A/N- Well here we are. I've decided to continue the story and explore this little idea I've had a bit more. There'll be a bit more of an expansive note at the end of the chapter, but for now, enjoy.

Just a heads up, this chapter is going to be bloody. You've been warned.

This Horrible, Beautiful World

Chapter 2: Intervention

Antonin Dolohov was confused, to say the least.

He'd awoken just a few minutes before to the sound a muggle car horn, and the sound had jerked him awake as if it were a cannon blast. He'd just about reacquainted himself with the constant silence of Azkaban again since his recapture at the Ministry just a few weeks prior, so the sound of a horn blaring had been the last thing he'd expected to rouse him from what little sleep he was able to glean from that hellish prison.

Dolohov had awoken in what appeared to be an alley, but he was unsure where. Had the Dark lord broken him out of the prison again? If so, this was the poorest reception for a loyal follower he could think of. For one thing he was still in the rags they'd given him at the prison, and for another he was drenched to the bone, as if he'd been left outside for hours in the rain.

Stumbling down the alley, the Death Eater tried to get his bearings. The alleyway was long and narrow with rubbish and other odds and ends scattered about. In his disoriented state he tripped on a small crate and slammed face first into the paved walkway. He cried out in anger and pain, slamming his fist down on the concrete.

If only he'd had a wand! If he could find a wand, he could apparate to Malfoy's precious manor.

Glancing up towards the end of the alley, he only saw dim, flickering lights ahead. Suddenly he felt a glimmer of hope. It looked like the type of lanterns magical folk used at night. Maybe he was near Diagon Alley, or maybe even Knockturn, if he was lucky.

A savage grin plastered itself on his face as he scrambled to his feet. He ran his hands down his front to brush the muck from the tattered prison clothes he was wearing. The plan was already forming in his mind. He'd walk to the end of the alley, waiting for someone alone to pass by, then kill them and take their wand. Once he had that, he would transfigure his clothes into something more passable, grab a bite to eat, and then on to Malfoy's to rejoin his master.

When he looked up again, he couldn't believe his luck. There was someone standing at the end of the alley, looking away from him. He moved as quickly as he could without making enough sound to give himself away. When he was just a few meters from his prey, he stopped suddenly.

He wasn't sure why he'd stopped, but something in the back of his mind had screamed at him to not get any closer. Not to approach this person. Dolohov shook his head violently, trying to clear his thoughts and get himself moving.

This was ridiculous. He was a Death Eater! Proud servant to the Dark Lord! Why did he suddenly feel such apprehension about approaching a scrawny looking fool in a dark alley? He'd almost overcome his instincts when the figure turned to face him, and Antonin Dolohov felt an ice-cold wave of fear wash down his spine.

His would-be victim was dressed in a long black coat with the hood drawn up, casting a dark shadow over his face. His hands were in his pockets, and there was no wand in sight. Dolohov couldn't make out much else of the persons appearance, but soon his thoughts were cut off when the person spoke.

"What's the matter, Death Eater?" He spoke. His voice betrayed his youth, but it seemed unnaturally hard for someone so young, and empty. Each work spoken with the same monotone. "Can't attack when my back is turned?" he asked him. Again, his voice was toneless, but the insult was clear. Dolohov bristled with anger. The young man withdrew his hands from his pockets, turning his palms out towards him. "I'm unarmed. Isn't that what your lot prefers?"

"You impudent little shit!" He growled. Dolohov stepped forward but stopped suddenly. Another icy wave of fear crashed down on the Death Eater. It wasn't possible. From beneath the hood, glowing like some kind of hellish jewels, were two blood red eyes. They vanished just as quickly as they appeared. Dolohov stumbled back, fear taking hold of him. "Who the bloody hell are you?!" He demanded, trying to sound fierce and failing.

"Don't you recognize me, Death Eater?"

The young man reached up and pulled down his hood. He had wild, dark hair and a pale complexion. His eyes were a venomous green. He looked so familiar…

"P-Potter?" He bit out, taking another step backward and nearly tripping on a bin.

"That's right." The young man said, taking a step towards him.

Dolohov's fear was matched only by his confusion. This couldn't be the same brat he'd faced in the Ministry. How could that hapless little fool who'd been so easily tricked be here in this alley? Unless…

The corners of the boys mouth lifted slightly, showing emotion for the first time. The change unnerved Dolohov, but not as much as the sudden flash of red he saw in the boy's eyes.

"Have you figured it out?" He asked.

"How the bloody hell did I get here?" Dolohov asked him. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. The brat he'd chased around the Ministry… this couldn't be the same person. Then he'd been helpless, but now… Now every instinct in Dolohov's body was commanding him to run. To flee. Like a helpless rabbit that had run across a starving wolf.

Dolohov wasn't powerful enough to be able to sense the wave of magic that was rolling off of the young man before him, but he felt the sudden tension in the air like a weight on his chest.

"I brought you here."

Dolohov's eyes widened.

"You expect me to believe a brat like you broke me out of Azkaban without getting caught, and brought me to Merlin knows where?" He growled.

"Yes."

"Well?" Dolohov growled. "I'm here! What are you going to do? Hurt me?" He asked him, shaking his head. "No, no, no, you're Dumbledore's little golden boy! You're the symbol of hope for all those light worshiping fools!"

Potter didn't respond.

"What then?" Dolohov asked him, throwing his arms wide. "I know you won't kill me. So what? Did you bring me here to rough me up?"

Potter's hands clenched into fists. Dolohov grinned, knowing he'd found a thread to pull on.

"That's it, isn't it brat?" He asked him, slowly stepping back again. "You brought me here to get revenge for what we did to your friends? For what I did to that little mudblood bitch?"

Another flash of red passed over Potter's eyes.

"She's lucky I couldn't speak, or she'd be…"

Antonin Dolohov never got to finish whatever threat he'd been about to level against Hermione Granger. Before he could utter another word, magic exploded around him. The intensity of Harry's power filled the alley as a blast of wind came towards Dolohov, swirling about him with Harry at the epicenter. It was strong enough to nearly knock the Death Eater from his feet. Dolohov shielded his eyes for a moment before he looked back towards Potter.

Dolohov had seen many things in his life. Horrors that he'd witnessed, that he'd caused. The day had long passed when he thought he would feel fear towards any person other than his master, but in that moment, Dolohov felt fear like he'd never felt before.

Harry Potters eyes bled from green to that same hellish crimson that shown with power in the dim light of the dank alley. His hair began to change as well, starting from the roots and making its way to the tip, the black gave way to white.

Dolohov turned to run then, fear overriding everything else. But it was useless. When he turned, Potter was right there in front of him. He'd gone from the end of the alley to just before him in less than a second, ad it hadn't made a sound.

Their eyes locked, and Dolohov felt like his knees were giving out. Without a word, Potter's hand shot out and wrapped around Dolohov's throat so tightly he could feel his own trachea collapsing. Suddenly Dolohov was enveloped in icy wind, and his feet kicked below him freely as if the ground had given out below him. His eyes flew around wildly, and his heart stopped when he realized what had happened.

They were no longer on the ground.

Potter had transported them high into the air above what he now recognized as London. He seemed to be standing on the air itself as he held the Death Eater by the throat with one hand.

"I brought you here because I need to send a message."

The difference in his voice when Harry spoke only seemed to increase Dolohov's terror. He locked eyes with this creature that was holding him, because such a nightmarish being couldn't be considered human. Dolohov's eyes were wide with terror as he attempted to claw at the hand that held him, but it was no use. The vice like grip that held him only tightened, slowly and viciously to the point that he couldn't speak and could barely breathe.

"I'm going to kill every last one of you." He said, eyes narrowing at the Death Eater. "And I wanted you to be the first, for what you did to her." Harry told him; his hand compressing ever tighter as he spoke.

Finally, Dolohov saw emotion break through on the young man's face. He could only see it in his eyes, but he saw it. The deep, unyielding rage that thirsted for his blood, and the blood of his comrades. In that moment, Dolohov felt the same terror that his victims had felt, the same all-encompassing, gut-wrenching fear that made men weep like children. He grasped at his attacker's hand, clawing at him to no avail. His legs kicked helpless at the air. Suddenly Potter was bringing him closer. Close enough to whisper in his ear.

"Don't worry. The rest of them will be along soon enough."

Harry Potter leaned back and looked Antonin Dolohov squarely in the eye for what seemed to be an eternity. Then he let go.

Dolohov had been trying to beg when he'd felt the grip on his throat begin to falter. When the fingers began to release him, his eyes bulged from their sockets in surprise. It seemed to happen in slow motion. Each digit uncurled until, for a split second, it seemed like he was frozen there. Hanging in the air with nothing hold him.

Then he was falling.

The scream that tore from Dolohov's mangled windpipe was terrible. It lasted until the very moment the Death Eaters body collied with the cold, hard earth far below.

"One down." Harry said softly, turning his head towards the east. His right hand rose, fingers threading into his white hair and brushing it from his eyes as his gaze settled on a bridge in the distance. The first golden rays of sunrise scorched across the sky, glinting off of a small golden ring with a black stone on the young man's finger.

Hermione was once again lying awake in her bed. Sleep was still regularly eluding the brilliant young witch. The difference was this time she wasn't awake out of fear. This time, she was wide awake and nearly shaking with what could only be described as righteous, terrible rage.

It was early evening, and she was due to leave soon. Her wand was within arm's reach, as it always was.

In the last few weeks, Hermione had slept very little. At first it had been because of the nightmares. She'd been reliving the disaster at the Ministry every night, over and over again until she would either wake up screaming or start thrashing about so much that her parents would come in and desperately try to wake her. Now though, her dreams were filled with different horrors. Horrors that left her feeling scared beyond reason and so, so terribly alone.

"Hermione, darling." Her mother called softly from outside the door. "It's nearly time."

Hermione heard the drawn, pained way her mother spoke. She always sounded like that these days. At the beginning of the summer Professor McGonagall had visited them, both to inform them of the danger the world was now facing with Voldemort on the loose and to explain in great detail the complicated regiment of potions she had been forced to continue taking in the aftermath of the battle.

Her parents had immediately began making plans to flee Britain, but Hermione had resolutely refused them, to the point that she'd threatened to leave if they tried to force her. Ever since their relationship with her had been strained at best, but she didn't care. There was no way she could leave. Not with her friends in danger. And especially not now…

Just thinking about it made her heart constrict in her chest. It was enough to break her from the trance she'd been in.

"Coming mother." She replied quietly.

She rose from the bed, stuffing her wand into the waistband of her jeans as she went. Stopping in front of the mirror for a quick moment of vanity, she took stock of her appearance with a grimace. She looked drawn, and thinner than she'd been the year before despite having grown a bit more. Deep, dark circles under her eyes completed the appearance of what she could only describe as a walking corpse.

Perfect, she thought to herself as she walked from the room. She looked terrible, but that would only help her case.

Hermione had made a decision just two days prior, much to her parents shock. They'd eventually agreed to go along with her plan, despite not knowing the extent of it, but she still had one obstacle left. That being the red headed men who had just stepped out of her family's roaring fireplace at the same time she reached the landing.

Arthur Weasley was dusting himself off as Ron came through. He looked more than bit worn but smiled at her regardless. Bill stood off to Arthur's right, likely having been the first through. He looked pleasant enough, but she didn't fail to notice that both Bill and Arthur had their wands drawn.

Ron was grinning like a fool when he saw her but froze when he saw the coldness in her eyes. Her mouth was pressed into a thin line, and her hands balled into fists.

Ronald Weasley was no fool. He'd seen that look plenty of times, and he knew he was in for trouble. He opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he wanted to say died on his lips.

Hermione Granger had crossed the room in a few quick strides, her braid whipping behind her head and without so much as a word she struck. The slap she delivered to Ron's left cheek echoed in the small sitting room like a gunshot. Ron nearly fell over from the force of her unexpected blow, a cry passing from his lips.

"WHAT THE?!" Ron began, but his words failed him when he saw her nearly shaking with rage.

Arthur and Bill had been so surprised that neither of them moved. They simply stared, wide eyed and open mouthed, as the young witch bore down on Ronald. From the entryway, the Grangers watched. They'd both promised her not to interfere unless they needed to.

"How dare you." Hermione bit out, her anger so great that she could barely whisper. Her hand was already swelling from the force or the slap, but she welcomed the throbbing sensation. A small price to pay for retribution.

"Are you MENTAL?" Ron barked out, his own temper beginning to flair.

Hermione had planned this out carefully, going over this interaction again and again in her head until she felt she could play her part perfectly. That is, until she was actually in the moment. Now all of her plans seemed lost to her as she gave in to her righteous anger.

"Three weeks." Hermione growled. "Three. Fucking. WEEKS!"

Her mother flinched at the language her daughter was using, but nothing else.

Arthur understood then, what was happening. She'd found out somehow. Bill moved forward as if to help his brother, but Arthur raised a hand, shaking his head in warning.

Ron's own temper seemed to melt at that, despite the growing pain in his cheek. He lowered his arm, and suddenly he was very interested in the carpet at his feet.

"Look at me." Hermione said. When Ron didn't respond her frown deepened. "Look. At. Me."

His eyes locked with hers.

"Herm…" He began, but she cut him off.

"He's been missing, for THREE WEEKS!" Hermione snarled, her voice rising steadily as she spoke. "When were you going to tell me, Ronald? Once we were at the Burrow? THREE WEEKS!"

'We didn't want you to worry." Arthur said at last. "Not until we at least knew something."

"So our friend disappears, without a single trace mind you, and you all thought what? That I didn't need to know? That you were somehow protecting me? That I wouldn't want to be out there, searching for him?"

"When did you find out?" Ron asked.

"When?" Hermione said, legitimately shocked by his question. "I've known the ENTIRE TIME RONALD!"

Three shocked faces stared back at her.

"Did you honestly think a home exploding wouldn't make the papers? Or the bloody evening news?" She asked them incredulously.

"They said the Minister kept it out of the profit." Ron mumbled, confused.

"Oh, for heavens sake Ron, we have our own news!" She told him angrily.

Hermione remembered the moment she'd learned that her world was starting to fall apart all too well. She'd been woken by another nightmare, meaning she'd slept very little. She'd gone downstairs in a panic, determined that they were under attack. The only thing she'd found was the bloody cat outside again. Once she'd brought him in, she'd realized there was little hope of getting back to sleep, so she'd turned on the morning news in the den. It was a cruel twist of fate that the report started not a second after she'd switched the television on. A gas leak in Little Whinging had caused a home to explode, killing the three inhabitants instantly. She was already shaking when she heard the location, and when the broadcaster mentioned the name Dursley, she'd started screaming.

She hadn't slept for days afterwards. Due to her fragile state combined with the danger, her parents had refused to take her to Surrey to try to find him. She had no owl either, so she was unable to contact anyone. Even the profit was out of her reach thanks to the wards McGonagall had placed on her home. None but owls known to and trusted by the order could bring her mail, and it was not possible to apparate into her home or even onto the property. She was cut off from the magical world almost as effectively as Harry had been last summer, and the irony of it only frustrated the teenage witch more.

The only owl that had come had been one she hadn't recognized, and it hadn't waited for her to have a chance to reply. It had swooped in, dropped the sparse letter that only contained the time and date of her departure and left.

"Do you know if he's alive?" She asked, her voice deadly quiet. None of them responded. "WELL?"

To his credit, Ron looked more guilty than she'd ever seen him.

"We don't know." He told her, his own voice dropping to barely a whisper.

"Look, Hermione. We're sorry we didn't tell you, but we should really be going." Arthur said calmly, obviously trying to defuse the angry young witch before him. "We can discuss this further at the Burrow."

"I'm afraid that won't be a possibility."

All eyes turned to the form of Daniel Granger. He cut an imposing figure as he stood next to his wife in the entryway, one arm around her waist. Daniel was tall, well over six feet and despite having long ago left the military he was still quite fit. His gaze was hard as steel as he looked over the three men in his home.

"What do you mean?" Bill asked, confusion in his voice as he eyed Daniel warily.

"What I mean, is that our daughter will be staying with us this summer. If you lot can't even trust her enough to tell her the truth, then I don't trust you to keep her safe." He told them. "She's staying here, with us."

The room descended into chaos. Arthur was trying to speak to her parents while Ron shouted angrily at her. Bill seemed to be trying to calm Ron down, even stepping between the two of them when he'd seen Hermione's eyes narrowing dangerously at his brother and her hands ball into fists once more.

Hermione decided she'd had enough, and without another word she spun on her heel and retreated. She was up the stairs in a flash and slammed her bedroom door shut with such force that it rattled in the frame before collapsing against it, sliding down to grip her knees as she huddled at its base.

It took a while, but eventually the shouts finally died down below her. She barely heard the roar of the flames as the three Weasley's departed.

Good riddance.

Ron's failure to reach out to her regarding Harry's disappearance had been the worst kind of betrayal she could think of. The red head had always been a bit thick headed and could be down right callous, but his nonchalance when he'd arrived had left her feeling even angrier.

They were supposed to be the trio. How could he keep such a thing from her? She knew Ron well enough to know that even if Dumbledore had ordered him not to, he would've reached out to her anyways if he'd really wanted to. They'd both learned their lesson last summer when Harry had exploded on them for their silence.

They'd fought together. Bled together. She'd nearly died, and they'd dumped her off at home and left it at that. At least professor McGonagall had been kind enough to visit, but that had been her last contact. Not one of them had cared enough to reach out to her.

The absolute worst of it was that she'd realized she was being watched by order members when she'd gone for a walk to clear her head one afternoon. She'd picked up on Mundungus tailing her almost immediately, mostly due to how inept he was at hiding himself despite being a thief by trade. Two days later she'd gotten a glimpse of Tonks tripping over the rubbish bins down the street from her window.

Ron and the rest of the Order had every opportunity to tell her and had failed to, so as far Hermione was concerned, the could all go to hell.

It mattered little now. The plan had begun to take shape in her mind nearly a week before, and she'd talked her parents into letting her stay at home instead of fleeing for the safety of the Burrow. Now, the next phase would begin.

It had been too simple to slip from her room without making a sound. She'd mastered the art of sneaking around the Granger home when she was a little girl, since she'd stay up all hours of the night reading and had to sneak downstairs for snacks and more books regularly.

She stopped for a moment by the entryway to the kitchen, sneaking a glance at her parents from around the corner. Her father stood facing the window, leaning over the counter and staring out with slack shoulders. Emma Granger sat at the island, her face in her hands. She could only imagine how hard this had been on them. Not to mention how hard they would take what she was about to do.

Hermione longed to go to them. To let them wrap her in their arms and have them tell her everything would be ok. She longed to be young enough to believe it again…

"I'm so sorry." She whispered as she turned away from them at length before crossing the hall and slipping out the front door as quiet as a mouse.

A quick glance up and down the street told her that she wasn't being watched. Quickly Hermione made her way down the sidewalk to the pavement, intending to go down a few blocks and then call the bus to take her to her intended destination.

If Harry was alive and free, there was only one place he would go. At least during the summer there was only one. She would start her search there.

Hermione made her way down the lane as quickly as she could risk without drawing attention. After a few minutes she turned down a street that was lined by tall fences and trees, obscuring the road and providing good cover for her to call the bus.

A soft breeze whispered through her hair. She found it almost comforting. Light mist had begun to drift around her.

Hermione glanced around quickly before drawing her wand. She was about to hold it out to summon the bus when she took an instinctive step backwards.

Something was off.

Her brown eyes scanned up and down the lane, watching for anything out of the ordinary. The mist was thickening now, turning into a full on fog that rolled towards her. Sudden panic flared within her, twisting at her insides.

It was moving against the wind.

Suddenly, she heard laughter behind her and whirled around, only to be met by three men in black robes with skull shaped masks on their faces. Her blood froze in her veins.

"If it isn't Potter's little whore." One of them said, laughing again. "We were told you'd be somewhere around here Mudblood, but imagine our surprise, finding you so easily."

Hermione's pulse skyrocketed and her breathing grew shallow. Every muscle in her body tensed. She knew she had to think quickly.

"Ah, ah, ah." The one to her furthest left said, shaking his wand at her like one would shake a finger when chastising a child. "No running now, girly. Wouldn't want us to have to pay a visit to the rest of your filthy little family now, would you?"

Hermione froze, suddenly unsure of how to proceed. She knew her home was warded, but it wasn't unplottable and certainly wasn't secured by something as strong as the fidelus charm.

Her grip on her wand tightened so much her knuckles grew white as her brown eyes hardened. There was no choice then. Three to one were not good odds, but if she ran and somehow got away her parents would be in danger.

"Look at that, she's got some fight in her." The one in the middle said. He stepped forward, his wand whipping up in a flash. "Lets play! Crucio!" He roared. The spell streaked towards her so fast she barely had time to react. Thankfully Harry's training from last year kicked in and she managed to dive out of the way at the last second, hitting the ground and rolling behind a postage bin.

She made herself as small as she could, using the bin for cover as her mind reeled. The only thing that made sense was that she was to be taken alive. Otherwise, the other two would have just killed her when the first curse missed. That could work to her advantage.

Her thoughts were interrupted when a blasting hex exploded the bin with enough force to send her flying back into the street.

Hermione screamed in anguish as the hit the ground head first. When she finally rolled to a stop, her vision swam, and she felt something warm tricking down her face.

The only thought in her mind was of how foolish she had been to leave her home. What had she thought she could do, all on her own?

Then all thought was driven from her as her body was wracked in searing, agonizing pain like she'd never felt before. It was like every nerve ending in her body was on fire all at once, and she screamed in agony over and over as the pain washed through her without end.

Finally, it stopped. Dimly, she registered that the Death Eaters were laughing at her. They were moving closer now, but she was in too much pain to move. Her wand had flown from her hand when the bin exploded, and she'd no idea where it was now.

Hermione realized she was likely about to die with an odd sort of detachment. There was nothing she could do now. They would take her back to Voldemort, and he would surely torture her and end her life.

With a groan of pain, she rolled onto her back. The Death Eaters were standing just before her now, and despite the pulses of residual agony from the curse and the throbbing in her head she did her best to glare defiantly up at them. The fog had long ago reached them and was still thickening, making it even more difficult to see.

"Still got some fight left, little girl? That's good." One of them said, his voice dropping as he moved closer to her. "I like it when they fight back. I wonder if the Dark Lord would mind if we had some fun with you before you meet him?"

"You should be more worried about me."

The Death Eater closest to her looked up just in time to see the kick slamming into his own chest. There was a sickening crunch and blood sprayed out from behind his mask just before he went flying back with so much force, he skipped on the ground twice before crashing into a parked car down the street. The metal bent in around his body and the windows exploded as he hit. Blood sprayed from the mangled body on impact with enough force to splatter all over the street as it and shards of glass rained down. Two long, dark streaks of red coated the pavement where the body had made contact.

Hermione's vision was still swimming from the blow to her head, but she could just make out a figure standing in front of her. Somehow, it seemed familiar to her. A stab of pain from her headwound made her close her eyes involuntarily.

"AVADA KEDA…" One of the other remaining Death Eaters roared, but he was cut off as well. There was a crash like breaking porcelain, followed by a wet gurgling sound that made her stomach churn, despite not being able to see.

What Hermione hadn't seen was the figure suddenly vanish when the Death Eater had begun to cast the killing curse, only to appear again right in front of him almost instantly. Its hand had reached out so fast that neither of the two servants of Voldemort saw it move. The crash Hermione had heard was the monster's hand shattering the Death Eaters mask as if it were made of glass. The poor fool's knees gave out and he went limp, but instead of crumpling to the ground he hung there.

The other Death Eater stumbled backwards, tripping and falling down onto his backside. Sheer, unbridled terror had clouded his mind as he looked on them, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open under his mask.

The figure was a young man… a young man with white hair… He held his captive up by his face with no effort. Blood ran freely under his fingers, the gurgling sound coming from the poor bastard trying to breath despite his face having been crushed by the blow that shattered the mask. The figure's head turned toward him slightly, and in the haze of the fog, two glowing red eyes shined back at him. The Death Eater held in his grip was still twitching.

"Fuckin hell…" The Death Eater stammered out. "It's you… you're real!"

The figure squeezed his hand tighter, and his captive gave a muffled cry, flailing weaking before there was another nauseating crunch of bone breaking. He went limp. And the figure released him.

A sudden, heavy silence filled the street. The figure stood up straight and turned towards the last remaining Death Eater. The man was frozen in horror at the violence he'd just witnessed. He scrambled backwards on the pavement before turning over onto all fours. He tried to get up to run, but his boots slipped on the damp street.

It was a fatal error.

The figure appeared behind him suddenly, and without making so much as a sound, he reached down and took hold of his prey. One hand gripped his chin, while the other came to rest on the crown of his head.

"No! Please!" The Death Eater choked out, but it was useless. With a sudden wrenching motion, the figure moved it's hands apart, twisting the fools neck with enough force that not only did it snap, the skin tore and blood sprayed freely from the hole. The lifeless body fell to ground with a squelch.

It was over.

Hermione suddenly felt very warm, as if a blanket had been draped over her body as she lay there on the pavement. She felt a dull throbbing sensation coming from the wound to her head, but it vanished as quickly as it came. To her surprise, it no longer hurt. Neither did the rest of her body. All of the residual pain from the torture curse was gone. The blood that had been running down her cheek and caked on her face and in her hair had vanished also. Even the damage to her clothing was fixed. The only evidence of her brush with death was that her hair had come undone.

She sat up slowly, looking around. The fog was so dense now she couldn't see more than a few meters in front of herself. The air around her was so thick with magic she could feel it practically crackling around her. It was heavy, to the point that she felt like she was suffocating under it until it started to pull back.

Groaning in pain, she stood. The fog was clearing up now. The first thing she saw was the Death Eater with the crushed face, lying in a pool of his own blood. He didn't so much as twitch. Then she saw the other not far away, his head nearly turned all the way around.

She averted her eyes, forcing herself not to vomit as her stomach clenched painfully in disgust.

"What happened?" She asked aloud. Then she went stiff. There were footsteps behind her. They stopped just short, maybe three or four meters from her, by the sound of it. She opened her mouth to speak.

"Hermione."

Her brown orbs went wide, and her mouth fell open in shock. Tears sprang to her eyes and fell unchecked.

"Harry!" She breathed. She made to whirl about to face him, to run to him and throw her arms around him, but she found she couldn't. He hadn't spoken any spells, but she was rooted to the spot like she'd been place under a body bind curse.

"Don't!" He roared. The oppressive magic she'd felt earlier returned full force, smothering her for an instant before receding again. Suddenly, she was afraid. The change in his voice frightened her more than she cared to admit, and this magic felt nothing like what she'd felt from him before. The signature was darker and felt twisted. There was no aggression in it, not towards her at least, but it was still heavy.

"What happened to you, Harry?" She asked, unable to stop the tears flowing down her cheeks. Silence was her only answer. "Please Harry." She begged, choking back a sob. So many questions ran through her powerful mind, but she couldn't seem to focus on just one.

"The Harry Potter you knew is gone."

He'd said those words so quietly Hermione hadn't been sure he'd spoken at all. She felt his power retreating, and panic took hold of her.

"NO!" She screamed. "Don't leave me, Harry! Please!" She called after him. She still couldn't turn around, despite her entire body screaming in protest as she fought against his power. "Please!"

"I don't want to hurt you." He whispered. Hermione's eyes widened once more. He was right behind her now, so close that his breath ghosted over her ear.

"You'd never hurt me." She whispered back, shaking despite herself.

Hermione didn't know what was happening, but somehow she knew that if she couldn't get through to him, she would lose him. Right here. Maybe forever. His magic flared again, even heavier now with his proximity to her.

"You don't know that."

"I do." She responded instantly, despite flinching at the sudden and disconcerting change in his voice. "You're my best friend Harry." She wanted to say so much more, to tell him about the feelings building in her chest that she had refused to acknowledge until she'd been forced to by his disappearance, about the need she had for him. That the thought of living in this terrible, broken world without him made had scared her more than any dark wizard ever could. But she couldn't. Despite her desperation, she couldn't find the words. They died in her burning throat, replaced by quiet sobs. "Let me help you." She finally managed to croak out. "Please."

"Forgive me, Hermione." He said. His voice was strained and thick with emotion. Hermione knew him well enough to tell he was fighting himself just as much as she was.

Then his presence was gone from behind her. His footsteps were receding. Wild panic began to flood her system. Each step echoed in her mind. He was leaving. She was going to lose him.

No.

From deep within herself, Hermione felt her own magic began to surface. At first it was just a small spark, then she felt her fingers tingling. She would not lose him again!

NO!

Unbeknownst to her, her body had begun to glow with a pale light that shimmered softly around her. Then, without warning she felt like a river of power had opened itself within her, racing through her body from the core of her being and roaring out in response to her desperation.

Harry's eyes widened as he felt his spell shatter behind him. Before he could turn around, he felt he collide with his back. Her arms locked around his torso, hands taking fistfuls of his shirt as she crushed herself against him.

"I won't let you go." She whispered.

"Hermione…" He began, not looking back at her.

"I need you." She told him desperately.

He didn't respond.

"Please." She breathed out. He was silent for what seemed like an eternity before he spoke again.

"You don't understand." He whispered.

"Then make me." She said fiercely.

"I don't want you to see what I've become." He told her. "To see the monster I have to be."

"I love you." She whispered.

Then she felt like she was falling. Her eyes grew heavy as her vision suddenly blurred and her arms grew weak as she slipped away from him.

The ground rushed up to meet her, but she felt herself stop before she met it. She'd used power that she didn't know she'd had to break from his spell, and now her body was spent.

Harry had spun and caught her as she fell, one arm wrapping around her waist and the other the back of her neck.

"Harry…" She murmured, reaching up to him with the last of her strength. She couldn't make out his features, but she could see him just enough to cup his cheek with her hand. "Don't go…"

Then she slumped in his arms, finally losing consciousness.

Harry Potter stood up, pulling her against him. A rueful smile came to his face as he held her to him, letting himself feel her against him, so warm and so wonderfully alive.

The silly woman had broken out of a spell that she should've never been able to break, drawing on her own magical core directly for the first time just to reach out to him.

He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing in her scent.

"If only you knew Hermione, just how much I love you." He whispered softly. "What 've done, and what I will do for you." He shifted the arm around her waist to behind her knees and scooped the exhausted witch up, holding her tenderly to him. Her wand floated over to them from it's place on the ground.

Then the two of them vanished without a sound, disappearing like leaves on the wind.

Hermione awoke several hours later, confused, and distraught.

She was alone in her darkened bedroom.

Curling into a ball beneath the sheets, Hermione Granger wept.

A/N- Firstly, Thanks to everyone that has reviewed, followed, and favorited so far. You've all been so encouraging that I had to continue this one.

Chapter two is down. I hope everyone enjoyed it. This one was a bit violent, but there was a bit of fluff there, so hopefully it offset.

Some clarification- There is a time skip between Dolohov's death and when we switch to Hermione. I'm not fond of using things like THREE WEEKS LATER in a story, so in case it wasn't easily inferred I wanted to clarify. Also, Hermione being so uncharacteristically rash in turning down the Weasleys and trying to go off on her own is a result of her trauma at the ministry and then Harry disappearing so soon after.

I'm starting to get a general shape in mind for this story, but I don't think it will be a long one. Certainly not as long as Noctis Umbra.

Lastly, I know everyone is dying to know what happened to Harry. That will take a while to really take shape in the story, but I'm sure you have your theories.

As always, reviews are appreciated!

Next time: Meetings