i tried to scream, but my head was underwater
Hermione knew that running straight to the ministry was not the answer. It wasn't strategic at all, while they'd been training for the past school year, they did not have the skills to take on Voldemort or his followers. But she knew that if she voiced her opinion, especially with Harry as distraught as he currently was, she'd receive nothing but derision and distrust from him and Ron.
It had been months since she'd enjoyed a quiet walk around the Black Lake with Mattheo. She'd studied and got ahead on her assignments for weeks alone at their table in the library. Mid-May she realised he wasn't coming back. It left her with a constant ache, one that shouldn't exist considering they'd only met in September. The loss of his companionship shouldn't affect her so much. So she convinced herself it was a lingering side effect of her mystery illness. There was no other logical explanation. As much as she wanted to keep approaching him, O.W.L.s were too close for her to waste valuable studying time.
So she avoided thoughts of him, even while sitting next to him in class. They didn't meet up for assignments or projects, and only spoke to each other when required in class.
She’d been triple-checking the answers on her final O.W.L. exam when Fred and George interrupted, the entire class ran out of the hall and stood outside watching them fly away on brooms, fireworks bursting around them, when the smoke cleared and she turned and there he was. Harry. Eyes glassy and unfocused, his face was sallow and his skin clammy. He collapsed like his legs no longer had the strength to hold him up. She'd only seen him like this once before, after Arthurs's attack.
They'd been rounded up in Umbridge's office, the toad of a woman screaming at Harry who had his arms restrained by Draco. Each of them had been dragged from the Room of Requirement by a member of the inquisitorial squad, Draco holding onto Harry, Blaise holding Ron, and Mattheo, her once friend who now looked at her like she was a stranger, held her biceps in his hands, banding an arm around her when she struggled against him.
She didn't know how he knew, but he'd leaned down and whispered in her ear and her blood went cold. "Do not leave the castle tonight Hermione. If you ever had any faith in me, believe what I am saying now."
She turned her head and glared at him with cold eyes, "I have to go, Harry is my brother in all but blood. I cannot abandon him to fight alone."
Mattheo had jerked backwards at her use of the word brother. His irises liquified and his face morphed into a mask of indifference. "Be it on your head then."
Once she'd convinced Umbridge that Dumbledore kept a weapon in the forest and she was released from his hold, she took one last glance at Mattheo over her shoulder, offering him a small smile. Maybe if they made it through this night he wouldn't be lost to her. Not forever.
After leading that horrid witch into the forest to Grawp, and leaving her at the mercy of the centaur herd, Hermione found herself led through the forest by Luna along with Harry, Ron, Ginny and Neville.
Hermione wasn't sure how they'd managed to get her to ride an invisible creature, one that she was convinced was once again a figment of Luna’s overactive imagination. But she'd come to learn over the past year that her, at times indecipherable, anecdotes held wisdom, and chose to trust Harry when he adamantly defended their existence in the forest.
The ride was the most terrifying experience of Hermione's life thus far, her legs straddling an invisible creature hundreds of feet in the air.
Despite the late hour, the ministry was eerily quiet. Her eyes danced around the atrium, wanting to take in all the details but knowing there was no time. She gripped her snakewood wand as they piled into the elevator, her heart was racing, sweat beading on her brow. The potions she'd been taking had helped with her magical outbursts, of course, but it didn't help with the general stability and dependability of her casting. She prayed silently to Circe to guide her wand tonight.
Once the elevator doors opened announcing their arrival to the Department of Mysteries out loud, they all slowly made their way into the endless dark hall. There was only one visible door, and as much as she felt like this was leading them directly to slaughter, she pushed ahead with her friends, Mattheo's warning ringing in her ear, "Do not leave the castle tonight Hermione. If you ever had any faith in me, believe what I am saying now."
She shook her head, she couldn't abandon Harry, they'd made it all this way, and she couldn't leave him now. She wasn't sure when the switch flipped in her brain and she'd realized she'd sacrifice everything for him.
The door led to a circular room with at least a dozen doors and they quickly split up in search of the room Harry had described. Hermione had checked what she was sure was the time room, time-turners of all sizes were displayed and despite her temptation to grab one in case their rescue mission went bollocks up, she refrained.
Finally, Neville shouted that he had found the room and they made their way to the nearly pitch-black room. Shelves higher than she'd ever seen before, with glass orbs similar to those Professor Trelawney had in her classroom. They made their way quickly down the long aisle in search of Sirius but once they got to aisle 97 there was no Sirius, no Lord Voldemort, and no group of Death Eaters. Harry and Neville were looking at something on the shelf when Luna tugged her down another row pointing at a sphere that began to glow as Hermione neared.
"This one's for you," Luna tilted her head at Hermione.
"Luna it says Shafiq on the tag, I don't even know what these things are. I can't just steal from the Ministry."
"It's not stealing if it's meant to be yours, Hermione. Go on grab it."
Her hand had just closed over the prophecy when they heard the sound of Harry shouting. They ran back to the group to find Lucius Malfoy asking for the prophecy. Hermione slid into the group, taking defensive positions they'd trained for and Ron shot her an incredulous look. Accusation brimming in his eyes. She ignored him and raised her wand, she'd done more than enough already to prove her loyalty to Harry, to them as a group and it still wasn't enough. But she was determined to stand for Harry despite Ron. She loved him.
The air grew colder as more Death Eaters arrived and soon they outnumbered the group of Hogwarts students. It seemed like Mr Malfoy was trying to coax Harry into giving him the prophecy. Harry gave them a small nod and they each leveled hexes against the Death Eaters around them. It was like one of those beautifully chaotic dances she'd seen at the ballet or the opera with her grandmother growing up. A deadly symphony of spellfire and shouts. They just needed to get to the door closer to the exit. She ran, the cool air of the room whipping across her face and through her hair. They hadn't learned how to apparate and didn't have the skill to travel like wisps on the wind. No way to evade these wizards
He had shaggy dark brown hair, and a scowl on his face, like he'd rather be anywhere but here at the present moment. She wasn't sure how or why, but instinctively as she meant to cast an expulso on the Death Eater in front of her she silenced him with a non-verbal silencio. A flash of purple spellfire. Then pain. Fire. It burned and ripped across her torso. Excruciating. She looked down at her shirt, quickly darkening as blood seeped from the curse wound. She looked up at the man, her vision blurring as her body swayed. Dolohov.
She'd thought about death before of course. How could she not? Hermione had spent the last four and a half years best friends with The-boy-who-just-won't-die. She'd never thought it would be this slow, she'd imagined a flash of green and then darkness, but not this. Bleeding out in the Department of Mysteries with no one around, no one to save her. No one to even try. Her breaths were coming in quick gasps as if her lungs just couldn't expand. She wasn't sure how long she lay there before she heard the sound of Neville and Harry talking, Neville had grabbed her hand and argued with Harry that they needed to take her with them. Neville's voice might have been closest to her, but her ears were attuned to the boy she called her brother. The boy she'd do anything for, and her heart shattered when his voice shot through her worse than any spell, "Leave her, we can't fight while carrying her around the Ministry. She'd be nothing but dead weight right now. We'll come back for her." Neville squeezed her hand and told her he'd be back.
Panic skittered through her, alighting her already frayed nerves and amplifying the hollow feeling that made her chest feel as though it was caving in. He left her. Harry and Neville both. Why was he leaving her? Where was he going? Oh Godric, she really was going to die. She could feel the pool of blood around her soaking her clothes, the cold marble below her was surprisingly soothing, keeping the raging inferno that whirled within her subdued. For now.
She was tired. So very tired. What point was there in fighting death? It hovered above her like a dementor waiting to give her last kiss.
*********************TRIGGER WARNING START***************************
She must've fallen asleep, her body's attempt at conserving energy. It was a waste, she wasn't going to make it out of here. Not alive. Not after all this time. But Hermione was shocked to feel another set of hands on her. When she tried to move, her body did not listen to her. And when she opened her eyes, hoping to see an Order member, or Neville, Harry, Luna, Ginny or Ron. It wasn't them. It wasn't anyone she knew, but he wore the same robes as the rest of the Death Eaters she'd seen earlier in the evening.
He was smiling lecherously at her, and she wanted to flinch away. She knew by the look in his eyes that whatever he had intended for her was not something she wanted to endure. She wanted to scream as he leaned over her, his breath fanning across her cheeks. He whispered foul things in her ear, called her a mudblood whore and told her that should be grateful to receive his favour. That this, this violation was the only thing she'd ever be good for.
She wanted to scream, to gouge his eyes out with her fingernails, to rake a blade across his throat and spill his pure blood until it drenched her. He'd removed her muggle jeans with a wave of his hand and she knew. She knew this would be it. Because if Dolohov's curse didn't kill her physically this would. She had no opportunity to fight him. To save herself. Neville and Harry had left her. Alone. Unprotected. To be found by this sorry excuse of a wizard. To be plundered like the city of Troy. Or was she the horse? A trap for the unsuspecting. Maybe she was Breises, stolen away like a trinket. It didn't matter. Not now, as she watched him cover his hands with her blood to lubricate his entry. He was hunched over her now. Rutting into her like a beast as he chased his pleasure. She wasn't sure if it was his distraction or if her magic had broken her free of whatever hold he'd placed on her. But just as he was to reach his pinnacle her body arched of its own volition and a scream tore from her lips unbidden.
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