The Biggest Sacrifice

"'There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight -'"

"Midnight, our mum always told us,"

"Sorry, I just think it's a bit spookier if it's midnight!"

"Yeah, because we really need a bit more fear in our lives - go on, Hermione."

"In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across...

Her old voice drifted into the background, becoming nothing more than a mummering whisper as Hermione let out a groan, daring to open her hazy eyes so she could see whatever her mind wanted to show her in it's little dream land it had created.

Hope tainted her as she looked around for the familiar face that mirrored her brother's with the bright green eyes of Lily. If Harry was here then she could deal with whatever might happen, but if she had to stay here and listen to herself tell a story she had heard a million times to someone who made her heart ache.

He wasn't here though, and there was nothing around her but cold and damp stone floor and walls with snakes carved into large beams and bodies of water seemingly everywhere, and no natural light it seemed.

Almost like she was underground somewhere. 

Water splashed as she stood, soaking her clothes and making her shiver slightly as she strode forward, footsteps and her old voice echoing around her while she moved. A deep seeded annoyance filling her. What purpose or connection did this have with some stupid ring and a child’s story?

“Stupid fucking -” Her words caught in her throat as she caught sight of large carved face at the end of the chamber, and before it an equally large, if not larger, dead serpent, half laid inside a body of water, with its eyes looking as though they had been clawed out of its very skull, but still it made her freeze to the spot.

A fear, one she had never really known before, made its way like ice through her veins as she tried to turn away, to catch her breath. There was something about the dead snake, something that made her feel as though panic was worming it’s way into her brain.

There was a hiss from someone that broke whatever trance she seemed to be under, her eyes moving to find a small boy, one so similar for so many reasons, with messy back hair and facing away from her. Despite whatever fear she had, she ran forward, falling to her knees beside him – water soaking into her clothes as she regarded him.

Emerald eyes glared at something she couldn’t see, not that she cared as she took in the state of him, barely older than eleven but looking so much older than that, a mess of torn robes and bloodied cuts that made her want to reach out and wipe them away, but she couldn’t, not as he lifted his hand slightly, a large tooth gripped tightly between dirty fingers.

Her breath came out in a gasp as she looked back to the snake, it’s mouth open and a singular tooth missing and laid beside it, a large bloodied sword inset with what looked liked rubies, one she could have sworn she had seen hung up in Dumbledore’s office over the years.

It didn’t matter.

Whatever had happened here wasn’t over. “Harry.” She whispered as she reached out, almost as though to push his hair out of his face but her hand moved through him as though he was a ghost, jumping back as he pulled back his arm.

She watched as the tooth came down into a small black book, it’s old pages wet and releasing black liquid like it was bleeding. Hermione was sure about a lot of things, but she didn’t think that was natural – nor the scream that came from behind her as she turned to look, eyes going wide.

Tom Riddle stood before her, looking much like he had in the pictures Slughorn had in his office, handsome and tall, with a cold glint in his eyes that would have put her off ever talking to him if he had been around during her time. Before she could even question what was happening, he seemed to wither before her and fade into nothing but smoke.

A frown made it’s way to her face as she turned back around to look at Harry, only for his to turn into smoke too – the whole chamber following and leaving her in nothing more than a black space with the destroyed diary on the floor.

Her pale hand reached for it, the black liquid staining the tips of her fingers as she picked it up, turning it over in her hands and tracing the seem before she opened it, frowning at the singular name written on the first page; T.M.Riddle.

She had never been the sort to think Voldemort wrote in a diary, even when he was a teenager, and it seemed there was nothing truly inside as other than the hole made by the fang, there was nothing there. Nothing but an old diary soaked in what she was sure wasn’t ink, but still important enough that some version of Tom had been infuriated to see it destroyed.

Tucking it into her pocket, she waited for the dizziness to hit before she woke up, only to hear nothing or see nothing but a small light before her, on encouraging her to walk towards it.

…

It was still dark as she made her way through the light and to a place she hadn’t been to all that many times but knew instantly, with it’s cave like structures and large vaults, and what she was pretty sure was an enslaved dragon not too far away, one she had always dreamed about freeing and flying away on.

Perhaps when this was all said and done, that would be what she would do – maybe bring her friends along for the ride and the life of hiding they would have to do with her. Personally, she didn’t think they would mind, life on the run – just the six of them, and maybe Regulus and whoever Remus was with at the time.

Another sigh left her mouth as she looked around, her own personal vault wasn’t down here – this was reserved for family vaults full of treasures and secrets, the Potter one wasn’t too far, and the other Potter one, her own hadn’t been opened since Charlus last came – one day she would have to have a look and see what mess had been left.

Still she knew which vault she stood before, it’s name all but engraved onto the door – loud, proud and of course fucking Purebloodied cunts.

The door opened, and Hermione took a deep breath before she stepped into the Lestranges vault, full of objects and not as big as the family ones she had seen, but still enough that the next generation and maybe the one afterwards wouldn’t have to do too much work if they didn’t want to.

Whatever she was supposed to find in here was almost impossible, junk piled to the ceilings and the strange feeling that touching anything wouldn’t end nicely for her, making her keep her hands to herself as she looked around. If Voldemort was hiding something in here, because of his trust in fucking Bellatrix, then it could be anything.

She had expected his treasures to be grand, but instead she had been left with a shitty diary and stained hands, so what did she know.

Her eyes seemed to scan everything a million times before they stopped on something, small and hardly the most impressive thing in the room but it had Hermione moving forward and climbing over things regardless, even as the metals of coins and over things seemed to burn her hands and knees – multiplying below her – it all went ignored.

It was a cup, old and golden with fine wrought handles and what looked like a badger engraved on the front. Hermione frowned, turning it over in her hands as the whole room seemed to still.

“Badger – Hufflepuff -” Before she could finish her thoughts, a scream left her mouth as the floor seemed to open and she plunged to the ground and back into the chamber she had been in before, the pool of water that seemed deeper than it had looked breaking her fall and taking her breath away.

Breaking the surface, she gasped and climbed out, the cup no longer in her hands but in the middle of the floor – her hands moved to check for the diary, breathing out a sigh of relief as she found it still in her pocket before she grimaced.

It was much the same as it had been in her last...memory...or whatever it was, except the sword was gone and the snake was nothing but bones, it’s flesh all but melted off and making her shudder as she looked to the part in the water where she had landed, she really didn’t want to think about what might have been in that water now.

The cup seemed to stare at her as she stomped her foot. “What the fuck is happening?” She muttered as she looked around and waited for whatever was going to happen to happen.

It didn’t take too long, herself but not quite right, though she couldn’t quite figure out what the problem was – stood before the cup, doubt creeping along the edges and a fang in her hand, one that she brought down rapidly and stabbed into the cup as Hermione let out a groan and moved forward.

“Seriously, what is with you guys and stabbing things?” She asked no one, because she knew the other Hermione wasn’t going to answer. Instead they both stared and watched as the cup, cracked and destroyed but nothing else happened. “Is that it?” She asked with a frown before looking around.

The other version of herself faded, and so Hermione didn’t think twice about picking up the cup with a frown before moving back towards the light once more.

…

The light brought her to another room, one that took her breath away.

It was larger than a cathedral, looking much like some kind of city, except the tall building were made from what looked like random objects piled on top of each other. The whole thing didn’t make sense, but there was a sense of deja vu, like she had been in this strange room before.

“And he never realized anyone could get in?” A voice echoed around her, causing her to turn and search for it. She knew that voice, almost like a whisper against her heart, but with no face to put it too – only a familiar boy who no look the same age as her brother and hardened by the world.

“He thought he was the only one,” His voice seemed to whisper around her as she moved forward to follow him, there were other whispers, ones she couldn’t quite understand.

Why were they in here and what were they looking for? It didn’t make sense but something was telling her to move forward and so she did, through the aisles of random objects, stopping every once in a while to look up and down.

Perhaps this would be like the cup, something would stand out to her – she moved deeper into the labyrinth, passing by books, brooms and even animal cages, which was concerning and something she would come back to it later in time.

Harry stopped before her, staring at an old cupboard with a frown, on top a stone warlock was wearing some dusty old wig and a discoloured...diadem?

Harry faded away as she moved forward, a frown on her face as she stared at the object. She had read many books, learnt of many relics in her life and seen many drawings and many legacies surrounding this one thing – so it couldn’t be that. There was no way that she was standing before the lost fucking diadem of Ravenclaw.

No way Harry had led her here for this.

Still she couldn’t stop herself moving forward and reaching out to hold it, to felt wrong, tainted in some way but her hands remained gripping the metal as she brushed her thumb over the faint words; Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure – spelt as it would have been a thousand years ago but there was no doubt as to what she held in her hands.

There seemed to be some kind of problem going on behind her, one she couldn’t quite see or hear, but she moved away from nonetheless, or she hoped she did.

Something tumbled behind her, making her move through the piles and to what she hoped was the exit to this place, her feet all but stumbling as things falling behind her could be heard, along with what sounded like angry yelling.

A shot of green light went by her head making her all but fall into a tower with wide eyes, the diadem gripped tightly in her fingers.

Were her own dreams trying to kill her now?

With a deep breath she stood up, running through the isles, ignoring everything that must be happening before her or in some distant memory that her brain could only half drag up, feet slapping loudly against the ground that she was sure someone must have heard her.

“HARRY!” It was her voice, screaming and echoing through the room, and a strange unnatural heat with it. Hermione stopped, almost turning to run back towards the voice when she saw it.

Large flames, too high were climbing up piles in the distant, begging all it touched to turn to dust before it and Hermione was stood watching. Her feet ran again, as the flames all but tried to lick at her heels, almost eager to swallow her whole so she could join the destruction that it left behind.

She could hear it roaring like a dragon behind her, was almost dehydrated from where it all but touched her spine, feelings as though a thousand fiery beasts were on her tail, but she was close now, so close to the entrance that she could almost reach out a hand to touch it.

They blew open before she could, brooms and what looked like bodies tumbling out of the thick smoke as she followed as fast as she could, wafting away the smoke and looking around with wide eyes at who she might find, only to find nothing but a corridor in Hogwarts and slightly burnt brooms on the floor.

Perhaps this was how they had escaped last time – she couldn’t be sure.

Turning around she watched as the door closed, disappearing into the wall as though it had never even existed in the first place. A secret room full of things that had no been burnt to a crisp, somewhere in Hogwarts that she had never heard or read of and who she was sure her brother had never seen unless he was keeping it to himself.

The ground seemed to rumble around her, bangs sounding all around as she jumped and turned to the window only to find nothing. Something wasn’t right.

Something was missing from this whole memory. Letting out a groan of frustration she looked to the diadem in her hands, frowning as she watched something dark leak from it – much like the diary, staining her hands once again before it broke apart in her hands and turned to nothing more than dust and small scream.

A diadem, magically enchanted and feeling like nothing more than pure evil, gone in a single fire that hadn’t even touched her.

“Fiendfyre.” She whispered softly as she opened her hands and let it drift to the floor.

Who the fuck was casting a cursed fire? Not that it mattered, not when the floor seemed to open up more and send her flying towards another ground

...

The courtyard of Hogwarts was all but destroyed, as Hermione groaned in pain, sitting up and letting out an annoyed yell as she looked up to the sky. “Why not just have me walk down the fucking stairs?”

If anyone was listening, her own fucking brain or the other Hermione then they didn’t answer – just left her sitting there on her arse waiting for whatever answer or memory would come next and it didn’t take long – a bang of light that had her turning around and frowning.

There was a boy, probably her own age, on the ground, gritting his teeth – with a heart shaped face and kind eyes that seemed more annoyed and pained at the moment. A face that she knew well, that seemed to hurt to look at but not like it did Harry, or make her heart clench in the way it had with that other boys voice.

No, it almost softened her, made her stand up and move forward to truly try and look at him, only to stop as she heard a cold laugh from before him.

“And who is this?” Her heart clenched and she almost wanted to stand between them both, to protect this boy from the cruel cold man’s words and wand. “Who has volunteered to demonstrate…” His words seemed to fade along with whispers in the background.

If the boy was nervous then he didn’t show it as he glared up at the man in a way that reminded Hermione of someone else, someone kind.

She watched as he pulled himself to his feet, no wand, nothing to protect him against the dark wizard before him, nothing but bravery and perhaps some slight defeat. Confidence and loyalty that would probably get him killed one day – or maybe now.

“But you are a Pureblood, aren’t you, my brave boy?” Voldemort spoke again, almost making it sound like an insult.

“So what if I am?”

“You show spirit and bravery…” Voldemort’s voice drifted away again as Hermione moved around them in a circle, looking to see what she could, why she needed to see this scene after everything else she had been collecting. The diary in her pocket with the cup, the ashes and ‘blood’ of the diadem on her hands and now nothing but two people.

Her eyes settled on Voldemort’s wand with a frown, she had seen that wand before…

“I’ll join you when hell freezes over.” The boy spoke as Hermione whipped her head around to look at him as he shouted something else that she couldn’t hear, a roaring cheer from invisible people echoing around them.

Voldemort spoke then, though the words seemed nothing more than a silky hiss that hand Hermione frowning and her hands clenching, as his wand waved from his hand and something flew through the sky into his open palm, ragged and nothing more than a piece of cloth that he grinned at.

The sorting hat.

Hermione would have snorted if she had thought he could hear her, but instead she was forced to watch as Voldemort pointed his wand at the boy and forced the hat onto his head.

It seemed nothing but a poor joke as she watched the hat slipped below his eyes, but she could see the cruel smile on Tom’s face as he flicked his wand lazily and the sorting hat burst into flames, Hermione letting out a gasp as she ran forward.

Her hands could grip at nothing, her head unable to turn to look at whatever distant chaos seemed to be happening in the background, instead forced to watch the poor boy set afire – until he moved with what looked like a slight smirk.

The hat fell from his head, his hand reaching inside as he pulled out a glittering sword that she had seen before with it’s rubies and sharp blade, that swung through the air and past her and into the head of the snake she hadn’t even known was there, rolling to her feet – she was not putting that in her pocket.

It’s body fell to the ground, writhing slightly as Voldemort let out a silent scream of fury as Hermione blinked and let out a small laugh at the boy with his innocent face staring defiantly at one of the darkest wizards of all time.

She would hug him if she could, and if the ground wasn’t swallowing her up once more.

...

“What happened to just simply walking through the light?” She grumbled to herself as she dusted off her clothes, still damp from the water, slightly burnt and ashy – something she would have been more annoyed about if she was sure her clothes weren’t fine in the real world. “What the -”

The Gaunt Shack stood before her much like it had not that long ago when her and James went searching for answers. How fantastic to know she could have just waited for another break down to figure all of this out.

The walk towards the door of the little shack seemed to take forever, it's overgrown bushes scraping against her arms and trapping her ankles to the point where she wanted nothing more than to pull out her wand and burn the whole thing. Though her wand was no longer with her, and her ability to do wandless magic was left in the real world it seemed.

Still the disgust felt real as she reached the door to see a snake held against the wood, much like Dot had commented on.

Holding back the gag that was threatening it's way up, her fingers reached out to twist the handle as her other hand moved to push open the door, frowning in confusion when she stepped into the Great Hall. The four long tables empty of people though their voices still filled the room, and the teachers table gone. The only person beside herself was Dumbledore stood at his podium with his usual friendly smile and long beard, bright blue eyes twinkling as he looked out at no one.

Hermione moved forward slowly as though approaching a wild animal, her eyes moving to his hand at their own accord as though they seemed to know where to look. Confusion flooded her as she took in his blackened hand as though he had stuck it in a fire and let the flesh melt away until it charred before he pulled it out, yet on his hand rested a ring.

Gaudy and slightly ugly, with some craved black stone. Dumbledore didn’t move as she took it from his finger and turned it between her fingers, frowning at the faintly etched lines, ones she had seen from stories and sycophants, like it was a symbol of greatness.

She had never really believed, not even when her brother carried around an invisibility cloak, because it was just a story, because if it was true and there was one wand to beat all, a true invisibility cloak or even a ring to bring back the dead then what would happen?

Hermione liked to think she was strong enough to deny the power of the hallows if it ever came to it but the truth was that if she had some stone to turn thrice in her hands and be able to see those she lost, then there might be nothing that could truly stop her from using it to see her mothers face once more or even Harry.

Her eyes looked over the stone once more, the cold metal sliding onto her finger, heavy and cold before a gasp left her mouth as well as a cry. Her hand was shrivelling, blacker than Dumbledore’s and burning with pain, her other hand reaching to rip the ring from her finger only to find it stuck there.

A whimper left her mouth as she stumbled to a table, placing her hand down and trying to pull once more, only to come up empty as the curse seemed to spread further and further up her arm.

“Fuck.” She hissed out, wincing as a flash of silver once again caught her eye, and perhaps if she was in a better mood then she might have wondered why the fuck this sword kept coming up, but she couldn’t find it in her to care until it was stabbing down into the ring.

A scream left her mouth as she pulled her hand back, the ring firmly stuck between the sword and the table, her finger unharmed and the pain and blackened flesh fading into nothing but pale skin.

A shaky gasp left her mouth as she moved backwards, her eyes on the ring and sword as she reached the Great Hall door, pushing it open and stepping through.

...

Her own mind was driving her insane, sending her down these twists and turns, like some kind maze, except every turn seemed like some dead end with some weird treasures that made no sense and a pounding headache with every passing memory or image.

How many had it been now? How many more? Would any more of these items burn to dust or curse her?

Sighing, she moved forward, frowning as she tripped over a distantly familiar and ugly troll leg – a groan leaving her mouth as she looked around the dingy and most ancient house of Black, somewhere she hadn’t been since she saved Sirius, and before not enough years to stop the nightmares that came in being in the dark house.

Something scurried before her, as she moved forward and towards the sitting room, frowning as she pushed the door open, the thing squeaking loudly under her fingertips, and the whole thing smelling of dust and mould as she stepped into the room and frowned.

Walburga had always been proud of her home, and despite the dark look and green furniture, it had always been well kept – except now it was nothing but...destroyed. Nothing stood with dust except a glass cupboard with nothing but a locket inside that had Hermione moving closer with a frown still on her face, her hand reaching to grip the jewellery.

It was gold, with a large glittering green stoned ‘s’ on the front – tacky as the ring, and no where near as beautiful as the diadem or pristine as the cup, but there was no doubt as to who this might have belonged to – her hand reaching out to try and take it when something fell loudly beside her. Hermione blinked and looked down, surprised to see Kreacher in front of her, his eyes filled with tears and his bottom lip quivering in a way that made her concerned.

She didn’t remember him much from her childhood but she was sure this look must have been a new emotion for him – it must have been new for him to reach out to grip her hand as he spoke, raspy and sadder than she had ever heard. "Save him."

Hermione blinked as he let go of her hand and scurried away, she turned to watch after him, the locket still in her hand as she frowned at the image before her.

Long gone was the sitting room of Grimmauld Place, and instead a large cave with glittering water with an island in the middle that she stood on, confused and unsure – the whole thing seeming blurry, like her mind couldn’t quite conjure up the image it had. Perhaps it wasn’t her image in the first place, only what she might have been told.

Still, she moved forward, further onto the island and straining for the faint sound of what sounded like coughing, feet tripping over rocks and eyes moving as something splashed in the water around them.

It looked like a head, one with black hair, Hermione moved closer to the edge with a frown, watching as a pair of pale hands tried to grab onto anything outside the water, the head coming back up for what looked like a sluggish breath and bright blue eyes meeting her own before they were pulled back under by long dead hands.

Her breath came out heavy, as she slumped to the floor with a cry. She wouldn’t let this happen, she wouldn’t let him die, not like this – nor would she let whatever he was dying for be lost to this cave.

Her body seemed able to move finally, as she caught sight of something gold – something that was still held tightly in her hand, but this one seemed wrong, slightly off as she laid them side by side, with a hint of paper sticking out between its doors that had her reaching out to open it.

"To the Dark Lord

I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real 'Xurchro' and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more.

R.A.B."

Bile was strong in the back of her throat as she stared down at the two lockets with a choked sob. He had died trying to do the right thing, despite what so many seemed to think – he was more like his brother than he actually knew.

A crack sounded before her as she looked up, the same sword swung into the locket, it’s golden face and gemmed ‘s’ destroyed beyond repair, by the same sword she had seen a million times over by this point but not by the person wielding it – distant and almost like a ghost with what looked like red hair stood before her before they faded into smoke.

Nothing made sense, and her heart felt too heavy – she need to leave, to go back home and…

A cold and pale hand wrapped around her ankle, dragging her across the stone floor and into the freezing water, a silent scream leaving her mouth as water filled her lungs and her hands tried to fight against the dead that were eager for her to join.

She could almost see his bright blue eyes, his hands gripping her shoulders as he pushed her...

...

There was no water when she opened her eyes, just the thick trees of a forest and a familiar boy, or perhaps man stood in the middle of them, a black stone with a jagged crack in the middle of his hand as he stared down at it.

Hermione moved forward as he turned it thrice in his hands and stared. He was tall, messy black hair longer than she had ever seen it and the same striking green eyes behind his glasses, a few cuts and scraps on his cheeks – but he looked much like he did when she had seen him during the search for the diadem.

Yet for some reason her heart ached to look at him, stood alone, eyes looking up – and for a second she thought he was seeing her as his eyes widened but then they looked to something else.

She followed his gaze, and let a cry leave her mouth as she saw the four of them there, something not quite right as they looked back at Harry, unable to see her, the whole thing seeming fuzzy as the sides as though this was something she had never witnessed. Maybe something she had only heard.

Hermione moved towards her brother first, as she always would, same height as Harry, untidy hair as usually and slightly tilted glasses, but it was her brother, older and perhaps wiser, but with the same amusement and crooked grin that she had always seen on his face.

“Jamie.” She whispered as her hand reached out and felt nothing, a lone tear sliding down her throat, she didn’t need to be a genius to understand what she was seeing nor what he was. But he was so young and it hurt to look at.

Turning away, she saw Lily, vibrant and beautiful, but so sad as Harry spoke to her, his words nothing but a distant mumble, long auburn hair and bright green eyes, her hand reaching out for the solid man before her like she wanted nothing more than to pull him close. It broke her heart in ways she didn’t think could ever be repaired, made her close her eyes.

With a deep sigh she opened them and settled on Remus, younger than when she had last seen him in a dream, not much older than he was now, and happier than he might have been in such a long time.

And then there was Sirius, she couldn’t stop herself from running to him and letting out a sob, much like Remus he was younger and more carelessly handsome, and she wanted him to look at her and tell her this was all a dream, that she wouldn’t let this happen but he couldn’t see her – she was trapped and forced to simply watch.

They all continued to talk, the whole thing tinged in sadness, far too much for such a young man to have to take and nothing she could do to make it go away.

Then they were all walking, Hermione trailing behind them like some kind of stalker, tears pouring from her eyes as they moved between trees with barely a sound, and then like that they were gone and Hermione was moving forward as Harry as he shed two things – his cloak into his robes and the stone to the floor.

She hadn’t even known he was wearing the cloak, but perhaps she hadn’t needed to in this moment, because he was stepping into a clearing where faceless bodies stood and whispers were heard, with one very important man stood in the centre of it all, head bent and the snake she had watched the boy kill in some glittering cage floating beside him.

So this had happened before it was beheaded? Her memories were out of order, and as much as she wanted to organise them, she didn’t quite have the time.

Harry and Voldemort seemed to be having some kind of face off, watching the other, one with a wand and the other empty and seemingly defeated, and Hermione wanted nothing more than to step between them, to save Harry from whatever he was trying to do.

She felt almost numb as she watched Voldemort raise his wand, one she was sure she had seen before, his lips whispering the spell and a jet of green light leaving and hitting Harry square in the chest as a scream left her mouth and everything but her and him seemed to fade away.

“Harry!” The name tore from her throat as she ran forward to grip him, a hand running over his face as a million memories of a grinning face, messy hair and green eyes seemed to hit her even more than they had before, the words they might have spoken clearer and the terror she had seemed to feel at losing him stronger than she had realised.

Her brothers son, her nephew, laid dead at the hands of man who shouldn’t have still been around in how many years from now. Her brother, Lily, Remus, Sirius and probably Marlene and Regulus long gone from the world, unable to offer protection – and herself – where was she?

“Harry…” She whimpered, running a hand through his hair.

“It won’t happen this time.” Her head spun around so fast, to see him stood there, no longer laid on her lap and instead stood before her with a kind smile, tears left her mouth as she tried to scramble to him, her arms around his neck in the next second as he sadly chuckle into her hair. “You won’t let it – I’ll be alright, we all will.”

Did he have this much faith in the old Hermione? The one he had known? She couldn’t be sure, and a part of her wanted to question it, to tell him that no one could promise that but she would try her hardest, no matter what it took.

He seemed to get it regardless as they pulled away and he offered her a gentle smile, gulping slightly and moving a curl from her face. Both of them on the same lines about what might have to be done, even if it made her stomach clench and her eyes fill up with tears, there was never any doubt.

“Remember, there were seven, but now there are five and you have to destroy them.” Were the last words he said to her as her whole vision became nothing more than a blurry landscape and her eyes closed.

…

A gasp left her mouth as she awoke, half sitting up as James rested his hands on her back and Lily shot up from her chair, the pair of them watching her with wide eyes.

Hermione blinked as she looked around, the sun still bright outside her window and the sounds of her mother in the garden below still at large. A breath of relief left her and she leaned back and closed her eyes – she hadn’t been unconscious too long, not enough to have too many people worry about her it seemed.

“Mi’?” James spoke softly, not seeming bothered by her resting on him as she opened her eyes, wincing at the slight pain. “Headache?” He asked softly as she nodded slightly and he let out a long breath from him nose. “Maybe we should speak to mum -”

“I’m fine, it’s just tiring.” She muttered back, there was no need to worry their mother about everything or any need to spill the beans – she was just at war with her own mind and had had too much information dumped on her at once. It took it’s toil.

“Right, well perhaps you should lay down and -”

“I know what we have to destroy.” The words were whispered but so loud in the quiet of her bedroom, almost like a spell that froze everything as James went still beneath her and Lily stopped breathing. “I remembered what we have to destroy, I don’t know why but -”

“We can talk about it tomorrow.” James whispered as he nudged her back with his knee as she sat up and turned to frown at him, slapping away the hands that tried to steady her.

Ignoring him, she carried on speaking. “Seven things, but only five now – that’s what he said – that’s what Harry said.”

“Hermione -”

“Who the hell is Harry and what the fuck is happening?” The three turned, shock on their faces as he stood tall in the doorway, looking between them before his eyes settled on the dried blood pooled on Hermione’s top lip, and his eyes flashed in anger.