ONE
JUNE 18th, 2005
Hermione Jean Granger sat looking out the window in her new office, the cup of tea in her hands growing colder and colder.
“Miss Wilson!” A loud voice filled her empty office, causing her to jump.
Plastering a polite smile on her face, she stood to shake her boss’ hand, “Mr Miller, hello,” she said before sitting back down in her desk chair.
“Hermione, we are absolutely delighted to have you here in your new office! Vice President of Marketing! Doesn’t that sound lovely?” Mr Miller sunk down into the leather couch next to her desk, crossing his ankle over his knee.
“Yes, Mr Miller. I am delighted to be given this opportunity,” she smiled sweetly at him and reminded herself, for the hundredth time that day, that she was delighted. The term was a favourite of his, and she hoped saying it enough would make her believe it. She was making more than enough money to move to a better flat in London, which was a relief. She had been planning to leave her small flat in Brixton after her last promotion but wanted to make sure she could live alone in her means before she planned the move. Closer to the centre of town was her goal. Maybe on the same tube line as her office.
Mr Miller talked at her about the new responsibilities and how the next few weeks would work - all things she had gone over in her briefing this morning with her new team and the head of her department. At 1 o’clock she stood, ushering him out as politely as she could so she could eat her lunch in peace. She started the long process of booting up her computer before taking out her lunch. She pressed her intercom to tell Elise, her new assistant, to make sure no one else disturbed her today without an appointment, though it was bound to be a slow first day. Once her computer was up and running she took a quick look at flats nearer to her work.
Three meetings with different department heads later, Hermione was ready to get home and watch the final episode of the first series of Doctor Who, which she'd been keeping up with for some time, as she had watched the original episodes with her grandfather as a child. On the way out her blackberry beeped, indicating an email from her closest friend, Maura.
From: Maura Byrne
Subject: YAY!
Date: 18 June 2005 18:22
To: Hermione Wilson
Mi,
Dinner tomorrow my love? We need to celebrate your promotion with too much wine!!!
I have a reservation.
You, me, The Wolseley, 7 pm?
Love!
Hermione grinned. Maura’s infectious energy always helped her come out of whatever funk she felt herself falling into. She paused before stepping into the street to type a quick message back.
From: Hermione Wilson
Subject: Re: YAY!
Date: 18 June 2005 18:25
To: Maura Byrne
Maura,
Yes yes yes, my love!!!
See you then.
Hermione
Out in the temperate London air, Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, pulling her light jacket closer to her. The tube station was only a few blocks away and she walked briskly, eager to get out of the wind. She was turning on King William Street when a man stepped in front of her. A man wearing bright purple robes.
“Miss Granger!” the man with the large top hat squeaked. “It is so very good to see you!” He reached for her hand and she flinched away, hand flying to the pocket of her sweater. She hadn’t seen another wizard in 6 years, not to mention one who was prone to overreacting when it came to seeing her.
“Dedalus,” she whispered, stricken, “Please. Go.” She quickly pushed by him. She could feel him walking quickly after her, squeaking out protests. Two seconds short from breaking into a run she heard him stop chasing her and yell a goodbye. Her heels clicked on the sidewalk while tears prickled in her eyes. The image of Dedalus Diggle sitting at the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place filled her mind. It was like she was sixteen again. Flashbacks immediately flooded her mind while she tried to suck in shaking breaths.
Darkness swarmed around her chest, filling up to the top of her eyes, blinding her. It squeezed her lungs, surprising her and robbing her of her breath. She raced down an ally, trying to find her bearings among the walls and the quiet din of the London street behind her. For the first time in six years, Hermione turned on the spot and vanished into the night. Landing softly on her carpet, she immediately dropped her bag and crumpled on the floor. She hadn’t apparated in years, hadn’t seen anyone from the wizarding world in even longer. The only magic she did now was protective spells on her flat. Adrenaline pounded in her head as she slowly checked her body for any splinchings.
Tears started streaming down her face as she tried to stifle thoughts of her past life. The life she loved. Her friends. Her family. She moved to stand in front of her door. Tacked above the light switch was a list of names. The original D.A. manifest. She had added the names of those in the Order, or the others that fought with them. A reminder of those she had loved and lost, but not forgotten, even though it was horribly difficult to think of them. Next to the list was a small scribbled note.
Hermione,
We miss you.
Let us know if you need anything.
Yours,
Luna & Nev
She shook her head, thinking of the perfect life Neville and Luna now lived together in a small cottage in Hogsmeade. She couldn’t burden them with her unresolved feelings from the war. Hermione walked into the kitchen, putting her hands on the counter to steady herself. Besides, looking at the two of them would just remind her far too much of the Battle.
“Harry don’t,” Arthur said, sitting next to them on one of the benches that used to belong to one of the four long tables. “You can’t go into the forest,” Harry had just told Hermione, Ron, and Arthur what he had seen in Snape’s memories. If only Remus were here. Mr Weasley was the closest thing he had left to a father now that Sirius and Remus were gone.
“But I have to die to kill him, Mr Weasley. This is how it has to be.”
“Then Harry, you will die here, fighting alongside us. I cannot bear to lose another son,” Mr Weasley’s voice tightened as he wrapped Harry in his arms. The hour was almost up. Neville was holding on to the invisibility cloak. The debris and dust in the air had made it very easy for Neville to see Harry, under the invisibility cloak, sneaking through the rubble. He had yelled out, and no one would let him go.
“Okay. We will fight. But in the end, it has to be Voldemort and me.”
Hermione grabbed Harry’s hand, holding it tightly, “Harry, don’t you understand? It will never be just you. We will fight with you until the very end,” a few tears escaped her eyes and she wiped them away, smudging her face more. Ron nodded next to her and offered a small smile to his best friend. Voldemort was coming and they needed to be ready. They moved to the Entrance Hall, waiting.
The Death Eater’s were coming, Voldemort striding in front of them, his black cloak billowing behind him.
“Harry Potter!” Voldemort’s yell pierced the air. Harry let out a scream, doubling over in pain, hands to his scar. Hermione made to grab for him, but Harry was pulled towards Voldemort, his feet leaving the ground.
“Harry, no!” Hermione screamed. Ron grabbed her, holding her back. Voldemort’s high, cold laugh filled the air.
“Harry Potter will DIE!” Voices all around her cried out in anguish. All she could do was stare at Harry. Harry was the only one that could beat him and now he was bound, his hands and wand at his side. Hermione called out again.
“SILENCE!” A blast of magic quieted them. Hermione gripped Ron’s arm tightly, trying to fight the violent rage and despair welling inside of her. Harry was forced, kneeling, to Voldemort’s feet. “He is nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him.”
“He’ll beat you!” Ron yelled, pulling forward from Hermione. Suddenly everyone was screaming again. Just as suddenly another wave of powerful magic silenced them once more. Voldemort started again, his red eyes glinting as he told lies to the crowd. Someone pushed past Hermione, knocking her over. Neville charged at Voldemort, wand out. There was a bang and Neville, too, was kneeling, his wand in Voldemort’s hand. Neville, though vulnerable, was yelling at Voldemort. Hermione couldn’t hear him with her heart pounding in her ears.
“DUMBLEDORE’S ARMY!” Neville screamed and the silencing charm was lifted once again. Hermione couldn’t bring herself to cry out as the other’s did because Harry’s broken body, now crumpled at Voldemort’s feet, was all she could see. Not dead, not dead, he couldn’t be dead. The sorting hat flew from the castle, forced onto Neville’s head. Flames erupted and Neville screamed. Hermione’s body sprung into action. She darted forward, Ron close behind as Neville threw off the hat, the sword of Godric Gryffindor gleaming his hand. Giants roared as they charged each other, arrows from the centaurs rained down over the Death Eaters. Neville swung and the head of Nagini thudded to the ground.
“Yes!” Ron yelled, firing spells. They both sprinted into the Great Hall. Harry was nowhere to be seen. Everyone began to fight again, many looking to see where Harry had gone. Hermione could hear Hagrid screaming for him. The snake was dead! But where was Harry? Who was supposed to finish Voldemort? In the chaos Hermione found herself apart from Ron, standing with Luna and Ginny. All three of them squared off against Bellatrix. But she was fast, so fast. Bright green lights erupted from the end of her wand, missing them all by inches. A hex flew past Hermione’s ear and when she turned Ginny was on the ground, her normally bright eyes vacant, unseeing.
“NO!” A horrible wail pulled both Hermione and Luna away from Bellatrix. Molly Weasley charged forward, her spell toppling Bellatrix in moments. Cheers rose as Bellatrix fell. Hermione couldn’t bear to look at Molly as she crumpled over her daughter. Voldemort’s final and most loyal follower was gone. His scream of fury filled the air, and his wand aimed at the weeping mother.
“PROTEGO!” And then Harry was there, his eyes burning. His left hand was shaking violently but his wand hand was steady as he moved toward Voldemort. Hermione watched in horror as George bent, weeping over Ron’s limp body. Bile rose in her throat when she saw his eyes, so like Ginny's, empty and lifeless.
Harry’s eyes stayed trained on Voldemort, his grip tightened on Draco’s wand at the sight of his best friend. The room fell silent. The two men circled each other, the Elder wand raised high by Voldemort.
“I don’t want anyone to help,” Harry said, his voice steady, “it’s got to be like this. It’s got to be me.” Voldemort laughed, his head thrown back without a care in the world.
“Potter doesn’t mean that. Who are you going to use a shield today, boy?”
“No one. There are no more Horcruxes,” Voldemort’s nostrils flared at the word, red eyes narrowing. But Hermione knew that was a lie. Harry was still alive. Harry was the final one. “It’s just you and me, Riddle. Neither can live while the other survives…” Everyone in the hall stood, rapt, as Harry told the story of Severus Snape’s true allegiance, of the Elder Wand and who’s master it was. Everyone stared at the Hawthorn wand in Harry’s hand, waiting with bated breath. The sun burst over the distant mountains and both of them moved at the same time.
The jet of green light left the wand before it flew from Voldemort’s fingers, hitting Harry squarely in the chest. Hermione let out a deafening scream as the Elder Wand clattered to the ground. No one moved and the whole hall was quiet - there was no longer any need for a Silencing Charm. Voldemort was climbing to his feet, mortal, his last Horcrux in Harry finally destroyed, knocked off balance by the force of Harry’s rebounding spell.
“DIFFINDO!” Hermione’s voice didn’t sound like words, but her aim was impeccable. Voldemort fell back, his severed head now feet from his body, dying like his loyal serpent in the courtyard. She then collapsed, crawling towards Harry. Everyone started screaming at once. There was an uncontainable joy; Voldemort was dead, and uncontainable sorrow because Harry was - oh, Harry...
Now I'm the last surviving member of the Golden Trio, she thought furiously as she changed her clothes and climbed into her bed. It was only half seven, but she couldn't bear to be anywhere but under her duvet. She wasn't Hermione Granger anymore, the witch who had killed Voldemort, once and for all. She couldn't be. She was merely Hermione Wilson. A marketing executive who curled up under her covers, trying to make herself as small as possible, hopeful it would make her forget all the pain she couldn't seem to escape.