Hermione was running through the castle, her filthy hand tight around Harry’s, their grip like a vice so they wouldn’t be separated. Harry was just ahead of her, covering them from the front while she covered their backs. Rubble and curses were flying everywhere. The chaos of the war and the high-pitched frequency of so much magic charging the air around them made her ears ring. Her eyes flitted all around them, making sure they didn’t run into a spell or get hit by one because they had to dodge bodies, creatures, and explosions when spells were blocked and ricocheted.
The castle had been overtaken by acromantulas, their long-jointed legs stabbing through the broken windows as they struggled to find an entryway that would allow their vast, hairy bodies through. They’d already lost Ron to one when the giants had swung their clubs through the castle walls and a barrage of legs and pincers came directly toward them. He’d been paralyzed with fear … there was no saving him now.
Tears burned at the back of her eyes and her throat threatened to close at the loss of her friend, but she couldn’t worry about it now. She had to find him; she had to get back to him.
She knew he would be here, forced to fight against the side with which his morals truly lay, she only had to find him. He had to be safe somewhere, she would not accept another possibility.
Harry suddenly yanked her viciously to the side and they narrowly missed a red-hot flash of light that sung through the air as it reached its target. Hermione’s eyes went wide as she watched a hole burn through Susan Bone’s chest. Her round face, frozen in shock as she fell backwards. The stray spell continued like a missile, searching for its next victim. Seamus fell to his knees beside her, cursing as tear tracks streamed down his sooty cheeks. His fingers delicately cupping her face while he howled his sorrows.
They continued running, the halls unrecognizable given the mayhem which ensued. They just had to keep going. Harry had the map; he knew where to take them. They reached the stair cases and narrowly missed the step when a body fell from above. Once beautiful ringlets, now coated in blood, her lavender bow tight around her neck.
Hermione felt bile burn at her esophagus but she swallowed it back. There was no time to mourn now. They had to reach the Room of Requirement. They still needed the diadem, to destroy it, then the snake… and then, finally, then…
“Hermione watch out!” someone cried behind them.
Instinctively, she dropped to the ground and covered her head with her wand hand, throwing a haphazard protego above them. As a result, Harry fell backwards as his momentum was abruptly stalled. A green streak of light passed over them and the sound of maniacal laughter followed.
“Doesn’t the mudblood want to play another game?” the witch cackled.
“Go on, I will stall her!” their savior cried.
Without missing a beat, Harry was on his feet again, dragging Hermione behind him. She dared a glance over her shoulder as Bellatrix’s blackened smile widened as she slashed her wand in a horrific display of dark magic, and watched as Neville fell to the rubble strewn floor, his body convulsing sickeningly. Their eyes met momentarily and she knew the moment he no longer saw her with clarity behind the excruciating pain.
She could not cry. Not yet.
Up the staircase they climbed. Chunks of marble were missing and in several places the staircases stopped moving altogether. They had to jump or otherwise levitate each other one at a time to get across. It was dangerous and risky, but there was no other way. Her stomach rolled as she sent a silent prayer of thanks for the small grace that they didn’t come across anyone alive as they went. It wasn’t until they reached the sixth floor when she saw long white-blonde waves hanging between the rungs of the balustrade.
Hermione didn’t think she would ever be able to look at the moon again without feeling her heart ache for Luna. Her large unseeing eyes seemed to follow them as they stepped over her mangled frame.
Finally, they reached the seventh floor. With the sounds of the battle so far below them, it was almost peaceful here. They ran together to the great expanse of wall where the Room of Requirement would appear for them. Like it was expecting them, it appeared at their approach and the door swung open for them as if knowing time was of the essence. They had lost so many already. This needed to end. Now.
“We should split up,” Harry bit out, his grip on her arm loosening.
“Harry, no, I don’t think-“
But he had already taken off. She ignored his logic and ran after him, but she had never been in the Room when it was this maze of impossibly tall stacks of vanished or otherwise hidden items. She’d lost him and she wouldn’t run the risk of calling out for him. She was about to cast a Seek-Me-Out charm when she felt a hand cup her mouth and an arm circle her neck. She tried to scream but it was no use. She was lifted off the ground and was being pulled backwards by a mass so large she would have thought it was Hagrid; except why would he be here?
“Got you, little mudblood. Now, where’s Potter?” Goyle’s hot breath razed against her ear making her cringe.
Didn’t he realize she couldn’t answer him with his beefy hand covering half her face?
She tried to kick at him and he chuckled. She felt the reverberation down her spine until she felt a familiar prodding at her backside.
“Maybe we can have a little fun while we wait, eh?”
She wanted to bite him, kick him, get away. She tried to scratch at his forearm, but her nails were almost entirely broken off from scrambling across stone floors and gripping the edge of staircases. It was no use. There was the distant sound of crashing, perhaps Harry had found their treasure and was climbing one of the mountains of junk?
“Sounds like we’d better hurry, little mudblood.”
Goyle dragged her roughly over to a nearby pile which had a stack of chairs balanced on it. There was a moth ridden chaise supporting a good amount of the heap, but Goyle paid no mind. He shoved her against the back of the chaise and cast a gag over her face and took both her wrists in one hand.
Hermione’s mind reeled. Screaming out for Harry to hurry while also silently pleading for him to stay away- she didn’t want him to see her like this.
Please, please, please. Go the other way. Turn right, go right.
She felt Goyle prodding at her as he fumbled singlehandedly with his trousers. His breath was coming heavy as he worked himself up. All the tears Hermione had been struggling to hold back now felt like they had receded entirely. She would not cry at her own defilement.
There was a strange pressure. Did he think his prick would punch a hole through her jeans as well as his own? Then there was a thud as Goyle fell away from her completely.
“Thank Merlin, your thoughts are so loud, Granger,” came a familiar, and all too welcome drawl.
Shaking, Hermione straightened up and turned to see Draco lowering his wand, closely followed by Harry, who held the diadem in his hand.
“C’mere, hold still,” Draco murmured as she ran to him, unsteady on her feet as the shock threatened to take hold of her.
Not yet.
“There,” Draco removed the gag from her face. Her eyes fluttered at the feel of his cool touch.
“You were waiting for us?” she asked.
“Just like we planned, Granger,” the corner of his mouth quirked. “As if you ever had to doubt I would come.”
Hermione looked up into his face, checking him over. He looked the same as when she’d last seen him. Paler than usual, which was saying something, too thin, but they all were, and haunted. Much too haunted, and that wasn’t about to change.
“Enough gazing into each other’s eyes, let’s destroy this thing and get out of here!” Harry said exasperatedly.
Without sparing a glance at her attacker, they fled, following Harry as he navigated the piles of rubbish that had been collecting there since time immemorial.
They had just caught sight of the exit when they heard a roar come up from behind them. Nerves spiking as alarm bells went off at the back of her mind, they all turned to see horrid fiery beasts rising up behind the peaks of discarded items, devouring everything in their path. Laughter erupted and they caught sight of Goyle, blood running down his chin as he directed the Fiend Fyre toward them. The devilish flames spouted from his wand in a torrent that never ceased or slowed. It was coming for them.
“RUN!” Draco shouted and the three of them grasped hands, taking off as quickly as they could.
The fire beasts ran after them, their jaws open wide as everything in their path was demolished. Cornish pixies screamed as their flesh was melted off their bones. Birds disintegrated in a puff of ash. Instruments who’s strings and keys wouldn’t stop playing screamed their last notes as the inferno overtook them.
Still, they ran, trying to outpace the flames that were gaining on them.
“Harry! There!” Draco shouted. Harry glanced in the direction Draco pointed where discarded old brooms leaned atop a nearby pile.
“AccioBrooms!” Harry shouted.
Slower than they would have preferred, the brooms wiggled free and whooshed towards them. Taking her by the waist, Draco dragged her onto the broom with him, their combined weight making them fly far too low for comfort, but the broom kept on.
“You better not drop her, or I’ll kill you!” Harry shouted over his shoulder at them. He could’ve made it out faster but he wouldn’t leave them behind.
“Not if this Fyre gets me first!” Draco half laughed half gritted out as he held Hermione fast.
Below them, Goyle’s laughter turned to screams as the flames he’d conjured burned him. Having lost control of their hunger, they turned on their master and consumed him.
All around them, Chimeras, Dragons, and all other manner of beasts swooped through the Room and devastated the centuries upon centuries worth of discarded items, but nothing satisfied them.
“Harry! Throw it! Throw the Horcrux into the Fyre!” Draco yelled as they neared the doorway.
Hermione was about to scream at Hary not to, but with an arm fit for a Chaser, Harry tossed the diadem into a perfect arch and it landed in the jaws of a fiery basilisk.
It happened quickly then. The soul of Voldemort which had been locked within the diadem broke free of its now molten prison. The Fyre turned black and if possible, burned hotter and became a terrifying vortex, eating up the oxygen and scalding their skin. The creatures vanished and in their place was a towering, black-flamed figure of Voldemort’s snake-like face. His mouth was wide, his forked tongue flicking out at them. Hermione was sure it was just the fire, just the dark magic messing with her brain but she felt as though the apparition were exhaling smoky, sour breath that singed her nostrils and made her skin crawl.
“Hold on, Granger!” Draco shouted over his shoulder. He lifted his wand and cast something that made their broom buck and lurch forward in the last few dozen yards as they neared the door. His grip was taut on the handle as he maintained control and aimed them at the already shrinking exit. Harry cleared the threshold, and with a tumbling lurch, Hermione and Draco fell through after him. The ends of their broom hitting the stone floor, the wood shattering as they upended over it.
“Quick! Quick! Close it! Close the door!”
Together, the three of them aimed their wands at the heavy wooden door but the Room had a mind of its own. The bricks and stone were shifting, fortifying the wall in a way the door could never seal it to forever entomb the Fyre. The wall was shimmering before them, a race between the vulnerable magic of the castle and the darkness that wished to end them. The remnant of Voldemort’s soul made a final attempt to lash out before the Fyre consumed it, too. A whip of inky magic lashing at them and finding no purchase just as the final stone fell into place.
Shocked, panting, burned, sweaty, and in utter disbelief that they had actually managed it again- to come away with their lives and destroy yet another piece of the Dark Lord’s soul- Hermione stared at the once again blank wall. The rampage behind it and the battle below nothing but faint murmuration’s.
“Hermione!” Harry shouted, causing her to jerk violently out of her minds delicate attempt to grasp the reality at hand.
She looked about; wand poised for another attack when she caught sight of where Harry was staring. To her right, Draco lay beside her, a splintered length of the broom handle protruding from his chest.
His pale face was nigh translucent- he’d lost so much blood in the mere moments she’d spent staring at the wall.
“C’mon, we have to do something, there must be something, where’s your bag? Hermione, your bag! Quickly, quickly! Hermione!” Harry was shouting at her as she stared down at Draco. Their eyes locked in on each other … knowing the truth that Harry wasn’t willing to accept.
Harry tried to feel in her pockets for her beaded bag, but it was no use. There would be nothing in there that could fix a wound like this.
“Harry,” she whispered. “Harry, stop, you’re scaring him.”
Her eyes never leaving Draco’s as she took his hand in hers, his hand that felt so uncharacteristically cold in her grasp, while her right hand went to his forehead and brushed back his sweat-slick hair from his face.
“Granger,” he croaked. His Adam’s apple bobbed and she knew he was trying to keep the blood down so it wouldn’t choke out his words.
“Draco,” she whispered back, her own throat burning as emotion threatened to consume her.
“We had so little time,” he gasped and a trickle of pink escaped the corner of his lips. Lips that should have been a delicate shade of peach but were now turning blue.
“I know,” what could she say? There was too much she had wanted to tell him, but they were out of time now. All she could do was try to savor the way he said her name, the way his eyes saw her, really saw her when he looked at her.
“You came back for me,” his voice gurgled and she hated the sound, but she wouldn’t tell him to hush, she wouldn’t quiet his words when they were all that she had left of him.
“Yes, I did, I told you I would.”
He gripped her hand with a strength that should have surprised her, making her bend down over him so her nose was nearly touching his.
“Would you do it again?” his breath caught on his words like he was cold. “Would you go back for me again… if-f y-you-“
“Yes, yes, I would. A thousand times,” a tear slid down her nose and onto his cheek.
He closed his eyes at the feeling of her hot tear, like it was a gift made for him.
“I d-don’t want to say g-goodbye, Granger, d-don’t make me say it,” his voice was so quiet now she had to strain to hear him.
“Then don’t, this is merely goodnight, just like before, do you remember?” she asked.
He exhaled and she nearly thought she’d lost him, “yes, Granger, yes I remember.” There was a ghost of a smile gracing his lips, all for her.
“So, we’ll say that, instead. We’ll say goodnight. This is just goodnight,” she whispered to him, another tear falling onto his too-pale cheek.
“Go back there, Granger. With me. Go back to that place… I kept it for you- always… you,” his voice was breathy despite the sickening wetness of his lungs.
Behind her, Harry sobbed into her back.
Hermione blinked, not wanting to believe that Draco was actually gone. She could still feel the whisper of his last breath across her cheeks, could see the light reflecting from her eyes in his, that soft smile still fixed on his lips.
Hermione took stock of her body because surely, she’d died too. There was no world in which she could live and Draco died. This wasn’t it. This wasn’t fate. Yet her knees felt stuck to the floor, warm with the life’s blood of the boy whose cold hand she still held. A hand that felt stiff and…
Her fingers curled around something between their palms. Something small and metallic to the touch.
Gently turning Draco’s hand over and rolling from his cold, pale palm into her warm bronze one, was a time turner. More specifically, her time turner, from third year.
“Hermione, how did he have that? Did he find it in the Room of Hidden Things?” Harry was asking her questions, but his voice fell away. In its stead was the thrumming of her own heart, the rhythm growing louder as the answer came to her.
“Would you go back for me?”
“Yes,” she said, her vow buzzing with magic.
“What? Hermione what are you-“
Hermione ignored him. They’d lost. It didn’t matter that they had just destroyed another Horcrux. They had lost and there was no winning if it meant she couldn’t live with Draco by her side.
“Go back there, Granger … Go back to that place.”
Hermione put the golden chain around her tangled curls, her jaw set.
“Hermione, no! Don’t-!”
With a conviction she never knew she possessed; she wrenched the turner back three times. It spun wildly. A soft white glow emanating from it, it grew and grew until it surrounded her and she had to close her eyes to protect them from its brilliance. She felt herself falling back in time, much further back than she had ever dared to go. She felt the time turner trying to break away from her but she held on with a white knuckled grasp.
“Always you.”
She was screaming, the magic bending and blurring the lines of reality and space. She felt herself melding and aging then de-aging once again. Until she fell back into herself. A different time, a different place … but one moment that had changed everything.
~
It was the beginning of term; the sun was shining brilliantly, and students were eager to make their way outside to enjoy the waning summer warmth. There was still the buzz of excitement as students caught up with each other and talked animatedly about their new classes and the events of the summer.
They made their way down to Hagrid’s hut and he led them along a well-worn path into the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. Just deep enough that they were surrounded by trees but light still filtered through the gently shaking leaves.
Before them stood a magnificent creature, tall and proud. His silver wings reflecting the sunlight as he adjusted them as if to show off. The creature swished its tail and held his head high as Hagrid lectured the class on what Hippogriffs were and their history. He was just inviting a student to introduce themselves when Draco pompously strode up to the creature- something one should never do without proper consent from the creature itself.
This was the moment Hermione Jean Granger, battle worn and time delirious, burst from the crowd of students who were rubbernecking as Draco went down under the claw of the feathered beast.
“Hagrid! We have to get him to the Hospital!” she cried.
It was a wonder no one noticed her dishevelment, or better yet, the glint of the golden chain which now hung freely from her neck, hardly concealed by her partially buttoned up shirt.
“Right, o’course. Right then!” Hagrid awkwardly stammered as he tried to regain control of the situation.
Hermione, struggling to adjust with the new timeline’s events and what she had only experienced mere moments [for her] ago, raised her wand to levitate a hyperventilating Draco but paused as she caught sight of her forearm.
Her tanned skin was free of the mudblood scar.
She shook herself free of the new curiosity, “I’ll come too, so you can get back to the class.” She helped Hagrid take Draco to Madam Pomfrey.
Once there, Hagrid set a passed-out Draco upon an empty hospital bed, hurrying as he had to inform the headmaster who in turn, would owl Draco’s parents. All the while, Hermione stood sentry at Draco’s beside. His arm was neatly bandaged, just a tinge of red peeking through, but thankfully it hadn’t broken.
Draco groaned from the pain. His head turning towards her.
Unable to help herself, she grasped his uninjured hand. Draco’s lids flew open and while she expected him to snatch his hand from her, he merely stared at her, as if suddenly seeing her for the first time.
“Granger,” he breathed.
“Malfoy,” she forced herself to say.
“You’re here,” he said with surprise.
“I said I would come,” she fought against the sound of her own voice breaking.
Draco’s lips turned up into that cocky grin of his as he settled against the pillows and closed his eyes, “I knew it.”