Hermione had her old outfit on. The one she wore when she defected from the order. She knew what she had to do.
"Secure the boy" Voldemort said.
She nodded. She made sure to occlude. She still hadn't decided if she was going to kill Him or not. He could kill her easily. It was best to be prepared.
She apparated to 12 Grimmauld place.
"Aguamenti" Hermione said.
She squirted the water in her eyes to make it look like she had been crying. She knocked on the door. Harry answered. Her gut clenched. She remembered all the times they spent together. All the adventures they shared. She felt her conscience start to talk to her but she squashed it. Now wasn't the time for feelings.
"Oh Harry," she cried.
She flung her arms around him. She had truly missed him. It had been two years since she last saw him. 2 years. He was the last order member left. The boy who lived. She felt a lump in her throat. If she did this there was no coming back from this. He is the one who betrayed you first! He is the reason why it happened. He deserves to die for what he did. For what the order did.
" Hermione how did you find me? I thought you were dead" Harry says.
" I was held prisoner by Voldemort. I just escaped." Hermione said.
Yes, she was such a good actress. All because mum had enrolled her in drama school every summer. Mum. Dad. Dead. They were dead.
She had to get him away from the anti apparition wards. But how? Harry was talking but she was barely listening. She was trying to come up with a plan. A couple hours pass. She gets an idea. She knew Harry had taken up smoking during the war. He probably hadn't had a cigarette in weeks. He must be running out of food too. Oh Harry, how did he ever survive without her?
She felt tenderness bloom in her chest. For just a moment she let herself be tender. She let herself be weak. She let herself miss him. Miss their friendship. Her mum's face hovered in her minds eye. She could still see her face. How it was before. Before her death. Brown hair and freckles just like her. She glared at Harry. No, she couldn't afford herself the luxury. She couldn't let affection and kindness creep in.
She steeled herself for what she had to do. She opened a box of Rothmans cigarettes. They were Harry's favorite brand.
"Care for a smoke" Hermione asked.
Harry's eyes widened.
"How did you get those?" He asked.
" I went to muggle London," Hermione says.
"I want to smoke but its dangerous for me to go outside" Harry says.
Play it cool Hermione. Think. Breathe.
"We could smoke in the house?" Hermione said.
Harry shook his head.
"On second thought, lets step outside" Harry says.
They step outside into the freezing December air. It had only been two weeks since Ron had died. Or should she say killed. Just as Harry takes a drag off the cigarette she strikes.
"Stupefy" She says.
Harry slumps to the ground. The cigarette is still burning. She quickly steps on it to put it out. She would never forgive herself if innocent people got hurt. She grabs Harry and drags him to the end of the wards. She apparates.