Hermione didn't move from the spot where she fell for nearly half an hour.

It was a bit longer than the 5 minutes she'd allowed herself, but it turns out that making a conscious choice to allow oneself to fall apart, doesn't necessarily allow you to pick up the pieces on a set schedule.

She was drawn from her collapsed state by an insidious voice whispering in her head.

"MEET US IN THE COURTYARD AT NOON… WHILE MY POWER IS ABSOLUTE, I AM MERCIFUL. I WILL, FOR A TIME, ALLOW PARLAY - THAT WE MAY AVOID THE FURTHER SPILLING OF PRECIOUS, PURE, MAGICAL BLOOD…"

She sat dazed for a moment.

She had plenty more mourning to do, and not just for him, but that would have to come later. The sun was nearly over the top of the trees in the distant forest, and there was a shattered castle full of who knows how many more - injured, and in need of help.

Well under an hour ago, she'd felt like her whole body was on fire in that old supply room when she heard Harry – for whom she'd been secretly head over heels for the last half of a decade - confess his feelings for her. Her heart had pounded, she'd felt warm all over, and she could remember the chills down her spine as he'd kissed her neck and held her.

For a short while, this had been the best night of her life. A night she'd dreamt of for years. A night she'd hoped would send her forward into her future. Adulthood and a proper relationship, supported on the foundation of so many close childhood moments and memories.

She knew they genuinely cared for each other, and though it seemed crazy at 17 years old and 10 minutes into admitting they were over the moon for each other, she could already picture herself in a white dress… Walking toward an incredibly untidy yet perfect nest of black hair set atop piercing emerald-green eyes… Waiting with a goofy, dazed grin as he looked on in awe of her as she slowly walked toward him. With any luck they'd find her parents and her father would be there to walk alongside her. It was a look she thought she may have caught a glimpse of just before Christmas in their fourth year as she headed to the Yule Ball.

She, for a few beautiful moments, didn't want or need anything other than him. And she'd had him all too briefly.

That was all a lifetime ago though. Nearly an entire hour. When he'd…

When he'd been alive.

That is enough of that, for now. Plenty more to come later.

For now, she knew she had to pick herself up, dust herself off, and be the leader that none of the bloody adults in her life seemed capable of being at the moment. The leader he'd been until he was forced by circumstance to fall on his own sword to save them all.

She'd be damned long before she'd let that go without a proper reckoning.

He was gone, and his memory demanded that the task he died in pursuit of be completed. Plus, as a muggle-born, she knew she was far from out of danger herself.

She'd see Harry's mission finished or she'd die trying. She'd told Harry so many times that she'd be with him to the end of the conflict. Unfortunately, that meant something different now, but the sentiment hadn't changed in the slightest.

If it needed doing, she'd make sure it got done.

Rising shakily off the stone base of the steps in front of the castle, she noticed for the first time that Ron was still on the staircase with her. He was nearly at the top of the stairs and watching her with a concerned look on his face, but he had turned away as soon as she stood up and faced his direction.

He's probably nearly as hurt as I am.

She made her way up the staircase and forced herself to put one foot in front of the other in much the same way she'd admired Harry doing so many times during the years they'd spent together.

—X—X—X—

Making her way into the great hall, she was met with the sight of the slowly calming fervor that had been the recovery efforts immediately after the battle slowed.

There were cots and wounded everywhere.

Her heart sank as she saw a group of sobbing redheads off in a corner, and she made her way over hastily. Her broken heart skipped a beat when she got close enough to see who they were clustered around.

Fred Weasley lay surrounded by his family, in a truly horrific state of injury. He looked like he was barely holding on, barely in one piece, as he was sporting a wide gash that ran from the bottom of his right ear, down behind his jawbone, and wrapping around across his neck to his left collarbone. It looked like he had nearly been beheaded, and the sight sent a chill through her bones.

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed quietly as she got near the family. "What happened‽"

Ron, who had apparently only just found out after his time on the staircase, and George were nearly inconsolable, as was Molly.

Ginny was latched onto Arthur's side and in tears, as he turned slowly to Hermione "It seems he took a n- nasty diffindo, or some sort of similar curse." Arthur said softly. He was clearly exhausted, and not just physically.

Fred was barely conscious and clutching Molly's hand on one side and Bill's on the other. "Normally it wouldn't be such a serious issue, b- but… Given the location of the s-slash, and that we've been out of wound cleaning potions for a while, used the last on him… We don't expect him to…" Arthur trailed off and wiped his eyes. "We don't expect him to have long."

Hermione looked on with shock as she noticed blood start slowly seeping through the bandages around his neck. It seems they'd been changed at least a half dozen times by now. She knew that the wound was much larger than you'd typically heal with Essence of Dittany, not that they seemed to have any left anyways. This was the sort of wound that led you either immediately to St. Mungo's, or somewhat more slowly to the nearest undertaker. It was too deep for Dittany to be effective at all, really… And from the pallid look of him he was nearly finished bleeding out.

Madam Pomfrey was a fantastic medi-witch, but Hermione knew that her focus was the sort of relatively minor injuries that young lads or lasses acquire while being childish, roughhousing, and generally running amok. While perhaps less than properly supervised in an ancient castle. Things like minor to moderate cuts and scrapes, broken bones, minor traumas, and the like. For massive trauma like this, she'd be most likely to stabilize and transport – likely via some floo in nearby Hogsmeade, or perhaps the headmaster's office – to St. Mungo's for specialized treatment.

But Hermione had an ace in her sleeve. A powerful spell she'd read about in Harry's old potion book – the one they'd fought over for much of last year… She had a few other things that might help as well.

Arthur and Ginny both fought off a moment of horror at her incongruent response to this terrible news. Shock or perhaps tears would be an appropriate response here, but after her face dropped for a moment, she was smiling tentatively at them and looking entirely too happy or relaxed for the circumstances.

"Well, I think I may be able to help…" She said, realizing how she must look to them. "While Harry and I were on the run, we did some brewing to make sure we had potions we'd need if we ran into trouble…" She didn't mean to be hurtful by leaving Ron out, but this had in fact all happened after he'd abandoned them.

Her hands flashed to her beaded purse. The one that she'd put some truly impressive spellwork into expanding. She was up to her shoulder in the bag, searching frantically, before she came up with a small satchel.

"Get Madam Pomfrey over here immediately." She said firmly to Ginny, who reacted with a flicker of shock at her tone but then surprise at the instruction.

Arthur was still wrapping his mind around her expanded bag.

Undoing the clasp on the satchel, the sound of faint clanking of glassware could be heard.

As she started to remove bottles, she barely managed to set them down safely as Arthur barked out a loud sob of joy and nearly tackled her, wrapping her in his arms tightly.

"Arthur!" She exclaimed as she managed to save the potions from taking a perilous tumble "It's not a time for celebration, Arthur." She explained quietly. "This is not the sort of wound that can be properly handled with potions alone. Even most healing charms either won't work well or wouldn't be safe or appropriate for use on a wound like that."

Arthur's radiant joy, and the more tentative hope of a few of the surrounding Weasleys who'd noticed his reaction, faded from all of them as it was eclipsed by grief once more.

Ginny returned with Madam Pomfrey.

"Miss Granger?" Poppy inquired, looking morose, helpless, and resigned over Fred's state as well as the state of the entire school around her. She continued, in a practiced tone – serious and matter of fact, but not at all harsh "I'm not sure how you could possibly hope to help here."

Tears welled in the healer's eyes.

"Madam, I know potions alone won't work, but they will help. And I know of one spell – an obscure one tha-" Hermione was cut off.

"Miss Granger, I don't believe there are more than 4 healers in the employ of St. Mungo's or anywhere else on this continent qualified to even attempt to mend a wound like that." She replied, in a healer's practiced gentle but firm tone. Not wanting to allow any sliver of false hope, nor to be unnecessarily cruel. "Even if he were in a condition to move, which he's absolutely not - we've no way to get him to a floo, and he is in no condition to apparate, even if we could on the grounds with the wards worn ragged. It pains me more than I can say, but the rules of triage rightfully state that we should not be dedicating valuable resources to a lost cause – no matter how much we wish the facts were different."

Arthur, Molly, and Fred shared a look for a moment. One of those conversation-in-a-glance looks that close families and especially couples are known to get up to after being together for a long while. It was a conversation of sacrifice, and of the desire to help the most people for as long as possible.

It was not a pleasant conversation.

Arthur turned saddened eyes to Hermione and shook his head.

Hermione winced at the simple action, and her head spun as she realized what was going on.

How can they be giving up? She wondered to herself.

"No? No… Really?" Hermione asked in an exasperated tone. "Bloody hell, you're all giving up‽" she asked with increasing volume, amid a flash of anger. "Now, after everything, you have lost hope? You are ready to just lay down and take what is coming to you, even after Har-?" She was openly furious now and choked on the name.

She grabbed her wand and moved toward Fred.

Madam Pomfrey interposed, while Molly and Arthur slowly joined by her side.

"Poppy." Hermione said sadly, glancing also at Arthur and Molly. "Fred is slowly bleeding out, and I won't have any of you stop me trying to save his life. Not after Har-… Not after the night we've all had. Not after the night I've just had."

Molly seemed to notice her second half-slip and glanced around briefly, searching.

Hermione narrowed her eyes threateningly and extended her wand with tears in her eyes "You lot can take my potions and fucking help me, or I will impose an alternate arrangement." Her magic pulsed in the air around her, and the three she was facing felt the heat of it.

Just before she did something rash, a voice cut the tension in the air.

"Mum, Dad – let her at least try." Ron pleaded. "Sure, it's dangerous, but he's… He's dying anyway."

Bill nodded in agreement, looking between his parents and Fred with lost desperation in his face.

Wordlessly, the couple looked down at their son and stepped out of her way, and a moment later, Poppy eyed them both and then Hermione before saying "Very well then. How can I assist."

Had the night not put her through what it had; she may have smiled at that.

"Administer the calming draught and blood replenisher at the appropriate intervals, please. I believe I will need to cast at least three times and it should not take more than a few moments for each. I may even need to do it in sections but given the injury the bleeding will be significant once I get started and until the first spell takes hold." Hermione stated, rather clinically.

Fred was pallid, clammy, and taking shallow, rapid breaths as she approached his bedside. She didn't think he'd have much beyond ten minutes left in him if she were not to intervene, and if he were lucky – significantly less if she tried and failed.

"Fred, " she said softly, "I'm going to try and help you, but I'll need to remove the dressings to do it. I'm sorry, but this is your only option." He nodded barely, more with his eyes than anything else, and she continued to herself, And I bloody well can't let Ron lose two brothers in one night. Then added aloud, softly "I'm sorry, but this will not be pleasant. I need you to try and stay still though, as best you can. Okay Fred?"

She said his name with a soft smile. His eyes were trained on hers for a moment, full of desperation but also exhausted and slightly unfocused.

After a glance to ensure Madam Pomfrey was in place and ready, she removed the dressing.

The gash was massive and deep, what little magic they'd been able to get into him via potions was clearly all that had kept him from bleeding out in less than a minute or so. Both his external jugular and carotid were severely damaged, and the potions used had made a start at getting them patched up, but not wholly. There was a section on each that looked like a mesh sieve for the blood that was leaking through.

Fred let out a shuddering, shallow gasp and Madam Pomfrey started on the potions.

Merlin help me if this doesn't work…

She took a deep, steadying breath and cleared her mind a moment before incanting "Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Tardus Sanguis." Her wand moved in a slow but steady circuit around the full length of the terrible wound, pausing at even intervals as she repeated the spell while delicate slivery smoke flowed from her wand and into the laceration.

Poppy's eyes bulged as Fred reacted to no insignificant amount of pain as the spell took effect.

The flow of blood slowed considerably and Molly and Arthur both blanched, holding each other as they looked on in horror.

But Hermione had been expecting that. This magic was clever and thorough, but difficult and intense to focus on, especially given she was good friends with her patient. Her first casting of the spell was worded specifically to heal and slow bleeding.

Continuing, building somewhat in intensity Hermione smoothly flowed through the phrase "Vulnera Sanentur Tergeo, Vulnera Sanentur Arteria."

She held her wand steady, a few inches from his neck and focused near the center of the injury's length and the mist of the first charm slowed then stopped. Fred winced and let out a low, painful moan as dozens or perhaps hundreds of nearly imperceptible threads of translucent light blue magic shot from her wand into the wound. The strands of energy looked almost like spider silk, but they each seemed to attach to some individual piece of dirt or debris that had been in the wound, before retracting into her wand slowly and dropping the gathered waste weightlessly on the sheet he was laying on.

Poppy looked to be in proper awe at Hermione's control of such delicate magic, but she did note a sheen of sweat across the girl's forehead.

"Be ready with the dittany." she said quickly as she shot Poppy a look before continuing. Her face was starting to tingle slightly at the effort and focus she was throwing into her magic.

"Vulnera Senentur Magna, Vulnera Claudere Aequaliter." She almost chanted the last spell out, with a staccato rhythm to it while running her wand in the air close above his skin tracing from one end of the long wound to the other and back a few times.

As she finished, the various open structures and wounds she could see in the open pit of Fred's neck began to glow with golden light, before slowly and steadily knitting themselves back together. She watched closely as the spell took hold from the inside out, making whole once again the ruined veins and arteries in her friend's neck. His skin seemed to evenly knit itself back together carefully and cleanly.

When all was done, the only evidence of the injury was a thin pink line. With a bit of dittany, it would likely fade to a faint silver or even disappear completely.

Over the next couple of minutes and with some additional blood replenishers administered by Madam Pomfrey, who still looked a bit stunned at what she'd just witnessed, Fred's color returned. After a few minutes, he even seemed to have a good deal more energy than he'd had when Hermione first came across the horrid scene.

The Weasleys were beside themselves with joy, and as Fred made a very apparent turn for the better, they swarmed Hermione muttering things about everlasting thanks and a life-debt. He still needed time and rest, but he would eventually make at the very least a significant recovery.

Ron hugged her. It was only a little awkward, but had she not been so entirely emotionally exhausted, it probably wouldn't have been.

She was thrilled she had managed to save him, though her emotions were dulled in the wake of the Harry-shaped hole so recently torn from her heart. Even so, she felt like her magic was rippling in the air around her. Her careful control was nearing its limits after the battle of the day, Harry, and the mental fatigue of the huge amount of focus she'd needed to heal and not further maim Fred just now.

I need to stop and rest before I accidentally hurt someone. She thought to herself as she looked around the hall. There wasn't evidence of anyone else who was actively dying, just far too many injured who needed time to start healing their wounds.

She could only think of one place she wouldn't likely be bothered…

—X—X—X—

…I need a safe and quiet place to rest and recover. I need a safe and quiet place t-

It was ten minutes later, and she was pacing up and down a corridor on the 7th floor of the castle.

Before she finished repeating her thought the second time, a door appeared in an ancient wall of the castle.

She slowed to a pensive pace.

It should have taken three passes… I really do need to rest.

Hermione steeled herself once more and drew her wand, not knowing what to expect, as she entered the Room of Requirement once more. She tried but failed to forget the countless hours her and Ron and Harry had spent with the rest of the DA members there.

Making her way inside, she saw that the room in its infinite wisdom had configured itself as something between a large dorm and a small barracks, but with cozier bedding than you'd expect to find in either. A roaring fire crackled in a hearth on the far side of the room. And there was a small sitting area near the entry door with another, smaller fire.

Conflicted, she set out towards a bed on the far side of the room, near the larger fireplace. Upon her approach, she noted that the blessed room had set itself up with an impressive bathroom suite and a shower with more heads and fixtures than any 5 muggle homes she could imagine put together.

20 minutes later, she was physically clean for the first time in what felt like months, and feeling much better than she had in the last 24 hours. A truly excellent shower and a fresh set of clothes from her beaded handbag had done her wonders. However, she noticed this room had an effect on her that the other areas of the castle didn't – at least yet.

Maybe it was just because of the times she'd previously spent in the room, but every time she turned around or turned a corner, she felt like she'd see him there, waiting for her happily, with those piercing green eyes of his.

Allowing a few more silent tears to fall, she settled herself into the plush covers of the warm bed nearest the fire. She knew full well she'd never sleep without it, and even if she could, she knew it would be fitful, so she took a scant mouthful from a bottle of dreamless sleeping draught that she'd kept for herself after leaving most of the rest of her potions with Madam Pomfrey.

—X—X—X—

Three hours later, she woke with a start, as she noticed quiet voices in the room with her. They died down immediately when they noticed her stirring.

As she sat up, she saw the exhausted though concerned faces of Neville, Luna, Parvati, and a few other members of the DA looking at her from the sitting area near the door.

She slid out from under the thick covers, having slept in a pair of black denim jeans and a grey long-sleeved tee that she'd been experimenting on with a clever bit of charm work that now made the shirt warmer or cooler as needed with only a thought.

"Wasn't aware I'd have company…" she said with hesitation, as she made her way over to her gathered friends.

She really didn't want to relay the night's events so soon, but she didn't see any way around it, given the gathered crowd.

"Yeah, uh… Sorry Hermione." Neville said, barely failing to mask the fact that he had about 10,000 things he wanted to talk to her about.

He was wearing a truly ruined sweater and corduroy pants, and blood was slowly trickling from a small cut above his right eyebrow, down the side of his face, and off his chin. Apparently, his bandage had soaked through some time ago and either nobody had noticed, or they didn't have another at their disposal.

"You weren't the only one to think of this spot as an ideal one to rest for a bit…" He continued before hesitating for a moment, clearly concerned, before Luna walked up next to him and took his hand. "Er, nobody had seen you or Harry in quite a while and people are starting to get concerned. Luna had the idea to look for you here."

"A few of us caught a glimpse of that kiss in the courtyard earlier." Parvati chimed in, with a knowing twinkle in her eye and a small grin. "Figured he was off to finish whatever business you two have been up to the past few months… Shouldn't he be back by- Hermione?"

She had stopped her line of inquiry at the look on Hermione's face.

Hold it together, damn it. Hermione thought to herself.

"I- I guess I need to explain some things… To all of you. You all deserve that much… There were some things we had to keep secret until today." Tears streamed down her face once more as she made the announcement at barely a whisper.

She certainly had everyone's attention now.

"I know that's not what you want to hear… Please understand though, we had incredibly good reason to not let anyone else know exactly what we've been up to." She said more surely and paused, registering a mixture of genuine concern and perhaps a few slightly offended faces in her small audience.

"I... I know you all wanted to and absolutely would have helped, and I thank you all for that, but the decision was made between Dumbledore and Harry. If the true nature of our mission got out, we'd have had no chance for success." She rolled the hem of her shirt between her fingers as she contemplated how to continue.

A glimmer of understanding at the scope of the unknown task settled over them. They understood that if Dumbledore decided to keep a secret, they couldn't very well be too terribly upset with anyone who'd kept it so.

"Voldemort, " she spat the name, "had created a handful of terribly dark pieces of magic. Artifacts that carried within each of them, a small piece of his soul. While any of them exist, he can't truly be killed. His followers could use them to bring him back. It's how he wasn't killed 16 years ago the night he killed Harry's parents. It's how he was able to come back after the Triwizard Tournament. Without them, he would have been killed that night in Godric's Hollow."

"Blimey Hermione… How many does he have?" Seamus asked with a defeated look of horror on his face.

"He made six… Well, seven."

She exhaled slowly and watched as the color drained from the faces watching her.

"He had intended for his soul to be in seven pieces. I don't want to give an Arithmancy lecture just now but know that seven is an important number for powerful magic. The last one – the eighth one - was sort of accidental, we think… But after…"

She paused to choke back a small sob. She could not, she would not, let herself dissolve again now. "After the events of this morning, there's only one left, and we need to focus on that if we're to win this thing.

Parvati's eyes welled up, but she maintained her composure for the most part, listening closely.

"They're coming to the castle… Soon." She said, her resolve came through clearly even in her wavering voice, "If we're going to finish this – and Merlin help me, we ARE NOT giving up – then we need to focus. He's going to have a snake with him, a big one that's smarter than it's got any right to be. It's bloody dangerous and has lethal venom, and it's probably resistant to some of the more basic attacks we might throw at it, but that's our task. Voldemort cannot die until the snake does."

"Hold on a minute, a bloody snake has a piece of his soul in it? I thought you meant objects! I didn't think it could be a living thing?" Seamus blurted out; clearly shaken by the revelations he'd just been given.

"Hermione… What's going on with Harry?" Parvati asked quietly. She hadn't lost focus on the Harry aspect of things since Hermione had started speaking, and it seemed she may have put two and two together. She uncoiled herself from her comfortable spot on the couch and made her way toward her.

Hermione suddenly felt like she was underwater. Deep water. The pressure of it all assailed her from all sides and it was becoming hard to breathe.

"He… " she wept "He was the accidental seventh."

If it weren't for her heart pounding in her ears, she'd have noticed a change in the room.

There were many new questions forming in the minds of those occupying the room, but none dared ask. They all had been with her for all or most of the last 7 years, and they weren't blind. They all knew that the two of them had been slowly circling each other for the last few years, and if Parvati was to be believed, something may have just happened on that front. The implication in the room was bigger than anyone could comfortably acknowledge.

"Merlin's beard, Hermione. Is there a way to get it out of him?" Neville asked aghast, having distilled the focus of the room into that single question.

Hermione just shook her head. "This morning, after what you saw, " she eyed Parvati, confirming suspicions about her and Harry to the room "he went into the forest to s- surrender himself… He was killed shortly after." A few tormented sobs escaped her. The small amount of time and healing she'd had this morning was once again entirely raw.

The room fell into a stunned, broken silence. There were a few gasps of surprise and cries at that news.

She closed her eyes and cried for a moment, as Parvati closed the distance between them and wrapped her in a caring hug.

The two girls weren't as close as they might have been had their personalities been a bit more in sync, but they had indeed been roommates for 6 years and change. They were friends and knew each other quite well.

The hug was something near to exactly what she needed. The simple, friendly, warm contact carried with it permission for her to feel for a moment. While she had nothing particularly wonderful to feel just now, she knew she would not serve anyone nor herself well by succumbing to the anxious and depressing thoughts that were sieging the walls she'd erected in her mind. Those could come down later. If, that is, they succeeded. And, if she survived.

The rest of the group, in a show of solidarity as well as their own grief, gathered around them. It was an almost beautiful moment, to stand there in a loose scrum of grief and support. It was a poignant first glance at the legacy Harry had left in his wake. Without him, these young adults wouldn't be the good friends they are today. Without his guidance and inspiration, they wouldn't have the skills they needed to have a shot at surviving the day.

It was a sad, bittersweet sort of beautiful, really; like the vacant look of peace on the face of a loved one done suffering.

A few tearful minutes later, the shock had set in and passed for the group, and they'd all come to an agreement.

Harry had been The Chosen One, and news of his death would shake the already shoddy morale in the castle. Their best play was to spread the word about Nagini to the remaining DA members and adults they thought wouldn't try and keep them away. Otherwise, those not aware would be likely to ignore the snake and perhaps miss out on an opportunity.

They were all more than a bit annoyed at the fact that many of the adults had been trying to coddle them and keep them away from the action. None of them thought it would be glorious or enjoyable in any amount – but they all recognized that it was their lives and futures they were fighting for as well.

It was after eleven. They had places to be, a snake to exterminate, and a madman to kill.

If it were needed, Hermione was beyond willing to give her last breath to the cause… In an abstract sense, she always had been.

She'd seen too much of the injustice and inane disparity in the wizarding world. She also knew that she could never turn her back on it. Once she'd discovered the wonder of magic and cast her first spell, it was all over for her. This was going to be her life, and if Voldemort came into real power in this world, her birth status alone would number her days.

Harry's sacrifice and their discussion just prior had served to make things more real and far less abstract – but her resolve and decision surprisingly had little to do with that, or even him for that matter. It had always simply been the truth.

The group slowly made their way out of the room they'd called a headquarters for two years and filed through the ancient halls of the castle. Eventually they made their way through the entrance hall, past an old storage closet, and out into the courtyard. The group dispersed to spread word of their new mission to anyone who would listen.

In the distance, they could see a large group of dark-robed figures approaching the castle.

—X—X—X—

What am I fighting for?
There must be something more
For all these words I sing
Do you feel anything?

[…]

Said that I'd fight for the one that I found
I'm going to stay here while I wait for you to come around
I'll fight; you're a part of me now
And I will never give up, no, I'll never give up

—X—X—X—

Track: Fighting

Album: Paper Walls

Artist: Yellowcard