Chapter 1
The night was thick with malevolence, the air heavy as Hermione Granger stood her ground. Death Eaters swarmed around her, their dark robes billowing like shadows in the moonlight. Wand in hand, she fought with a ferocity born of desperation. But there were too many—far too many.
Her home, once a sanctuary, now echoed with the screams of spells colliding, the clash of magic against magic. The walls trembled, and the very foundation seemed to weep. She anticipated this. However, she had held onto the little hope that she had that it wouldn’t. Hermione’s heart raced; she knew this battle was lost. Yet, she couldn’t yield. Not when Scorpius, her infant son, lay sleeping in the crib upstairs. Hex after hex, she waved her wand in fierce determination. Hermione was trying to buy some time. She had managed to defeat the first wave, but her consciousness knew better; reinforcements were already on their way.
She had been trying to figure out another way, calculating and planning, but for once in her life, Hermione’s brain had failed her. There was only one thing she could do. Hermione knew that there was no other way. The second batch of death Eaters were almost at her doorstep, and this time, she wouldn’t be able to escape or hold them off. Luck was nowhere to be found.
With quick hast, she sprinted toward the nursery, her footsteps echoing through the hallway. The door creaked open, revealing the tiny form of her son, cocooned in blankets. His cherubic face, so innocent, seemed to mock the chaos outside. Hermione’s breath hitched. She had to protect him. Merlin, please save my little boy, she pleaded. Whether the heavens heard her prayers, she didn’t know.
She sent a Patronus—a silver otter—watching it fade into the distance, praying it would reach Draco. Her secret message: “I’m sorry.” Would he understand? Would he know that she’d chosen this path for Scorpius? For their unborn child?
Hermione had planned to tell him. She really did. With all this chaos and despair lurking outside, and the clouds of the unknown hanging over their heads constantly; the war that never seemed to cease. How could she be so selfish at a time where others were losing their own children and mothers, fathers, friends. Hermione knew that Draco would not understand; this was bigger than the both of them. The constant worrying and fear would eat him alive; about her and the baby. It would stop him for doing what he was supposed to do. After days of tossing and turning in restlessness, she did what she had always done at times like this. She knew that she was doing what was right. She had to put the greater good of the wizarding world first. Even if that meant sacrificing herself and their unborn child. It was worth the sacrifice. That their son would be able to one day grow into a great man, without having to suffer in the same fate as her generation did; the way Draco and herself had fallen victim to, along with the rest of the wizarding world.
A world where blood prejudice would have no part in it.
This brought her comfort in what was to come next.
Kneeling beside the crib, Hermione kissed his warm forehead. “My brave little star,” she cooed, stroking the soft blond hair, Her heart clenching at the sight. “I love you more than life itself.” Her voice cracked, and tears blurred her vision. She wondered if he’d remember her—the mother who gave birth to him, the woman who fought to her last breath.
As if sensing her desperation, Scorpius stirred, his tiny fingers curling around her finger. His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, it felt as if time stood still. It blocked the madness around them. Placing a final kiss to Scorp’s cheek, Hermione smiled, her heart aching. This was it. “Be strong, my love,” she whispered. “Remember your mother’s love.”
Closing her eyes and drawing a deep breath of air, she clenched her wand tightly. With trembling hands, she cast every protective spell she knew. Layers upon layers of enchantments wrapped around the crib—the Fidelius Charm, the Shielding Hex, and even an ancient incantation whispered by her grandmother, in the hope of it doing its’ job. Scorpius would be safe. He had to be. He would live. He would be safe.
Hermione knew that her time was up, she heard the echoes of the pounding footsteps. She couldn’t linger. Turning her back, she moved closer towards the door, wiping the tears from her face. The Death Eaters were closing in. Reinforcements had arrived. She straightened, her resolve hardening. The realization had found its’ way to her. So, this was how Lily Potter had felt—the fierce determination to protect her child at any cost. History was repeating itself. However, this time, it was different. Hermione’s chest tightened. She hoped Draco would find Scorpius in time, that he’d forgive her for what she was about to do.
The Death Eaters drew nearer, their laughter like shards of ice. Hermione’s wand trembled, but she stood tall, her eyes burning with an endless fire within. This was it. Hermione Granger’s last moments; her final battle. Spells erupted around her—their curses, her counters. She took down one after another, her magic fueled by desperation. But it was futile. They overwhelmed her in numbers, but this did not stop her. She kept on going, magic shooting out of her wand. It wasn’t until a crucio hex had hit her, that she fell to her knees, gritting her teeth. Hermione did not make a sound; she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
The presumed lead Death Eater, masked and cruel, had moved forward from the group.
Standing over her, he began to taunt her. “Tsk tsk, not so strong now, are you Mudblood.” he sneered. “Draco and Potter won’t save you now. You’re all alone. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Oh, how the great Hermione Granger has fallen.”
The death Eater turned towards his followers and lets out a wicked cackle, causing them to let out a laugh. However, the only thing that concerned Hermione was the cries of her baby boy. It wasn’t until he had turned back around that she saw it. The face of the man that had been one of her best friends since she was a child. Utter betrayal and disbelief swept over her in a heartbeat.
Standing before her, was no other than Ronald Billius Weasley.
How? How had she not realized? Had she been blind? Why? What had caused him to turn on them; on the light, his friends and family? Hermione wanted to weep for him, the boy that he once was the one she had grown to know and love like a second brother. But what did she actually know? What part was actually real? Did Harry know? What about Mr and Mrs Weasley? What about the rest of his family? Oh, God. It will kill them. It would kill Harry. How could he become so estranged that he would do something like this? Was it just a facade? Draco had been right. Merlin was she angry beyond belief, not only was Draco right, but she had not believed him. In front of Hermione, was whom she treated as family, had invited him into her life. She had trusted him almost as much as Harry. Yet, it was Ron’s hand that would ultimately kill her and her unborn child. She felt sick. To be truthful, she herself had not seen this coming. It wasn’t just a kick in the stomach, it was like a knife had been plunged into her heart and twisted it, before being left to wither away and die. Never in Her wildest dreams.
Hermione spat blood at his feet.
“How dare you! We trusted you! Harry, Your family-”
Hermione was cut off my backhand to her cheek, sending her wheeling backwards.
“Don’t you start. I don’t want to hear it. Filthy, blood traitors Bastards! Poor for nothing, they are! As for Harry, pathetic really. Didn’t suspect a thing. All those years.” Ron sneered with hatred.
Ronald grabbed Hermione’s chin with a vigorous grip, forcing her to look him in the eyes.
“Everything was going to plan. It wasn’t until that sorry excuse of a pureblood wizard decided that he wanted to be a hero. Started messing everything up. That’s when the Dark Lord approached me. He offered me power and fame that I couldn’t refuse. You see, a mere boy stuck in someone else’s shadow, desperately wanting to prove themselves. I was stuck playing the stupid sidekick! I was sick of being pitied! I was looked down on, and to top it off, showed up by a stupid little mudblood witch. But who am I kidding, it was the best cover. That Blond-headed git came in and stole you away from me. You were supposed to be mine! Mine! Not to go running to him and having a Malfoy spawn. Don’t worry, Malfoy will die before the night ends. But not before I kill you and that bastard of yours.” He ranted, letting go of Hermione’s chin.
Hermione couldn’t take another word. She had had enough. She couldn’t listen this any longer. Hermione knew that Draco nor Harry would not make it. It had finally sunk in, the finalisation of it all. Tears began to silently cascade down her bruised face.
“Any last words, Mudblood?”
Hermione took a deep breath.
“You underestimate a mother’s love,” she hissed. “I’d die a thousand deaths. I’d lay my life down for those who I love. Draco will tear you to pieces. The same goes for Narcissa and Lucius. I don’t want to know what Harry will do to you. You are dead either way.” Hermione informs, before situating her hand on her stomach and closing her eyes.
They say that your life flashes before your eyes. They are not wrong. Hermione’s mind drifts off to the memories of her home at Hogwarts, the friends and family she had made along her short life, Scorpius who is wailing in the background as well as her unborn child, Harry—The order, her parents that don’t remember her, and finally, Draco. His scent, his kisses, his warmth.
People who face death should feel fear, pain and regret, or even yet, sadness. There is none of that, only unconditional love, warmth and contentment. Hermione knows what she is doing. Sacrificing herself for the ones that she loves.
Without a second thought, He raised his wand, and the Killing Curse shoots forth. It strikes her chest, causing a numbness to take hold and Hermione to fall, her vision fading. But as she crumpled, her magic surged. The curse rebounded—not just against her, but against them all. Ronald Billius Weasley was the first to fall, Death Eaters fell like dominos, their screams swallowed by the night. Hermione’s last breath escaped her lips, and she glimpsed Scorpius’s crib one final time. She’d done it—for him, for love. Lily and James Potter had sacrificed themselves for Harry; just as she’d done the same for her son.
And as darkness claimed her, Hermione Granger smiled. Scorpius’s wails echoed through the house, a symphony of grief and survival. She hoped he’d remember her—his fierce, flawed, and unyielding mother—before oblivion took her away. Scorpius’s wails pierced the silence. His tiny fists clenched, and his eyes, so like Draco’s, searched for the warmth of his mother. But Hermione was gone, her love and magic extinguished. The crib, cocooned in protective spells, cradled him—the last remnants of her fierce determination.
That night, Hermione Granger died as an honorable order member, mother and wife. Outside, the aurors raised their wands to their beloved friend and fellow comrade, who had tragically fallen. Soft bright beacons of light, filling the grim horrors of the dark night; while a husband and son grieved for their wife and mother, and a brother grieved for his beloved sister.