the floor, taking Lily down with her. The curse went on, and on, and on. Her screams rang around the cottage.

It was worse than Bellatrix. It was hard to believe there was pain worse than Bellatrix's cruciatus, but this was it. Her bones felt like they were being grinded down to power while her flesh melted off. Her eyes felt like someone poured acid down them and she had lava instead of blood running through her veins. Every pain receptor in her body was sending rapid fire signals to her brain conveying a sense of pain that'd probably never been known to man before.

Her screams finally subsided when she passed out. Voldemort looked down at his hands with delighted surprise. He wasn't used to this body and the level of magic it could handle. He was impressed with Harry Potter's magic. The purity of his magic made it all the more fun corrupting it.

He watched Hermione spasm once more before becoming completely still. He flicked his wand to check her vitals to make sure she didn't die of shock from the pain. She was a useful witch; too powerful and intelligent to waste as a simple punching bag. If he could get his hands on her beloved family, then there might be a chance he could get her obedience.

He tore down the wards surrounding the building. The sound of boots hitting the wooden floor thundered into the cottage.

"Search her body." Voldemort ordered. "She should have another wand hiding somewhere. And get her out of my sight." The Dark Lord spat out when his followers ran inside.

"Yes, my Lord." A man promptly responded. In a split-second decision and a quick levitation spell, the Death Eater took Hermione and Potter's dead daughter upstairs to one of the spare rooms, and gently laid them in a bed. He stared at them for a moment, hesitating due to something, but ultimately turned around.

"She was a filthy mudblood and the child was a spawn from blood traitors and halfbloods." He whispered to himself. He felt something wet fall on his cheek. He wiped it to find clear liquid. He looked up to see if the ceiling was leaking, but noted the dry plaster.

…

Hermione regained consciousness with a jerk. She gasped and tensed her body, still thinking she was in pain. It took her a minute to realize she was not only fine, but settled on the bed in the master bedroom with Lily next to her.

She jumped off the bed and ran to the door and tried to yank it open but was unsuccessful. She pulled Ginny's wand out of her mouth and returned it to its original size and tried to open it with various charms, but the door didn't budge.

He didn't kill her.

Why?

The reason was simple and obvious, but Hermione wanted to deny it. The idea of being hostage was a crippling thought.

Her mental switch flickered off; flooding her with the emotions she'd been supressing for hours.

The breakdown started slow.

It started with a few deep breathes in and out. Then a few drops of tears landing on her cheeks, but soon, where she was supposed to breath out deeply, were replaced with sobs. An animalistic cry ripped out through her throat, something between a wail and a scream. All the anguish, sorrow and horror she felt since she stepped into the Potter household ripped through her walls, bursting out. Tears streamed down her face like a waterfall and nothing she could do to stop it, now that it's started. She hugged Lily close to her chest and rocked back and forth.

The disturbing part was how much the dead child had become somewhat of a comforting teddy bear to Hermione at this point. Lily had become the recipient to Hermione most grievous moment, her most vulnerable, and pained self.

The tears and anguish continued for an unknown amount of time, but by the time Hermione managed to pull herself out of her sorrow, the room was dark. She was unbelievably dehydrated, while her sleeves were soaked with tears.

"She was my favorite, d'you know that?"

Hermione whirled at the voice so fast, she almost fell off the bed.

"I know parents aren't supposed to have favorites, but I did. Lily was my favorite. Of course, I loved James and Albus with all my heart, but Lily was my baby girl."

"Harry."

The name left Hermione's mouth in a whisper, like a prayer.

It was the real Harry Potter. His scruff was back, along with his signature messy black hair tied up in a bun and kind green eyes. He stared at her with a small and sad smile.

"Hey Hermione. We've got ourselves in a real problem here, don't we?"

Hermione jumped out of the bed towards Harry. She felt torn as to what to do. Hug him? Slap him? Hex him? But as she reached out to touch her best friend, her hand passed right through him, then he disappeared like smoke.

"Ah!" she yelled with both shock and disappointment.

"Come on Mione, you know what's going on."

He appeared again just an arms length away from her again. The voice was Harry, but the tone… it belonged to her. The same patronizing tone she had a horrible habit of making whenever Ron or her other friends did something horribly idiotic.

"Shit, I'm losing it."

"Yah, they call it stress. Ever hear of that before?" As if it was teasing her, the presence disappeared and reappeared again, this time behind her.

"This isn't fair. I can sense you, hear you, even smell you, but you're not here."

"Nothing about right now is fair, Hermione. I'm dead! My whole family's dead! You were hugging my dead daughter in your arms."

"Then why are you here?" Anger bubbled in her. Her hallucinations felt like a weakness, as if her brain, which she considered was her greatest asset, was failing her. Her intelligence and logic were haywire, showing her things that weren't really there.

"You know exactly why I'm here. You've had these before. During the time we were on the run."

"That was over a decade ago! And only when I had the locket around my neck!" She protested.

"Yeah, and when it was around your neck, what did you think was going to happen that gave you so much stress that you formed hallucinations?"

"…you dying. Us failing. Futures destroyed."

Harry waved his arm around him, "What exactly about our current situation doesn't scream death, failure and destruction to you?"

"Please go away."

"I think going away might hurt you more. Hermione, your distressed mind, your brilliant distressed mind sent me."

"GO AWAY!" This time, she screamed. She didn't want to see the proof of her insanity. Hermione picked up a pillow off the bed and swung it around to hit Harry on the head. The pillow fluidly moved through the air, he was gone, like she'd wanted, but just as he'd predicted, his disappearance hurt her even more.

Hermione clutched her throbbing chest, sank to the cold floor as big drops of tears streamed down her face. Her breathing became unstable and accelerated.

Her mind had hit the big blaringly obvious red button that said PANIC.

The dizziness caused her to go on all fours but her arms shaking and too numb to hold herself up. She dry heaved, but there was nothing but acid in her stomach. She laid there, tears still streaming down her face, with thoughts of terror and guilt coursing through every cell in her body.

Someone, help me. Save me. She prayed.

"Maybe it was a bad judgment call to send Harry first." Fred and George Weasley sat on the edge of the bed.

Fred looked 18 years old, just like he did before he died, while George looked like his present-day self. The old twin turned to Hermione and gave her one of his genuine smiles. They were usually reserved for his wife, kids, and Molly, but he was sitting at the edge of her bed smiling that smile at her. She stared at his face; she could see what the years have done to him after Fred died. He looked older than he should for his age, weary from growing up without his soulmate. She turned her head to look at the forever-18 Fred Weasley, giving her a big smile, not weathered by life's stress, disappointments, pains and losses.

"We're a coping mechanism, Hermione." George informed her.

"I mean," Fred shrugged. "We're not just that. We're also—"

"Your sense of humor." George nodded.

"Yes. Brilliant sense of humor, love." They said, finishing each other's sentences, just like they used to.

Hermione shook her head, unable to reciprocate the jolly attitude. "We didn't end it. That means you died for nothing, Fred. You never got to live your life!"

Fred simply shook his head to Hermione blubbering. "Hermione, people didn't volunteer to fight because they were expecting to live. We were there because we were willing to die fighting for the right thing." He gave Hermione that big smile again, "Besides, you think George would have landed Angelina Johnson, if I was in the picture? Everyone knew, I was the better-looking twin."

"Yeah right! Get out of here you ugly bastard!" George pushed Fred away and he disappeared. George continued to stare at the space Fred occupied. "Fred and I were two separate people, with two separate souls, but it didn't feel like it. We spent 18 years of our lives living almost as if we're one person. So, when I lost Fred, it fucking killed me. He was my soulmate, my other half. I found solace with Angie. She and the kids give me a happiness that Fred could never give me. It would be ideal if I could have both, but that's not how life, or death, works."

"But, George—"

"Harry was your Fred. I know. I knew it from the moment I saw you guys when you were kids." The pain in his eyes felt so real to her. Then she realized it was her own pain reflecting back at her. Her consciousness may take form of different people, borrow their voice and attitude as she remembered them, but in the end, they were all still her.

"Hermione, you still have people who are relying on you. Your family, me and my kids, my parents. Everyone. You didn't make this happen, but you need make it stop happening. You are not a failure yet. So, get off your ass and do something because those guys are trying to kill your other soulmate. Me."

Hermione smiled, so typical of George Weasley to end a serious conversation with a joke. She looked at his face. She had just seen him the day before yesterday, the details were still fresh in her memory. While there were more frown lines than there should be on a man his age, there were also prominent smile lines too.

"Now, talk to Harry. You don't have much time."

In a blink of an eye, the figure of George was replaced with her Harry Potter.

"Hermione." He used the same tone he did when he debriefed her in their meetings.

"Yes?"

"James."

Hermione's mouth made an O when she realized. "James is still alive!"

"Correct. Everyone should be out of their homes or workplaces the second they saw Kingsley's message. With your memory charm, Kingsley will not know where everyone went and which locations are safehouses." He sighed. "The problem is me. Well not me me, but the me out there. He has my memories; he'll go to every possible location that he can think of. And he would have access to all of them."

"It'll take him a while to go to every house and they're scattered all across the country. In the mean time, they'll escape."

"Hermione." He sounded frustrated at her, which meant she was frustrated at herself, like she wasn't seeing something very obvious. "You set up the plan trying to maximize safety, but that's the reason it'll backfire. Years ago, you took all of our wedding rings and gave the children keepsake necklaces and bracelets. I know they're portkeys."

"My plans were like a domino effect." She nodded. "If Plan A is activated, Plan B to Z will all effectively turn on in sequence if there was a sense that the previous plan had failed. If any unauthorized persons, with or without a dark mark comes within 20 yards of a safe house, the portkey will transport them to another property. I made back up plans for my back up plans for my back up plans."

"It's a great plan if Voldemort didn't have my memories, but he does. All he has to do is send his Death Eaters to any and all possible locations until everyone gathers in one or two spots. Your plan just helped him narrow down the list of safehouses he needs to visit."

Hermione felt like she was punched in the gut. Why didn't she think of that? How stupid could she possibly be in a severe situation like this? "T-T-They can run."

"Will they? Our friends are people who fought a war. They'll fight it again, especially now that they have more to lose."

Hermione cried because she knew they wouldn't be able to win. The Harry out there could answer every security question with ease, and get through all the wards, there was no cause for doubt. They would open their doors wide open when they see the face of Harry Potter run in, asking for shelter.

"…no, not all of them. You don't have access to all the safehouses."

Harry's face crunched with confusion as his head tilted. His eyes studied hers like he was going through her brain, then his face morphed into one of shock as he realized her darkest secret.

"You made one just for Ron and your kids."

It was Hermione's greatest shame. She'd immediately regretted it after she'd done it, feeling like she betrayed Harry, but in that short fraction of a millisecond, the smallest quietest voice that she suppressed and pushed into the furthest corners of her brain suddenly reared its ugly head. Before she realized what she just did, she had scratched the Potters off the list and handed it to Kingsley.

She'd felt awful, she still felt awful, but she convinced herself that that plan would never need to be instigated and that she was just far too paranoid for her own good.

"It's never supposed to go that far! If only you had just fought him harder, this entire thing might have never happened!" Hermione rambled, trying to explain herself to her hallucination, but the guilt made her panic once more. She could barely recognize her own voice, she sounded hysterical, it reminded her of Bellatrix.

"You made an extra plan for Ron and your kids. They would go into a property unknown by even Harry Potter. Restricted access to everyone except the four of you. Fidelus with you as the secret keeper." He sounded amazed, but that hurt her even more.

"Harry, look at me." She gestured to herself. She was still in her work clothes, covered in Albus's blood. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she was in a bedroom with a dead child. "I'm this close to actually going crazy, and just letting go. I can't…I've done all I can."

She was so desperate. To say it had been a long day, would be a massive understatement. In fact, the last few hours felt like weeks. She had never felt this exhausted in her life, not even when they were hunting for Horcruxes, or fighting the battle of Hogwarts. She wasn't sure if she could even exit this building alive. She gave her friends as much protection as she can, and Ron… Ron was resilient, and a fantastic father. She was confident that he would find a way to get himself and his kids safely out of the country or even continent.

"Hermione, your exhaustion is blocking you from seeing the flaw in your plan right now."

"THERE IS NO FLAW! In case the WORST possible scenario occurred, I selfishly and cowardly constructed a plan so that only my family would live. When I realized that there is a miniscule possibility of him still being alive in you, I thought about how I lost my parents and my childhood! Those precious things that I didn't want my children to lose! So yes. Ron will be portkeyed with the children to a safe location with enough food, clean water, and supplies to last them years if it has to."

"Which children?" Harry asked.

"What? What do you mean which children? I mean my children, Hugo, and Ro-" She stopped. Realization dawned on her face, making her go stark white.

Harry slowly nodded his head and looked down.

"James." Both of spoke at the same time. Her beloved godson would be the reason her horribly selfish plan would fail. Ron would never abandon James. The moment he realizes that James can't go through to the last and only safehouse, he would abandon their last hope and go to another location with their kids.

When she looked up through her tears, she was alone. No presence other than her own and little Lily on the bed. Even her hallucinated friends were disgusted with her.

The despair sat on her chest felt like a boulder, her breathing shook, her eyes were puffy and red, but there were no tears left. If Ron wouldn't take that safehouse, then that meant Plan Omega would never have fruition.

She stood up from the cold hardwood floor and faced Lily Luna Potter. She knelt by her side, took her hand and kissed it gently. She remembered the promise of a proper burial for her little niece, but knew she wouldn't be able to keep it. It ripped her heart further, but a decision needed to be made, and the living needed a chance. "Lilikins, Aunty Hermione's so so so very sorry. I lov—" She stopped herself. After everything she did and didn't do, she did not have the right to say that to the dead child.

"Don't forgive me"

Hermione kissed her temple and walked to the door again.

...