The night air crackled with tension.
Hermione held the wand tight in her grasp, every muscle taut, eyes never leaving Bellatrix. Behind her, Harry lay motionless, barely breathing. The sight of him so broken, so still was carved into her mind like a brand.
Bellatrix stepped forward slowly, retrieving her wand with a lazy flick of magic. "You know," she purred, voice like poisoned honey, "I've always wanted to test the mudblood's fire."
Hermione didn't flinch. "And I've always wanted to shut you up."
With a scream, Bellatrix struck first a bolt of violet light flashing through the air.
Hermione dove to the side, landing hard on her shoulder, rolling and retaliating without hesitation.
"Stupefy!"
"Crucio!"
The spells collided midair with a thunderclap, the explosion of magic lighting the tower in pulsing red and gold. Shards of stone flew from the walls, dust raining down like ash.
Hermione was already moving again, circling wide, keeping her body between Bellatrix and Harry. Her mind raced, calculating angles, patterns remembering every Defense lesson, every D.A. session, every duel she'd ever watched or read about.
Bellatrix's eyes gleamed with delight. "You've improved."
"I've had motivation," Hermione spat.
Another curse this one silent lanced toward her like a whip. Hermione conjured a shield just in time, the force of it knocking her back a step, boots skidding on stone.
She clenched her jaw. Think, Hermione. Think.
Then she saw it the edge of the tower wall, where the stone had cracked under the earlier spellfire. Weak. Unstable.
She ducked another curse, then feinted left and hurled a blast of energy toward the weak point.
The impact was deafening.
A section of the tower edge crumbled, a cascade of rock and dust falling away into the darkness below. Bellatrix staggered from the tremor, her footing faltering.
Hermione didn't wait.
"Expelliarmus!"
The wand flew again this time over the side.
Bellatrix's face twisted with rage. "You filthy"
Hermione raised her wand, her voice like steel. "Stupefy!"
The jet of red light hit Bellatrix square in the chest.
She flew backward slamming against the tower wall and crumpled.
Silence.
Only the wind, whistling past the broken stones, and the sound of Hermione's breath as she dropped to her knees beside Harry.
She touched his face gently. "Harry. It's over. I'm here."
His eyes cracked open, just barely.
"You… always were… better at dueling than me…" he rasped.
A watery laugh burst from her lips, half-choked with tears. "You idiot. Don't ever scare me like that again."
Footsteps thundered on the stairs below.
Hermione looked up wand still raised as the first members of the Order burst into the tower, wands lit, shouts filling the air.
His eyes fluttered. "Did you… win?"
Hermione gave a watery laugh. "What do you think?"
Another weak smile from him but it faded quickly as his eyes began to close again.
"No, no, stay with me," she begged, gripping his hand tightly. "Don't you dare fall asleep, Harry."
Footsteps pounded up the stairwell.
Voices familiar ones.
"Hermione?"
"Harry?"
Lupin, Kingsley, Ron she couldn't tell who reached them first, but suddenly hands were helping her lift Harry, spells were flying to bind Bellatrix in enchanted chains, and cloaks were being thrown over Harry to keep him warm.
Someone summoned a stretcher. Someone else called for a Portkey.
But Hermione never let go of Harry's hand.
Even as the tower faded from view and they were whisked away into light, she held on because the flames they had just endured hadn't burned them apart.
They'd only made them stronger.
The world spun.
Colors twisted grey, gold, black and then crack.
Harry hit the ground hard, barely cushioned by the stretcher beneath him as the Portkey released. His entire body screamed. Breathing was a war. Movement was impossible.
But there was warmth. A familiar hum of wards, faintly lemon-scented air, and a flickering fire.
Grimmauld Place.
He blinked once. Twice. Could barely keep his eyes open.
"Hermione," he croaked.
"I'm here," she whispered at once, crouched beside him. Her hand was still wrapped tightly in his, knuckles white. "We're home. You're safe."
Hands worked over him magic thrumming, voices murmuring healing spells he couldn't follow. A coolness spread through his chest, down his arms, taking the edge off the agony. But it didn't fix the shaking. It didn't stop the flashes.
The chain above him.
Her voice shrill and sweet and cruel.
His own screaming.
He squeezed his eyes shut. "Bellatrix"
"She's gone," Hermione said firmly, brushing damp hair from his forehead. "We've got you."
He wanted to believe her. He did.
But his muscles wouldn't stop trembling.
He felt stripped open raw and exposed and wrong. He wasn't sure what had been broken more: his body, or something inside him.
"I...I couldn't stop her," he muttered, ashamed.
Hermione leaned closer. "You survived her. That's stronger than any spell."
He opened his eyes again saw how red hers were, how tightly she clung to him.
"I thought I wouldn't make it," he admitted, voice small.
"I never stopped looking for you," she whispered.
He believed her. Even in the darkness, he had held onto that hope. Onto her.
And now, lying in the dim glow of the old Black family drawing room, battered but alive, he held onto it still.
Even broken.
Even burning.
He wasn't alone.