Too Good at Goodbyes
Hermione ran a hand across her forehead, blood streaking into the sweat. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Her eyes scanned across the fallen rubble around her. Bodies everywhere. Letting out a breath she tried to steady the trembling in her fingertips. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Blood, death. The smell of sulfur hanging heavy in the air. She lifted her eyes across what used to be the main grounds, her eyes catching Theo’s wild ones. His curls were hanging in his eyes, damp. Why were his eyes wide? Why did he look so scared? The battle? No.
She didn’t register what he was yelling as his mouth opened to form her name, screaming it as he took off running towards her until the streak of green was already in her peripheral vision.
Six Hours Earlier
It had been extremely difficult to devise a plan to get into the castle. Luna had been very adamant about the location of the Diadem. Insisting that it had to have been in the castle. With no other options, they had spent the rest of the time coming up with a plan and stockpiling. Hermione had managed to have Draco get her the rest of her potions that were kept at the Manor. He had been getting called more by an increasingly more manic Voldemort. Narcissa had somehow managed to keep the eye off of her family with Bellatrix’s disappearance and the rest of the Order still thought that Hermione was dead. A wild card that they would keep until they had no other choice. Lucius had been rescued from Azkaban and was now residing at the Manor, helping them come up with a plan. It was all hands-on deck for Voldemort. Whatever followers he could get, he was collecting.
It seemed that the Order weren’t the only ones planning.
When the days started counting down, they had finally come up with a plan to infiltrate the castle. Ron had gotten a hold of Charlie. Harry had sent out letters to Hagrid. It was slowly all coming together. When it came time, they had Disapperated close to the Shrieking Shack–as close as they could get before walking on foot. One by one, they snuck into the building, using the tunnels to make their way towards the Whomping Willow. With disillusionment charms in place, Draco led them along towards an old tunnel that led underneath the castle and into the dungeons by the Slytherin dorms.
From there, Neville led them carefully through hidden passageways behind the tapestries to the room of Hidden things. Hermione was surprised, the amount of people hiding in the room was…astounding. Daphne, Neville and Ginny had managed to gather as many students as they could to hide them from the Carrow twins who had slowly taken over Hogwarts.
Theo and Harry had set off in one direction, while Draco and Hermione had set off in the other.
He had stumbled upon the cabinet, a frown marring his face as he turned back towards her. ” Granger...”
She raises a brow. “Malfoy.”
“Do you think I could’ve changed the outcome of things if I hadn’t fixed the cabinet? If things might’ve been different?” Hermione pauses, pursing her lips before stepping into him, resting her chin on his chest as she stares up at him. His arms encircle her waist, pulling her closer.
“We can’t ponder on the past, Draco. Not with how many things have happened. If we questioned the outcome of every decision and everything, we’ve ever done, we would be weighed down with so many what-ifs that we wouldn’t be able to move forward.” He studies her face for a moment, before dipping his lips to hers, his hands sliding up her waist to cup her face in his hands. As if she was delicate, but his mouth ravished her like she was anything but. When she pulled away, blinking from the emotions that he had poured into her through touches instead of words, she blinked the haze from her eyes. His nose brushed against hers before lifting his head, a small, surprised laugh came from him as he peered over her shoulder.
“What did the Diadem look like again?”
“She said it had blue jewels and–” She pauses, turning her head to follow his gaze. There, sitting on top of an old mannequin was the jewelry that they were looking for. Hermione gasped, a small, shocked laugh falling from her lips. “It…it’s been right here the entire time.”
“Like I said, different circumstances could’ve had completely different outcomes.” She turned back towards him.
“Neither of us were meant to find it then, Malfoy.” She turned, making her way towards the jewelry before turning towards him again, a small sparkle in her eye. “Come get this bloody thing down for me please.”
-
-
-
-
Harry
A spell whizzed past him, scorching the wall beside his head. “Christ.” He spun quickly, making his way down the hallway and throwing hexes over his shoulder towards the Death Eater who was quickly making his way down the hall towards him. With a sputtered spell, he whirled around, finding himself getting quickly yanked into a room. His eyes locked onto the dark billowing robes of Professor Snape.
“Professor–”
“Potter, what are you doing you fool.” Snape glowered at him, his eyes flicking towards the door. “Where is my daughter?”
Harry’s brain faltered for a moment before the connection formed in his mind. As if his brain had forgotten the connection for a moment. “Hermione?”
“No, Potter, another curly haired witch that seems to follow you around like a lost puppy.”
Green eyes narrowed momentarily. “She would be so mad if she heard you say that. If anything, I am the one who follows her around like a lost–you know what actually I take offense to that particular–”
“I do not care what you take offence to, boy, is she alive and well? Or is she traipsing around this bloody castle with no regard for her safety like you currently are? Why are you by yourself anyways, isn’t there supposed to be an Order making sure you don’t do something like getting yourself killed?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be the right-hand man of a balding obsessive wizard or did he finally learn to keep his nose out of people’s bus–oh wait, I suppose that would be hard to do.”
“Potter.”
“ Professor. ” The sass infused into the single word had Snape raising a brow, regarding him with a sniff.
“I will assume that your ridiculous attitude is that she is alive and well. As far as you’re aware even though you’re proving yourself useless as usual.”
“That’s rather rude. I find myself particularly useful.”
“You would be the only one, Potter.”
“I don’t know, Dumbledore seemed to find me particularly useful, you know using me as a martyr and all.”
Snape’s eyebrows rose. “What?”
Harry sniffed, a trait that he must have picked up hanging out with Hermione too often as he pushed his glasses up his nose. “I don’t know, Professor, you tell me.”
-
-
-
-
Draco
There were a lot of moments where Draco had realized that he didn’t care about anything else but Hermione. He would disappear and let the entire wizarding world burn if it meant keeping her safe. If it meant that he would be able to just get her out of this bloody war and somewhere where the only bruises she would come home with were from falling or stubbing her toe. Locking her away like a treasure in his vaults was an entirely too tempting thought, as was the one he almost entertained of shoving her into the cabinet in the Room of Requirement and sending her far away from the castle and the inevitable destruction that it would cause.
Standing in the middle of the rubble, he was wishing that he did.
A thousand thoughts were floating through his mind. He wondered, briefly, where his mother was, before the terror of where the hell Hermione bloody-always-in-danger-Granger was. There were Death Eaters everywhere, spells flying and whirring past his face too fast for him to keep up with. If he hadn’t been repeatedly tortured and trained by his aunt, then it would be a surprise that he could keep up with everything the way that he was. He had been keeping a relatively low profile, not donning his Death Eater mask, but wearing his robes. Almost the entire Order was aware of his allegiances by now, but it came in handy with tricking Death Eaters who were unaware of where his heart and loyalties lied until he got close enough to kill them.
There wasn’t stunning for him, or stupid petrifies that another person could come and undo at any time.
No.
That was too risky. One of the people he stunned could be the same person killing somebody that he loved. Death Eaters didn’t care about casting spells to maim, they wanted to throw spells that would stop the person breathing. And if Draco had to do the same to make sure that they wouldn’t be stopping Hermione’s heart then so be it. It wouldn’t be the first time that he gave a little bit of himself over to the darkness to make sure that her light wasn’t extinguished from this horrendous Earth. Who else would bring him back into the light otherwise? Without her he would be lost to the darkness.
His eyes flicked down, momentarily, noticing the Death Eater he had just cast Sectumsempra on was holding a wand that looked familiar. A sick feeling settled into his stomach as he leaned down, ignoring the sputtered wheezing as the man beside him drowned in his own blood. He was too focused on the fact that all of the blood in his body had rushed to his ears, leaning down to pick up the wand that was resting in between the fingers of the man gurgling beside him.
It hummed as it settled into his palm, the weight of it barely registering. One single thought settled into his consciousness as he unfolded himself with a barely restrained rage. Fear. That was what he was feeling. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes only for a moment before snapping them open again. No. He would’ve felt it. He was sure of it. He would’ve felt it in his soul if she had died. His trembling fingers closed around the wand before he shoved it into his robes, flicking grey eyes to the man lying on the floor, already gone and unable to be tortured with questions as to where he had gotten this particular wand. Draco turned, immediately stalking down the hallway, fire burning through his veins as he cut down anybody who entered his path. A single question burning through his head.
How the fuck did that Death Eater get Hermione’s wand?
-
-
-
-
Ronald
Ronald Weasley wasn’t proud of a lot of things throughout the years. Particularly, his treatment of Hermione Granger. It took him a long time to come to terms with why that was. But the realization hit him like a ton of bricks one night and he had promised himself that he wouldn’t continue the same course of thought. Somewhere along the way, he had loved her. Or at least, he thought that he did. She was always there; she was always saving him and Harry. Stubborn, infuriating, yet smart and brilliant in a way that sometimes unintentionally made everybody around her feel dumb. That was why he was always trying harder and falling short when it came to her. He wanted to be in her sunlight but wanted to be the one who was making everybody else bask in his own. He wanted to have the glory and the brains behind their operations. He wanted to be the one who sacrificed over and over for his best friend because he could notice when he was acting differently.
He wanted to be the one who wasn’t hiding in Harry Potter's shadow. He wanted the recognition too. Ron wanted to be in the sunlight instead of the shadows.
And it was that jealousy that made him make her smaller to make himself feel better. That made him lash out in bitterness to diminish the light that Hermione always surrounded herself in. Lavender had seen him, really seen him. Sat with him, listened, realized that he was worth everything that he craved. Lavender was the one that made him realize that his crush on Hermione was incomparable to the feelings that he had for Lavender. When he had thought that Hermione had died, a part of him shattered, realizing that a person that he had known most of his life. A person that had kept him alive on multiple occasions–a witch that was willing to throw down her life for everybody she held dear. It made him realize just how disgustingly selfish he was. He shouldn’t want glory, or recognition. Death was a permanence that Hermione had welcomed with open arms and he never understood why or how until this moment.
The moment where he was dragging gulps of air into his lungs until they burned. The moment when he was running, legs burning, towards the inevitable fate of it all ending. Lavender’s cold and mangled body haunting his mind as he closed his eyes and tried to picture the way she looked when she laughed. He clung desperately onto the memory of how warm her skin was, and the way that she made him feel like he was burning from the inside out as he collided with the curly haired witch. A bright jet green of light washing over him instead of her.
And for the first time, he understood.