a/n: Many thanks for poka for the motivation. Glad that last chapter hit the right notes. Some confrontation awaits.

Prompt 23: You're impossible.
Prompt 38: We both know why we're here.
Prompt 51: I'm not going to tell you that
Prompt 47: Aren't you cold?

Chapter 10

"Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away… the battle is won… Come out of the castle now…"Voldemort's voice echoed in Hermione's head.

She tried to turn away. She couldn't accept the claims. A tightness in her chest stopped her movement. She felt herself let out a gasp of pain. It pulled her away from the memories of that heart stopping moment. Something soft was pressing against her cheek.

"Hermione," Harry's voice was so close.

She squeezed her eyes tight. She wanted to deny Voldemort's claim. She didn't want to believe it. Her mind was playing a trick on her. "He's wrong," she whispered

"Who's wrong?" he asked, "Hermione. You're safe. Can you hear me? Open your eyes."

She didn't want to. Some how he was still alive. She feared that would change. The tightness in her chest was turning into a burning that she wasn't able to ignore. She was injured. Maybe that's why she could hear Harry's voice. She nearly dead and he was inviting her to join him. Finally letting go, her body relaxed. Blinking, her vision blurred. She wasn't inside the castle. But it smelled like she was in the hospital wing. "No." She wasn't dead. She lost Harry.

"Hey. You're okay," his voice continued. The bed she was on shifted from his weight. A campfire smell replaced the antiseptic smell.

"Harry," she let out a sob and tried to reach for him. "Don't go."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You did. You left." The panic she felt realizing he went to surrender to Voldemort cut through her again.

"What's happening?" he asked, his voice muffled.

A woman's voice said something, Hermione couldn't make out the words.

"...calm," the woman was saying. She was much closer now. "Take a breath, and hold it. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Breath out. Good. Again."

Whoever this person was, Hermione didn't care. She was helping. Hermione followed the directions a few more times and then finally trusted herself to open her eyes. "Where?"

"You're at Saint Mungo's," the healer explained and handed someone a small cup. "Give her a few ice chips. Not too many."

Hermione's eyes followed the cup. Harry. He was there and he was alive. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember what happened. Death eaters. "Harry, you're okay? Ron found you?"

"Yay, he found me. Here. Take some ice," Harry said, lifting a chip to her lips.

Hermione let it slowly melt in her mouth. The small trickle of cool water down her throat felt good. Her mind raced to separate her dreams from reality. Not dreams. Her memories. They were so fresh they felt like they had just happened. Her parents deaths. Her failures. The loss of Sirius. The declaration of Harry's death. Every memory fresh, her emotions a raw open wound. Her hand rested on her chest where thick bandages covered the physical wound.

"You okay?" Harry asked, sensing her struggle.

Not trusting her voice, she could only nod.

Voice on the other side of the room had Harry scowling. "I have to go give a statement to the aurors."

"I'll go with you. He'll need mine too," she said, wanting to hear his account of everything that happened to him when he was taken from her flat. She tried to get herself up into a sitting position and failed. He had to set the cup of ice down to free his hand to stop her. That's when she realized his left arm was in a sling. "You're hurt. How bad?"

"It's not bad. Susan took care of me. Just relax here, and I'll be back."

She shook her head. "No deal. I need to know what happened. Help me up."

"Mister Potter. We can do it in here," Williamson said near the door.

There were so many people hovering near the door. She recognized the ICW agents from their demeanor. Self conscious, she checked herself and was relieved to see she was wearing scrubs. Better than a revealing hospital gown. "Get me a wheelchair." She didn't care who did it. She looked from Harry to the healers and then the agents. She could issue an order if it came to it.

"You're impossible," Harry breathed out in frustration.

"There's a meeting room on the other side of the wing," the healer said, pulling a wheelchair out from a small closet.

"I saw it," Williamson said. "I'll get Dumbledore and meet you there."

Hermione was halfway into the chair when her brain processed the name. "Who?" she asked, nearly losing her balance. She would have ended up on her face if the healer hadn't been paying attention.

"This is going to take a while," Harry said with a grimace.

~~/~~

The small room had a conference table in the center with enough room for eight chairs. Already seated were Williamson and Dumbledore sitting at opposite ends of the table. Harry pushed one of the chairs aside to give the healer room to get Hermione in place. He was torn between sitting next to her to keep her close and rounding the table so he could watch her reactions to the conversation that was about to unfold. She was currently studying Dumbledore, likely not believing her eyes. Or worse, believing them and jumping to the obvious conclusion.

"I'll be right outside," the healer announced, stepping outside. One of the ICW agents took a position in front of the door while the two others took positions outside.

Harry noted Dumbledore looking at the security curiously. Finally deciding he wanted to watch Hermione's micro reactions, he walked around to sit across from her.

"Assistant Director," Williamson started. "I'm glad your injuries aren't more severe."

The title had Albus looking from the ICW agent to the auror in some surprise. Good, Harry thought. Keep him on his toes. The world changed while he'd been in hiding. At the same time, he made the mental note that the former headmaster had been keeping tabs on the world. An indication that he'd been truly cloistered in the treaty zone.

"Thanks to Ron and Susan," Hermione said, looking around, realizing Ron wasn't there. She looked to Harry in concern.

"Ron's fine. He stayed with Susan. We'll find him when we're done here," Harry explained, wishing he'd thought ahead enough to reach out to his friend.

The head auror leaned forward, "He's actually back at the grove. He provided his statement and working with my people to secure the area. He told me what he knew about the secret area. Understandably, he couldn't explain everything. I understand the founders of Hogwarts entered into a treaty with an elf society. The secret area is only accessible by the current headmaster. Which is why the death eaters kidnapped Professor Potter. What I don't understand is how the death eaters know about this place, what they wanted, and how they were able to infiltrate our security." He looked from Harry to Hermione and then finally to Dumbledore. "And I don't even know what to think about you."

Harry cleared his throat. As much as he wanted to hear Dumbledore explain himself, there were death eaters potentially endangering his school. "The death eaters aren't working alone. There's an elf with them. That's how they got the quills that injured Hermione. They're from a creature that we thought was extinct that still lives in the treaty zone. They never explained why they wanted to get inside. I have suspicions, but I think we'll need to talk to the elder of the elves to find out what they're hiding." Harry paused, made eye contact with Dumbledore. "What they're still hiding."

"Hm. Any possibility they knew you weren't dead and are after you?" the auror asked, following Harry's focus.

It was so odd to recognize the old professor in the face of the younger wizard. Harry remembered watching Voldemort reborn into his new body. Whatever ritual remade Dumbledore hadn't been the same.

"Under normal circumstances, I would say no. If there was a sídhe who left the treaty zone in the past fifteen years, I would say it's plausible."

Under normal circumstances. None of this was normal. Harry looked away and studied Hermione. She looked frail and tired. The circles under her eyes made her look like she was recovering from a long illness. He adjusted his sling, felt his own twinges. They'd both been through pain and terror. While Albus Dumbledore sat in his chair, young and refreshed. Unbothered. "We both know why we're here," Harry said. It was directed at Dumbledore but he couldn't take his eyes off Hermione. "Tell him. Tell him how you're still alive."

"Harry," Hermione whispered. She was concerned about the ramifications of the obvious truth.

"The headmaster is right," Dumbledore said quietly. "I made choices many years ago. And not so long ago that will need to come out. When I was a young man, an unbelievable tragedy happened. During an argument with my brother and my best friend, my sister was accidentally killed. I was devastated. But more than that, I felt an incredible guilt over her death. None of us knew who actually cast the spell that did it. But that didn't matter. It was as if I'd killed her myself. I channeled that guilt and grief into a ritual I had only read about. I didn't know if it would work if the murder was accidental. I didn't know what else to do with my pain and heartbreak. I took her favorite book," he explained and finally looked at Hermione. "The Tales of Beedle the Bard. And I made my first Horcrux."

~~/~~

A horcrux. His first horcrux. Meaning more than one. The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Hermione had been keeping it safe this entire time. Since the minister showed up to read the last will and testament. Had it been influencing her like the locket, she wondered. She spent weeks reading and rereading it. Trying to find a clue. Maybe Dumbledore never actually meant for them to know about the deathly hallows. Maybe his search for them when he was younger, when he made the horcrux influenced them. What could have changed if they hadn't wasted their time. Hermione shook her head. It hadn't been a waste of time though. Harry wouldn't have known about the elder wand going into the final battle if they hadn't sought out the truth of the story. And she was never really on board with the distraction. That had been all Harry. She'd been obsessed with the book to find some clue. At the time, she was convinced Dumbledore left her the book to lead them to a horcrux. How ironic that he actually left her the book to take care of a horcrux.

Her mind was racing, She was still reeling from her experience with the rock of despair and now this. Harry looked horrified. She understood it would feel like a betrayal. The entire time Dumbledore was pretending to not know Voldemort's secret, pretending to need Harry's help, he was already intimately familiar with the dark magic.

"Your first?" Harry finally asked. "How many are there?"

"Three," he answered simply.

Hermione swallowed. Three. She had a sinking feeling she knew what the other three horcruxes were. Ron and Harry had also been entrusted to keep one.

Harry pushed back from the table. "You claimed you didn't know a person could make more than one."

Williamson had the good sense to allow Harry the freedom to ask the questions. This line was likely not connected to the crimes he was concerned with.

Dumbledore had the good sense to look remorseful. "I didn't know at the time. When you recovered the memory from Horace, it was a shock. My own experience with the ritual had taken a toll. I wasn't in a hurry to repeat the experience once we found out it was possible. That didn't mean I didn't think about the… benefits. I'm not going to tell you that. Obviously, I did."

"So," Harry started coldly. "Sometime between the end of April and when you died on the last day of June, you killed two people and made two more horcruxes?"

Hermione covered her mouth at the blunt assessment. She didn't know how he was managing to stay so calm. Staring at the table, she knew she needed to listen to Dumbledore's answer. She knew it was important. Hermione swallowed hard, lowered her hands, and looked at the former headmaster.

He appeared hurt by the accusation. It gave her some hope that it wasn't as bad as Harry had made it out to be. But how could it not.

"Of course not."

"Then how. How did you make two more horcruxes in less than three months," Harry challenged his denial.

"You misunderstand how I made these horcruxes. I don't know that I was responsible for my sister's death. It was irrelevant to the damage done to my soul. I was as responsible for her death as if I used the killing curse. That damage was powerful enough to satisfy the requirements of the ritual. Through the years, I questioned that it had worked. By the time I learned it was possible to attempt to make more than one, my time was short. The curse in my hand was going to kill me. And Draco… well it was a matter of time before I met my end. Too soon. It was too soon. There was still so much work to do and I had to do something to try to even the fight. When I made my first horcrux, I channeled my guilt and sense that I had been directly responsible for the death. There were others in my life where I felt the same culpability."

"Who?" Harry barely choked out the question.

Hermione was instantly frustrated that she was so weak she couldn't go to him. She didn't know who Dumbledore would name. A sense of dread was growing within her.

"Cedric. And…" he paused.

It was going to be bad. Instinctually she reached across the table. She wanted to touch him. He was too far away. Physically and mentally.

"And Sirius," Dumbledore finally admitted.

The legs of Harry's chair screamed across the floor as he stood. His whole body was tense. Hermione could see his fists were clenched. She was surprised his wand wasn't out. Or maybe she wasn't. A physical blow would be more satisfying then a spell.

"You didn't."

"Harry—"

"—you didn't desecrate his death!" he shouted. The words reverberated off the cinder block walls.

Hermione jumped at the sudden change. She sensed the agent behind her shift in response.

"Headmaster," Williamson warned.

More concerning to Hermione than the pure emotion in Harry's voice was when his clenched fists relaxed. He took a step back. And then another. And then he was heading for the door. She tried to reach for him. He was too absorbed in his own pain. She was trapped in her body, in the chair to go after him. She turned back to the table. "Give him a minute," she whispered to Williamson. "The other two objects are the deluminator and the snitch?" she asked, finally meeting Dumbledore's eyes.

He nodded.

"You willed your horcruxes to us, Why?"

Dumbledore sat back, took several seconds to consider his answer. "My intention wasn't to see immortality. I could have had that when Nicolas was trying to decide what to do with the alchemist's stone. I was simply trying to buy myself time to protect…"

"What? Protect what?" she asked. This wasn't about staying alive to help Harry. He never tried to find them while they were on the run. As far as she knew, he went straight to the treaty zone and stayed there. "What are the elves protecting that's so important?"

"Not important. Dangerous. Earth shattering if corrupted," he answered.

~~/~~

Harry had never wanted his wand as badly as he did right then. And he was never more grateful to be without his wand than he did right then. Attacking a man right in front of the head auror would have been a one way ticket to a holding cell.

Leaning over the balcony, he took in a deep breath. It was raining. The wind whipped up from the emergency entrance into Saint Mungo's. He'd been looking for the exit, followed signs that seemed to point him to one. He assumed the heavy door would lead to a stairwell. The open air balcony was probably better for him. He couldn't leave the hospital. Not without Hermione. If he'd found an exit, he couldn't say he wouldn't have kept walking. Turning toward the door, he knew he needed to go back. Harry shook his head, looked up at the gray sky. What he needed to do was go back to the school. None of this was his problem. The students needed him. His staff needed him. Williamson could figure out the rest without him.

"Aren't you cold?" Hermione's voice asked behind him.

He hung his head. Of course she came for him. She was injured and he made her come find him. He couldn't look at her. He was too angry. He didn't want her to see him so out of control and he didn't want the sight of her to take the edge off his emotions. "Yes. You should go back inside. I'll be right there." He was sure she would have no choice but to turn her wheelchair around. Or he'd hear her try to get through the door if she didn't listen. When her arms quietly and suddenly wrapped around him from behind, he lost it. He let out all the pent up emotions from the past twenty-four hours. His free arm covered hers and he felt her head rest against his back as she squeezed tighter.

Her warmth at his back was a stark contrast to the cold wind battering his face as his tears fell. His anger melted away and all he could think about was how much he'd missed her. Life raising Teddy hadn't been difficult, but it had been lonely. There had been fleeting relationships through the years. Nothing serious. Because they never compared to the ease and comfort he felt with Hermione. Now, facing the darkest realization since figuring out he was a horcrux, there was only one person he wanted near him. Turning in her arms, he looked down at her deep brown eyes.

Her hand rested on his chest, just above his heart. Did she know it beat faster when she was near him? Could she feel it? Harry brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her palm. It was cold. She shouldn't be out there while her body was still struggling to recover from her ordeal. He wasn't ready to break their connection. Shrugging the sling off, he ignored his shoulder's protested and pulled her into him, wrapping his coat around her. The motion brought her face closer to his. He searched her eyes again, wondering if he should act on the impulse he'd suppressed for years. Harry lowered his head, his lips less than an inch from hers. If she pulled away, he'd stop.

She didn't.

Her lips crashed against his. He felt her relax against him. He cradled the back of her head in his hand as he deepened the kiss. The world around him evaporated. She was the only thing to continue to exist. Her touch, her smell, her warmth, he let it consume him. He could get lost there for the rest of his life. But he couldn't. They both had to face demands, deal with the mess they'd been pulled into. With great effort, he pulled back. Her face was flushed. He tucked an unruly curl behind her ear like he'd seen her do a thousand times and let his finger trail down her cheek. "That was…"

"...nice," she finished for him. "Not what I was expecting when I found you."

"Hm," he hummed. "Thank you for finding me." Everyone in his life gave him space when he needed it. She filled it. She was the only one who could do that.

"I know you don't want to hear this, but you need to hear what Dumbledore has to say," started cautiously.

"You're right. I don't want to hear it."

"Harry, I'm not going to justify what he did. I'd never try. He has a reason why he did this. And it explains what the death eaters are after," she explained.

He leaned back against the railing. Resignation started to replace the thrill of finally kissing Hermione. "Let me guess. If we ignore it, the world will end."

That earned him a half smile. "Maybe not the world, but Hogwarts might. There's a vein of pure magic running through the forest, connecting the school to the treaty zone. The elves have been protecting the source of that magic. It's how they were able to restore Dumbledore's body. It's how the school is able to produce its own magic. And it's how the elves had barely aged since the founder's era. We need to go back and find out who the elf is that's working with the death eaters."

"You don't need to go anywhere," he started.

She pulled back. The cold rushed in to replace the heat from their connection. "I'm okay," she protested.

"Are you?"

Hermione let out a small sigh. "I will be. I want to see this through. With you."

"We need to find our wands," he pointed out.

"Williamson said Ron has them. He found them in my flat."

"Ron's in the grove. You can't hiked that far," he continued to offer excuses. It wasn't that he didn't want her help or to keep her close. He didn't want her to hurt again. And he didn't trust any of the information she was getting from Dumbledore. They could be walking right into danger.

"Dumbledore believes the elven staff he has will penetrate the protections. He can apparate us back."

Rubbing his forehead, he imagined his scar hurt again. He tried to think of another way to get her there without her overexerting herself. He wanted her with him. As if he could stop her, he thought. She'd make the hike if he refused Dumbledore's help. "Okay," he finally relented. If the school really was at risk, he had an obligation do to everything in his power to protect it. "But the healer needs to approve."

She opened her mouth to protest but seemed to sense he needed some capitulation. An acknowledgement that she could have been severely injured or worse had Ron not gotten to her. "Okay," she agreed and started to step back from him.

He reached out for her hands, stopping her retreat. "When this is over, can we talk about what just happened? I don't want to pretend it didn't."

Hermione leaned into him, kissed his cheek. "I won't let you forget it."