Hermione, struggling to open her eyes, felt perplexed by the short glimpses of the foggy world around her. She closed her eyes tightly and then attempted to open them again. What was happening? Was she going blind? Why was everything so hazy? Her eyes began to water, casting a soggy tinge to her clouded surroundings. I’m not going blind, Hermione thought as she slowly composed herself, willing her senses to return.

Indeed it was not Hermione’s eyes that were clouded; it was everything else. Smoke and dust clogged the air, choking all light from the sky and obscuring any substantial form in the objects around her. Hermione’s ears started to ring, startling her as she realized that along with being momentarily unable to see, her hearing had gone as well. A vague sense of panic started to wind menacingly in her stomach as she realized she was lying prone on the ground. She had to get up, to find someone. Anyone. She attempted to lift her head, but was toppled back by an overpowering sense of numbness and tingling throughout her back and limbs. The panic was now snaking its way to her chest. What’s wrong with me? Hermione thought desperately, trying once again to rise. This time the numbness gave way to pain, though it was dull, like her nerves had been asleep and were slowly being revived. The panic was now coiling itself around her. She opened her mouth to scream, to call for someone to help, but no sound escaped her lips.

---

Ron swore angrily into the grass as he struggled to regain his footing. Someone was sitting on top of him. It was Charlie. Ron felt briefly annoyed until he realized his brother was bleeding. “Charlie, are you okay? What the bloody hell is going on?” Ron screamed over the roar of sound around him. Worry became confusion as he saw that Charlie was not the only one injured. He himself was bleeding rather badly from a large cut on his right arm. But there were other people. So many others, that looked far worse.

As Ron helped Charlie to his feet, he replayed the last few minutes in his mind. Moments before he had been standing beside his brothers, feeling happy and at ease. Then suddenly he was on the ground. He remembered hearing angry voices. Someone had screamed, and there had been an explosion. But what had happened? Ron was interrupted from his reverie as someone collided with him. At first he felt inclined to fight, it was impossible to clearly make out the person’s face through the smoke. “Ron, thank goodness, are you alright?” Ron sighed with relief. It was his father.

“Dad, what’s happening? What caused the explosion?” Ron questioned, desperate for answers as he pulled his father closer.
"He didn’t mean to do it, I know he didn’t,” Mr. Weasley chocked in response, a pained look on his face.

“Who did what? Tell me!” Ron urged, gripping his father by the arm.

“He’d made amends. It was the Imperius Curse, I’m sure of it,” Mr. Weasley’s eyes were watering now.

“WHO?” Ron screamed, shaking his father in frustration.

“P-Percy,” his father stuttered as a tear finally escaped his eyes. “Percy cast a Blasting Charm. He got caught up in the explosion. I know he would have got away if he’d been in control…” Mr. Weasley looked to the ground, taking Ron’s shoulders in his hands for support. Ron felt as though he’d been punched in the stomach. Percy was dead.

“No!” Mr. Weasley yelled in alarm suddenly pulling his wand from his pocket. Ron whipped around as people began screaming anew and running in every direction. Wizards wearing masks and dark black robes moved swiftly through the haze, blasting everything in their paths. Percy was a distraction, Ron thought darkly as he pulled his own wand from his robes. They knew we’d be unprepared. “Look out!” Mr. Weasley shouted as he pushed Ron to the ground, narrowly avoiding a jet of red light. “Get back to the Burrow, NOW!” Mr. Weasley screamed to Ron as he rose from the ground and ran into the haze toward flashing lights in the distance.


Ron gazed after his father, bewildered. He didn’t even know which direction he was facing, let alone which way to turn to get back to the Burrow. Rising from the ground, Ron reasoned which way he’d been standing before the explosion, and with his wand ready, started to move. “Harry,” Ron suddenly said to himself as he tripped over a broken chair. He searched the fleeing crowds for his friend. They’ve come for Harry, he told himself knowingly as he raced forward. He had to find him, they couldn’t get Harry. Not now. Too much depended on him. A sickeningly cold shock hit Ron’s stomach as he passed a screaming young woman, her dress robes smeared in blood. Hermione. He hadn’t seen Hermione since the explosion. What if she’s...? Ron shook the thought from his head, refusing to let it surface. She was fine. She had to be. Any moment now he’d step through the smoke and find her sitting there, dust in her frizzy brown hair and a plan just bursting to explode from her mind. She’d be there with Harry, waiting patiently for Ron to catch up; like she always did. The cold sensation in his gut began to grow as he leapt over an unmoving body, running without hesitation towards the last place he’d seen Harry and Hermione before the explosion.

---

Hermione tried unsuccessfully to scream one more time, only to find that now her head ached with the movement of her mouth. People were talking loudly, stumbling all around her. Please, Hermione thought desperately, please somebody find me! She heard the edge of desperation in her inner pleas and closed her eyes. She would not lose it, she couldn’t. If she didn’t have her wits about her, she didn’t have anything, and right now her mind seemed to be the only thing working properly. She had to think it through. If she could figure out what had happened, then she’d be able to fix it. At least she hoped she would. Panic started to ebb its way into her thoughts. No! She had to get past that! She had reasoned her way out of tough spots before, and this time was no different. Hermione closed her eyes, pressing out everything from her mind but her thoughts of that morning…

The day had started out well. Warm summer sun had littered the Burrow (she was at the Burrow!), smiling happily in the perfect blue sky. Not one cloud, they had noted, as if the whole world wanted to make today perfect. Today. What was today? Hermione had been excited. She’d been talking with Ginny all morning. Ginny was fixing Hermione’s hair and helping her straighten her robes. Dress robes. Pale yellow, they’d looked so perfect when Hermione had bought them. She’d wanted to look perfect for today… for Ron. He had been on her mind all morning as she’d gotten ready, wondering what he would say when he saw her. If he would say anything at all. He’d been busy, she realized, as a groomsman. For Bill. Bill and Fleur, today was their wedding day. They’d both looked so beautiful, holding hands. Smiling. Harry had agreed with her. Harry! He’d been beside her, they had been sitting behind Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley had been crying. She was happy, looking at her children. All of her children were at the front. In the wedding party. Except for Percy. He was sitting beside his mother. Holding her hand, and grinning. And everything was perfect. Even Ron looked polished. A vast improvement, Harry had noted, over his fourth year dress robes. Hermione had laughed. She’d admonished Harry for that. Then something went wrong. Mrs. Weasley had seemed upset. Percy was standing. Staring blankly. His mother had tugged on his robes. He’d ignored her. Percy had just walked into the aisle. He’d drawn his wand. Hermione had risen from her seat. Percy’s eyes hadn’t looked right. She hadn’t had time to think. She just dove for Percy’s wand. There was screaming. Screaming…

Hermione’s eyes shot open, but the screaming didn’t stop. A fresh wave of terror gripped her as she realized something new was happening. People were running, shouting. Streaks of light blazed in her eyes through the thick smoke. A slight whimper escaped Hermione’s lips. Her voice was coming back. She opened her mouth to call for help when she was roughly kicked in the side by a fleeing figure that merely collided with her and kept going. A shout of pain wrenched from her lips as she rolled onto her side with the force of the blow. She could now see everything that was happening around her. The Death Eaters were here. You have to get up, right now! Hermione thought to herself desperately, trying to move her hands under her uncooperative body. She couldn’t just sit there, waiting for one of them to finish her off. Pushing herself into a sitting position, Hermione shouted in pain at the response from her body. Damn it, Percy, Hermione swore to herself as she gasped in pain. He had to do a Blasting Charm. And I had to be the one to get in the way.

Hermione made a fresh attempt to stand, screaming louder than ever as her body crumpled in pain sending her back to the ground. The aftershock from the charm was wearing off. Her whole body had been rattled, knocking out all of her senses. If only this part, the part where her sense of feeling returned, would end faster, she’d be able to get up. Someone moved above her. Hermione pushed with all her might, biting her lip to keep from crying out as she pushed herself back to a sitting position. She didn’t know who was behind the mask, only that they seemed very entertained by her predicament. She made a feeble attempt to reach for her wand, blindly refusing to go down without even attempting to protect herself. The Death Eater seemed to be enjoying this. He extended his foot, pushing Hermione to the ground with relish. Hermione held her breath and closed her eyes as he positioned himself above her, aiming his wand at her head. There was a flash, and the feeling of something falling on top of her. Hermione shouted in surprise, her body aching under the sudden weight. Inexplicably the weight was lifted. A few moments later, someone was touching her face.

“Hermione?” said a hushed voice; the hand on her face trembled slightly. Hermione gasped and opened her eyes. Ron was kneeling above her, a mingled look of worry and relief etching his normally care-free, freckled face.

---

Ron sidestepped a pair of dueling wizards as he ran through the smoke and dust searching for any signs of Hermione or Harry. What if they needed him, and he wasn’t there? Oh, come on Ron, like Harry really desperately needs your help right now, Ron chided himself. He’s Harry; he knows how to take care of himself. This thought relaxed Ron slightly. And Hermione, she’s brilliant, I’m sure she’s fine. But Ron couldn’t feel so confident that time. Hermione was brilliant. The smartest witch he’d ever met in fact. But he knew she lost her cool when things got out of control like this, like in first year when they were attacked by Devil’s Snare and she’d nearly forgotten she knew how to use magic.

A flash of blue light collided with a chair next to Ron’s left leg. Wheeling around, Ron shouted “Stupefy!” at the attacking Death Eater. His aim was true, and the Death Eater crumpled to the ground. Wasting no time, Ron turned and continued searching for his friends. He scanned the throng of fighters around him. Hermione is wearing yellow, Ron remembered as he searched for a glimpse of yellow clothing in the tangle of people. He couldn’t help but think of how beautiful she’d looked. He’d been so shocked when he’d seen her; he hadn’t been able to speak. He had just looked at her. Stared at her was more like it. Why hadn’t he told her? Told her how perfect she was. What if you never can? Ron thought anxiously. The idea terrified him.

Ron was stumbling over a pile of broken chairs when he saw it. A flash of yellow had appeared above, and then vanished behind a great mound of earth some twenty feet away. His heart fluttered wildly as he pushed his way forward. A flash of green came from his right, and someone toppled to the ground taking Ron down with them. He didn’t have the stomach to see who it was, so he simply scrambled back to his feet and continued moving forward. That was when Ron’s heart stopped. There was a Death Eater behind the pile of dirt. Standing above where Hermione might have been just moments before, with his wand drawn and an air of utmost enjoyment in his stance. Ron didn’t know what spell he cast. He would never know how he was able to do anything when his breath, his very life had stalled. How he knew to run like hell the moment the Death Eater had crumpled to the ground, and lift his lifeless body from the slight yellow form barely visible beneath him.

A wave of nausea struck Ron as he first saw her. Three deep cuts marred her beautiful face, and the hair on her left side was singed. Both of her hands were an angry red color, as though they had been badly burned, and parts of her dress looked scorched. She’d caught the blasting charm hard. From the look of them, he’d almost guess that she’d had Percy’s wand in her hands when it had been fired. He was fairly sure that all her injuries could be mended, and he knew that her hair would grow back in time, but the feeling of fear remained. She looked so still, and so lifeless. Ron knelt beside her and gently placed his hand on her face.

“Hermione?” he said quietly, his voice shaking. Please, let her be alive, he pleaded as he spoke her name. Relief flooded through him as she gasped and opened her eyes. For a second they gazed at each other. It might have been a romantic moment had it not been for the battle being waged around them. I have to get her out of here, Ron decided, looking around him for the best method of doing so without being stopped by Death Eaters along the way. This was difficult, as a throng of fighters were moving steadily closer to where they were sitting. There was no other option; he’d have to carry her out of there. As gently as he could manage, Ron hoisted Hermione into his arms and off the ground. He cringed as she shouted in pain, pulling her close and trying desperately to comfort her while running full tilt away from the fight. He’d made good progress until two Death Eaters suddenly emerging from the fog cut him off.

Ron didn’t stop to panic. He didn’t have time to take out both of them, but he had to try. He aimed his wand, holding Hermione with one arm, and brought one of the Death Eaters to the ground. He was shocked as the other fell seconds later, locked in a binding spell. As the Death Eater fell, Ron caught sight of his savior. Harry Potter still had his wand trained on the fallen man, though his eyes were now fixed on Ron and Hermione. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Harry said in a rush as Ron ran to his side. “Hermione! Is she alright? She grabbed Percy’s wand, Ron, she tried to stop him. When I finally figured out what had happened I couldn’t find her anywhere. I’d thought she’d…” Harry didn’t finish his last statement, just laid a hand tenderly on Hermione’s arm. She stirred at this, and smiled warmly when she saw Harry’s face.

“Ron, you have to get her out of here,” Harry said quickly at the sound of people rapidly approaching. “She needs a healer; take her to St. Mungo’s.”

“I can’t,” Ron replied miserably, “I don’t have my Apparation license yet.”

“You’ll be fine, mate,” Harry reassured him, as he squared himself ready to fight again. “She needs you. You can do it, for Hermione.” He smiled at Ron knowingly as he said this. A flash of green light flew past Ron’s head. “GO!” shouted Harry. Ron took a deep breath and tightened his hold on Hermione. Closing his eyes he spun on the spot, disappearing with a loud crack.

---

Hermione gazed at Ron’s face, realizing deep down that he’d just saved her life. She wanted to thank him, to hold him and then join the fight together, but her body wouldn’t allow it. She saw the pained look in his eyes as he looked at her face. Somehow it hadn’t crossed her mind that she might be truly injured, that her body might have more problems than just the aftershock of the blast. She wanted to know, to ask Ron if she would be alright, but there wasn’t time. He was looking around him, worry framing his features. Then, without warning, he bent over her and scooped her into his arms. She tried to hold back the scream of pain at being moved, but it was no use. Ron pulled her close after this, cradling her gently as he ran through the yard.

Hermione began to drift. Her body was screaming, and yet she felt completely safe in Ron’s arms. She vaguely registered Ron stopping and then screaming a spell. Then she heard another voice. One she knew so well, he’d said her name. She felt a hand lightly touch her arm, and when she opened her eyes she saw Harry looking into her face. Harry’s alright, Hermione thought happily, smiling as she closed her eyes again, finally letting exhaustion claim her.

Disclaimer: Nothing here belongs to me, anything you recognize comes from the world Rowling created.


Ron landed rather unsteadily, almost toppling over with Hermione in his arms. He warily opened his eyes, and sighed with relief when he saw he was at St. Mungo’s. He chanced a look at himself and Hermione, and nearly yelled with glee to see they had both made it in one piece, unsplinched. He didn’t have a chance for celebration, however, as he was now being surrounded by Healers. People were shouting orders and suddenly Hermione was being taken away. Ron momentarily panicked. They couldn’t take her; she needed him! They needed to stick together. He needed to make sure she would be okay.

An older witch with a kind face spoke reassuringly to Ron as she saw the worried look on his face. “She’s in excellent hands, my boy, she’ll be alright,” the witch soothed. “You did the right thing bringing your girlfriend here; we can take proper care of her. You need some attention yourself, come with me now.”

Ron, dazed, allowed the woman to lead him into another room. Girlfriend, Ron said the word to himself. She called Hermione my girlfriend. He was somehow happy at this idea, at the notion that they really could be that way together. He’d never considered it, not truly. She was his best friend; he’d always assumed it would be impossible. And yet the mere mention of it being likely, however small that possibility might be, was enough to make Ron’s heart race. Ron thought of what Harry had said just before he’d Apparated. The look on Harry’s face when he’d said the words; ‘You can do it, for Hermione.’ Did Harry think it was possible too? Harry…

“I can’t stay here,” Ron blurted out suddenly. “I need to go.” The wizard that was healing the cut on his arm looked up at him quizzically. There was still a fight going on, Harry and his family were back there. He needed to go. Hermione was safe now, and he needed to go. A few Healers tried to hold Ron back, screaming that he needed to stay, but in the end Ron broke free and Apparated before anyone could stop him.

---

The sound of muffled voices was the first thing Hermione noticed. It sounded like she was in a deep hole, emerging excruciatingly slow into a bustlingly busy world above. It was the light she noticed next. It was bright. Startlingly bright, and almost painful. No, she wouldn’t open her eyes, she didn’t want to wake. Not yet. She was content to lie in Ron’s protective arms for now. It was then that Hermione realized she was no longer being held. She gasped and moved her arms instinctually, searching for a sign that she wasn’t alone. Her hands seared with pain as she moved them, bringing her violently to the surface of her current situation.

Her eyes opened wide, and she screamed at the shock of the brightness. Where am I? Hermione thought frantically, suddenly feeling frenzied movements all around her and hurried voices.

‘Is that sleeping draft ready yet?’

‘Poor thing, must have been close when the Blasting Charm went off…’

‘Hold her still!’

‘Relax, we’re trying to help you…’

Hermione was flailing wildly now, much to the distress of the Healers, but nothing they said was going to calm her. She was beyond sense, beyond wisdom or kind words. For the first time in her life, Hermione felt truly scared. It was primal, a natural delayed reaction to all that had happened to her in the past hour. The pain, the fear, and now the sense of being all alone.

“Ron?” the word left her body weakly. “Ron!” she tried again. In response she felt someone open her mouth and pour and cool liquid down her throat. She gagged and choked, but the potion’s effects were quick. Relaxation took control, and Hermione felt as though she were descending into pleasant darkness.

---

It seemed, without such precious cargo, that Ron still had some difficulties with Apparating. He landed in a large tree in his backyard, grabbing frantically to a branch to keep himself from falling. For a moment Ron felt relieved there was a battle going on. His brothers would never have let him live this down if they’d seen. Then his thoughts turned to Percy.

Percy had always been a bit different than the rest of them. Always better behaved, following every rule to the letter. So much so that he became a total git and turned away from his family! Ron realized the memory of that time would always make him angry. No matter what, he would always remember that about Percy. But he was still my brother, Ron thought defiantly, suddenly tightening his grip on his wand. And Dad was right…he did make amends.

It was hard to believe only a month had passed since Percy had turned up at the Burrow, exhausted and covered in cuts and bruises from head to toe. It had been Ginny that had found him. Ron could still hear the piercing scream that awakened the whole house, when Ginny awoke to find Percy in her bedroom. His mother had cried horribly when she first saw him. His father had simply taken his son in his arms; all anger or disappointment forgotten.

When Percy was finally strong enough to talk, he had told them about a discovery he had made at the Ministry. One night he had been working late on something for Scrimgeour, the Minister of Magic himself, when he noticed a discrepancy in his paperwork. It hadn’t involved the Minister directly, but it related to the dealings of the Ministry. It also had something to do with Harry, though Percy could no longer say what exactly. Percy remembered leaving his office, to look for someone to discuss the problem with, but he could remember nothing afterwards. “It was a Memory Charm, and a strong one at that!” That’s what the Healers at St. Mungo’s had told them. Whatever Percy had discovered, someone else wanted to know about it, and based on his injuries it seemed they’d spent quite a long time trying to get it out of him…

Ron shook the memory of Percy’s battered body from his mind and then gazed through the branches of the tree towards the smoke in the distance. Whatever Percy had discovered, whatever pain he had endured, it had made him realize he still needed his family. They had all seen it in his eyes. Even the twins had eventually forgiven him, seeing Percy’s determination to make it up to them all. And he had come so far, having apologized for so much, only to be taken away so suddenly. And by the same people that had hurt him. Tortured him. The people who had probably gotten the information they’d been searching for by using the Imperius Curse, only to use it on him again, making him a means to an end to get what they wanted.

Ron swallowed a lump in his throat. He knew what he had to do. He had to find the rest of them. His brothers, Ginny, his parents, and Harry, who was like a brother to him in more ways than one. I’ll find them, just like I found Hermione, Ron told himself. Knowing at least Hermione was safe gave Ron comfort as he leapt deftly to the ground and sprinted toward the fray, all sense of self-preservation gone in his determination to bring everyone else that he loved out of harm’s way.

---

Hermione didn’t know how many hours had passed when she finally awoke again. This time it didn’t hurt when she opened her eyes, and though her body still ached when she moved, the pain was much more bearable, nagging at her dully. She took in her surroundings, breathing deeply. I must be in the hospital, she reasoned, looking at the bed she was in and the gown she was wearing. Her heart warmed as she realized Ron must have brought her here, and then cooled as she suddenly remembered the last time she’d awoken.

She could feel herself blushing. She knew she’d panicked, and vaguely wondered how far over the edge she had actually gone. As a rule, Hermione didn’t like to lose control of her emotions. Her whole life she’d been told how capable she was, with her studies and with her interpretations of others and their actions. With her talents, she had always known she was more than able to handle things on her own, and to keep herself in check.

That’s a lie, and you know it! Hermione scolded herself. Hermione sighed and closed her eyes. It really was a lie. Somehow, her resolve and calmness came crashing down when Ronald Weasley was involved. It had always been that way, ever since their first year at Hogwarts. Back then Hermione had known she was bossy, and sometimes too smart for her own good, but it was only when Ron had told her so that she’d felt hurt. Sure, they’d become amazingly close friends since that time, but he still always managed to affect her in that way. At the Yule Ball, last year when he was with Lavendar… today in this very hospital. Perhaps it was his bluntness, his lack of subtlety that made him affect her so. He saw right through her, somehow knew her deep down. Even if he does have the emotional range of a teaspoon, Hermione laughed to herself.

Where is he? Hermione pondered, opening her eyes and looking once more around the room. Weighing the amount of soreness she felt in her body, Hermione decided she’d risk trying to get out of bed. It wasn’t easy at first. It felt like she hadn’t used her limbs in months and her back was rather tight, but the pain was manageable. Walking slowly around the room, feeling her body awaken with each step, she wondered if Ron was perhaps in a room of his own.

Hermione froze as she turned to face the door. Standing in the corner was a tall wardrobe with a large mirror along the front, and Hermione could just barely see herself in its reflection. Nearly tripping in her hurry, Hermione staggered to the mirror, her heart falling as she saw her reflection up close.

The first thing she mourned was her hair. It was true; Hermione’s hair had always been a little wild, frizzy and extremely long. But in truth she had always liked it, no matter what anyone else thought. And now it was gone. She raised her hands slowly, touching the short locks gingerly with her fingers. She noticed some of the edges looked burned, and guessed that the rest had been trimmed to match the length. She then ran her fingers over three fading lines on her face. She supposed just a short time ago they had been deep cuts. They’ll probably fade completely over time, Hermione reassured herself, though she didn’t entirely believe it.

Taking a step back, she surveyed the rest of her body. Her hands and parts of her arms and legs had been covered in a strange substance. It almost looked like the plastic wrapping her mother used with cooking, completely clear and flexible, melded perfectly against her skin. Underneath the covering, her skin looked horribly red and raw, though remarkably she didn’t feel the pain that normally accompanies such drastic burns. Instead, her skin felt pleasantly cool beneath the covering, like she was submerged in water or lying in soft snow. The substance was obviously working its magic well.

Unwilling tears started to pool in Hermione’s eyes. She shook her head lightly, willing them away with all her might. Hermione had never considered herself a great beauty, or really ugly for that matter. She’d never really cared about how she looked. Not like the other girls, at least. So why should she care now? She looked at herself again and a few tears escaped her eyes. I don’t look like me anymore, Hermione thought desperately taking a ragged breath.

But it was more than the faint scars or her hair that had changed. It was something in her eyes, in her very aura. She looked seasoned, and troubled. How can someone learn to love who you are, when you don’t even know yourself anymore? Hermione thought with a sigh, angry at herself for thinking about such foolish things.

“Up and about, I see!”

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin as a young witch with dirty blonde hair and a smiling face covered in freckles entered the room.

“After all you’ve been through, ya shouldn’t be walkin’ around yet!” she said merrily as she ushered Hermione back to her bed. “I’ll have to keep an eye on you, I will! Wouldn’ want you runnin’ off like tha’ other one did. Caused quite a stir your boyfriend did, runnin’ away from the Healers and Apparatin’ before they could stop him! Into bed with you! Now where did I put tha’ potion?” the girl said as she started emptying out the pockets of her robe and placing their contents on a small table. “Was rather brave of him though, runnin’ back to the battle an all. Had loads of patients come in from tha’ one! Blast, I musta left it…”

Hermione could hear the girl talking nonstop as she left the room and went to retrieve the missing potion, though she did not pay much attention. Ron had gone back to the fight. And that’s exactly where I need to be.

Disclaimor: I own none of this, it's all written for fun to pass the time till book 7, Rowling rocks my world!


Ron pressed his back into the wall and held his breath. Someone was slowly moving closer, their robes softly brushing the ground as they crept through the darkness. In the hours since Ron had returned from St. Mungo’s, the battle had changed considerably. What had started in the beginning as a massive scurry of unprepared victims through an impenetrable fog, had now become a match of the fittest, a cruel game of hide-and-seek in the shadows of the Burrow.

Up until this point, Ron had been undeniably fortunate. When he’d first arrived at the battle after Apparating, he’d felt an overwhelming sense of duty to find his family immediately and bring them out of danger. Ron wasn’t trying to play the hero; he simply couldn’t stand the thought of losing anyone else. Upon reaching the fog, he quickly stumbled upon his mother. She looked pale and lost, her face showing none if it’s usual glowing warmth.

Ron stood in the thick of the fight, pleading with his mother, begging her to Apparate far away, desperate to keep her safe. In response Mrs. Weasley said nothing. She just stood stoic, unblinking and unmoving. Ron stared at his mother, fearing the worst: That losing Percy had sent her over the edge. Damn it, Mum! Ron cursed to himself, frustration ringing through his mind. He wanted to scream at her, shove her and shake her until she listened to him. He knew she needed to grieve, to mourn losing Percy, but now was not the time.

Suddenly Ron’s body went stiff. He felt himself falling, tumbling unceremoniously to the ground where he gazed helplessly at his mother. From his prone position, Ron watched a sudden fury rise in her eyes, a blaze of anger that left him feeling both awed, and fearful for the fate of the unsuspecting Death Eater that had attacked him. Raising her wand, Mrs. Weasley fired spells in shockingly fast succession, an air of challenge radiating from her body. Her eyes said it all as the offending Death Eater crashed to the ground. You will not take another one of my children from me! NEVER!

A total change came over Mrs. Weasley after this, her own sense of duty in protecting her family far outweighing the pain she felt inside. “Go help your brothers!” she’d shouted to Ron as she released him from the spell, indicating Fred and George battling in the distance. “I’m going to help your father!” Ron followed his mother’s orders reluctantly as she ran the opposite direction, resigned to the fact that it would require an act far braver than he was capable of to force Molly Weasley into safety when her family was in danger.

“Ron! Go take care of mum!” Fred yelled as Ron came to his side, his wand raised.

“Yea, we’ve got this,” George cried, moments before crumpling to the ground, stunned.

“Obviously!” Ron grunted as he and Fred lashed out mercilessly against the oncoming attackers. Together they managed to hold them off, quickly collecting George and doubling back their efforts. The three of them rapidly came to the conclusion that they needed to make their way to the house, their current position being too out in the open.

They made slow progress, navigating through the wreckage and evading attack along the way. In the distance they could see Charlie, his red hair calling them forward like a beckon in the mist. Charlie, brazenly ignoring his gushing wounds, joined his brothers in their trek to the Burrow, taking up position as a rear guard toppling numerous Death Eaters along the way.

It seemed like hours before the four brothers reached their home, each broken and injured in his own right. As they’d drew closer, the Death Eaters seemed to be drawing back, their numbers becoming exceedingly sparse as the Burrow loomed clearer in the distance. When they’d finally arrived at the back door of the house, they were joined quickly by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill and Fleur following close behind. There to greet them were Lupin and Tonks, cradling and protecting Kingsley Shacklebolt, who appeared to be unconscious. After a brief pause of recognition, they all moved inside the house, watching the door cautiously for surprise attacks, for the air had become eerily quiet.

Lupin and Tonks carefully laid Shacklebolt out on the table, while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley greeted the rest of their children. “Has anyone seen Ginny?” Bill asked, taking stock of the people around him as everyone stood on guard throughout the kitchen. No one spoke; they only cast questioning looks at one another. Mrs. Weasley stifled a sob.

“Hermione?” Mr. Weasley asked, the pain on his face growing vividly apparent.

“I took her to St. Mungo’s,” Ron said quietly, not wishing to guess at her condition, though infinity grateful that she was safe.

“McGonagall and Moody are there as well,” Lupin said, taking Ron in with a distinct look of respect, “Though the people that carried them to the hospital have not proven brave enough to return.”

Ron looked at his feet, his face flushing slightly. He had an important question growing in his mind, looming ominously, and he dreaded putting it forth. “Has anyone seen Harry?” Ron finally asked, his tone stiff.

It was like the air had been sucked out of the room. No one dared breathe, as if doing so would make the reality sink in. The Death Eaters had seemed to be drawing back, and Harry was missing. Ron felt his stomach drop, and he quickly propped himself against the counter. “That’s it then. They have Harry… the battle is over.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that…” Mr. Weasley responded darkly, his face pressed against the window.

They all discovered far too quickly that Mr. Weasley was correct, and the battle was indeed far from over. While locked in the confines of the house, more Death Eaters had appeared and begun moving intently toward the Burrow. Lord Voldemort’s band of supporters had grown larger than anyone had ever imagined, even in their nightmares. There was nothing else to do but bunker down and prepare to fight.

The sun had begun to set, transforming the black robes of the Death Eaters, making them appear as creeping shadows rather than living, breathing men. As they drew closer, Lupin muttered a spell under his breath, casting the Burrow and the members of the Order into utter darkness. They knew the blackness would work to their advantage. Their side knew the contours of the Burrow well, and the darkness created a blanket of cover.

Ron’s parents then respectfully requested that their children leave quickly before things got any worse, but didn’t seem at all surprised when each and every one of the Weasley children, Fleur included, had drawn their wands and squared themselves to fight again.

When the battle moved inside, everything changed. Fighting was now being done in stealth, as casting the wrong spell could draw others to your location. Everyone was being extremely cautious. Some fighting was even being done Muggle style, hand-to-hand. Ron had found it surprisingly easy to employ these fighting tactics. Thank Merlin for having five older brothers, Ron thought darkly as he heard an unknown figure moving ever closer.

Ron was to face this enemy alone. Everyone had been separated quickly when the second wave of the attack had begun. Ron didn’t mind fighting solo. It was the fact that he hadn’t seen someone else from his side in nearly an hour that unsettled him. No signs of anyone, not even a lifeless body. This should have given him comfort, seeing nobody injured or worse. And yet he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was wrong with the whole situation.

Ron held his breathe, willing himself to stay frozen until the opportune moment. The approaching figure was only feet away now. He could hear them breathing, in short tight gasps. He could sense their anticipation, as if they knew they were getting close. Closer. Closer. NOW! Ron roared in his mind as he leapt on the approaching figure, pulling him to the ground.

The fallen Death Eater grunted loudly under Ron’s repeated blows. Suddenly there was movement behind them. It was an ambush. Ron rolled to the side and a jet of red light whizzed through the air, hitting the grounded Death Eater by mistake. Ron gasped and pushed himself across the floor. He needed to get away, to regroup. He had two Death Eaters on his tail; he had to lose them fast!

Ron looked ahead and realized he was heading towards the stairs by the kitchen. Any moment he would be completely exposed with nothing to hide behind, and he could see the distinctive outline of a black hooded figure up ahead. If I take care of him, then the other two will see me, Ron thought quickly, But if I don’t take care of him now, then I will have three Death Eaters to deal with! Bloody hell! It was his only option. Ron pointed his wand at the Death Eater ahead, concentrating as hard as he could to disarm him.

Relief reigned temporarily as the Death Eater’s wand flew from his hands and across the room. Ron felt a jet of light burn his arm as it rocketed past. He rolled to his back, catching one of the men behind him with a powerful hex. Where’s the other one? Ron thought as he looked around frantically. In response he received a powerful blow to the face.

The world spun, it felt as though his head had just been split in two. The disarmed Death Eater from the kitchen ran to help as Ron was pulled into the middle of the floor and rolled on his back. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamt about doing that, Weasley!” one of the Death Eaters whispered as he disarmed Ron, kicking him in the side as he did so.

MALFOY! Ron raged in his mind recognizing the voice, attempting to sit up to return the blow. The other Death Eater pushed Ron back to the ground.

“Still haven’t learned to respect your superiors, I see,” Malfoy hissed wickedly. “Perhaps this will teach you. Crucio!”

Even after watching Moody torture those dreadful spiders in fourth year, Ron had somehow never expected the Cruciatus Curse to hurt this badly. Anything would be better than this, Ron thought urgently, suddenly wishing for it all to end as his entire body screamed.

The curse inexplicably lifted. The air was suddenly filled with a strange sound. It sounds like…wings, Ron thought vaguely as he gasped frantically, trying to regain his composure.

Malfoy and the other Death Eater were screaming, their arms flailing around wildly. Malfoy started firing spells rapidly, frantically searching for his unseen attacker. Moments later, he came crashing to the ground in a flash of red light, followed closely by Ron’s other captor, both spells being fired in quick succession by a diminutive figure at the base of the stairs.

Disclaimor: Other than the two spell names, nothing here is original!


Hermione’s mind was racing, searching for a way to sneak out of the hospital without being stopped. From what she’d read about St. Mungo’s, she knew it had enchantments that made Apparating impossible in most areas, just like at Hogwarts. These enchantments were set in place to keep patients from doing exactly what Hermione was now attempting to do. To escape unnoticed.

Swinging her legs carefully out of bed, Hermione softly placed her feet on the floor and inclined her ear towards the hallway, listening to see if the talkative young Healer would soon be returning. As she laid her hand on the bedside table to balance herself, she noticed familiar warmth on her fingertips.

Hermione turned and shuffled through the pile of objects the young witch had hastily sprawled on the table, carelessly leaving it all behind in her search for the missing potion. Picking up a rather crumpled piece of parchment, Hermione found what she had been searching for. The girl had left behind her wand. It can’t be that easy, Hermione thought, almost disappointed that she wouldn’t need to organize a brilliant escape plan.

As she reached for the wand, Hermione felt pangs of guilt in her stomach. Her Healer would probably be in serious trouble for not keeping a closer eye on her charges, and somehow adding insult to injury by taking her wand as well just seemed cruel. Besides, as she was heading into a battle, it would be foolish to use a strange and unfamiliar wand. She’d just have to find her own.

Taking the wand in her hand, Hermione walked steadily to the door and peered around the corner. She couldn’t see anyone in the hallway, though she heard voices coming from a few doors down. Based on their conversation, Hermione reasoned it was the Healer’s workroom, a nurse’s station of sorts. I need a distraction, she said to herself. As this thought formulated, an elderly witch came scooting into the hallway.

Hermione looked sheepishly at the wand in her hand, and then back at the woman. No! Hermione thought. No, I can’t be seriously considering that! What have those boys done to me that I would honestly do something like that? The boys. That’s why she wanted to go back to the fight in the first place. To make sure Ron and Harry were safe, just like they had made sure she’d gotten to safety earlier in the day. Hermione took a deep breath and raised the wand. “Inasnumotum!” she chanted quietly.

The old witch momentarily stopped dead in her tracks, dropping the goblet of water she’d been clutching tightly. A strange smile started to spread across her face, and her hands began to twitch. Then, to Hermione’s shock and amusement, the woman let out a shrill trill like a fire siren and ran hurtling down the hall, her arms flailing in the air and her mousey gray hair flying wildly behind her. Hermione dove behind the door as a dozen Healers emerged from different rooms at the commotion and ran quickly down the hall to contain the woman. This is my chance, Hermione told herself. “Accio wand!” Hermione summoned. Her wand came zooming through the air, unnoticed over the clamor at the end of the hall. Snatching at her wand, Hermione tossed the other to her bed and then moved as quickly out the door as her body could take her.

She made very slow progress, her muscles still feeling rather uncooperative. But, as guilty as she felt for doing it, the spell she’d cast seemed to be working wonders as not a single person questioned her as she made her way down the hallway. It was only when Hermione had made it to the ground floor that someone had realized she was not in the right place.

She let out a tiny squeal as a large wizard came chasing after her. Firing a Jelly-Legs Jinx over her shoulder (that must have hit dead on based on the sudden crashing sound she heard moments later), Hermione pushed herself painfully across the floor. Just a few more steps and she could Apparate. A few more steps and she could follow after Ron. Her small, bare feet stepped into the Apparation area, and Hermione turned on the spot without hesitation.

As Ron was the last thing on Hermione’s mind before Apparating, it came as little surprise to her that she landed in his bedroom. She had Apparated just in front of his bedroom window, and upon gazing outside she realized many hours had passed since she’d been taken away to St. Mungo’s. The haze of smoke and dust had cleared, leaving behind the remains of a once beautiful wedding. In the center of it all there was a large hole in the ground. That’s where Percy cast the Blasting Charm, Hermione thought to herself.

It was hard to believe that a spell originally designed to destroy Doxy nests could cause so much damage. The spell was ingenious really when it came to getting rid of small pests. You aim the charm at the center of the object and it explodes like a small bomb. After the explosion a shockwave goes through the air rendering pests within a close proximity senseless so you can dispose of them quickly. The larger the object, the more concentration and energy it takes to cast a strong enough charm. Based on the size of the hole in the ground, Percy’s charm had been enormous. Had Hermione not reached for Percy’s wand from behind his back…

Hermione tore her eyes away from the window. She couldn’t think about that now. She was alive and she had work to do. Everything was desperately quiet, which frightened her. Battles should be loud, noisy. Hermione heard nothing.

She took a step towards the door then looked down at her bare feet and hospital gown. She needed to change, and fast. Perhaps she could stop by Ginny’s room? But no, there could be a fight waiting to happen just outside the door.

Hermione quickly turned to Ron’s wardrobe, grabbing whatever clothes she could find. Laying them out on the bed, she waved her wand in a tricky pattern, transfiguring the items into clothes of her own size. McGonagall would be proud, Hermione thought as she hastily dressed and moved to the door.

The house was dark and silent. Hermione almost lit her wand, and then thought better of it. Best not to draw excess attention to herself before she knew the situation. She slowly descended the stairs, keeping her eyes and ears on guard for any oncoming attacks. But there was no one around, friend or foe. She was starting to get anxious as she approached the final landing of stairs.

That was when she heard something. The sound was faint, distant. She carefully moved down a few steps when she saw something that nearly brought her to her knees. Ron was lying on the ground, being tortured by two Death Eaters. Hermione’s feet wouldn’t move. Why wouldn’t they move? She needed to get to him, to help him. She was at a terrible angle to cast any kind of defensive spell, she needed to get closer, but her body was frozen.

Blindly she raised her wand and sent the first spell that came to her mind. A half-dozen small yellow birds suddenly appeared out of nowhere and shot like bullets toward the Death Eaters. Hermione came to her senses as one of them let out a scream, slapping desperately at the attacking swarm. She ran to the base of the stairs, firing two Stunning Spells, bringing both Death Eaters to the ground.

Hermione was seconds away from racing to Ron’s side when he suddenly sat up. He made a grab for something in the stunned Death Eaters hand and then leapt off the ground and straight at her. Shocked at his sudden movement, an involuntary scream attempted to leave her mouth, but Ron quickly clamped his hand over it as he roughly pulled her off the stairs, out of sight, and into a dark closet where he pressed her wordlessly into a wall.

---

It seemed like an eternity before Ron was able to comprehend what had just happened. The person standing on the stairs had probably just saved his life, and yet something didn’t seem right. Something was terribly off about the whole thing. Three Death Eaters had come after him at once, and a fourth was very close by standing as though he was searching for something… or someone.

Ron suddenly snapped into a sitting position. Birds. Someone had attacked Malfoy with birds. It can’t be her, Ron thought desperately, she was the only one I knew was safe!

Ron made a desperate grab for his wand and then moved quickly towards the figure on the stairs. The person standing there moved, as if startled. On instinct Ron’s hand shot out, tightly covering the mouth of the unknown figure. They couldn’t risk drawing any more attention to themselves than they already had. Ron lifted the person off the ground and carried them hastily into the dark corners of the Burrow.

It was in picking her up that Ron realized that what he had feared was true. This was indeed Hermione. He knew it not by looking at her, because he couldn’t make out her face in the darkness or distinguish any of her features. He knew it was Hermione by the way she’d reacted when he’d grabbed her. Startled but not afraid, confused but not fighting to get away. She was trusting somehow, gently grabbing his forearms for support as he hastily carried her through the house.

Ron didn’t think where to hide. His feet had just somehow made their way to a rather hidden closet at the back of the Burrow. Soundlessly he ushered Hermione and himself inside, closing the door behind them. The closet would have been small even if just one person were hiding. Hermione was pressed rather tightly against the wall, her eyes wide and startled by the situation.

Ron couldn’t think straight. It felt like he’d left his mind behind him at the base of the stairs. He looked around him helplessly, as it searching for some direction. This was the closet Fred and George used to play in, Ron remembered. It had been their “secret” hiding place. Dad had added a small window toward the top of the wall for them. He’d thought they could use a little sunlight since they used to spend hours hiding in this small space.

Ron followed the moonlight streaming through the window and looked intently at Hermione. She was breathing heavily, her eyes wide and searching. Why had she come back? Why had she risked it? How was he going to protect her now? Ron, feeling utterly at a loss, felt his body slump slightly. He brought his head forward and rested it softly on Hermione’s forehead, then slowly removed his hand from her lips.

“Silenocculo!,” Hermione whispered immediately, waving her wand at the door and window. Ron couldn’t help but smile. Leave it to Hermione to remember all her spells at a time like this.

“What are you doing here?” Ron finally asked her weakly, unable to think of anything else to say.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she replied, her voice cracking slightly.

“I had to come back.”

“So did I.”

Hermione raised her head and looked Ron in the eye. He could just barely see the three scars on her face in the pale light. Her short hair reflected the bluish glow of the moon, creating a soft halo around her face. His stomach flip-flopped unexpectedly. This isn’t the right time for that, he told himself angrily. She deserves more than this!

Ron felt Hermione’s hand moving. Her fingers found his hand and softly intertwined themselves with his. He found his other hand moving to touch her face, his fingers gently tracing the thin, faded lines of her scars and then sliding slowly to her hair. He was startled to see tears pooling in her eyes as he did this. Now is not the right time! She’s been through too much, he fought with himself uselessly. His hand slid down her cheek and gently raised her chin. This isn’t going to solve any of your problems; you know that! The nagging voice of reason continued, but all Ron listened to were his senses. His senses that screamed in victory as he softly wrapped his arms around Hermione’s waist and kissed her deeply.

---

Hermione’s heart raced as Ron shut the door to the closet, pinning her body between himself and the wall. She breathed deeply, relaxing herself. She tried to take in Ron’s features, attempting to gauge what he was thinking and why he had pulled them into hiding in such a drastic manner.

Ron was looking around the tiny closet, as though he were lost. As he turned his head to face Hermione, she thought her heart would break at the helpless look in his eyes. I’m glad I came back, she told herself. No matter what happens to us, I’m glad that I came back for him. Ron slumped slightly, as though he had been partially deflated, and laid his head on Hermione’s. His hand slowly slid down her mouth and to his side. I need to talk to him, she told herself, looking at his face. We need to plan our next move.

“Silenocculo!” she murmured, blocking sound from escaping through the door and window. She thought she caught a small look of amusement on Ron’s face, and felt herself blushing slightly.

“What are you doing here?” Ron asked softly after a second, looking intently at her face.

For a brief moment, anger started to rise in Hermione’s chest. Why shouldn’t I be here? she thought with annoyance. But the anger subsided when she saw the deeply worried look on Ron’s face. “I could ask you the same thing,” she finally replied, struggling to keep control of her emotions under Ron’s piercing gaze.

“I had to come back,” Ron said, a tone of strength and defiance in his voice.

“So did I.” Hermione looked directly in Ron’s eyes as she said this. She needed him to understand that she felt the same way that he did. The Weasleys were like her family. Harry had truly become like a brother to her. And Ron… well, she couldn’t define what Ron meant to her. The image of Ron being tortured under the Cruciatus Curse flashed through her mind, making her heart beat wildly for a moment. She reached out her hand, searching for Ron’s in the dark, confined closet, and was gratified to feel his fingers wrapping protectively around her own. Ron raised his other hand to her face. Hermione held back a cringe as he softly touched the scars on her cheek.

As his hand slid into her hair, Hermione saw it. The look she’d seen in her own reflection at the hospital. The look of experience. Of having the weight of the world upon your back, and a stubborn resignation to keep going no matter what. It was there in Ron’s eyes. Etched into his face, his body, and his energy. Hermione felt hot tears burning her eyes. That stranger in the mirror at the hospital, the reflection that had suddenly seemed so foreign to her, now made perfect sense.

She and Ron had changed. Their promise to Harry, and the realization of what it could mean for them both, had changed them. No one else in the world could truly understand what it was like for her. The fear and anxiety she always felt. The pride at being there to help with something so important, and the slight jealousy towards those who could separate themselves from such terrible times. No one could understand, except for Ron.

His hand slid down her cheek, lifting her chin slightly higher. It was like they had both suddenly realized, even sensed, that there was more between them now than ever before.

As Ron kissed her, Hermione felt a sense of peace she had not known for a long time. It startled her how calming it was, being in Ron’s arms, pressed ridiculously into a wall. Snogging sweetly when instant death could be just moments away. She reveled in the moment, knowing it would end all too soon.


Author's Note: Aww, the best chapter of any shipper fic, the first kiss!! I had a ton of fun writing this chapter, hope you enjoyed it. The next has a bit more "closet time," though we start delving a little bit more into the mystery of this attack (i.e. what has happened to Harry, are Ron's suspicions that something isn't "right" founded, etc), and the story may get a little more nail biting as we head down the road. STAY TUNED!!

Disclaimor: None of this is mine, I only write for fun!

Ron was shocked at how easy it was to kiss Hermione, to hold her and be with her this way. After all the years of fighting, bickering, and probably driving Harry (and everyone else) completely mad, here is where they had ended up. And somehow, it felt perfect.

Ron pulled his head back as far as he could and gazed down at Hermione. Her face was flushed from their kiss, causing her scars to stand out vividly. Her deep brown eyes seemed hazy, gazing intently at the smile playing on Ron’s lips. Something was different; she had changed somehow. She looked older, more mature. Ron guessed it had something to do with her drastically shorter hair. It suited her, and in truth he found it immensely appealing. Ron could feel himself blushing and hastily looked down and away from Hermione’s face.

Wait a second, Ron thought as he took in the rest of Hermione. Those look like… “Hermione… are you wearing my clothes?” Ron asked, a small grin on his face as he looked back at her face.

The dazed look in Hermione’s eyes suddenly faded, Ron’s words bringing her back to reality. Blushing crimson, Hermione stammered, “Oh, well, uh, yes they are your clothes. I couldn’t very well walk around in that hospital gown though, could I?” She looked very flustered.

Ron, deciding to spare her any more embarrassment, gently planted a kiss on Hermione’s forehead. “What’s mine is yours,” he whispered softly.

“I would have put my dress robes back on, but I imagine they were ruined after the blast,” Hermione mumbled quietly, as if she’d meant to say the words in her mind. Ron’s stomach clenched and he began pulling away before he could catch himself. He tried to cover up this reaction, but Hermione had noticed. “Ron…” she said softly trying to catch his eye.

He couldn’t look in those eyes. She would pull the emotions out of him that he desperately needed to keep at bay. Now was not the time for grieving.

“Ron, please look at me,” Hermione said with a small pull of urgency in her voice. She lifted her hands and turned Ron’s head to face her own. As their eyes met, Ron knew she’d seen it all, every thought and emotion he’d been fighting to contain since the battle had begun. Small tears welled up in her eyes.

“Oh Ron, I’m so sorry!” she said weakly. “I didn’t realize that Percy…” her voice trailed off as she said Percy’s name. She wordlessly looked down at her feet, shaking her head slightly as if trying to ward off an annoying bug. “It’s my fault!” she finally gasped, “If I’d only gotten to him sooner, I might have been able to stop him! It’s my fault!” Ron saw a few tears escape her eyes before she clasped her hands over her face, her shoulders trembling gently as she fought to control herself.

Ron was struck temporarily speechless. Mutely he wrapped Hermione in his arms, pulling her close, slightly confused by her confession of guilt. “Erm, Hermione, it wasn’t your fault,” Ron said awkwardly, desperately wishing she would stop crying. “Besides… I almost lost you, too.” Hermione sniffled against his chest. “In fact,” Ron continued, sensing his words were making an impact, “I have half a mind to lock you in this closet till the fight is over.” That statement did the trick. Hermione pushed herself away from Ron, an all too familiar indignant look on her face, her tears momentarily forgotten. “Just a thought,” Ron held up his hands in mock surrender, grateful that she had stopped crying.

“Honestly, Ron, you’re as bad as Harry,” Hermione said, whipping one last remaining stream of tears from her cheek. “Harry. Ron, where is Harry?” she inquired, her eyes shining with sudden panic.

Ron knew she’d seen the truth in his eyes before he’d even spoken. The look of loss, of complete hopelessness, consumed her features. “No one has seen him for hours,” Ron finally spoke, his voice stiff. “Not since I took you to St. Mungo’s…” Ron trailed off, fighting the urge to scream at the injustice of the whole day. He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling to avoid seeing Hermione’s worried face. Why of all days did they have to attack today? Ron raved internally. And why is it always Harry? And why didn’t they leave bloody well enough alone once they took care of him! Ron growled audibly as this last thought formulated.

Hermione was standing very still, her face emotionless, obviously lost in thought. “So, you don’t know for sure if they have him or not?” Hermione finally asked, her words painfully tense.

“No,” Ron replied truthfully. “But nothing else makes any sense! He would be here, fighting with us, if they didn’t have him. You know that! But at the same time, you’d think someone would have seen him taken. In fact, I haven’t seen anyone in ages. Something just doesn’t feel right. If the Death Eaters were after Harry in the first place, then wouldn’t they leave if they’d already gotten him? And where has everybody disappeared to? And why in the bloody hell were four Death Eaters after me at once?” Ron finished with an exasperated tone, running his hands through his already disheveled red hair.

Ron looked to Hermione, almost out of habit, hoping to see that look of triumph in her eyes when she understood something that no one else did. Instead of seeing a satisfied look of understanding, however, Ron found a look of sick horror at whatever truth she had just realized. “What’s up?” Ron asked eagerly.

“Ron,” Hermione said in a whisper. “Do you remember the conversation we had with Harry a few months ago? The night after returning from a meeting at Grimmauld Place, with the Order?”

“Yea, I think so,” Ron said, still slightly confused. “Why?”

"I think I know where Harry is," Hermione replied wearily.

---

Hermione was experiencing a sensory overload. In the past few hours she’d been horribly injured, cast a spell on a little old woman to sneak out of a hospital, found her best friend being tortured, been whipped unceremoniously by him into a tiny closet where he’d snogged her senseless for a moment, only to now reveal that his brother, Percy, was dead, and their other best friend, Harry, was missing. She could feel herself approaching that threshold where no new information could get into her mind as Ron continued.

“And where has everybody disappeared to? And why the bloody hell were four Death Eaters after me at once?” Some of Ron’s words echoed through Hermione’s head as she tried to wrap her mind around everything at once.

They attacked during the wedding.

Why? Seems silly with so many people around.

They must have been after Harry; they knew he would be here.

Then where is he now?

Everyone else is missing, too.

Except for Ron…

They sent four Death Eaters to get him at once.

But why?

A vague memory started to press its way into Hermione’s brain. She tried to block it out at first, there was far too much to process already. It kept nagging at her until the reasonable part of her mind finally paid attention.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked quietly through the kitchen, wishing longingly for a good nights sleep. The Dursley home was far from welcoming, but they were too exhausted to care. Ron yawned widely, his face contorting strangely. Hermione chuckled, and then looked at Harry. He seemed very distracted, his pace far slower than she and Ron’s.

“Harry, is everything alright?” Hermione whispered quietly, stopping in her tracks to look at him fully. Ron followed suit, wiping his eyes tiredly as he gazed at his friends.

Harry stopped walking and put his hands in his pockets, obviously lost in deep thought. It had been a long evening, Hermione new. Perhaps he was just playing it over in his mind? It had taken them all by surprise when half the Order had turned up at his Aunt and Uncle’s house, filled with concern that Snape knew the location of the Order of the Phoenix’s hideout and a desperate request to find a new Secret Keeper as soon as possible. Harry had stepped up right away. It was his house after all, the house he’d inherited from Sirius. But Hermione had thought there was more to it than that. More to his eagerness to take the job than the simple fact that the house belonged to him. “Harry?” she tried again.

“I’m worried,” Harry finally replied quietly, and indeed he looked it.

“Worried about what?” Ron asked tiredly, walking closer to Harry as he did so.

“Worried that we are too trusting,” Harry said stiffly. This was not what Hermione was expecting to hear.

“You mean with each other, or with everyone else?” she asked for clarification.

“I would…and do… trust you two with my life. No, we have to trust each other fully. It’s everyone else that I’m worried about,” Harry replied, looking Hermione in the eye.

“You mean the Order?” Ron asked quizzically.

“Well think about it. We all trusted Snape, and look where he ended up! Imagine all the things he’s been passing to Voldemort this whole time! Is it really so hard to believe that others would be capable of the same thing?” Harry asked, obviously trying to wrap his mind around his frenzied thoughts. Hermione didn’t like to admit it, but she knew he had a point. It was impossible to tell if everyone was fully trustworthy.

“That’s why you wanted to be Secret Keeper. Isn’t it?” Hermione said softly, taking a step closer to her friends.

“Tonight I just willingly gave access to some people. Just assumed they were on our side. Let them in, no questions asked. I know it’s my right to pick and choose who gets information, but what if someone I trust ends up not being so trustworthy after all?” Harry finished, shrugging his shoulders.

“Well, has anything happened to make you suspect someone’s not being truthful?” Ron asked, a look of trepidation about him as he waited for an answer.

“Yes,” Harry said simply. “I told no one my plans for this summer. Originally I’d been meaning to go off on my own, to my parent’s house and then who knows where next. Things changed rather quickly after Dumbledore’s funeral, so I naturally didn’t have time to discuss the changes with anyone other than you two. So tell me, how is it possible that at least five different Order members have come to me expressing how happy they are that I decided to attend the wedding first before going to Godric’s Hollow?”

Ron gaped at Harry, and Hermione felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. “We didn’t say anything to anybody, mate, we swear!” Ron said dumbly, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I know you didn’t,” Harry smiled weakly. “But who knows who overheard our discussion by the lake. Hell, someone could be near us right now! It’s just… people talk. Sometimes they may not even realize the damage they are doing by telling what they know to others.”

Ron and Hermione nodded blankly. It was hard to accept the idea that someone could be so loose-lipped, especially when it concerned Harry. “So what can we do about it?” Hermione finally asked, exhaustion creeping in.

“I’ve already done something,” Harry confessed, looking slightly unnerved.

“What?” Ron and Hermione said in unison.

Harry stood still for a moment, as if pondering what to do next. He had a guilty air about him, as if he were ashamed of himself. Quietly, his face dismal, Harry took a few steps closer to Hermione, motioning for her to incline her ear his way. Listening intently, Hermione heard Harry take a shuddering breath before whispering, “I told a lie.”

Hermione felt sick to her stomach, a heavy sense of foreboding settling like a cloud around her. “Ron,” Hermione whispered. “Do you remember the conversation we had with Harry a few months ago? The night after returning from a meeting at Grimmauld Place, with the Order?”

“Yea, I think so,” Ron said slowly. “Why?”

“I think I know where Harry is,” Hermione said, hoping that she was somehow wrong.


Author's Note: Yea, I know, that was a wicked cliffie, but it really made sense to stop the chapter there! I'm writing the rest as fast as I can (I've very excited about where we are heading!!), and will update as quick as humanly possible!!

Disclaimor: Writing for fun, nothing here is mine!

Harry was filled with a brief feeling of relief as he watched his friends disappear, knowing that they were now safe, at least for the moment. He had no doubt in his mind that they would make it to St. Mungo’s. Ron would do anything for Hermione; even overcome his sense of self-doubt. It wasn't hard to see how they felt about each other.

Along with doing anything for one another, Harry knew Ron and Hermione would do anything for him. They had shown their commitment to him every step of the way, this past summer standing out especially as they had been inseparable since leaving Hogwart's after Dumbledore's funeral. Now, with everything that had happened today, Harry felt a sickening guilt curling through his body. Hermione was injured. Ron had lost a brother, and his home and the rest of his family were in danger. This is the price of my friendship, Harry thought darkly as the Death Eaters swarmed closer.

The rage that screamed through Harry's blood as he took aim at the nearest Death Eater was replaced with a horrifying sense of satisfaction as he watched the man fall to the ground with a pained yell. He quickly aimed and brought down another, dodging a blaze of red light as he moved. Harry felt like a man possessed, moving with the swiftness and strength of a wizard twice his years. It was the frustration, the loss, and the sense of injustice catching up to him. He needed to prove once and for all that he wasn't just "The Chosen One" by destiny. No, he was fighting by choice. He was fighting because he wanted to bring Voldemort and his supporters down, once and for all.

Battling forward, Harry faced two Death Eaters alone, completely void of fear, his penchant to bring down more enemies growing startlingly strong as he sliced his wand through the air. It was easy to bring down these attackers. They had no faces, no names. Just figures in black cloaks and masks. To think of them as anything more than that would make them human, a classification Harry suddenly felt they no longer deserved.

As he brought both of his assailants to the ground, Harry heard a heart-stopping scream rip the air. Ginny! Harry reeled about, desperately scanning the battle for any sign of her. Slashing his wand like a sword through the air, Harry toppled his foes one after another as he raced toward another scream in the distance. Clearing the fog, Harry saw her. She was putting up a spectacular fight, thrashing wildly against the three Death Eaters that were dragging her deeper into the trees.

Ginny’s face was contorted with anger, her arms flailing as she lashed out at the closest attacker. Her dress was ripped, almost indecently, at the shoulder, and her left leg was saturated in blood. Nevertheless, Ginny was holding nothing back, scratching and kicking in every direction, desperate to avoid the fate that might await her if they made it to the trees.

The rage Harry had been experiencing turned quickly to protectiveness. He thought of nothing other than saving Ginny as he raced across the yard, firing wildly at her captors. He brought down two easily, taking aim at the third as he slowed down beneath the trees, when he was suddenly aware of movement all around him. Four black figures had emerged, as if out of thin air, surrounding Harry under the shaded tree. Ginny had been carelessly discarded, hit ruthlessly across the face and chucked out of the way. She was sobbing angrily, her face set with a determination that both frightened and awed Harry as he prepared himself for the coming attack.

“I told you using the girl would work,” a rather large Death Eater grumbled to his companions. Harry knew the voice. He’d been there the night Dumbledore had died. Harry grimaced then, knowing full well he’d walked straight into a trap. He was at a loss. What spell could he use against five Death Eaters at once?

One of the men standing before him suddenly let out an agonized cry, tumbling to the ground. Ginny, wandless, had used the only weapon she could find, determined to keep fighting to matter what. Harry saw as the man fell that she’d stabbed him in the leg with a rather jagged looking stick.

“Very clever,” said one of the Death Eaters, turning quickly and waving his wand at Ginny. Her body went rigid, and an anguished scream left her lips.

“NO!” Harry shouted, advancing forward. His steps were cut off as the remaining three Death Eaters turned their wands on him, sending him to the ground as well with the Cruciatus Curse. Painful didn’t describe it. Harry had never before experienced such a bone-ripping sensation. Somewhere inside himself he could hear Ginny's screams fade, as his own continued to rent the air. No, he pleaded in his heart. Not Ginny. NO!

A deafening crack ripped the sky, and the world went dark.

Slowly sensation started to return. It was an odd feeling of weightiness and fatigue. Harry opened his eyes slowly, adjusting to his surroundings. He was inside a small building now. It looked very familiar.

“Harry?” came a soft and anxious voice above him. As Harry’s eyes focused in the darkness, he saw that it was Ginny. Wordlessly he sat up, ignoring the wrenching pain in his body as he pulled her close, thankful she was alive.

“How?” he said over and over, pulling Ginny onto his lap.

She pulled away slightly, pressing her hands on either side of Harry’s face. Her eyes were bright for a moment before she softly leaned in and kissed Harry tenderly. Harry didn’t resist, the blessed feeling of her warmth soothing him deeply.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Ginny finally said, her tone thick. “When all three of them attacked you, I thought…” Ginny paused, unable to voice her fears. “I don’t know how you did it, Harry. They released me from the spell, and they all turned on you. I thought they were going to kill you, but then something strange happened.”

“What?” Harry asked, extremely confused. Whatever it was, he could see Ginny didn’t want to tell him.

“You cast a spell, Harry. I don’t know how you did it, but somehow you cast a spell. You didn’t even have your wand in your hands.”

“What spell, Ginny?” Harry asked, suddenly alarmed

“You brought down half the tree,” she whispered quietly. “It shattered completely. I’ve never seen anything like it before.” Ginny softly stroked Harry’s cheek.

Harry looked at Ginny’s eyes, the reality of her words setting in. Harry knew he’d done the magic out of desperation, to save her. He took a deep breath, screwing up the courage to speak. “I killed them. Didn’t I?”

Ginny’s eyes watered slightly and she turned her head away from Harry. Harry felt his insides turn violently, and he struggled to keep a hold of himself. He pushed Ginny from his lap, needing to get away. He stood up and the world spun. He now knew where he was. He and Ginny were in the broom shed. Harry tried to make it out the door, desperately yanking on the door handle.

“Harry, no, we can’t go outside! Not yet!” Ginny urged, pulling on Harry’s arm.

Harry spun, the sickness rising inside of him. He crawled to a corner and wretched, before sitting with his back to the wall, his hands clutching his pallid face. Ginny knelt beside him, conjuring a cup of water and affectionately helping him take it.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered in his ear. “They might have killed us, you know that. You didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Wouldn’t I have?” Harry asked, looking Ginny in the eyes. “I was certainly enjoying attacking everyone before I came for you.”

Ginny looked at Harry’s green eyes searchingly. “Never, Harry. You’re not the sort.”

Harry felt a weak smile stretch across his face, grateful to have Ginny beside him. “I see you got your wand back,” he said, indicating the wand in Ginny’s hand.

“No, they broke mine,” Ginny said fidgeting with the wand. “It’s his, actually.” Ginny pointed across the shed.

Harry turned and started. Somehow he hadn’t noticed the unconscious Death Eater bound to a chair in the far corner of the room.

“Most of the tree missed him,” Ginny explained. She then told Harry how she herself had passed out shortly after the tree had fallen, only to wake up some time later to find all their captors dead, save one, and Harry still out cold. Not knowing the status of the battle, and being so far from the house, Ginny had decided the shed was the safest place to wait for Harry to awaken. “I was thinking that maybe he knew something, Harry. Maybe he could tell us why all of this is happening. I put a silencing charm on the shed. No one should notice us.” Ginny looked slightly alarmed at what she was suggesting.

Harry sat for a moment, thinking quietly. He then slowly rose from the ground, walking confidently towards the bound man before him. “Ennervate!” Harry muttered as he reached the man’s side. The Death Eater stirred, and then began pulling violently on his ropes, grunting loudly. “Scream as much as you want,” Harry mumbled menacingly in the man’s ear. “No one will hear you.”

Harry conjured up a chair and placed it lithely before the captured Death Eater, sitting on it casually and leaning forward on his knees. “So,” he began, twirling his wand in his hand. “Are you going to make this easy on yourself, or are you going to resist?” Harry sounded very brave, but he certainly didn’t feel it. The thought of torturing someone made him sick, but he knew they needed answers.

The Death Eater said nothing, sitting higher in his chair, his best attempt at a proud, arrogant pose. “Ginny, you sure you want to be here for this?” Harry asked in earnest, staring at the man before him.

“I’m not leaving,” Ginny replied, a note of finality in her tone.

“Have it your way,” Harry said, to both Ginny and their hostage. He drew his wand and aimed it at the Death Eater’s right arm. Purple flames erupted from the tip of Harry’s wand, setting a large potion of the arm ablaze. Harry held back a cringe as the man screamed, knowing he had to look impassive. He and Hermione had found the spell for the fire over the summer. It burned with tremendous heat, but required no fuel. The amount of pain the captured hostage was feeling was anybody’s guess, but Harry knew that no permanent damage would be done.

It took some time before the Death Eater gave in, panting deeply and begging for Harry to stop. Wanting to hear his words clearly, Harry stood and removed the mask, gasping with shock as a familiar face met his eyes. Marcus Flint, the old captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team sat before him, looking pale and defeated. Harry shook his head in disbelief and returned to his chair.

“Why did you attack today?” Harry asked, anxious for answers.

“Because we knew you would be here,” Flint replied with a scowl.

“How did you know?” Harry continued.

“We have our ways,” Flint said with a smug look on his face. Harry raised his wand threateningly. “Alright,” Flint said, panic flashing across his face. “We have a source in the Ministry. I don’t know who, so don’t ask! The Ministry has been keeping tabs on you. Wants to know what you’ve been doing,” Flint said, twitching against his ropes. “Scrimgeour told them to do whatever was necessary, so they have been. Even putting people under the Imperius Curse to get information.”

“That’s why they took Percy,” Ginny suddenly said in a hushed voice. Harry gazed at her startled face, imagining she was probably right. Percy loved rules. He wouldn’t have approved of people using Unforgivable Curses, even if they were trying to do the right thing. If he’d found something out, he would have gone straight to a superior. Apparently he’d picked the wrong one.

“So Flint, what was it that Percy knew that was so important?” Harry questioned.

“Do you really have to ask,” Flint said gruffly. “The Dark Lord wanted information about you. Your movements, your plans, your strategies.”

The word strategies lingered in the air, echoing through Harry’s mind. Oh no… “What strategy?” Harry finally asked, apprehension in his voice.

“Your battle strategy, Potter,” Flint replied angrily. “Your plan to protect yourself. Very clever, if I do say so myself. We had to come up with all sorts of ways to trap you. I imagine things are getting rather ugly out there, seeing as you are nowhere to be found.” Flint grinned wickedly.

Harry leapt to his feet and started towards the door. “I have to go, Ginny. Now!” Harry said in a rush as he reached for the door handle.

“Wait! Tell me what’s going on!” Ginny demanded stepping in his way.

“Ginny, move,” Harry growled threateningly.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Potter!” Ginny warned. “We are in this together whether you like it or not! That’s my family out there, and I have every right to fight! Now tell me what in the hell is going on!”

Harry glared at Ginny, his jaw clenched. He knew she was right, and besides he would probably need her help. “We need a plan,” Harry said turning away from the door and gazing around the shed, his eyes resting on Marcus Flint. “Don’t get too comfortable, Flinty, we’re far from finished,” Harry said in a dark tone. Flint twitched visibly.

Harry turned towards Ginny, taking her by the arms. “I did something really stupid, a few months ago,” Harry told her, a sense of guilt consuming him as he gazed at her puzzled face. “I’ll explain everything to you, but you have to promise me something before I do.”

“What?” Ginny asked.

“Say that you’ll promise to do whatever I tell you, no matter what. That you will follow my orders completely, no questions asked,” Harry told her, feeling remarkably like Dumbledore on the night he died.

“But…” Ginny began to protest.

“Promise!” Harry interrupted. “Promise me, Ginny,” he whispered, softening the grip on her arms.

Ginny looked thoughtful for a moment. “I’ll promise if you do something for me first.” Harry waited for her to continue. “Tell me what was going through your mind under the tree.”

By the look on her face, Harry could tell she already knew the answer. He gulped deeply and took a steadying breath. “I was thinking how much I love you,” he finally said. Flint made a sound of disgust behind them. Ginny, however, only smiled knowingly, pulling Harry to herself for a kiss.

“I promise,” she whispered against his lips as they parted a moment later.

Harry nodded, taking her hand in his and turning to face their hostage. “We’ve got work to do."

---

Ron listened quietly as Hermione rapidly told him her theory, the memory of a conversation from months ago slowly replaying through his mind. He remembered parts of it clearly. Harry had been worried about people leaking information. He’d made up a battle plan, some strategy he pretended he was going to use should the need ever arise. Ron remembered thinking at the time that the plan wasn’t so bad. Basically, Harry had lied, saying that if he ever found himself being sought out by Death Eaters, he would take Polyjuice Potion and become someone else. Someone he'd arranged with to switch places, their identity hidden, so that he could move about undetected, or even escape should the battle get out of hand. He and Hermione had brushed the incident off at the time, confident that no one would believe the plan to be real, and even if they did, that they would never be so foolish as to tell anyone else. Apparently, given the situation and Hermione’s suspicions, they had been dead wrong.

“So you think they are rounding us up, searching for the person Harry made himself look like?” Ron asked incredulously. The idea was too strange for words. “Then why haven’t they just killed everyone then? Why haven’t they just finished us off?”

“I don’t know, Ronald,” Hermione said in an exasperated tone. “Maybe they want to catch Harry alive, bring him back to Voldemort. Ron, honestly, when are you going to start saying the name?” Hermione scolded as Ron twitched. “It would explain why there were searching for you in such large groups. I don’t know why they’d want to capture Harry rather than kill him, but whatever their reasoning, Harry may have accidentally saved everyone’s lives with that lie he told,” Hermione finished, her eyes wide and intense.

“How do you figure that?” Ron queried.

“Well, if they don’t know which person he turned into, then they can’t kill any of them. Can they?” Hermione replied thoughtfully. Ron nodded his head in agreement.

“So… where IS Harry?” Ron questioned after a brief pause, hoping Hermione might know this answer as well.

“Hiding I expect. He must have realized they weren’t going to hurt anyone so long as they believed he was one of them. Oh Ron, he probably doesn’t know who to trust! Someone out there might have been the leak! They may be biding their time till he reveals himself! Ron, he needs us, we have to get back out there,” Hermione said, a look of determination on her face.

Ron was suddenly consumed with fear as he gazed at Hermione. The Death Eaters weren’t afraid to kill people earlier, he thought darkly. They saw Harry and I talking, they fired a Killing Curse at me. They saw Hermione and I leave… “I can’t let you go out there,” Ron said desperately, suddenly fully understanding the danger they were in.

“What?” Hermione said, a distinct mark of anger in her voice.

“Don’t you get it, Hermione? The last time I saw Harry was before I Apparated you to St. Mungos! They think you left the fight. If you go out there they’re going to assume Harry made himself look like you! No one else knows you’re here, and it’s going to stay that way!”

Hermione looked both scared and defiant. “Well if they saw me leave, then they saw you leave, too! Who knows when Harry hid himself, they might be expecting it to be YOU! Why else were they all after you when I arrived? I’m not letting you go out there alone!”

Ron felt furious. “Hermione, the only thing that’s kept me going this far was knowing you were alright!”

“Well the only thing I could think of was getting back to you!” she responded, equally enraged.

Damn it, Hermione, Ron swore in his mind, wishing desperately he had room to walk away from her. He raised his hands in frustration, using all his self-control to keep from shaking her until she understood. Hermione responded accordingly, her eyes blazing as she pulled herself to full height, gripping Ron by the front of his robes.

“I’m going,” she said defiantly.

“No, you’re not!” Ron said stiffly.

“Yes I am, Ronald Weasley, and you can’t stop me!” she replied, tugging roughly on his robes.

“Oh yes I can!” Ron said, thinking quickly of a way to keep her out of sight and quiet as he stared her down.

“No! You can’t,” Hermione was now pointing her wand at him.

Ron felt like screaming. Like breaking her wand in two and knocking her out cold till this whole mess was over. Instead he settled for grabbing her roughly and cursing under his breath before kissing the hell out of her. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to be doing at that moment, but Ron never claimed to be brilliant. And besides, Hermione, who was brilliant, didn’t seem to mind. There was no sense in fighting her on this. He knew she was right. Harry needed both of them right now.

“Come on,” he said gruffly as he pulled away from the kiss, taking Hermione by the hand. With one last fleeting glance at her face, Ron reached out and opened the door.

Disclaimer: Nothings mine writing for pure enjoyment.


Hermione held her breath as Ron's freckled hand wrapped around the closet doorknob. The courage she'd felt just moments before seemed to be slipping away. I don't know if I can do this., a panicked voice echoed in her mind.

Ron quickly ushered himself through the open door, pulling Hermione rapidly behind him. As the door latched silently, Hermione found herself enveloped in icy darkness. A shiver ran the length of her spine, and her teeth threatened to chatter. The loving warmth of the Burrow was gone. It was hard to believe this home once held such happy memories. There was no life, no movement. The silence of their surroundings was maddening. Every scrape of their shoes, every intake of breath, echoed threefold.

Hermione's awareness of her senses was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. Every whisper of sound, every smell, any hint of movement set her heart racing, loosening her grasp on her self-control. It was hard to fathom that minutes before now she'd spoken so bravely and forcefully. When she and Ron had been alone, standing so close to one another bathed in soft moonlight, anything had seemed possible. Stepping out into the fight had seemed natural, expected. But now, Hermione feared it had all been an act. Some cheap illusion of strength she'd created for herself. Now that the danger was so tangible, so salient, she feared she wasn't up to the task. There were no books here. No easy answers, no absolutions. Hermione could only depend on was herself, and she feared that wouldn't be nearly enough.

Ron's hand suddenly wrapped more tightly around Hermione's, as if he'd heard her thoughts. Hermione squeezed back in response, thankful that she and Ron were together. His presence grounded her, forcing her to stay on track. It was almost mesmerizing to see how focused he was, his determined gait leading her steadily on. She willed herself to remain focused, demanding her harried breath to slow and racing heart to be still. They could get through this, so long as they had each other.

At the base of the stairs, Ron released Hermione's hand, motioning for her to stay where she was. Hermione covered Ron from behind as he slowly made his way around the stairwell, searching for any sign of hidden Death Eaters. Ron's attackers from earlier still lay unmoving at the base of the stairs, one small yellow bird remaining, perched quietly on one of the Death Eater's heads. Ron approached them carefully, nudging one Death Eater aggressively with his foot, and, much to Hermione's surprise, Ron roughly kicked the other. When neither stirred, Ron signaled the 'all-clear' and began moving steadily towards the kitchen. Hermione followed close behind, warily staring at the fallen Death Eaters as she passed.

They paused in the kitchen doorway, unsure of their next move. Hermione's gaze pierced through the darkness around her, examining the remains of a once loved and well-used kitchen. Her stomach turned slightly as she noticed the family clock lying broken on the floor, its many hands bearing the names of the Weasley family scattered and damaged beyond repair. Hermione quickly turned away, seeking Ron's eyes for comfort.

He met her gaze, a hardened look forming on his face. Ron inclined his head towards the door, indicating they should make their way outside. Hermione nodded in agreement, walking precariously across the rubble filled kitchen. Ron reached the door first, peeking cautiously through the window. Hermione felt like her heart might explode it was beating so fiercely against her chest. She wet her lips nervously, glancing about the kitchen, her wand poised to strike. Ron turned his head slightly towards Hermione and nodded encouragingly as he reached for the doorknob, though Hermione felt far from reassured. The two of us against a countless band of Death Eaters? The very idea was absolute lunacy. But they had no other options left.

Ron opened the creaking door exasperatingly slowly as Hermione held her breath. Suddenly she felt her hair stand on end as a soft rustle of sound was made somewhere behind her. A whisper of a sound, one that would normally have gone unnoticed. But not today. Today it was enough to raise the alarm, to bring Hermione to full alert: The gentle sound of a bird taking flight.

She turned her head, her body moving painfully lethargic, as if time had slowed down. All Hermione saw was the rush of darkness and a flash of steel. Then her senses were completely consumed by an anguished scream the rent the silent night.

---

Ron could feel his hands shaking slightly as he pulled Hermione from their hiding place. A deep sense of fear was winding menacingly through his stomach, threatening to consume him. He'd never felt so afraid in his entire life as he desperately clung to Hermione's hand, leading her soundlessly through the Burrow. Ron wasn't afraid for himself or the unknown fate that lay in waiting somewhere in the distance. This fear was for Hermione, a feeling unlike any Ron had ever experienced. The memory of her battered body lying on the ground just that morning kept chocking at his composure. He wasn't sure he could handle that again. His bravery had its limits.

His heart ached as he looked around him. This was no longer his childhood home. This was a battlefield, stripped of life. The anger and hatred of so many was tangible, poisoning the very air. Ron grimaced as an undeniable thirst for revenge swelled in his chest. He squeezed Hermione's hand more tightly. He needed her sensibleness to keep him steady. Too much was at stake to be consumed with a lust for vengeance.

As they neared the stairs, Ron paused, eyeing the fallen silhouettes of Malfoy and the unarmed Death Eater. He pressed Hermione's hand lightly and then released it, motioning for her to stay back. He made his way around the stairwell, warily approaching the two men lying on the ground. One lone yellow bird sat on the first Death Eater's face; merrily ruffling its feathers and hopping about ridiculously. Ron extended his foot and shoved his attacker roughly in the side. The lifeless body rocked violently, setting the small bird twittering in annoyance.

Ron then turned to Malfoy, the will for revenge bubbling like acid in his throat. On a whim, Ron hauled back and kicked Malfoy as hard as he could, taking care to smash Malfoy's wand to bits as he brought his leg back down. Feeling immensely satisfied Ron turned towards Hermione, motioning for her to follow as he ducked his way towards the kitchen.

Ron berated his stomach as he stood in the kitchen doorway. Leave it to him to feel hungry at a time like this. He turned his head towards Hermione, her outline barely visible amongst the shadows. I should have locked her in the closet, he thought to himself. She was too damned brave for her own good. Once again the memory of her bloodied face and scorched dress robes swam unbidden in his mind. He shook the thought away angrily, pushing onward before his fears fully surfaced.

He stepped towards the window, pulling the drapery back just enough to gaze outside. It was a cloudless night, the nearly full moon illuminating every corner of the backyard that Ron could see. There was no sign of his family, and not a Death Eater in sight. Ron feared the worst, suddenly anxious to press on. He inclined his head towards Hermione, nodding to show his intentions of opening the door. His hand tightened around the knob, pulling it open as careful as possible. The door was halfway open when Ron heard Hermione gasp. There was a sudden rush of sound, frenzied movement, followed by unadulterated pain in his right shoulder.

One shout left Ron's lips before he was able to muffle his cries. He whipped around wildly, searching the darkness for his attacker. A black robed figure loomed ominously, one of Mrs. Weasley's cutting knives gripped solidly in his hand. He lunged at Ron again, the knife thrashing angrily through the air. Unexpectedly the Death Eater was thrown back, his head hitting the floor with a sickening thud as he crashed to the ground.

Hermione was now standing before Ron. Anger and protectiveness radiated from her body, as she raised her wand in preparation for another attack. Ron saw her tremble slightly as the man before them didn't move, his body disturbingly still. Without hesitating, Ron reached for Hermione with his uninjured arm, pulling her away from the kitchen and out into the moonlit night. He moved as fast as his body could take him along the edge of the house, diving lithely into an overgrown thicket of bushes.

His shoulder throbbed angrily as he kneeled on the ground, Hermione panting softly beside him. Tears swam in her eyes as she wordlessly conjured a tourniquet and hastily wrapped it around Ron's wounded shoulder. He stiffened physically as she pulled the bandage tight, forbidding himself to utter even one sound of pain. His silence was likely in vain; the damage had already been done. His screams upon being stabbed were enough. Every Death Eater within earshot would soon be descending upon them.

---

Hermione acted without thinking. An acute anger resonated into her very soul as she watched the Death Eater stab Ron in the back. Mechanically she leapt forward, putting herself before Ron. The powerful hex she released from her wand shocked her. Fury of this kind was an emotion Hermione was not used to.

She waited anxiously for the man to stir again, gazing fixedly at his prone form. An eternity seemed to pass, and still the attacker remained motionless. Hermione felt her stomach drop, her heart began racing out of control. Nausea rose in her throat as Ron tugged at her arm, propelling her away from the kitchen and into the backyard of the Burrow.

The world was a blur, her eyes unfocused as she scuttled in Ron's wake. She hardly noticed where they'd ended up as she sat quietly on the ground, desperately gasping for air. The realization that she might have killed someone was sinking in slowly. You didn't do it on purpose, Hermione tried to reason with herself, her insides squirming uncomfortably.

She felt Ron stir beside her and turned her head slightly. Her stomach turned again as she saw the blood seeping from the wound at Ron's shoulder. Tears of anger flowed into her eyes as the bandages fell from her wand. It might have been Ron, she thought as she wrapped him shoulder tightly. It might have been him instead of the Death Eater.

Ron clasped Hermione's hand in his, kissing her palm and caressing her knuckles, expressing his gratitude in silence. His gaze was calming, reassuring her, though their situation was desperate. There were voices coming from the trees. Ron's shout of pain had called the Death Eaters out of hiding. Ron and Hermione watched as the black figures scurried across the yard, circling the perimeter of the house cautiously.

Ron's body shifted fluidly, placing himself in front of Hermione as one of the Death Eaters crept closer to where they were hiding. It was a sweet but highly unnecessary act of chivalry. They would both be exposed soon enough. Hermione hardly dared to breath, every beat of her pounding heart sounded like an explosion.

Ron looked as though he was ready to pounce, balanced on the balls of his feet. Hermione placed one of her hands on his back, positioning herself in a better stance for fast action. She could feel the muscles in Ron's back tightening in preparation. His free hand briefly touched her ankle, squeezing it affectionately.

The Death Eater was upon them. Hermione could see the deep contours of his masked face, the hollow blackness of his covered eyes. His feet and robes were rustling the overgrown branches of a bush, mere feet away. Her mind wiped clear, her instincts to fight taking control. Refusing to let fear consume her, Hermione followed Ron's lead, launching herself forward and into the fray.


Author's Note: Wow, this chapter has been in queu FOREVER! I apologize, something screwed up with my formating and I had to re-post. Next chapter will hopefully be up much faster. Also, I have a new story on the site. It's a one-shot called, "Iduna," that I wrote for a challenge, and I'd really love some feedback if you'd read it! Thanks to all my lovely readers!!!

Disclaimer: You know the drill, this doesn't belong to me in any way!


It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, Ron thought angrily as he crouched in the bushes, his heart raging as he lay in wait for the approaching Death Eater. He and Hermione were supposed to sneak up on the lot of them, take them by surprise. Maybe even find Harry along the way, so long as he had made it this far.

And now they were trapped, surrounded. Now they had only two choices left: sit and wait for death and capture, or walk head long into the fold. There was no fleeing now, no turning and running. In truth, he and Hermione could Apparate far away, save themselves to fight another day. But doing so, leaving now, would undoubtedly mean a death sentence for all those left behind. If their suspicions proved true, then Ron and Hermione were the last remaining hope for everyone involved. The last chance at success for the Death Eaters, and the last chance at survival for the Weasleys and the Order.

Ron licked his lips unconsciously, his gaze piercing into the hollow mask looming closer in the darkness. Hermione shifted soundlessly behind him, her hand resting lightly on his back. He desperately wished he could hold her, and look at her for just a few moments. Freeze time until they’d had a chance to say goodbye.

This isn’t goodbye! Ron scolded himself. They were going to make it through this, so long as they stuck together. His free hand slid behind him, searching for Hermione. It found her ankle, wrapping around it gently for a moment, expressing a gamut of emotions in the one simple act. The hand on Ron’s back moved slightly in response. She understood. She felt the same. She was ready.

The next few moments were excruciatingly tense. Ron held his breath, his senses keenly attuned to their surroundings. The feel of the breeze on his neck, the pungent smell of the blood saturating his robes, the sound of rusting leaves as the Death Eater stalked ever closer. Ron was ready, set to strike.

NOW!

With an internal shout, he charged forward, taking down the startled Death Eater before he even registered the attack. Hermione was close on his heals, blasting another Death Eater as they raced toward the trees. A bright red light singed the side of Ron’s face, barely missing its target. Ron shot a Body-Binding Jinx over his shoulder in retaliation. Right now he was more interested in staying out of reach than fighting face to face. Focused on making sure he and Hermione made it safely to the trees. There they could regroup, plan. Prepare for the next wave of attack.

Behind him Hermione released a pained yelp, and a bright yellow light flashed in the corner of his eye. On instinct Ron spun about, firing Stunners at Hermione’s assailant with intense protectiveness. Hermione stumbled, but remained standing, a pained and furious look on her face.

“Incendio!” she shouted, slashing her wand like a whip through the air. A long line of fire appeared to Ron’s right, creating a raging wall of flames, blocking the oncoming Death Eater’s from view. She raised her wand again, but no spell issued from her lips. Instead it was a startled shout as she plummeted forward, paralyzed in a Leg-Locker Hex. Ron leapt forward, grabbing Hermione roughly and rolling her out of the way as a jet of red light struck the ground where she’d fallen.

“Protego!” Ron bellowed, reflecting another spell as he scooped Hermione up off the ground.

“Throw me over your shoulder,” Hermione grunted as Ron struggled to hold off the Death Eaters.

“What?” Ron shouted in surprise.

“Just do it!” Hermione commanded, fire flashing in her eyes.

Ron immediately obliged, throwing Hermione over his shoulder and running full tilt towards the trees. He could feel spell after spell rushing behind him, the sound of bodies tumbling to the ground. Hermione was shouting spells at rapid speed, building more flaming barriers as they raced for cover. Ron's heart leapt as they finally reached their haven, collapsing behind a large oak tree while they awaited the next attack.

---

Hermione lay gasping on the ground as Ron removed the spell from her legs. She sat up gingerly, cringing in pain. She wasn’t sure what the spell with the bright yellow light had been, but she was positive her back was burned. Carefully she leaned around the tree, gazing at the flaming wall in the distance. It cast eerie glimmers in the darkness, the silhouettes of a dozen Death Eaters just visible through the flames.

“That won’t hold them for long,” Hermione whispered, turning to Ron anxiously. “What should we do now?”

Ron shook his head, running a weary hand over his face. “I don’t know, Hermione,” he replied quietly. “We have to find everyone else without being captured, and that seems bloody near impossible now.” He raised his head, starring transfixed at the wall of fire. Hermione turned to look as well, her mouth gaping at the sight.

The Death Eaters were walking through the flames, the fire lapping at their robes and cascading across the masked faces. It was truly a terrifying image, like demons ascending from the fires of hell. “They must have used a Flame Freezing Charm,” Hermione mumbled almost imperceptibly. She was so transfixed by the horrible sight that she hardly noticed when Ron grasped her hand and pulled her sharply up off the ground.

He turned her gaze away from the flames, taking her face in his hands and kissing her gently. Hermione was startled by this act of love in the midst of such terror. She looked in Ron’s eyes, thousands of unsaid emotions swimming in their blue depths. I should have told him sooner, Hermione thought as he grasped her hand tightly, turning deeper into the trees. She’d had years to be with Ron, to love him as more than a friend. Why had she pushed those feelings aside? Why had they waited until now? Why this moment, when everything could end before it even began?

---

Ron watched Hermione’s face as she gazed at the wall of fire, a look of utmost horror spreading her sweet features as the flames rolled harmlessly over the determined Death Eaters. She looked petrified, helpless. Ron quickly rose and pulled her to her feet, his heart wrenching at the sight of her troubled eyes. He scooped her face up in his hands, caressing her cheek and softly kissing her lips. I won’t let anything happen to you, Ron thought resolutely, taking her hand and pulling her quickly away from the approaching attack.

Hands held tight, they ran quickly through the brush. Unseen branches snatched at their faces and hidden roots tripped their feet as they rapidly fled the growing threat all around them. A shot of red light suddenly illuminated the darkness. Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, pulling backwards as hard as she could, bringing Ron with her. They crashed into a tree, just barely missing the Stunning Spell, their hearts racing wildly at the unforeseen attack.

With a grunt Ron took off, running faster than before. Their position was now known, and their only hope now was to outrun them. Hermione was gasping behind him, clearly struggling to keep to Ron’s hurried pace, but they couldn’t slow down. The Death Eaters were too close, with too many on their tail.

Colorful jets of light illuminated their path, flashing past them, giving Ron brief glimpses of their impending capture. Finally a spell met its mark. Ron felt Hermione fall to the ground behind him, locked in a Body Bind.

“No!” Ron shouted, turning about, his wand raised. There he stood alone bravely as their attackers swarmed around them.

---

Tree limbs scratched at Hermione’s face as she frantically ran in Ron’s wake. She was thankful for his firm grip on her hand; she’d never be able to keep this pace otherwise. Her heart was racing violently, the sound of her pounding blood screaming in her ears. Branches shattered, their leaves burning brightly as dozens of wildly fired spells ripped through the trees. Hermione suspected the Death Eaters were just aiming at random, hoping to catch a glimpse of their fleeing prey.

Hermione gasped as a spell hit her hard in the back. Her body instantly seized up, her arms pressed firmly to her sides as she crashed to the ground. Lying helpless and frozen, Hermione watched as Ron stopped dead in his tracks, turning around with an angry shout. No! Hermione pleaded internally, wishing desperately that she could speak. He had to run, to save himself and find the others! He could outrun them alone.

But Ron stayed, standing over her protectively as the Death Eaters surrounded them. He fought mercilessly until they seized his wand, and even more so afterwards until they finally beat him down. He lay gasping for breath beside her, his eyes fixed on her own. The look of failure on his face broke her heart, tears sweeping out of her eyes as she watched them drag his beaten body off the ground.

Released from the Body Bind, her hands tightly bound behind her back, they brought Hermione along, dragging them both into unknown doom.


Author's Note: Yes, I know... wicked, wicked author... Just wanted to let everyone know I have yet another story on the site. It's called "One Last Golden Day," written for the Harry Hospital Wing Project. In the story, Arthur Weasely ventures into the Department of Mysteries to save the trio. Let me khow what you think if you read it ;)

Next chapter coming along shortly!!

Disclaimer: You know the drill, I'm not brilliant enough to think all this stuff up on my own. I leave that to Jo.



Ron hit the ground hard, screaming in pain as one of his ribs broke with a loud snap. Gasping deeply, he gazed in Hermione's eyes, tears sparkling in their earthy depths. I'm sorry, he thought weakly as the Death Eaters pulled him off the ground, hitting him ruthlessly with each feeble attempt at escape.

His legs trailed behind him as they roughly led him deeper into the trees, the darkness of the night swallowing him into oblivion. His breath was coming in sharp painful gasps against his aching ribcage, and his eyes watered from a throbbing bump on his head. Ron felt an inescapable dread curling around his heart, clenching tighter with every passing moment. He had failed. Failed to protect Hermione. Failed to save his family. Slowly reality was sinking in; the reality that they probably would not survive the night. He realized it was the hand of death wrapping around him so tightly, preparing him for his bloody fate.

Somewhere in the distant corners of his mind, Ron heard Hermione shout in pain. Anger slowly began churning in his stomach. The flames of his resolve had nearly been extinguished in the hopelessness of their plight, but now they were flickering again. He rounded up, hitting one of his captors hard in the face, the man toppling to the ground with a heavy groan. The other Death Eaters retaliated harshly, blows crashing down from every angle, but Ron was beyond the pain. He wanted them to realize he wasn't broken yet. No matter what happened to him tonight, he would not be backing down. And no matter what the cost, they would not take Hermione away from him…

---

Silent tears streaked across Hermione's pallid face, her body aching with every rushed step through the trees. She could feel her hands purpling under the pressure of her bonds, itching to scratch away the tickling warmth of a small stream of blood creeping down her forehead. She watched in awe as Ron continued to fight, four Death Eaters flanking his body to still his raging limbs. Even in the most desperate of times, he wasn't giving up. She took solace in the knowledge that she wouldn't have to face this alone.

Stumbling unceremoniously, Hermione landed in a thicket on brambles, shouting out in pain as the nearest Death Eater laughed at her misfortune. Hermione mumbled a variety of insults under her breath as she pried herself from the thorns, refusing to let anyone assist her off the ground. Quickening her pace to stay out of their reach, Hermione suddenly found the world before her illuminated in eerie green light.

Her eyes stung horribly in the glow, squinting in the brightness. For a moment she feared the worst, expecting to see the symbol of a slithering serpent and a deadly skull hovering in the air as they entered the clearing. She had a brief moment of relief upon exiting the copse of trees, though it was short lived. The powerful green light was not coming from the air. It was, in fact, coming from each captive in the Death Eater camp. Hermione gasped in despair as she approached, the faces of her friends swimming horribly in her eyes.

A band of green light was wrapped tightly around each member of the Order and the Weasley family, holding them at bay, their faces distorted in the emerald glow. Hermione had heard about these bonds before. It was a clever, yet cruel trap recently employed by the Death Eaters. Each person tied to the green light was also bound to the others, the fate of one affecting the rest. It even one member of the group attempted to escape from their prison, the bonds of the others would tighten until they squeezed the life out of them. Naturally Voldemort would think of something so cruel, Hermione thought to herself sickly as she approached the ring of captives. There was no hope of helping them now. The bonds could only be lifted by the castor, or by someone locked within the chain itself. Any other interference would be a death sentence, for everyone involved.

A large Death Eater shoved Hermione along as she passed the Order. Kingsley Shacklebolt lay frighteningly still in the center of the group, his eyes closed firmly, as though he were merely in peaceful slumber. Of the rest, Tonks and Lupin met Hermione's eye first, each emitting a great deal of courage in their piercing stares. Mr. Weasley nodded his head slightly, an odd look of pride swelling his features as he watched the Death Eaters bring she and Ron forward. Hermione averted her eyes from Mrs. Weasley's face, her lip trembling menacingly at the sight of Molly’s flowing tears. The rest of the captives sat together, gazing as one at the latest warriors to fall in the struggle.

A short way ahead, Hermione saw Ron kneeling on the ground, flanked by robed guards on all sides. Before him stood a tall figure, rather like a judge at an execution, moments away from pronouncing his sentence. Just to their right, Hermione gasped to see Ginny emerging from the darkness, struggling in the clutches of a sole Death Eater. Their eyes met briefly, and Hermione saw something that looked miraculously like hope and defiance glinting in Ginny's eyes.

Swelling in the strength of Ginny's resolve, Hermione dropped to her knees at Ron's side, gazing boldly into the masked faces before her.

---

Ron cringed at the dazzlingly bright green light that illuminated the darkness as he was pulled ungracefully from the woods. A frantic search of the sky calmed his fears; everyone else was, apparently, still alive.

Hearing a stifled sob in the distance, Ron turned his head to find his family bound together in bands of emerald light. Every last one of them looked the worse for wear, most sporting broken limbs and bloodied faces. A tinge of pride swept Ron’s heart, knowing the fight his family must have shown in the face of their capture.

His father smiled at his weakly, his face shining with loving support. His mother openly wept, her head turned away, unwilling to look at her battered son. Ron then met each of his brother’s eyes in turn, acknowledging them all, and, truthfully, saying goodbye. He could see no way out of this; he had no way to help them break the spell that bound them together. Their only hope now was Harry, and Ron could only pray he was still alive.

Moments later Ron found himself kneeling painfully before a very formidable Death Eater. Ron stared in loathing for quite some time, until the sound of an approaching scuffle met his ears. Inclining his head slightly, he gasped in shock. There before him was Ginny being escorted out of the woods, held roughly in the hands of another Death Eater, her robes ripped obscenely; her body looking like it had been through hell and back. Anger rolled through Ron’s muscles. If he lived through this, he swore right then and there to kill the bastard Death Eater clutching his little sister so ruthlessly.

Ron was torn from his thoughts as Hermione was brought to his side, her eyes blazing in dazzling defiance. Ron’s heart leapt at her determined features, sensing that she, too, was more than willing to sacrifice herself to protect the others. For the briefest of moments she met his gaze, her eyes flashing all the things she was unable to say.

“Is this it then?” the tall Death Eater standing just before Ron asked grimly, staring hard at he, Hermione, and Ginny.

“This is the last of them,” the man standing behind Hermione replied, satisfaction dripping from his words.

“It’s one of these two, I reckon,” a third man spoke, indicating Ron and Hermione. “Saw them disappear earlier, standing right beside Potter.”

“So did I,” chimed in another Death Eater, a woman.

“And what about this one?” the first Death Eater spoke, stepping towards Ginny and lifting her chin. Ginny jerked her head away angrily, snapping at the man’s hand with her teeth. He slapped her soundly, chuckling at the shout emitted from her lips. On instinct Ron lunged forward, attempting to topple the man who had struck his sister. He was simply kicked back into place, the towering Death Eater swarming closer with menace.

“I don’t understand why we don’t just kill them all now,” the female Death Eater spoke, frustration ringing in her words. “Why keep them alive?”

“Because those are our orders!” the head Death Eater snapped in reply. “The Dark Lord commanded we keep them all alive until we were sure we had Potter.”

“Yes, but what of these others?” the woman retorted angrily. “They’ve been here for hours. Polyjuice Potion would have worn off ages ag-.”

“Bloody woman, hold your tongue!” he raged in response, cutting her off. “Snape told us there are other ways to maintain the appearance of another. We can’t kill anyone until we are sure!”

“I think it’s this one,” the Death Eater to Ron’s left sneered, pulling his head back hard by his ruddy hair. “Didn’t like it when he hit your little girlfriend, did you?” the man leered evilly in Ron’s face.

At that moment, time seemed to slow down. Ron was being presented a chance to potentially help the others. If he claimed to be Harry they would take him away, leaving the rest alive until they could prove his confession. Maybe in his absence help would arrive; maybe everyone else could still be saved. It was a small ray of hope, but it was all he had left.

“No, I didn’t appreciate it,” Ron finally replied, his voice steady and firm. At Hermione’s right, Ginny started, turning to Ron anxiously. She was about to say something when the Death Eater at her back shook her harshly, silencing her words before they were even spoken.

The head Death Eater stepped forward, grasping Ron’s face roughly in his hand. “You claim to be the boy, then?” he said in a deadly tone, squeezing his hand painfully into Ron’s cheeks.

“Yes.”

“No!” Hermione shouted. “Ron, I won’t let you do this! I won’t let you take my place...”

Oh no, Ron thought desperately, Hermione, please don’t do this! Ron struggled against the grip of the Death Eaters, desperate to meet Hermione's eyes.

“I’m the one you want,” Hermione continued, staring bravely at the Death Eaters all around her.

“Hermione, stop!” Ron said angrily, gazing sideways at her face. “It’s over! They’ve caught me, now let them take me!”

For a moment she met his eyes, her face firm, unwavering. “No, Ron,” she said softly. “I won’t let you take the fall in my place.”

The world slowed down as her words reverberated through the night, a weight the size of a dragon's egg dropping soundly in Ron's stomach. This was it. Either him... or Hermione. Whatever the Death Eater decided, Ron knew the next words from his lips would kill him. On one hand he'd be sacrificing himself. On the other... he'd be losing Hermione.

He hardly noticed when they stepped forward and grabbed Ginny, her face completely at a loss as she gazed at Ron and Hermione. He didn't consider Ginny and the rest of his family, bound together in wicked green light just behind him, waiting in terror for the Death Eater's decision. He only registered the looming Death Eater before him, awaiting his word with baited breath.

---

“I think it’s this one,” a Death Eater posed to the others, gripping Ron’s face angrily to Hermione’s left. “Didn’t like it when he hit your little girlfriend, did you?” Hermione cringed as the man whipped Ron’s head back harshly, his mask hovering inches above Ron’s face.

“No, I didn’t appreciate it,” Ron answered, his voice defiant.

What? Hermione roared in her mind, her heart racing rapidly. Ron was going to take the fall, sacrifice himself and face the next step alone. Beside her, Ginny jumped in alarm. Hermione could almost hear the words that begged to tumble from her lips, the plea for her brother to stay silent.

“You claim to be the boy, then?”

No, Ron. Please!

“Yes,” Ron replied, sealing his fate.

Unbidden, the image of Ron standing strong with his wand held firmly in his hand flashed through Hermione’s mind. When she’d fallen, he’d stayed with her. Fought for her. Now it’s my turn, Hermione thought boldly, no matter the cost.

“No!” she screamed, a sense of bravery she’d never known sounding clearly in her words. “Ron, I won’t let you do this! I won’t let you take my place...” She paused as Ron struggled for a moment beside her. “I’m the one you want.”

“Hermione, stop!” Ron bellowed. “It’s over! They’ve caught me, now let them take me!” Hermione’s heart ached as she looked in his deep blue eyes. The last words he’d spoken were a plea, a request to let him lay down his life to possibly spare her own.

“No, Ron,” Hermione said softly. “I won’t let you take the fall in my place.” They gazed at each other for a moment, Ron fixing Hermione with an agonizingly desperate stare. Unable to look in his eyes any longer, Hermione turned away, the pain behind her decision weighing heavily on her heart.

He loves me she thought, a sob begging to escape her throat. She saw it in his eyes, the look of pain at the prospect of losing her. She wanted to say it back, to shout it, but it was too late for that now. She only hoped he'd seen it in her eyes.

Silence settled around them. Everyone seemed to be staring at the leading Death Eater, awaiting his decision. He stood before Hermione, mere feet away, unmoving and silent.

“Fine,” he finally said, his voice chillingly cold. “We'll take them both.”

Disclaimer: Only writing for fun, none of this is mine! Enjoy!!


“You’re only making things harder on yourself, Flint,” Harry said in a dark tone, hovering above their hostage menacingly.

“I’ve told you a thousand times, I don’t know why he wants you!” Flint groaned, glaring angrily at the floor.

“And I’ve told you a thousand and one times that I don’t believe you,” Harry replied, lifting his wand.

“Please! I’ll tell you everything I do know, if you’ll just stop!” Flint finally caved, rustling angrily against his bonds.

In the corner, Ginny let out a sigh of relief. After promising to do as she was told, to follow Harry’s orders no matter what, Harry had told her everything. About his lie, his suspicions about today and the danger he feared he’d placed on all of their heads. She’d been shocked to learn why all of this was happening, though strangely grateful for Harry’s moment of rash action. It seemed likely that the Death Eaters would have attacked today no matter what, Flint had made that clear. If Harry hadn’t told that lie, they all might have been dead by now.

After his confession, Harry and Ginny had agreed that their best hope at success was questioning Flint more thoroughly. They needed as much information as possible if they were going to be successful, and time was running out. But suddenly, Flint became very tight lipped. It seemed the rest of the information he possessed was extremely valuable, and he wasn’t nearly as willing to part with it. This had led to some rather excruciating to witness moments, where Ginny had involuntarily shut her eyes against the scene before her. Harry had remained remarkably strong through it all. Though he wasn’t causing lasting damage to Flint, it was obvious that Harry was uncomfortable inflicting pain on anyone, no matter who they were. His face flooded with obvious relief when Flint finally started to spill what he knew, sagging dejectedly against the ropes.

“Everyone is hiding in a clearing in the trees,” Flint said, gasping slightly.

“Near the Quidditch Pitch,” Ginny mumbled, Harry nodding in agreement.

“I don’t know why he wanted you, but he said to bring you alive.”

“Bring me where?” Harry interrupted, his face inches away from Flint’s

“Only the highest Death Eaters are allowed to know that,” Flint balked, “so I wouldn’t know.”

“You have to meet somewhere, Flint. Where did you join up before coming to ruin the wedding this morning? Where were they going to bring me once it was over?” Harry pressed.

“They were going to bring you to a graveyard. Would have been a right homecoming for you,” Flint sneered angrily. Ginny raised a questioning eyebrow at Harry, trying to see if he’d understood this response. Harry looked mildly puzzled for a moment, gazing at Flint as though he were trying to read his mind. Finally a look of recognition crossed Harry’s eyes. He simply shook his head in disgust, backing away without a word.

“Harry?” Ginny began, stepping towards him in concern.

“Stay here, Ginny. I’m going to go see what we’re up against,” Harry said in a quiet voice, stalking towards the door.

“Wait! I'm coming with you!” she roared, chasing him across the room. Harry stopped dead in his tracks, turning around suddenly and halting Ginny in her pursuit. She glared up at him, fuming. She was tired of being left behind, told that she was too young or too incapable to take care of herself. Frankly, she’d had enough. “I don’t see why I have to stay here, Harry! That’s my family; if anyone should be going out there it’s me!”

Harry placed his hands gently on Ginny’s shoulders, causing her to relax despite her sudden anger. “Please, Ginny, I just need a few minutes. I need to see what we’re up against, to figure out a plan. You promised you’d follow my instructions, now please just trust me and stay here. I swear I’m coming straight back.”

Ginny glared at Harry for a moment, crossing her arms in frustration. “You’d better,” she grumbled quietly. Harry squeezed her shoulders affectionately and kissed her on the head before turning towards the door and disappearing into the night.

---

Harry crept through the trees, practically floating over the ground in his efforts to remain silent and unnoticed. In the distance he could see a clearing, illuminated in poisonous green light. He held his breath as he slunk right to the edge of the trees, casting himself into the shadows as he took stock of the camp before him.

His stomach turned when he spotted the Weasley family and the remaining members of the Order, bound and beaten, completely helpless. Around them stood a dozen Death Eaters, more than Harry could ever dream of taking on alone, even with Ginny’s help. He felt completely at a loss. The situation looked hopeless. For a moment he considered Apparating, to go in search of help. But deep down, he knew leaving wasn’t an option. The longer he and Ginny waited to make their move, the worse things would get for everyone else. They needed to act quickly, if only they had a plan.

“Is this everyone?” one of the Death Eaters mumbled in the distance, his masked face scanning their hostages.

“We believe there are two more,” another Death Eater replied, “A boy and a girl, the last of the family of filthy blood traitors.” Some of the Weasley’s visibly stirred at this comment. “Two parties have been sent to hunt them down, but neither has returned.”

This was the information Harry had been searching for, an opportunity to infiltrate their ranks without being noticed. A bizarre idea started to form in his mind, one that would be beyond risky and disastrous if even one aspect of the plan should go wrong. He was just about to leave the clearing when he noticed a Death Eaters was moving steadily in his direction, as though he knew exactly where Harry was standing. Harry stiffened and pressed himself closer into the brush, berating himself silently, fearing that he’d let his guard down for a moment and revealed his location. He was standing knee deep in leaves and branches; there was no way he could run.

Harry’s heart rate increased as he stood in waiting. If he was caught now, all hope would be lost. He drew his wand, ready to fight should the need arise, when a shout of pain ripped through the air. It was distant, and slightly muffled, but it carried clearly through the night sky. The Death Eaters stirred into action, racing in the direction of the Burrow. Harry heaved a brief sigh of relief as the approaching Death Eater faltered and then joined his comrades, running in the opposite direction. Crouched low to the ground, Harry flew back through the trees, his heart twisting manically. There was no mistaking the bearer of that scream. Harry grimaced as he pressed his worries aside, unsuccessfully trying to convince himself that Ron would be alright as he sped back to find Ginny.

---

Ginny was just starting to get worried when the door finally opened, revealing a very strained and worried looking Harry. “Is everything alright? What did you find out?” Ginny demanded, stepping forward as he leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath.

Harry sighed and shook his head. “It doesn’t look good,” he said weakly, pacing back and forth across the tiny shed. “The Death Eaters have everyone locked in an Evincious Chain.”

Ginny gasped involuntarily, covering her mouth in shock. “Then there’s nothing we can do!” she said bitterly, her heart filling with dread. “Only the castor can remove the spell.”

“Or someone locked inside it,” Harry said darkly, meeting Ginny’s gaze.

Ginny allowed herself to get lost in Harry’s green eyes for a moment as his words truly sunk in. The first thing the Death Eaters would have done upon capturing the others was strip them of their wands. With as many Death Eaters as she’d seen earlier, Ginny knew there was little hope of getting close enough to rearm the Order without being seen. That meant only one option. One of them would have to be captured and placed in the chain, and given the truly pained look on Harry’s face; she knew which one it would have to be.

“What do I need to do?” she asked quietly, her voice resolute.

“We’re going to have to get your captured,” he replied quietly.

“I don’t know it that will work, Harry. If they capture me they’ll take away my wand…”

“It will work,” Harry said confidently, cutting her off, “because I’m going to be the one that captures you.”

For a moment neither of them said anything. Ginny stared at Harry, confusion swimming in her features as she watched him cross the room to Flint’s side.

“I only hope they’re easily deceived by appearances,” Harry mumbled to himself, pulling Flint roughly from his chair. Ginny watched in slight horror as the two men struggled, Harry throwing Flint viciously against the wall, knocking him out with a well placed blow. He then stooped and began removing his robes, striping Flint down to his underclothes.

“You’re going to be a Death Eater…” Ginny mumbled in disbelief as she watched Harry don the black robes. He looked truly repulsed by what he was doing, but he simply nodded and continued getting dressed, arranging the robes until they sat perfectly.

“I heard some of the Death Eaters talking while I was hiding outside their camp,” Harry said once he was dressed, crossing back to Ginny’s side. “They said they were still looking for you, that the original group dispatched to hunt you down hadn’t returned. If I bring you back dressed in Flint’s robes, they shouldn’t question me. They’ll assume I already disarmed you and they’ll lock you in the chain with the others.”

“And what if they don’t trust you? What if they search me and find a hidden wand? What then?” Ginny posed in a worried tone. “What if they figure out who you are?”

“We’ll worry about that when we come to it,” Harry replied, an uncomfortable look on his face.

“So what happens once they lock me in the chain?”

“While you break the chain, I’ll try to disarm a couple of them. Hopefully they’ll be too confused to realize what’s happening, and you’ll have enough time to break free and give me a hand. Once everyone’s loose, and we have a few of the Death Eaters disarmed, we may have a chance.”

Ginny nodded her head in understanding, trying to piece together the information racing through her mind. “Harry, what if they assume I’m you when they see me, since I’m the only one still not captured?” Ginny wondered as she ran her hands through her fiery hair.

“You’re not the only one,” Harry replied quietly, lifting the Death Eater mask he’d cast to the ground earlier that night.

“What?” Ginny practically shouted, turning to face Harry in surprise. “Who? How do you know?”

“Ron’s still out there,” Harry finally said after a long pause, not meeting her eyes. “If we hurry we may be able to free the others before they catch him.”

Ginny’s heart began to beat painfully against her ribcage. The fact that Harry wasn’t meeting her eye worried her. Ginny wanted to know more, and she could sense by his strange behavior that there was more to the story than he was telling her. Tears of dread stung her eyes as she stowed her wand in the sleeve of her robes and practically ran to the door. “Let’s go,” she said in a brave voice, throwing herself into the darkness. She’d already lost one brother today. There was no way in hell she was going to lose another.

---

Harry led Ginny through the trees, grasping her hand protectively as they moved closer to the camp. He felt truly uneasy about their plan, startled that he was so willingly placing Ginny in danger. So much could go wrong. So much could happen to her. But Ginny didn’t seem worried. In fact she looked unaffected, brave and courageous like a seasoned warrior as she followed Harry deeper into the trees, her head held high.

A short distance from their destination, Harry pulled Ginny closer and pressed her against a tree, losing themselves in the shadows. “Are you ready?” he whispered in her ear, trying to keep his nervousness from showing. Ginny nodded in response. Harry took a moment to meet her eyes, trying to judge how she was really feeling. Her gaze was firm, unyielding. If she had any qualms about their plan, any fear over the moments ahead, there was no trace of it on her beautiful face. She looked ready, determined.

After a brief kiss for good luck, Ginny spun around and allowed Harry to bind her hands with ropes conjured from his wand. Turning back, she looked slightly nauseated as she watched Harry pull on the Death Eater mask. Harry was feeling a bit ill himself, dressed in the garb of his enemies. He almost felt like a different person, as though Harry no longer existed within the folds of the black robes. It could be anyone hiding behind this mask, some strange unknown foe. It made Harry sick to realize how easily someone could hide behind this disguise, becoming less than human in the safety of its secrecy.

He shuddered involuntarily as she pushed Ginny before him, heading towards the clearing, his heart racing. They had just left the safety of the woods when Harry froze, his stomach plummeting in dismay. The departed Death Eaters had returned with Ron, and much to Harry’s surprise, Hermione in tow. They both appeared terribly injured; Ron’s robes smattered in blood, Hermione sporting wounds from the Blasting Charm that morning. He sighed internally, knowing this new development would complicate things greatly. Now, more than ever, Harry was determined to make their plan work. He and Ginny were now, truly, everyone’s last hope.

“Make this look convincing,” Harry mumbled into Ginny’s ear as he pressed her forward, leaving behind the safe confines of the shadows. He grunted as Ginny obliged, thrashing about as though she were in the clutches of a true Death Eater. Harry looked up, expecting someone to see through his disguise, to question why he was alone, but they simply nodded in appreciation at his prize as he brought Ginny further into their midst.

---

Ginny gasped in despair, despite her best efforts to put on an air of bravery. Her whole family sat before her, their bodies covered in blood and bruises. She met Bill’s eyes first. He looked strangely pleased to see her given the situation, and he wasn’t the only one. Her mother clutched a hand to her heart, a look of relief spreading over her tear stained face. They thought I was dead, Ginny thought in wonder as she continued struggling against Harry’s grasp, allowing him to lead her closer to the Death Eaters.

Halfway across the camp Ginny’s gaze locked with Hermione’s. She nearly broke under the strained look on Hermione’s face, the appearance of helplessness in her friend’s eyes. Ginny wanted to speak to her, reassure her that they had a plan and everything would work out alright. Instead she settled for holding Hermione’s stare, trying to exude as much hope and strength from her body as possible. It seemed to work. Hermione stood taller, walking with determination to Ron’s side, giving the Death Eaters a rather impressive glare as she knelt before them.

The next few moments passed in a blur. Ginny’s mind was consumed with their plan, trying to add the new complication of new hostages and more Death Eaters into the equation. She hardly noticed when one of the Death Eaters began inquiring about her presence, until she felt him roughly grab her face, pulling her chin higher so he could look in her eyes. On reflex, she bit the man’s hand, anger swelling through her body at the physical intrusion. The next moment her face was burning with pain as the man slapped her across the cheek, her head whipping back painfully. She was almost thankful when Ron leapt forward to retaliate. Had he remained still, someone might have noticed Harry flinching angrily, his hand flying for his wand before he could stop himself.

Everyone’s voices seemed muffled after that, the sound of the world drowning in the ringing in her ears. She shook her head lightly, willing the piercing pain to subside while the Death Eaters argued around her.

“I think it’s this one,” one of the Death Eaters said in a nasal tone, grabbing Ron’s head and snapping it back roughly. “Didn’t like it when he hit your little girlfriend, did you?”

Ron paused for a moment, then replied, “No, I didn’t appreciate it,” in a firm, steady tone.

Ginny practically leapt from the ground, turning to Ron in exasperation. She opened her mouth, words of warning begging to tumble from her lips, but a rough shove from Harry reminded her of her promise. No matter what, she needed to focus on getting placed within the chain. If she didn’t, there was no hope for any of them.

“You claim to be the boy, then?” said the Death Eater that had slapped Ginny just moments before.

“Yes.”

“No!” Hermione screamed suddenly. “Ron, I won’t let you do this! I won’t let you take my place... I’m the one you want.”

Ginny gaped at the two of them, her heart momentarily ceasing to beat in her chest. This couldn’t seriously be happening…

“Hermione, stop!” Ron said angrily, turning to gaze at Hermione with a crazed look on his face. “It’s over! They’ve caught me, now let them take me!”

“No, Ron,” Hermione responded gently, “I won’t let you take the fall in my place.”

A gasp caught in Ginny’s throat as two Death Eaters stepped forward and pulled her off the ground. She watched her brother and Hermione as the Death Eaters threw her roughly to the ground, locking her with her family in the chain. It was obvious that something had changed between them. The way they looked at one another, and the passion in their voices, gave it all away. Ginny closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath, trying to still her raging mind. She couldn’t lose her focus now, no matter what happened in the next few moments.

Slowly she gathered her strength, awaiting Harry’s signal.

---

It took every last ounce of energy Harry possessed to stay silent as his friends willingly took the fall in his name. In truth, they had no idea that he was there, standing just behind them, but he still felt immensely guilty. His lie had gotten them into this mess, this moment of choosing to sacrifice themselves for the good of the others in the hopes that help would soon be arriving.

Harry watched silently as the Death Eaters swept forward, dragging Ginny away from him and throwing her in the chain with the others. Everything was going according to plan. Everything, that is, but this new complication of his two best friends moments away from a death sentence.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Harry turned and gazed at Ron and Hermione. He knew he couldn't act now. They were at an incredible disadvantage, Harry being the only one not tied up and possessing a wand. If the Death Eaters caught him now, there would be nothing to stop them from killing everyone else. As much as it killed him, he had to wait, to time his attack perfectly.

“Fine,” one of the Death Eaters finally said, gazing icily at Ron and Hermione, “we'll take them both.” A collective gasp seemed to rise from everyone at these words. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley bellowed nonsensically. The Death Eaters shook their heads in disagreement. Harry swelled with rage.

“We can’t take them both! The Dark Lord only wants Potter…” one of the Death Eaters began.

“And that’s precisely what we’ll bring him! Since both of these two claim to be Potter, we’ll just have to prove one of them wrong. It will only take a brief detour to determine who is lying,” the Death Eater said confidently. He motioned two Death Eaters forward, ordering them to lift Ron and Hermione off the ground.

“Watch the others until we return,” the leading Death Eater spoke before vanishing with a crack. The ones holding Ron and Hermione followed moments later, a resounding shout of despair following their departure.

Harry gripped his wand tightly as he watched his best friends disappear, his face distorting with repressed anger. Now was their chance to strike. The Death Eaters had no leader, and were fewer in number. They would be caught off guard. Harry cast his signal in Ginny’s direction, and then raised his wand ready to strike. He had no intention of drawing this out; Ron and Hermione needed him now, and based on what Flint had told him, he knew exactly where they were being taken.

With a blast of light, the new battle began.

Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize belongs to me, just borrowing from JKR.


A faint whisper of wind stirred the trees, brushing away the words of the head Death Eater until the camp was filled with utter silence. It was like they had all been frozen, his dreaded statement somehow causing the very earth to still in its motion.

Ron's lungs were screaming. He'd been holding his breath, waiting for them to choose between Hermione and himself. Now that a choice had been made, he’d forgotten how to breathe. The Death Eater's words kept echoing through his mind, cruelly mocking him. Both. They were going to take them both. He couldn't wrap his head around the situation, the meaning behind those words. He had just barely prepared himself for his own decision to take the fall in Harry's name; he couldn't accept this new information, or fathom what this decision might truly mean for him and Hermione.

As a Death Eater swept forward and pulled him roughly off the ground, Ron took in a sharp gasp, flooding his body with blessed air. He felt his mind clear slightly, allowing him the clarity to process the scene around him. He took a moment to look at the clearing, quite likely the last time he would ever see his home. He stared at his family, their ginger heads turned in his direction with disbelieving looks on their faces. After a moment he forced himself to turn away, knowing he'd lose his resolve if he focused on their worried energies any longer.

"Watch the others until we return," Ron heard a voice behind him say as the Death Eater at his arm tightened his grip. Quietly he lifted his eyes to meet Hermione's as he prepared himself for the journey ahead. Her eyes were wide, and their brown depths had a pleading look about them, as though she were begging him to forgive her, like she'd failed him in some way.

Funny, Ron thought to himself as he was Apparated away from the Burrow. I feel like I’m the one that let her down…

---

Though she'd never admitted it to Ron or Harry, Hermione wasn't very fond of Apparating. The feeling of being squeezed through a narrow tube was not one she fancied; no matter how many times she tried it. But, at that very moment, she would take Apparating any day over what she'd just experienced. The Death Eater that had grabbed her had proved to be a less than desirable Side-Along traveling companion. Along with being rather ungentlemanly with his grip, he'd obviously not mastered his three D's. Hermione had landed beside him feeling like she'd almost been torn in two, gasping for breath and immensely shocked to find she hadn't been splinched.

Not skipping a beat, the Death Eater had roughly grabbed her arm, pitching her forward just as Ron landed somewhere behind them. She swayed and stumbled, tripping ungracefully along the unknown path. Her eyes grew wide in the enveloping darkness, searching in vain for anything familiar, for some assurance of their location. All that she found was a forest of gnarled yew trees, their aging branches coiling as one, blocking her view of the clouded skies.

Hermione jumped as a bird screeched in the distance, a piercing call that set her senses screaming. With every step she felt her body tensing, the hair on her arms standing at attention in preparation for some unseen attacker in the darkness. But Hermione didn't need her eyes to see what was coming. She knew she was walking towards her mortality, each unconscious step leading her closer to her own demise. She could feel it looming, mocking her in the scream of the unseen bird, through the aggressive touch of her captor. She and Ron were on a death march.

Yes, she knew she'd taken this task willingly, but it didn't mean she was ready for what lie ahead. The thought of she and Ron's soon-to-be shared fate sent icy shivers down her spine. She could only take solace in the knowledge that the Death Eaters still didn't have Harry. Wherever he was, for the time being, he was safe. Out of Voldemort's grasp. She and Ron were giving him a chance to keep going, to keep fighting. Tonight will only strengthen his resolve, she thought sadly, thankful that at least she could give the world that much.

---

Ron tripped and stumbled, his feet catching on roots and loose bits of earth as he scampered through the darkness. Hermione was walking just ahead of him, her darkened outline just noticeable in their morbid procession. Ron saw her tremble slightly. There was a chilled crispness in the air, but he doubted she was cold. His own body was shaking terribly that very moment, complete dread consuming him as he labored forward. He was finding it impossible to prepare himself for the minutes that lie ahead, to make his heart stop racing, to stop the sweat forming on his palms. Even after months of mentally readying himself for his mission with Harry, he felt completely unable to deal with this unexpected situation. It was one thing to die in battle. It was another to lay yourself out for slaughter.

Ron sighed and continued gazing at Hermione. He wanted to be angry at her with every fiber of his being, to be livid and beside himself with annoyance at her actions minutes earlier. But somehow he couldn't feel anything but admiration. She'd acted bravely, selflessly. Her actions had been no different than his own. He couldn't be angry with her.

Right now, all he could really feel was fear. Fear of watching her be hurt, or tortured. Of seeing her in pain, far more extensive than she'd already experienced that day. Afraid of seeing her die. Ron wasn't sure he was strong enough for that. He could put on a brave face and walk into the unknown with his own life hanging in the balance, but he knew he wouldn't survive seeing anything happen to her.

He couldn't stand the thought of losing her. They'd only just become something more, just admitted they had feelings for each other beyond just friendship or Gryffindor housemates. It would be a cruel twist of fate to bring them so far, only to pull them apart now. But he couldn't see a way out of this, no saving grace on the horizon. No one knew where they were, there was no hope of rescue. He looked weakly at the black trees around him, hoping blindly that perhaps somehow, miraculously, someone might come to their aide before it was too late.

---

Hermione huffed uncomfortably, the ground beneath her feet becoming increasingly steeper as she trekked forward. The trees were becoming sparse now, breaking into open space as she ascended a small hill. Strange shapes were emerging in the distance, shadowy figures looming up from the ground. As she drew closer she realized they were gravestones, deteriorating with age, waiting in vain for a possible visitor, their inhabitants long forgotten.

As she crested the top of the hill her eyes fell on a massive monument, a large stone angel on a marble pedestal. Her wings were spread wide, as though she were about to take flight from the desolate cemetery. Her open arms were stretched high, reaching towards the heavens, a look of hope in her eyes. Hermione couldn't tear her gaze away, captivated by the angel's almost ghostly image. Her eyes drifted lower to the pedestal, focusing on an inscription carefully carved along its base.

Fear not ye who enter here, for grace is with thee
Hermione gulped and tore her eyes away from the angel, her heart racing at the irony of the words in the inscription. She was completely terrified, practically beside herself with dread. And yet she felt rather poised given the situation, walking with her head held high, keeping her doubting heart well hidden.

She reluctantly allowed the Death Eater to steer her towards the middle of the graveyard where a small assembly of hooded figures stood in waiting. Their wraithlike masks were turned in her direction as she entered their midst. She could feel their eyes drifting over here, studying her every feature. She brushed aside the desire to be self-conscious as they roughly shoved her to the ground with a thud, pulling Ron up beside her before closing ranks around them.

Moving as one, the robed Death Eaters turned, drawing attention to a dark figure descending through the headstones. Hermione's heart plummeted to her knees as she watched the new demon approach, suddenly terrified beyond reason at who might be hiding beneath the hood. Almost unconsciously she stirred, sliding her body a few inches until she was pressed against Ron's side. He leaned into her in response, whether out of protectiveness or the desire for her comfort in return she didn’t know.

The Death Eaters parted, allowing the robed figure to enter the circle before tightening together once more. Hermione could see naught but blackness around her, not even in the towering figure looming over her head. She licked her lips nervously as the figure raised its arms, revealing pale hands from the overly long sleeves of the robes. As the hands lowered the hood, Hermione gasped and recoiled despite her best efforts. She stared at the man before her, a mix of fear and utter hatred churning like bile in the pit of her stomach. Thousands of angered words begged to drip from her lips as she glared at him, but she knew better than to lash out while surrounded by Death Eaters. She settled for a vindictive stare as she awaited his word.

---

Ron glared at the headstones as he made his way through the cemetery. Judging by their decay, he guessed that this cemetery was at least two hundred years old, if not more, and it appeared to still be in use. There was a section towards the center with newer plots, some even decorated with fresh flowers. It was in this place that Ron found himself flung once again to his knees, gazing side-long at Hermione as the Death Eaters closed in around them.

In the distance another figure has appeared, moving intently towards where he and Hermione had been thrown. An almost respectful silence befell the Death Eaters as their newest member approached. At that moment, Ron was forcibly reminded of Harry. It had taken Harry so long to finally tell he and Hermione exactly what happened the night Cedric died. After knowing the truth, Ron had found it impossible to look at Harry the same as he could before, knowing the torments he’d survived. He couldn’t forget the haunted, hardened look that had formed in his best friend’s eyes as he’d recounted the experience. Seeing someone die… Being tortured and taunted by Death Eaters… As the black hooded figure entered the circle, Ron couldn’t help but think he was about to relive that same horrifying experience, though he doubted the outcome would be the same.

The robed figure loomed nearer, drawing closer to where they were kneeling until Ron felt Hermione shudder and move closely to his side. He automatically responded, leaning into her protectively as he gazed ahead, a defiant look on his face. Finally after a moment, the figure raised his arms, grasping the edges of the hood and lowering it with a steady hand.

Ron’s face slid into an angry grimace, his hands automatically thrashing against his bonds at the sight of the man before him. He wanted to launch off the ground and tear him limb from limb, pay him back from the wrongs he’d committed. The betrayal. Somehow he managed to calm his rage, glaring with vile hatred at the pale faced man before him.

“You’d do well to wipe that smug look off your face, Mr. Weasley,” Severus Snape, their former potions master sneered down his greasy nose. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize belongs to me!

The sound of her mother’s sobs tore at Ginny's heart as she silently watched her brother and Hermione disappear. She had to remind herself to keep breathing, to keep her wits sharp for the fight that still lie ahead. She closed her eyes, allowing one angry tear to slip down her cheek as she silently pleaded with the night to bring her family and friends through the struggle. For everyone to, somehow, last until the morning.

Ginny gasped, opening her eyes as she felt a tingling warmth sweep across her body. That's Harry's signal, she thought as her heart flipped madly in her chest. It was time to make their move. Ginny twisted her body, fluidly pulling at the bonds Harry had placed on her wrists. She held back a cringe as the rough ropes scratched her skin, sighing with relief as her hand finally slipped free.

Keeping her arms behind her back, Ginny tugged on her sleeve, releasing the hidden wand inch by inch until it landed safely in her trembling hand. She heard Bill gasp behind her, twitching slightly as he saw the wand come into view. She'd been counting on this. Screwing up all her energy, she tried to send a message to her brother with her body language. Be ready, she thought with all her might, nodding her head slightly in hopes that he might understand her meaning.

Though she couldn't see him, Ginny knew Bill had understood. She could feel the air behind her changing, her family silently spreading the word that something was about to happen. She held her breath as she watched Harry raise his wand, hitting one of the Death Eaters before him with a Full Body Bind. As the frozen man crashed to the ground, another Death Eater retaliated, a confused shout escaping his lips as he fired a bright jet of red light in Harry’s direction.

The light of the Stunning Spell drew the attention of the other Death Eaters. For a moment none of them moved; they just stood transfixed as they watched, what appeared to be, two of their number suddenly locked in a duel. Ginny took a breath, muttering “Aboleate!” as quietly as possible. She sighed with relief as the band of green light broke, uncoiling itself from her family and the Order in one swift motion. The clearing darkened instantly as the emerald light died, sending the remaining Death Eaters into a panic as they realized their hostages had been set free.

---

Harry grunted, avoiding the Death Eater’s Stunning Spell with a quick turn of his body. He could feel every eye in the clearing upon him, the confused stares of the waiting Death Eaters piercing through his mask and robes, dissecting his disguise in search of the hidden man that lie beneath. As he fired a spell in retaliation, the night went black, the green light from the Evincious Chain suddenly fading into nothing.

Harry grinned to himself, praising Ginny in his mind for successfully completing her task. The trickiest part of their plan was over, but now the real trouble was about to begin. He celebrated their small victory for a brief moment before turning his thoughts back to the task at hand, focusing all of his energies on taking the Burrow back from the Death Eaters.

“Stupefy!” he shouted, taking aim once more at the offending Death Eater before him. The spell reflected harmlessly off a well placed Shield Charm, never reaching its target. Harry rolled to the ground as another jet of light shot in his direction, this time from a second Death Eater in the distance. Raising his wand, Harry went on the defensive, blocking spells from both attackers, casting protective incantations without pause.

He could hear the sounds of shouting around him, and the occasional screams when spells met their mark, but he could see nothing except the two men before him. The mask he wore inhibited his gaze, both helping and hindering him in his fight. The moment Harry had placed the mask over his face he’d realized there was something special about it, some hidden magic that radiated from its surface. Now that he was locked in battle, the spell was taking affect. The world around his attackers grew darker, making their robed forms more visible in the blackness of the night. Harry suddenly had the vision of a predator, his prey vividly capturing his focus, the rest of the world slipping into oblivion.

For a few minutes Harry lost himself in the fight, seeing naught but the Death Eaters before him, sensing nothing but the will to stave off his own demise. He launched attacks and blocked returning spells with remarkable ease, his senses completely in tune with the two men before him. Thinking fast, Harry recited a Reflecting Spell Hermione had taught him, reflecting a powerful jinx back at its sender. One of the Death Eaters fell to the ground hard, the spell ripping his robes along his arms and stomach, revealing brilliant pools of blood in its wake.

Harry turned towards the other Death Eater. The man seemed oblivious to the fate of his comrade, not even casting him a second glance as he resumed dueling. For a moment Harry wondered if he’d even noticed the other Death Eater fall, the enchanted mask creating a blanket of selfishness around every fighter. Somehow, Harry suspected there was more to it than that. The mask and robes may have perpetuated a lack of selflessness in their wearers, but they couldn’t entirely erase the person underneath. Harry himself had found the focus the mask leant him intoxicating, but his heart kept reminding him that he needed to check on the others.

Acting quickly, Harry rapidly cast a Stunning Spell, followed immediately by a Body Bind. His plan worked, the red light of the Stunner distracting the Death Eater long enough for the Body Bind to break through his defenses. The man fell to the ground, his body stiff and unmoving. Harry paused and frowned slightly at the two men before him, their outlines fading slightly in the vision of the mask, no longer posing a threat in the fight. He took two steps forward, intent on quickly disarming the pair when a feminine scream met his ears.

Ginny…

---

Ginny leapt to her feet, brandishing her wand before her like a sword. Her fiery hair whipped around her shoulders as she spun on her heel, taking aim at her nearest enemy and toppling him with a powerful hex. Bill appeared from behind her, laying a ruthless, well placed blow on the fallen Death Eater as he tried to rise from the ground. Bill snatched the wand from the fallen man's hand, sending Ginny an appraising look as he ran back to the others, leaving her to her own devices.

She cast her eyes about, searching for oncoming attacks and ready to continue fighting. Up ahead she could see Harry, still hidden beneath the Death Eater’s mask, dueling against two enemies. She took a step in his direction, marveling slightly at the speed he was hurling defensive spells, when she was stopped by an oncoming jet of blue light. The spell spiraled towards her rapidly, flashing in her eyes as she deflected it at the last moment. She raised her wand to retaliate, only to find that Fred and George had beaten her to it. She smiled tiredly in appreciation, watching the twins pounce on her attacker, putting up an impressive fight even without the aide of magic, practically bringing the Death Eater to the ground with their matching punches. To their left, Lupin was grappling with a rather large figure, fighting almost animal-like as he sought to gain control of the Death Eater's wand. Ginny sighed in momentary relief; it seemed like their plan was working.

Turning about, she spied her mother and father in the distance, dragging the unconscious form of Kingsley Shackbolt to safety. Seeing that neither of them were armed, Ginny began to run in their direction, determined to give them cover. Suddenly a spell came flying up behind her, hitting her sharply on her lower back and pitching her forward. Ginny grunted and stumbled, feeling all the breath rush from her body as she collided with the ground. She rolled on her back, frantically searching the clearing for her unseen attacker, her eyes blinded by insistent, pained tears.

A Death Eater sprang from the shadows, the woman who had spoken heatedly earlier in the night about disposing of the captives “properly.” She slashed her wand at Ginny maniacally, obvious enjoyment dripping from her limbs at the attack. She fired a jet of yellow light, her wand aimed at Ginny’s chest. Ginny saw the light just moments before it struck. She rolled to her side in an attempt to dodge the spell, but she wasn't fast enough. She screamed as it hit her upper back, crying loudly as her skin was torn and burned.

Ginny pushed with all her might, trying to turn and retaliate before the woman could strike again. Her hand trembled as she lifted her wand, and she begged her eyes to focus as she aimed at the offending Death Eater. Suddenly a streak of white hurled past her blurred vision. The female Death Eater released a howl of pain and shock, her hands flying to the back of her head in surprise. Ginny blinked hard and pushed herself to her knees. She gazed at the scene before her, slightly shocked at the sight that met her eyes. Fleur was attacking the female Death Eater, her manicured hands clawing at the back of the woman's black hood. The Death Eater shrieked as Fleur pulled harder, no doubt grasping a clump of the woman’s hair in her clenched fingers.

Ginny panted and raised her wand. "Stupefy!” she grunted, hitting the female Death Eater square in the stomach before she could mount another attack. Fleur released her grip on the woman as she crumpled to the ground, instantly turning her attention onto Ginny.

“‘Ere, give me your ‘and,” Fleur said in a rush as she stalked forward, pulling Ginny to her feet and examining her wounds with worried eyes.

"Thank you,” Ginny gasped, forcing herself to release Fleur’s hand, relenting the support she had offered. “Don't worry about me, just grab her wand!" Fleur nodded and turned, stooping over the Death Eater to retrieve the fallen wand. As she rose to a standing position, her body was abruptly knocked backwards by an unseen spell. Ginny shrieked in surprise, looking on in fear as Fleur failed to rise from the ground. She growled, turning wildly in search of Fleur's attacker. Phlegm may be annoying, she thought with a grimace, but she's family now.

Family meant everything.

Ginny's mind reeled as she strained her body into a fully standing position, raising her wand in an attempt to keep fighting. There were people from both sides littering the ground. Her legs shook dangerously as she spied her parents, the twins, and Bill among the fallen, all lying frighteningly still. She saw Tonks racing to Lupin’s side, each fighting wildly and shouting warnings to the other as they faced down their respective attackers. Charlie was also still standing, though Ginny could hardly recognize him, his countenance smattered in dirt and blood.

A black outline lunged in Ginny's direction, slapping her hard across the face. Her head spun madly as she fell to the ground. She fought for control over her limbs as the Death Eater advanced on her, dark and unflattering words ringing from his lips. Her body arched and spasmed in pain as she was placed under the Cruciatus Curse, her mind slipping into darkness as she unconsciously screamed. The Death Eater held the spell for a few moments, enjoying the shouts that rent from her lips as she flailed helplessly before him. She gasped for breath as the spell lifted, struggling to remain conscious as the world slipped to blackness around her. Her eyes drifted shut as another robed figure emerged from the shadows, advancing on her prone form, wand drawn and poised to strike.

---

Harry turned at the sound of Ginny’s shouts, scanning the battle before him for any signs of her, or any indication of what trouble she might be facing. He ran towards the thick of the fight, pairs of dueling wizards all around him. Finally he spotted her, kneeling on the ground, blood dripping from a large gash across her shoulder as she watched Fleur grapple with a Death Eater. His stomach lurched as he stepped forward, only stalling when a spell collided with his arm. He groaned loudly, spinning quickly to find his new aggressor. His gaze focused on a young woman, her hair a vibrant pink against her bruised, dirty face.

He shouted in surprise as Tonks fired another spell directly at him. He barely managed to deflect it, stumbling back slightly. He started to feel anger rise inside him until he realized she had no idea who he was, hidden behind the mask of a Death Eater. He marveled that he hadn’t been attacked earlier as his mind raced, searching for a way to still Tonks’ attacks long enough to make his identity known. Desperate to reach Ginny’s side, Harry threw caution to the wind, quickly pulling the mask from his face and allowing his hood to slide down to his shoulders.

“Harry?” Tonks mumbled in astonishment, instantly lowering her wand and gazing at his face in wonder.

“Look out!” Harry bellowed, diving in Tonks’ direction as a Death Eater appeared behind her. He pulled her roughly sideways, effectively dodging a spell. Tonks wheeled about, launching a fast counter-attack. Harry joined her, their combined efforts easily bringing their assailant down. As the Death Eater fell, Tonks turned and gazed at Harry, her lip curling into an intrigued half-smile as she took in his robes.

“You’ll have to explain this to me later,” she grinned, clapping Harry once on the arm. With one last glance she turned and ran across the clearing to join Lupin, who was wrestling with two Death Eaters at once. Harry smiled faintly at the pair, his attention turning back to Ginny as he began scanning the scene around him. He turned sharply when her screams once again tore through the night. He streaked towards her voice, his heart plummeting when he saw her lying on the ground, shrieking loudly under the attack of the Cruciatus Curse. Harry lifted his wand, aiming it at the heart of the Death Eater before him.

Sensing Harry’s approach, Ginny’s attacker lowered the curse, turning to fight Harry face to face. They stood on either side of her unmoving form, firing spells with rabid urgency, the spells flashing brightly in Harry’s brilliant green eyes. He almost felt possessed, his desire to bring this battle to a close consuming him as he faced this last foe. Firing one more spell with a heated shout, relief swept over Harry as he watched the red jet hit the Death Eater hard, bringing him down with a deafening crash on the now silent battlefield.

Harry dropped to his knees at Ginny’s side, gingerly pulling her into his arms and whispering gently in her ear. She didn’t answer, her body quivering with each ragged breath. Harry raised his head, gazing around the clearing in search of help. Nearly everyone was down, most of them unmoving. Harry bit the inside of his cheek, refusing to let the worry and pain in his heart rise. Not yet. With an audible sigh he turned back to Ginny, running his hand across her cheek.

“Ginny?” he mumbled quietly, clutching her in his arms and hoping with all his heart that he might see her open her eyes again, just for one last time, sitting alone on the ruined fields of a battle won.

Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize is mine, I’m just exploring in JKR’s world.



Silver slivers of moonlight trickled through the clouds, casting a ghostly hue on the world below. The ashen marble headstones glowed in the darkness, creating an unearthly circle around the assembly of Death Eaters, blocking their actions from the rest of the world. At the center of it all Hermione knelt quietly, attempting to take a cleansing breath as she faced her old Potions master. She was determined to hold herself steady as Snape scrutinized her battered form, a familiar sneer playing across his face. His expression was an odd combination of boredom and revulsion, as though he felt above whatever task lie before him.

"I should have known you two would be foolish enough to end up in this situation," Snape finally drawled in a quiet, condescending tone. "I naturally expected Weasley capable of such senselessness. He's certainly proven himself to be dim-witted on previous occasions."

Hermione’s jaw dropped, her eyes flashing to find Ron’s gaze, her hands instinctively tugging at her bonds to bring him comfort or leap to his defense. She turned an indignant stare in Snape’s direction, almost admonishing him for such base cruelty, tearing someone down that had already hit rock bottom. The look she received in response made her blood freeze as Snape stooped slightly, a cold smirk on his face.

"I'd hoped for more from you, Ms. Granger," he whispered in a biting tone, his eyes scraping across her scarred face, "that you might have more common sense than to foolishly sacrifice yourself in the name of love." He spat the last word, causing Hermione to visibly flinch. "How very… disappointing."

Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes as he pulled away, his words replaying cruelly in her mind. The emotions she felt for Ron were raw and new, and somehow his scornful remarks had cut her deeply, opening some unknown wound in the middle of her heart. He'd spoken of her feelings as though they were cheap, even immature and reckless. It wasn't foolish to stay together, she argued with herself, pressing her weight into Ron, desperately searching for some kind of reassurance.

Ron turned his head slightly as she moved against him, resting his chin tenderly against her hair, the action almost defiant in the face of Snape's harsh words. Hermione sniffed quietly, demanding the persistent burning in her eyes to subside as distant memories clouded her thoughts. Murmurs from her past were returning to haunt her, old words of spite and scorn, many spoken by the man now standing before her, trembling straight into the depths of her heart and tearing at her conviction to be strong throughout this whole ordeal. Each reawakening some silenced doubt or fear.

Then, quite unexpectedly, a different memory broke through. Words spoken in reassurance not so long ago, at a time when she’d felt similar hopelessness to this very moment. Words that still meant so much, even now, given all that had happened:

'Dumbledore would have been happier than anybody to think that there was a little more love in the world…'

McGonagall's words penetrated Hermione's heart like a faint whisper, churning up the strength she'd momentarily forgotten. It wasn’t foolish to stay with him, she told herself again, this time firmly believing it with all her being. She couldn’t have let him go on alone any more than she could have stayed behind with the others. She couldn’t have lived with herself knowing she’d let him face this by himself, and somehow, she knew he couldn’t have made it this far, helpless as she was, without her at his side. No matter what Snape thought or said, it had been common sense to follow her heart tonight; she could have done nothing else.

Snape… quite suddenly a vague feeling of growing understanding began building in Hermione’s mind. Love. Dumbledore had held love in his highest regard, seeing its magic as more powerful than any other. He never took anyone into his confidence without its presence in their hearts. So why, of all people, had he trusted Severus Snape? Hermione had never seen even an ounce of love expressed in the words and actions of the man standing before her. Just moments ago he’d scorned the very idea of love… but for Dumbledore to trust him so implicitly, without question… there had to be something there.

Slowly Hermione raised her eyes and looked at Snape. He didn't seem nearly so formidable now, no longer the ominous Potion's Professor from her youth. She noticed that his skin looked wan, his face thinner… and his eyes. Why hadn't she seen that look before? They were empty, and lifeless, like someone who felt all but forgotten. And there was pain, unexpressed, lingering just beneath the surface.

The pain one can only realize when they have truly lost everything.

---

Ron gave a near silent growl, his blood running cold as he glared malevolently at Snape. As if we weren't in enough trouble already, he thought irritably, ruthlessly biting his tongue to keep his angered words to himself as he watched Hermione fight back persistent tears.

"Tell me," Snape drawled, finally pulling his eyes away from Hermione's face and fixing his gaze on the other Death Eaters. "Did you simply wish to waste my time, or was there another reason you brought these two to see me?" Ron felt the men behind him bristle at Snape's words, their robes rustling with indignation. One figure sidled closer, stepping forward from the circle, the same Death Eater that had taken charge back at the Burrow, a superior growl rumbling in his throat as he began to speak.

"A waste of your time?" he spoke in a scathing tone. "You are here to follow the Dark Lord's orders, Snape. Do I need to remind you of your place?"

"My place has been well presented to me, Hawkins. You would do well to remember your own." The entire circle stirred again at Snape's response, masked faces shifting expectantly between the two men.

"I know my place," Hawkins responded greedily. "The Dark Lord left me in charge tonight..."

"A decision he will likely regret later," Snape interjected, not even flinching as Hawkins threateningly drew his wand.

"You think you know better than the Dark Lord?" he sneered, taking a step in Snape's direction.

“I know that newer recruits are prone to rash action," Snape replied, his face disinterested as he regarded Hawkin's wand, smirking as it flinched in his hand. "I shudder to think how the Dark Lord will react when you come back empty-handed."

"My work is finished," Hawkins said, gesturing angrily in Ron's direction. “The task is now passed to you.”

"I think not."

There was a comical silence following Snape's last response, the robed figures around them lost for words. Ron's breath caught in his throat, silent dread slipping down his spine as Snape’s meaning fully penetrated. He knows...

"Explain," Hawkins finally barked, his wand twitching back to Snape's pale, greasy face.

A slightly triumphant gleam momentarily flashed in Snape's eyes as a sneering smile spread across his lips. It was a familiar look; the same Ron had seem him wear on countless occasions at Hogwarts. It was as if Snape was just teaching another lesson, surrounded by his students, his voice condescending and almost scholarly as he spoke.

“You had but one task before you, boy. You simply needed to discover Potter’s hidden identity and bring him here. Just that one simple task and you’ve failed.”

"What do you mean we've not brought Potter, Snape? You haven't even performed the spell yet,” Hawkins demanded, a slight quiver in his voice giving away his rising anxiety.

"I have other ways of knowing," Snape replied in a bored tone, his eyes flicking down to gaze at Ron and Hermione once more.

Ron growled quietly and turned his face away, refusing to meet Snape’s pointed stare. Bastard, he thought angrily, shuffling his legs in annoyance. This was it. Their plan to distract the Death Eaters was now pointless, their ruse uncovered in mere minutes. Vague hopes that Harry had managed to help his family began to dwindle, raw fears reappearing insistently in their wake.

With a sigh Ron raised his eyes, casting a questioning look at Hermione as the heated banter continued above them. She looked startlingly unafraid, her brown eyes soft and searching as she stared at Snape. For a moment Ron lost himself, forcing everything else from his mind as he traced the lines of her face with his eyes, watching her short curls stir in the breeze. His heart somehow knew that these moments, the tiny snippets of time where he could just look at Hermione, were growing few. He’d taken this for granted, just being around her. Now he was wishing for just a little more time.

He smiled inside when she gave a small exasperated sigh, the same she always used when dealing with a particularly difficult test question back at Hogwarts. She slowly turned her eyes to meet his own, confirming his fears. This is it, the last piece of his rational mind whispered as the voices around his grew louder. This is the end…

---

Hermione watched silently as Snape and the Death Eater, Hawkins, argued over her and Ron's fate. She was searching for reassurance of any kind, some clue to confirm her suspicions. Since Dumbledore's death she'd naturally lost her conviction that Snape was on their side and just misunderstood. But at that moment, as she knelt before him, her future resting in his hands, she couldn't deny the faint glimmer of hope growing in her heart. She couldn't forget the brief look of humanity she'd seen in Snape's eyes earlier that night, the revelation that love must exist somewhere inside him nagging at her persistently. She knew that as vile and debasing as Severus Snape may seem, he was truly their only hope.

"What do you mean we've not brought Potter, Snape? You haven't even performed the spell yet," Hawkins questioned, anxious worry slowly creeping into his words.

"I have other ways of knowing," Snape replied matter-of-factly, his eyes flicking down to gaze at Ron and Hermione once more. He stared at Ron for a moment, sneering as Ron pointedly avoided his gaze. As his face moved towards Hermione, she forced herself to meet his eyes. She wasn't surprised that he'd seen the truth immediately, or that he'd told the others right off that they'd failed to find Harry. She could have even brushed off his degrading words to her and Ron as second nature to his personality, but somehow she felt there was more to it than that.

Snape clearly wasn’t enjoying this. There was no thrill behind his overt arrogance, no relief that he’d finally be rid of Harry Potter’s best friends. His anger towards them seemed genuine, perhaps annoyance that they’d put him in such a difficult position. The Death Eaters around him seemed both respectful and callous, consumed with awe and spite, as if knowing he’d killed Albus Dumbledore had gained their respect and suspicion with one single blow.

Hermione frowned, realizing what a difficult place he was now in. If she was right, if there was some hidden reason for all that had transpired at the end of the school year, then he was now faced with a huge dilemma. The last thing he’d want to do is harm and potentially murder two people from his own side, but naturally he couldn’t refuse, his own life and position as a spy hanging in the balance. She could see no way around this; he’d meant what he’d said upon their arrival: they had no idea the kind of trouble they’d gotten themselves into.

With a sad sigh she turned her eyes away, feeling Ron’s gaze upon her face. She met his stare, his blue eyes swimming with unreadable emotion. She tried to hide the truth, that her previous hopes of Snape intervening had been dashed away as quickly as they’d come, but she knew he’d seen. The slight nod of his head and a rueful half smile said it all.

---

“Go down the hill and Apparate to the others,” Hawkins voice slowly cut through Ron’s thoughts, his eyes still locked with Hermione’s. “Bring the rest of the prisoners to me.” With a nod one of the Death Eaters left the circle, leaving the graveyard at a flurried pace as Hawkins turned back to face Snape. “While we wait for the others to arrive, I want you to try the spell-“

“As I’ve already told you, Hawkins, performing the spell on these two would be a waste of time,” Snape interjected, his eyes flashing in annoyance.

“I won’t be satisfied until you test them,” Hawkins hissed, inching closer.

“And what of the rest? Will you have me test all of them as well?”

“If it comes to that… perhaps you won’t have to, should one your first two attempts prove successful.”

“I’m telling you, these two are not Potter!”

“Then they will make excellent practice!”

A short standoff followed their shouts, Hawkins breathing heavily in his anger, Snape standing stoic with his usual icy calm. “Test the Mudblood first,” Hawkins finally muttered, his tone dark as he inclined his head in Hermione’s direction.

Ron’s heart plummeted, his body sliding forward automatically in an attempt to shield Hermione from view. No! he thought frantically, turning his head towards Snape in desperation. You can’t! You know she’s not Harry! The thoughts swirled hysterically through his mind, pleading blindly for Snape to test him instead. He wasn’t even sure what the test would be, or what dark magic it may require, but he knew it would be too much for her. She’s been through too much tonight already; anything more will kill her…

Ron locked his helpless gaze on Snape for the briefest of moments, receiving a narrowed glare in response. Snape curled his lip, flicking his black eyes in Hermione’s direction for a moment before raising his head, considering Hawkins once more.

“The girl won’t survive the spell,” Snape said mildly, carelessly whipping his greasy locks out of his eyes. “The Dark Lord commanded we kill no one until Potter is found.”

“Well… accidents do happen.”

“No!” Ron shouted before he could stop himself, tugging wildly at his wrists. “Try the spell on me instead.” Ron’s pleas were quickly silenced with a harsh blow from Hawkins, his head reeling as he wobbled dangerously on his knees. Someone grasped the back of his hair, dragging him ruthlessly across the ground and depositing him into the waiting hold of three excited Death Eaters.

“Your turn will come soon enough,” Hawkins whispered near Ron’s ear as he released him. “Right now you can watch with the rest of us.” He flicked his wand at Ron’s face, releasing a warm, purple mist from the tip of his wand that seeped into Ron’s eyes until they burned and watered. Ron tried to shut his eyes against the stinging pain, only to find they were locked open, fixed on Hermione’s terrified face as they drug her through the cemetery toward a pair of headstones.

---

“Test the Mudblood first.”

Those were the last words Hermione heard before her thoughts went foggy, her mind refusing to focus on the fate that now lie before her. She could feel the eyes of the circle upon her, the protective reaction from Ron. She vaguely registered Snape saying the spell would kill her, followed by Ron’s angry shouts before they pulled him away. It was his absence that she really noticed, the sudden lack of familiar warmth at her side. She raised her eyes to search for him in the fluttering movement all around her. She found him a short distance away, his lips bleeding, his eyes locked on her face with an agonizingly pained expression.

And then they came for her, one on each arm, dragging her across the sun shriveled grass, her legs sliding uselessly behind her. Unexpectedly they flung her forward, her face scraping across the uneven ground as she skidded to a halt. She awkwardly pulled herself back to her knees, her right cheek smarting painfully from sliding across the rough dirt and rocks as she slowly raised her head to see where she’d been thrown. She gasped audibly, her eyes sparkling with tears and growing wide with alarm, her head shaking in disbelief. She held back as sob as she stared at the two gravestones before her, each adorned with the same name:

POTTER.





Author’s Note: Most humbly sorry for the exceedingly long update. Please see my profile for the little note I posted a week or so ago explaining why everything has been taking so much time. Thank you for being patient with me, and for following this story so passionately. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Special thanks again for those readers that nominated “Senses” for a Quicksilver Quill award. That Runner-Up placement is all thanks to you guys!



~Ashley

Author's Note: I know this wait was terribly long. My writer's block was unbearably bad the past month (I quite literally rewrote parts of this chapter four times). So, now that it's finally here, I recommend going back and rereading a few chapters before plunging forward, just to refresh yourself on what's been happening up until now. How you enjoy it, two chapters left…

Disclaimer: Nothing here is mine. I can't believe the series is almost over =/



A cleansing breeze drifted through the trees, wiping away the lingering whispers of the battle until pale moonlight vibrantly lit the clearing. All was still beneath the misty blanket of smoke, the darkened grounds littered with fallen figures, an all too realistic picture of the ravages of war.

Lying near the outskirts of the forgotten fray was Ginny, her fiery locks fanned in tangled knots around her face, her body beaten and bloodied after a long night of fighting. Her normally bright face was cast in a ghostly pallor, her freckles disturbingly accentuated against the grayish tinge of her skin. She appeared as nothing more than a vacant body, all the life gone from a now empty shell as Harry knelt beside her.

Under the surface, Ginny was fighting a feeble battle against the moonlight tickling the edges of her russet lashes. She'd begun to stir when the harsh din of combat had faded, the resulting silence somehow more deafeningly painful than the sounds of war. At first she'd been confused, the realisation of all that had happened slow in coming, trapped in the fog of her scrambled thoughts. But then, slowly, she'd recalled everything. The wedding... the Death Eaters... a battle... her family...

She couldn't face that reality tonight, the thought of living in a world without her entire family beside her. It was too much to hope that they'd all managed to make it through the fight in one piece. Surely there had been losses, and she shuddered to imagine the final outcome of their fight. Cringing away from these thoughts, she'd allowed herself to drift into the numbness that was slowly consuming her. Sinking into nothingness seemed far more appealing than reality, finding solace in hollow darkness. There was less pain there. Less reality.

"Ginny?"

The sound of her own name shocked her, smashing through the barriers she'd created. Harry. She should have known Harry would find her. She felt her body jostle as he lifted her partially from the ground, entwining her gently in a tremulous embrace. He sounded worried. Scared, even, as though she was but a breath away from death... or maybe she was already there...

"Ginny?"

Harry's voice seemed quieter this time, as though he were farther off...

"Ginny, please."

Ginny's heart stalled, her mind suddenly focused on the sound of Harry's voice. He was pleading with her, his tone tinged with desperation. He was alone, and he needed her. Staying submerged in her protective darkness was tempting, but not as much as keeping Harry from falling apart with guilt. She had to wake up.

With an internal growl she began to fight, forcing herself to rise into the light, even as her body stubbornly resisted. Glimmers of sharp pain began building in her arms and legs, her head throbbing with her quickening pulse. She cringed against the sudden rise in sound, only to realize it was the rasping of her own breathe, the uneven gasps tearing at her lungs.

She choked on Harry's name as she tried to speak, her throat seizing up in protest. I'm here! she thought desperately as she drug her eyes open, searching blindly through her watery gaze for his face. Slowly two green pools came into focus, soft and searching, etched in worry and obvious relief. Harry didn't say anything, just pulled her close, one hand cradling her check as though she were made of porcelain.

Suddenly a deafening snap ripped through the stillness, shaking Ginny's already shattered nerves. She frantically searched Harry's face for some kind of explanation to the disturbance, but he was no longer looking into her eyes. His gaze was now intensely focused on something in the distance, his body suddenly taught and on edge as he quickly lowered her to the ground.

For an instant the world ceased to spin, the very breath in Ginny's lungs halted by the rising tension in Harry's stance... and then the night exploded. There were three sudden flashes of light, painfully intense to Ginny's weakened eyes. Her lashes flashed shut as a strangled cry rang from her throat, her brain uselessly urging her body to rise. She could hear people screaming above her, Harry's voice mixing with others, angry spells drowning out shouts of pain.

She opened her eyes, desperately searching for some answers as another crack of sound broke though the darkness, mixed with mingled shouts of, 'No!' and 'Harry, STOP!' She closed her eyes again when she heard a second crack, releasing a painful sigh into the sudden stillness as her heart sank. Without even looking she knew.

Harry was gone.

---

Hermione couldn't breathe, simultaneously mesmerized and repulsed by the image before her. The Death Eaters had brought her and Ron to Godric's Hollow. She was kneeling on the graves of Harry's parents, and she was going to die, just like they had, willingly risking it all to protect the people she loved.

Shuddering violently she forced her body to turn, slipping awkwardly across the ground until she was once again facing the circle of congregated Death Eaters. Even through their masks she could sense their expectation, feel their excitement at the treat that lay before them. They were unconsciously drawing closer, battling for the best position, seeking the perfect angle to watch the unknown spell unfold.

As the circle closed more tightly around her, Snape sidled slowly in her direction, his pale face terrifying in the surrounding circle of blackness. Hermione looked weakly into his eyes, unable to hide the fear churning inside her stomach. Her survival instincts were building a scream in her chest, a desperate plea to let her live. She bit her lip as a tremulous note echoed in her throat. Begging would do her no good now. Besides, she wanted to stay strong for Ron. He was probably going to suffer much more than she was, watching this happen to her before facing it himself.

She shivered at the thought, her gaze drifting automatically to find his face, her only light in the all consuming blackness. He was still struggling to break free from his captors, though his attempts were weakening rapidly, his eyes streaming as he unblinkingly stared at her face. She watched his lips tremble slightly as a faint whisper of words trickled unheard into the breeze. Even without hearing she knew what he'd said... he was sorry. And he loved her.

The clouds above their heads shifted, blotting out the last touch of light from the night sky. Hermione kept her face focused in Ron's direction, though he was little more than a darkened outline now.

"We're waiting, Snape," the Death Eater, Hawkins', voice growled menacingly in the distance. Hermione could almost hear Snape bristling in aggravation, his robes rustling the dried grass as he moved to stand above her.

'It will be quick,' a voice echoed in Hermione's mind, so faintly that she questioned whether she'd heard it at all as she turned to face the black figure before her. She nodded slightly, as if this were some consolation that a death rendered quickly was somehow infinitely better than one that was drawn out. She steeled herself as Snape raised his wand, holding her breath as two words drifted darkly from him tongue.

"Exossare Ascendi!"

The ground beneath Hermione's legs began to tremble, shaking angrily, a hollow rattle echoing deep beneath the surface. Despite her best attempts at bravery, she couldn't help but cry out as the earth surrounding her broke and cracked, leaving thin slices in the grassy hill as a strange, white substance drifted into the air.

The chalky mist had a slight ethereal glow, a sign of the magic that controlled it, lightly illuminating the night. It churned menacingly around Hermione's body, as though awaiting instructions, waiting for Snape's word before fulfilling its deathly purpose.

Although she'd never heard the spell before, Hermione was fairly sure what was coming next. Snape had conjured the once living marrow from the bodies beneath her, calling forth the dusty remains of James and Lily Potter to prove her a fake. She prayed Harry would never hear of this…

"Finish it!" Hawkins barked, his enthusiasm reflecting in the men around him.

Hermione didn't fight the tears as they came now, allowing herself to weep in silence. She turned to face Ron again as Snape raised his wand a final time, meeting his eyes as she whispered her goodbye.

"I love you..."

"Aperio Cognatum!"

As pleased shouts lifted from the circle, the white mist erupted into life, two thin streams breaking away from the rolling mass and encircling Hermione's body. The streams glowed more intensely, almost blindingly bright as they swirled rapidly around her, washing away her panicked gasps with every swipe past her face.

Suddenly the streams contracted, colliding with her body and seeping through her tattered clothing. For a brief moment there was only a sense of shock as she felt it sinking though her skin. And then there was only pain, unlike anything she'd ever thought possible, consuming her entirely until she knew nothing else. It felt as though her body was being turned inside out, her bones on fire and splintering.

Her body collapsed, screams tearing apart her throat as she fell into darkness, praying for the end as each excruciating moment passed.

---

Ron kicked with all his might, trying to release himself from the hold of the men around him. His efforts only earned him a swift blow, knocking the wind from his body as he slumped painfully back to the ground. He fought desperately to regain his breath as his captors dragged him forward, bringing him within mere feet of the place they'd thrown Hermione, taunting him with the knowledge that there was nothing he could do to save her.

His eyes were watering heavily now from being locked open, clouding his vision as he watched her slowly turn, matching tears pooling along her lashes. That was when he noticed the gravestones behind her, the name, 'Potter,' plainly clear at this distance. He felt his stomach turn violently, rolling with disgust at the inhuman men around him.

Shivering slightly, Ron watched her in awe as Hermione looked in Snape's eyes. How was she able to be so brave, even now? How could she stand facing the man that was about to end her life? His eyes began to water again, but it had nothing to do with the spell. This was the last time he would see her, his final memory of her face. Stubbornly brave and beautiful, kneeling before death.

Her gaze suddenly drifted in his direction, sweeping his face as though trying to bring him comfort. He unconsciously struggled against his captors again, a reflex upon seeing that look in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he mumbled tremulously, "I love you."

The world darkened as the whispered words died, the clouds above plunging them into blackness. He felt his last bit of hope and strength fade with the light, his mind a jumble of thoughts and words as the people around him began to speak again. He watched in silent terror as Snape raised his wand, flinching with the men around him as the earth suddenly began to shake.

There were unanimous murmurs of confusion for a few moments; everyone unsure of what to do next, when the shaking inexplicably stopped, its presence replaced by a glowing white mist that rose straight from the ground. There were excited whispers and anxious movements above him, but Ron ignored them all, too focused on keeping himself from being ill to notice anything else. Hermione looked like an angel in the unnatural glow, her face softer than he'd ever seen it.

"Finish it!" Hawkins shouted above him, painfully jostling Ron's body in expectation as Hermione turned to face him once again.

"I love you..." she mouthed barely above a whisper, tears freely flowing from her brown eyes.

"Aperio Cognatum!"

"No!" Ron growled loudly, his plea drowned in a torrent of celebratory shouts above him. He watched in horror as two strands of the white mist began rapidly curling around Hermione, her face panicked as it swirled tightly around her. Ron continued to fight uselessly against his captivity until the bands abruptly contracted, disappearing against Hermione's body as it seeped through her flesh.

For a moment there was stunned silence, everyone waiting for some kind of reaction. Hermione looked truly startled, her mouth hanging partially open on a surprised gasp. And then she started screaming, crying out at though she were being torn apart, her body convulsing with painful tremors as she fell to the earth. Through her shouts there was a loud crack, the sound of her arm breaking as she tore through the bonds at her wrists, though it seemed to add little to the torture she was already experiencing.

Ron began fighting with strength he hadn't known he'd possessed, easily toppling one of the men holding him down. The others began firing spells in his direction, continually knocking him back with throbbing pain. He couldn't think, his senses entirely focused on the sound of her screams, oblivious to his own well-being as he tried desperately to rise. He was finally brought down when an unknown spell collided with the side of his face, his body unceremoniously collapsing in an exhausted heap as blood trickled down his cheek.

"Hermione!" he cried on a breathless shout, shuddering as the sound of her pain threatened to consume him. His heart was exploding with emotions, love and rage almost tangibly seeping from his pores. He closed his eyes, wishing with all his might that he could ease her pain, losing himself in her screaming as his mind went black.

---

Harry grunted loudly as he leapt over a large fallen tree limb, never taking his eyes off the fleeing form before him. He couldn't slow down, not even for a moment. He had to stop the Death Eater before he let Harry's secret be known.

Back at the Burrow things had happened very quickly. He'd been so relieved to see Ginny open her eyes, his heart melting with worried thankfulness. And then the Death Eater had come. They'd stared at each other, frozen, each completely unprepared for such a turn of events. Harry had been planning to depart in a few moments, hoping to track down Ron and Hermione's captors, perhaps convince them that there was a problem with the other prisoners back at the camp. He didn't know this unknown Death Eater's reasons for coming back to the Burrow, but he had clearly not been planning to come face to face with Harry Potter, dressed as one of his own, sitting in the middle of a body-strewn battlefield.

Spells had been fired rapidly after that, each of them managing to graze the other, leaving bloody gashes in their wake. The renewed sounds of combat had alerted the others, Lupin and Tonks leaping immediately to Harry's aid, firing defensive spells at the faltering Death Eater in rapid succession. It had only taken the man a few seconds to realize how gravely he was outnumbered, cursing loudly to himself before Disapparating and vanishing from sight.

And Harry had followed. Lupin and Tonks had shouted at him, knowing instantly what he was planning to do. Hindsight told him he should have waited a moment, told them where he was going. But he'd acted on reflex. It had been blind faith that led him to this place, mere hope that Flint had been true to his word that the Death Eaters had planned to bring him to a graveyard. A graveyard that would have felt like a homecoming to Harry... he could only think of Godric's Hollow.

He'd landed in a forest, beside a faint path lit dimly by the waning moon. One frantic look around had confirmed his suspicions, the outline of a fleeing figure in black robes just visible through the trees. Harry broke out in a sprint, taking no notice of the branches that slapped his face and neck as he gained on his fleeing prey. He could only hope he'd reach him before they found the others, otherwise all their fates would be sealed.

Vaulting off a tree stump, Harry fired a Stunning Spell at the Death Eater's back, just barely missing as the red light collided with a tree, bringing the startled man to a halt. They faced each other then, wands raised and limbs tense, vying for an opening to bring the other down. Their spells illuminated the haunting, gnarled trees as the moonlight above them faded; their battle suddenly plunged into suffocating darkness.

Harry slunk around the trees, using their cover to block his opponent's spells while he repeatedly took aim. After many minutes of playing cat-and-mouse, a sudden opening came, though Harry would have preferred a never-ending standoff to this unexpected distraction. A barely audible scream lifted through the night. It was muffled, perhaps partially blocked by a Silencing Charm, though the blood chilling pain behind it was evident even through the spell.

For an instant the Death Eater turned, startled by the sound just long enough for Harry to bring him down, his body collapsing with a satisfying crunch in years of accumulated leaves. Harry bolted around the tree, diving straight to the fallen man's side, stealing his mask and wand in quick succession before launching himself towards the screams in the distance.

His lungs bellowed in protest at his speed, his legs locking as he raced up a slight hill, the screams growing steadily louder as he pierced the edge of the silenced area, mixing loudly with other shouts and cries of pain. With a cringe he pulled the mask over his face, just moments before cresting the hill. The sight that met his eyes nearly brought him to his knees.

Hermione. She was screaming without end, her body twisted in pain as a strange white mist glowed around her, illuminating the torment she was experiencing. Above her stood Severus Snape, his wand raised, his back to the others who where trying to keep Ron under control. Harry raced in their direction as the Death Eaters knocked Ron to the ground, propelled forward by the sound of Ron's voice as he cried out Hermione's name.

And then Harry felt himself falling, crashing unexpectedly to the ground with a shout of shock as the darkness around him exploded.


Author's Note: It has been proposed to me that perhaps this story would be better suited for the R/Hr and H/G category. I would love some feedback from everyone about whether they think it should move or not. Thanks =)

Disclaimer: Nothing here is mine; it is all written for pure enjoyment and borrowed for JKR’s world.

Author’s Note: I’ll keep the apologies brief. I worked two jobs for a month, then quit and moved to a new state. Needless to say, time was a commodity. But, all that aside, I’m happy with how this chapter turned out, and I’m excited to say this is the last cliffie you will ever have to endure with this story (and sadly it will also be the worst of the lot, so good luck one and all!). One more chapter guys! Thanks for sticking around, your thoughts and feedback are most welcome. Special thanks to Amy and Mar for being my muses.


"Wake up, Ginny! Come back to us now..."

"Does anyone know where he might have gone?"

"Ginny?"

"What if more Death Eaters come?"

"Just open your eyes..."

"We need to get everyone out of here..."

"We have to find Harry first..."

"Come on, Ginny!"

It was all too much for Ginny to handle, the voices tangling around her. Frustrated, painful tears swelled beneath her closed lids, her insides shaking as she fought to release the straining sadness building inside her.

"We can't find Harry if no one has any clue where he went-"

"That's why we're trying to wake up Ginny!"

"Quiet, both of you!"

Blessed silence followed Lupin's words, his body radiating warm life against Ginny's arms as he leaned over her, gently examining the injuries strewn across her body.

"She's starting to wake up," he whispered, conjuring a cool wet cloth to wipe her brow. Ginny groaned against the shocking roughness of the cloth's material, fevered shivers starting to creep down her back as cold droplets of water slid along her temples.

"We need to get her to St. Mungo's," Charlie said somewhere in the distance, his feet rustling the grass as he moved in her direction.

"I need to speak with her first," Lupin insisted calmly as he gave Ginny's arm a gentle shake.

"But she's hurt!" Charlie growled with worry, his calloused fingers clutching at her hand as he dropped to the ground beside her.

"Just give me a moment-"

"She's burning up!"

"Charlie!" Tonks stepped in, stumbling slightly as she joined them at Ginny's side. "Ginny is the only one that can tell us where Harry's gone. If we don't find Harry, we have no chance or finding Ron or Hermione, either."

Ginny knew her brother would have nothing more to say after that. Tonks' words had struck an important chord, her candor strong enough to still his tongue. Yes, Charlie was worried about everyone, especially Ginny, herself, at the moment. But she was here before him, injuries plain to the eye and help but a leap away. There were no answers in Ron's case, no absolutions about whether he was still alive, or what torments he might be facing. That alone, the worry for his youngest brother, was enough to keep Charlie at bay for a few moments.

Ginny heard more shuffling around her, the sound of robed knees catching on rocks as two strong arms slipped beneath her body, lifting it slowly from the ground. The cry of pain was beyond her control as they lithely settled her against Charlie's broad chest, each of them speaking soothing words of encouragement and even praise as she finally opened her eyes.

Her lips trembled upon seeing the expectant looks on their faces, the hopeful glow in their eyes as they prodded her to try to speak. She didn't want to face this, the angry defeat that was bound to follow her words. How could she tell them they were just wasting their time?

She didn't know where Harry had gone.

"Alright, Ginny, I know you've been through hell tonight, but I need you to tell me where Harry has gone. Do you have any idea?" Lupin questioned with gentle urgency, his thin frame swimming before her eyes.

Ginny opened her mouth meekly, unable to form a single word as she struggled with her uncooperative lips. She tried to tell them everything with her eyes, to express her helplessness as she fought to remain calm, hysteria threatening to creep in at any moment. She sent Tonks a pleading look as she uselessly opened her mouth again, her heart swelling with relief when understanding shone in her friends' eyes.

"She doesn't know anything, Remus," Tonks whispered, shaking her head slightly as she reached for Ginny's hand. Lupin seemed to ponder this for a moment, his face clearly falling with resignation.

"Are you sure you don't remember him saying anything, Ginny? Anything at all?" he asked with kind firmness, shifting his weight anxiously from side to side.

Ginny closed her eyes and sighed, unnoticed tears sliding done her cheeks as she wracked her brain. The last day was a blur of sounds and colors in her memory, sheer happiness from the morning melting instantly into despair and fear. An exasperated sigh seemed to be all the answer they needed now, Charlie moving immediately to sweep her into his arms as Tonks and Lupin rose from the ground.

"Take care of everyone, Charlie. We'll do our best to find the others. Hopefully you won't have any more uninvited guests tonight," Lupin spoke in quiet, rushed tones, his static calmness waning as he prepared himself for departure.

"She's too hurt for Side-Along," Charlie murmured, casting his eyes questioningly around the clearing in search of other options. "Floo?"

"No better than Apparating," Tonks replied with a rueful look.

"Well I can't very well fly everyone out of here!" Charlie groaned in exasperation, looking to his fallen family, his own body looking worn and near collapse. "What about a Portkey?"

Someone responded to Charlie's question, but Ginny paid no notice. Something was buzzing to life in her brain, the word, 'fly,' itching at some subconscious memory. Angry, panicked words, spoken between Harry and Flint in the broom shed stirred to life in her ears, pushing past the fog of her thoughts until they rung true.

You have to meet somewhere, Flint. Where did you join up before coming to ruin the wedding this morning? Where were they going to bring me once it was over?

"Graveyard," Ginny choked, rasping out a dry cough as the word scratched across her tongue. Charlie stopped dead in his tracks, pulling her body higher upon hearing her voice.

"She said something!" he practically shouted to Tonks and Lupin, pressing his ear closer to her lips as the coughing subsided.

Worried and curious faces filled her streaming eyes as she attempted to speak again. As she struggled with another wave of coughing she found a cup of water pressing against her lips, the cool liquid inside sloshing welcomingly onto her chin as she took a drink.

"Graveyard," she finally managed to pant, her body falling quickly into exhaustion as she sensed her part in the night's action coming to an end.


"A graveyard?"

"Why would Harry go to a graveyard?"

"He could be anywhere-"

"Why a graveyard?"

"I don't know."

"Could they be at Hogwarts?"

"Perhaps... no I don't think so-"

"Wait!" Tonks finally shouted, holding her hands in the air to call for silence. "I know that look," she said with a weak grin, pointing her finger at Lupin.

"It's just a hunch, but I think I might know where they are" he said simply, the look in his eyes suggesting he was fairly certain, and rather sick at the thought.

"Then let's go!" Tonks said, squeezing Ginny's arm once before moving rapidly to Lupin's side.

"Now you can rest," Lupin smiled weakly at Ginny, turning briefly to Charlie. "Take care."

"Good luck."

"Thank you... I think we may need it," Lupin said dismally as he pulled Tonks to his side, disappearing with a resounding snap.

---

Colorful slashes of pain painted the backs of Hermione's eyelids, bloody reds accented with blinding white as the deadly mist sank into the marrow of her bones. Her mind was shutting down, no longer registering her continued screams or shaking limbs. Her insides felt as though they were boiling, and her flesh burned. Her whole being seemed ablaze, fueled by an unseen fire of dark magic. The spell had far surpassed torture, making the dark gloominess of the graveyard more akin to the depths of hell.

Having reached her center in moments, the mist began returning to the surface, lapping like flames around her face and hands before returning to the air around her, glowing prettily, innocently awaiting further instruction. Though she was no longer under attack, the damage had been done. The pain did not subside, the burning stronger than ever with each unrelenting scream. The evil remnants of the mist seemed to be lingering inside her like a poison, slinking through her veins, seeking out the last remnants of life that remained intact.

It would fulfill its purpose soon; she could feel her body slowly dying.

And then, suddenly, somewhere beneath conscious understanding, Hermione sensed that something was happening. The world started shaking, rattling noisily as though the bones buried deep beneath the soil had come to life in their crypts. The Death Eaters shouted in surprise, swearing angrily as they toppled to the ground, crashing into one another among the aging headstones.

She was too far gone to be afraid. There were no thoughts to be had, no worries for the fate of Ron, or anyone else that she loved. No room to ponder what was to become of her now. Logic and reason, her grounding elements in life, were gone, their place in her heart and spirit replaced only with a desperate wish for fast release, away from the world and into the waiting arms of death.

Beside her someone rose from the ground, seemingly blind to the startled screams rising from the cemetery around them, uncaring of what had caused the strange blast. The shadowed figure settled at her side, cold hands analyzing the tortured inches of her face and limbs, prying open her clenched eyelids until she was looking straight into a pair of emotionless black eyes.

Severus Snape's face was grim, as haunted as it had ever been. He stared into her eyes, perhaps trying to read her mind, but there was nothing there for him to find. She couldn't form a single logical thought, no coherent words. But even through the muddled pain, the wish for mercy was evident. If she were able, she would have begged him to finish what he'd started, to deliver her to her end.

His cold eyes flashed momentarily, his mouth almost a grimace as he vanished from her struggling gaze. The sounds of rustling robes and small clinking bottles mixed quietly with her sobs, adding little to the already deafening cacophony around them. It took only a second for Snape to return to her side, a small bottle of unidentifiable potion clutched in his bony fingers. He clenched his jaw tight and looked off into the distance as he pulled the stopper free, moving with haste, as though afraid he would be stopped at any moment.

Hermione felt the cool glass brush against her mouth as he brought the potion forward, tipping it past her lips and down her throat while she choked and coughed painfully. She gasped for breath as she finally swallowed the cold liquid, her insides trembling as it clashed with the burning of her flesh and bones. And then, as quickly as it touched her stomach, she felt it taking effect.

Her mind was drifting into darkness, her limbs growing heavier even as they still shook violently with ache. The potion slipped through her veins, her blood slowing rapidly as it spread, settling a frosty chill in her muscles. Her breathing slowed until her cries were nothing more than feeble whimpers, withering into the night as she felt herself fading away.

Snape rose from her side and disappeared quickly, not lingering to witness the finality of his deeds. In her slowing heart she thanked him for his mercy. His motives in the war were still unclear, but this brief show of humanity gave her hope. Hope that the others might have an ally waiting in the wings, someone who might be able, before the end, to deliver them from sharing her fate.

Hermione's chest shuddered, a breath hissing past her lips, taking all physical feeling with it. The weak rhythm of her beating heart was the only sound that remained, pictures of her family and friends flashing in her eyes with each soft thump. Images not of the life she'd known, but of the life she hoped would continue after she was gone. Happiness for her parents. A future for Harry... and love for Ron.

With another gentle pound the outline of his face died, her world drifting into nothingness as she knew no more.

---

The blackness shattered abruptly, flashes of light piercing the darkness like shards of glass. Ron winced at the unexpected sensation, his frazzled mind barely able to register its alarm before his muscles suddenly went taut and rigid, his aching body pulling into a powerful bow-like arch. The life in his very core began to tremble, shaking straight through his bones, his veins tingling with tangible power as the very magic inside him seemed to come to life. It shot out from his body like unseen ribbons of fire, carrying all the strength of his love with it, slashing at the evil around him with one harsh blow.

The unknown spell only lasted for a moment, an infinitesimal note on the battle's bloody score, but the effects were no less damaging than the Blasting Spell Percy had cast the previous morning. The Death Eaters flew off their feet, torn from their rooted stance of torture, tossed effortlessly like dried leaves through they air. Their shouts rattled the darkness, startled cries scratching their throats with rage and fear as they smashed roughly into the gravestones around them, falling helplessly in the crumbling dust.

Still lying on the ground, his unblinking eyes streaming with tears, Ron fought to breathe, hardly managing the simple task in his weakened state. He'd done magic without his wand before, long ago in his childhood, usually after finding himself an unwilling victim in some hapless prank at the hands of his brothers. But never before had he done something so terrifyingly powerful...and never before had he feared the consequences. He could already feel the pain building inside him, an ache that was beyond physical discomfort, but rather a trembling hollowness in the very heart of his spirit. It pooled like wicked poison in his stomach, churning up regret even as he told himself it had been beyond his control, stirring up nauseated understanding as he struggled to remain calm.

With an almighty lurch he tossed his body sideways, ignoring the warning crack in his bound limbs, turning his head until he finally retched violently. He choked and shuddered as a second wave overpowered him, all too aware of his helplessness, and the smattering of dark figures rising like shadows from the graves all around him. He groaned in despair as they approached, his heart sinking in resignation. His energy was spent, his power drained. There was nothing left he could do. It was the end.

He looked blankly into the ghostly mask rising before him, his eyes barely registering the wand trained angrily as his skull. He cast his mind out one last time, searching for Hermione as he awaited the final blow. He whispered one last apology in his heart for failing her as her continued to scream weakly in the distance… at least they would be together soon. Clenching his jaw tightly, Ron focused his eyes on the ground and waited expectantly, arduously holding his breath as the Death Eater raised his wand to strike.

There was a sudden shout of alarm and a blast of light, but rather than the expected green of a Killing Curse, the world had been momentarily lit with a blast of heart-stopping, brilliant red. The Death Eater faltered for a moment before toppling limply to the ground, falling stunned at Ron's side. Two more jets of light shot rapidly from behind him, soaring into the distance and toppling two Death Eaters that had risen near the graves.

His brain spinning with confusion, Ron watched quizzically as a black shrouded figure dropped to the ground beside him and reached without pause for the ropes binding his wrists. Finding his arms finally free he tried in vain to push himself off the ground, collapsing in exhaustion after only a moment and rolling onto his back.

"No, Ron, don't try to move," a muffled voice trickled through the mask swimming above Ron's gaze.

Ron felt his insides lurch, his heart pounding into a painful fury. Harry was alive, and he was here. He made a feeble attempt to speak, to utter his friend’s name in thankfulness, to inquire about Harry's unexpected disguise, but his lips couldn't form the words. Even without speaking Harry understood, squeezing Ron's shoulder briefly before leaping back to his feet and charging out of sight.

Feeling a surge of strength come over him in the light of this sudden change in his favor, Ron, rolled once again to his side, reaching with a grunt for the wand of the fallen Death Eater beside him. Gripping the dust covered wand between his fingers he shoved his free hand roughly into the dirt, pushing hard against the earth until he finally rose to his knees, he body shaking tremulously. He had to rise to his feet. He had to fight! Even without looking he could hear that Harry needed help, the sounds of screaming and exploding spells growing more raucous with each passing moment.

Screaming…

Ron froze and listened with all his might, his heart refusing to beat as he waited with baited breath, picking through the deafening sounds around him one by one. He couldn't hear her. Hermione had stopped screaming…

No! She couldn't have stopped, the fight is just drowning her out, Ron thought desperately, pulling himself forward in an awkward crawl. She's still alive, she has to be!

The trek across the cemetery was painful and slow, his shredded robes clinging like fingers to the dried grass, his limbs heavy as lead. He no longer cared about the fighting behind him, or the occasional spells burning past his gaze. He could only think of getting to her side, or comforting her in his arms. They'd come so far, gone through so much together. It couldn't be over now!

Slowly her outline appeared in the distance, still swathed in an ethereal glow from the spell. No sound could be heard from her lips as he approached, no movement coming from her small frame.

She's just passed out, his mind screamed frantically as his pace increased, she's going to be fine!

Choking on her name Ron collapsed at her side, reaching frantically to touch her stilled limbs, his heart exploding with dying hope. He shook her urgently, clutching at her fingers and sobbing out desperate whispers for her to awaken, to open her eyes. Shaking madly he brought both of his hands to her face, cupping her pale cheeks in his palms as he lightly slid his thumb across her parted lips. There was no warmth in her, no flutter of movement from her closed eyelids. Her expression was peaceful, as though she had simply fallen asleep.

The heart wrenching cry that left his lips went unnoticed in the din of the battlefield, though it was just enough to camouflage the shattering sadness that exploded in his chest as he pulled her into his arms, cradling her close as the dawn began to break.

---

For the second time in less than a day, Harry found himself lying prone on the ground, having been knocked off his feet by an unseen magical explosion. For a few moments he could only stare at the purpling sky above him, utterly at a loss as to where he was. His mind was blank, as though every last ounce of mental sense he'd possessed had been knocked out of his brain by the force of the blast and the weight of his exhaustion. But then he heard a small sound, the slight groan of his best friend, struggling helplessly nearby, and reality came crashing back.

"Ron," Harry mumbled painfully as he pushed his body off the ground. He rolled into a cat-like crouch, scanning the broken graveyard around him, his stomach filling with grim satisfaction to find only a handful of the fallen black figures starting to rise following the blast. After a quick search he spied Ron upon the ground not ten yards away, limbs bound and body shaking, his face turned away from Harry's gaze, locked on the blackened outline of an approaching Death Eater. Just beyond Ron lay Hermione, still screaming in pain, her body trembling as Snape loomed ominously above her.

With a protective growl Harry leapt to his feet, running quickly to aide his helpless friends, their outlines fading rapidly with the magic of the mask he wore as three shapes materialized out of the dust and debris. With an angry shout he fired a Stunning Spell at the closest one, not pausing to watch him tumble to the ground before turning on the others. Even as he watched his spells connect with their marks, he knew he'd only bought himself a few moments as he dropped to Ron's side, fiercely slicing his wand over the bonds at his wrists, his heart wrenching with regret as he watched Ron attempt to rise from the ground.

"No, Ron," he whispered urgently, "don't try to move." He did his best to bite back the worry in his voice as he spoke, his throat tightening with guilt. The side of Ron's face was covered in blood, his eyes watering and painfully red around the edges, locked open in a wide, unblinking stare. Ron's chest seemed to rumble from the effort as he attempted to speak, his words deafened by overwhelming exhaustion and emotion, but his expression spoke clearly enough. There were a million things that needed to be said, from him and Harry both, but they had no time. The Death Eaters were closing in, and he still needed to help Hermione.

Harry grasped Ron's shoulder for a moment, bidding him to stay down and out of harm’s way as he jumped back to his feet, turning rapidly towards the last place he'd seen Hermione. He felt his heart stall when he caught sight of her again, her chest lurching painfully beneath a rasping cough, choking on an unknown potion that Snape was pouring down her throat.

His world seemed to explode in that moment, blind rage moving his limbs as he drew his wand high, aiming it at the heart of the man before him, the man that had cost him so much. He could feel a hateful spell building in his heart, the incantation bubbling on the tip of his tongue like venom, but the words never left his lips. He'd been so focused on bringing Snape down that he hadn't seen the Death Eater closing in, nor the fast approaching light of a Stinging Spell.

He toppled sideways when the spell collided with his shoulder, cringing at the biting sting that sizzled down his arm and across his chest, momentarily sucking the air from his lungs. He rolled to his back a moment before the Cruciatus Curse struck, seizing his body in a rippling wave of torture as a tall masked figure loomed angrily above him. His bones twisted painfully, kicking up heaps of dirt as he rolled upon the earth, his mind unwilling to accept defeat, even in the face of imminent failure. Ron and Hermione had fought for him, risked their lives. He couldn't give up now!

And then, as though by a miracle, the spell was lifted, his attacker screaming in startled pain as a spell slammed powerfully against the blade of his shoulder, toppling him to his knees. Harry took aim at the wounded man's chest, forcing a gasp of air into his lungs before shouting a Stunning Spell, bringing the Death Eater known as Hawkins down in a dazzling red blaze before throwing himself back into the fray.

He fell quickly into the rhythm of combat, the intoxicating focus of his mask pulling him straight to his enemies. In the shaded parts of his vision he could see Tonks and Lupin, their presence filling him simultaneously with confusion and an overwhelming sense of victory as they slowly faced the remaining Death Eaters, working together to bring them down one by one. They pushed them back until, sensing defeat, the last of them scattered, breaking madly for the edges of the cemetery, desperate to escape before the whole of their number could be brought down.

Without thinking Harry broke away from Tonks and Lupin, flying fast on the heels of one of the fleeing Death Eaters, determined to stop him before he reached the edge of the Apparation ward. Just one more, his mind kept screaming as his lungs begged for air, his legs moving on their own volition over the stony earth. Just one last enemy to face and this hellish night would be over. One more spell and this battle could end.

Growing tired of their endless chase, Harry finally growled in frustration, taking aim at the base of a large stone statue of an angel in the distance. The side of the sculpture shattered, her open wings and up stretched hands crumbling to rubble and falling right across the path of the escaping Death Eater. With an angry shout the man turned around, firing a succession of bright spells in Harry’s direction, putting up a spectacular fight as he searched for another route of escape. Casting a Shield Charm over himself Harry gritted his teeth in annoyance, searching for an opening before it was too late. After a few tense moments he finally lowered his shield, casting a series of nonverbal spells at his opponent until a Full Body Bind finally broke through, bringing his final challenge down with a resounding crash.

With a relieved sigh Harry took a step forward, moving to disarm his now prone enemy, when something unexpected caught his attention. Just behind the shattered remains of the statue was a tall, black cloaked figure, standing alone at the edge of the ending battle, staring inscrutably in Harry’s direction. The world froze for a moment as realisation set in, Harry’s insides trembling as he shook his head in disbelief, his wand hand dropping in shock. He was looking into the face that had haunted his dreams and waking thoughts for the past few months, reading unspeakable emotion in black eyes that had passed on nothing but scorn for everything he held dear for the past seven years. He was looking upon the countenance of Severus Snape, finding his form as dull and unlit in the mask’s power as the lifeless headstones all around them.

They stared at one another for the briefest of seconds before Snape disappeared from sight behind the statue, leaving Harry to gape in wonder for a moment before launching after him. He leapt at the marble pedestal, pulling himself over the mounds of rock and rubble, scanning his surroundings for any sign of Snape’s fleeing form. All that met his eyes was dazzling light from the slowly rising sun, an empty graveyard, and the remnants of a once grand plaque reading, ‘Grace is with thee,’ among the broken remains of the beautiful statue.

Disclaimer: For the last time, I must state that nothing here is mine, I just dancing around in Jo’s world for awhile =)

Author’s Note: Final chapter… I can’t believe this is it. It’s bittersweet, I’ll be honest. I hope you like this final piece of the story, it really ended exactly how I’d wanted. Thanks for following this little story through to completion. Please, if you feel so inclined, leave me a note to let me know what you thought, and any suggestions for my future writing.
Much love,
Ashley



The morning mist hung low upon the grass, masking the glittering dew like veiled fairy lights beneath their feet. All was still in the world, the sound of their steps shrouded with stifled sobs and the forlorn, mewling cry of wild peacocks on a distant farm. It was as if the earth itself could feel their pain, and sense their mourning, crying with them as they neared the final resting site.

Ron’s breath caught in his throat when he spied the coffin, cut simply out of oak wood, its hallowed contents hidden from his eyes. Unconsciously gripping the flowers in his hand tighter he stepped into the clearing with the others, trying to keep his eyes focused on anything but the man in black robes just ahead. He followed his feet until the procession settled; only rising from his reverie when the man began to speak.

“It is with heavy hearts, dear friends, that we gather here today, knowing that the world has lost a good, kind-hearted lady, taken well before her due in these dark times... But we may take comfort in remembering her love and loyalty, and her memory and magic shall live on in our hearts long after this day…”

Ron closed his eyes and forced the words of the eulogy out of his mind. After the brief memorial service for Percy, and the grander, Ministry catered farewell to Kingsley Shacklebolt earlier in the week, he felt ill with every half-hearted word of remembrance that met his ears. He didn’t need their speeches to understand the loss in his heart, or to remember his past. Both were painfully clear in his every action now, strengthening his resolve to keep going even after losing so much.

With a sigh he raised his eyes, dissecting the grief torn faces around him. The first person he saw was Harry, standing close at Ginny’s side, their hands clasped tightly together at their sides. Ron wasn’t surprised by the blank look on Harry’s face, or the shimmer of guilt in his eyes. It would be impossible to convince him that these events hadn’t been his fault, that no one blamed him for any of this. Harry’s healing was beyond words now. Only actions could mend his wounds. Only after Voldemort’s fall would he allow himself the luxury to mourn.

With a thankful heart Ron continued to watch as Harry wrapped his arm around Ginny’s back, supporting her weight as she shifted uncomfortably from standing too long. She’d only just been released from St. Mungo’s that morning, and even then only due to her insistence that she was ready to go home whether the Healers agreed or not. Always a fighter, Ron thought with loving annoyance as he watched her stubbornly refuse Harry’s aide, standing solely on her own volition as she continued to weep silently, her fiery head held high.

Tearing his eyes away from Ginny’s face, Ron searchingly watched the rest of his family. Fleur and Bill stood just to Ginny’s right, their arms wrapped tightly around one another, the bliss of their marriage long forgotten, their future together starting on a bleak note. Beside them and to Ron’s left was Charlie, his hands folded reverently before him, his burly form somehow shrinking before Ron’s very eyes. It had been Charlie that he’d seen first upon arriving at the hospital, running the length of the halls, ignoring the Healers frantically dogging his steps as he methodically entered each family member’s room to check how they were doing. He’d nearly bowled Ron over with thankfulness upon seeing him, grabbing him none too gently and pulling him into a bone breaking hug, muttering about, “Fearing the worst,” as they embraced.

Shifting his gaze across the distance, Ron’s eyes fell upon the twins, their heads hung in silent respect for the dead. Somehow trickles of humour still played deep beneath the surface in their faces, their life energy still strong even now with all that had happened. Just hours after they’d all been reunited in the hospital, George had put them in stitches as he pondered the possibility of donning an eye like Madeye Moody. Fred had been beside himself with jealousy at the fact that both of his eyes were still intact, claiming vehemently that George would get twice the girls now, being a bloke with one eye and all. It had felt good to laugh. Strange, but good. Ron had reveled in it… until the news had come.

Recalling that moment, Ron turned automatically to his father, feeling his eyes water instantly as they befell his grief. The man in the black robes had finished his speech and stepped aside, making room for others to move forward and say their final goodbyes. As if on cue not a one of them had moved, waiting for Mr. Weasley to act first. It took him a few moments, his entire body trembling, clutching Lupin’s arm for support when he finally took a step forward, reaching with a shaking hand to touch the wood before him as a desperate sob rattled his lips.

He whispered an inaudible goodbye to his love as he leaned against the coffin, placing Mrs. Weasley’s wand at the top before falling back in sadness, refusing comfort from anyone as he walked off into the trees, leaving tangible sorrow in his wake. Afterwards they stepped forward one by one, some simply looking on with lost looks on their faces, others verbally expressing their love and final goodbyes before taking to the path and disappearing from sight.

Ron waited at the edges until the last of the mourners had paid their respects before stepping forward, the flowers in his hands nearly mutilated from being squeezed mercilessly for the past half hour. He shuffled his feet and tried to say something, but words seemed pointless. She knew he’d miss her, as often as he’d complained about her rules and her nagging in the past. She knew that he’d have taken her place if he’d been able. And she knew, now more than ever, that he was going to continue fighting with or without her consent. He wouldn’t rest until this was over.

“I love you, Mum,” he whispered clearly as he placed his flowers with the rest, not bothering to wipe away the stream of tears that greeted his cheeks. He could almost feel her arms wrapping around him as he closed his eyes and turned away, bidding him good luck as he tucked the pain deep inside himself and set off after the others.

Before long he caught up to Harry and Ginny, their paces slow in the face of Ginny’s lingering ailments. They paused and watched Ron as he approached, the three of them locked in silence as they met each other's eyes. Without a word Ginny pulled Ron into a gentle hug, ignoring his awkwardness at the show of emotion, soothing both their unspoken aches with the small gesture. With his heart a little warmer Ron pulled away, turning his attention to Harry. Before the wedding he’d thought he’d understood Harry, truly known his best friend. Now, after all the pain and loss, Ron knew they truly saw one another eye to eye. Ron didn’t envy the burdens his friend carried, nor the scars, visible or otherwise, that haunted his life every day.

With a nod and a brief, one arm embrace Harry paid his condolences to Ron and stepped back, knowing without asking where Ron was headed. Looking back only for a moment, Ron set off at a slight run, quickly passing the retreating members of his family, pausing only for brief, silent embraces as he moved. When he finally caught up with his father he stopped completely, leaning over at the waist and panting heavily in the rising heat. Mr. Weasley stilled in his harried pace and watched his son weakly, as though torn between comfort and solitude as Ron rose and started to walk nearer, wiping his sleeve across his brow.

Mr. Weasley opened his mouth to speak, to say something, anything about what they’d all just experienced, but no words came. His shoulders slumped in defeat and he looked to the ground, tears started to burst forth beneath his glasses as he looked away from Ron’s prying eyes. And then he felt his son’s arms wrap around him, protective and comforting, his own body shaking with grief and unshared words.

“I’ll get them, Dad,” Ron finally mumbled. “I promise I’ll get them for you.” He closed his eyes hard as he felt his father crumble slightly, some of the pain he was trying to suppress erupting to the surface.

“I know you will, son,” Mr. Weasley finally breathed, pulling Ron closer for a moment longer before letting go. “Just promise me that you’ll come back in one piece.”

Ron only replied with a rueful half smile, running his hand through his hair and shuffling anxiously on the grass. “Is there anything I can do for you now?” he asked after a moment, feeling entirely helpless. Mr. Weasley just shook his head and sighed, squeezing Ron’s shoulder with a proud look on his face.

“I’ve got plenty of people to look after me today, Ron. I know you’re anxious to get back to St. Mungo’s.”

Regardless of his best efforts to hide it, Ron felt his face flush slightly. Despite his poor condition upon arrival, the Healers had made easy work of curing his injuries, instantly mending cuts and administering an array of potions to tend his other problems. Like Harry and most of his family he’d been cleared to leave just two days after his arrival. But unlike the others he’d declined to leave even for a moment, apart from the funerals. Even when the others had insisted a few hours of fresh air and space might do him well, he’d refused, and before long they let him be, knowing looks in their eyes as they came and went.

Half of the time he’d had Harry to keep him company, during the hours that he left Ginny to rest in peace. They rarely spoke during those stretches. They just sat in silence, waiting. The times they did speak were used for anything but discussing what had happened. It was too soon for that, neither of them could wrap their minds around it all. In fact, the only time he’d heard Harry speak of that night had occurred very shortly after leaving the graveyard, his words few and, still to this day, utterly confusing.

Ron had been clutching Hermione in his arms, lost in the depths of pain, his heart breaking repeatedly as he acknowledged to himself that she was gone. He’d insisted on Apparating her to St. Mungo’s himself, a difficult task given his condition, but no one dared to pry her from his arms. But then, in the lobby, as the Healers had swarmed around them, Ron had realized the moment had come to let her go… and he couldn’t do it. He’d held on stubbornly, no words of comfort or logic reaching his mind, his only thought to keep her close and safe, even if it was too late. And then he’d heard Harry’s voice, ever so close to his ear, reassuringly telling Ron to let go.

“She might not be dead, Ron. Snape was… I think he… Ron, if you let her go, they might be able to help her.”

And Harry had been right. Ron still didn’t know how it was possible, but Hermione was alive, and that was all that mattered. Someday soon he knew Harry would have to explain himself, what Snape had done, but for now Ron could only focus on seeing her heal.

Not bothering to change out of his dress robes, Ron Apparated straight to the hospital, walking a now familiar path across the lobby, up the stairs, and right into Hermione’s ward. He paused beside the privacy curtain for a moment and just watched her, the sight of her chest rising and falling with her breath an unbelievably gratifying thing to behold. According to the Healers, she’d somehow been given the Draught of Living Death. That’s why she’d been so cold and lifeless, her body trapped in cadaverous sleep until help could arrive. In the beginning the Healers had kept her that way, seemingly in death, until most of her visible wounds were mended. Only then had they awakened her to face the injuries beyond their sight… Ron could still remember her screaming herself into unconsciousness.

Slowly Ron crossed the distance to her side, taking his usual place beside her bed, leaning toward her with his elbows resting gently on his knees. He examined her appearance carefully, looking fondly at her closed eyes as she sighed peacefully in her sleep. Her skin was still ghostly pale, even after days of healing and rest, but her cheeks were starting to get their color back, a soft rosiness returning to her lips. His eyes stilled when he reached the side of her face. It was still scarred, and always would be, but now he couldn’t imagine her without them. Every time his eyes traced their lines he remembered how lucky he was to still have her here, his brave, brilliant Hermione.

He sat back in his chair and turned to look out the window when the longing to touch her stirred inside him. It happened every time he looked at her like this, but he’d always resisted, too embarrassed and worried that he might hurt her somehow to follow through with the whim. He still didn’t fully understand the feelings inside his heart when he thought about her. Part of him feared it had only been the intensity of the battle, the fear of death that had brought them so far in expressing their affections… what if she woke up and wanted things to go back to how they’d been before? He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to now…

Somewhere in the midst of his thoughts a Healer entered the room, her cart bumping noisily as she settled herself on the other side of Hermione’s bed. Ron rose and moved out of the way, allowing the woman to work as he fidgeted by the curtain, ignoring her incessant babbling about the weather and how much better he was looking than the first time she’d seem him. It was only when she gasped in surprise that he looked up, searching frantically for the cause of her alarm… and that’s when he met Hermione’s eyes.

He’d almost forgotten how brown they were, how much thought and emotion she always wore in their earthy depths. Right now she looked confused, maybe even frightened, her body trying to rise with some difficulty. His first instinct was to come to her aide, to help her and comfort her, but the Healers didn’t give him any time. Before he even realized what was happening a whole group of them had entered the curtain, shooing him to the other side and closing Hermione off from view.

He opened his mouth to complain, to insist that he be allowed to stay with her, but he knew they wouldn’t listen. He’d hardly left her side for days and now he was being brushed aside. He couldn’t help feeling irritated. With a grunt of annoyance he shoved his hands in his pockets and started pacing, walking furiously past other closed partitions and empty beds, pausing each time he reached Hermione’s space and sighing with impatience. He knew they were just doing their job, but he didn’t care. He wanted to see her, and not being able to was killing him.

Finally, just when he was about ready to throw the curtain back out of sheer frustration, the Healers appeared again. They all looked rather pleased, discussing quietly Hermione’s progress and how promising her recovery now seemed as they passed, most of them oblivious to Ron’s presence. All of them save one, the Healer who had been there first, before the others had come and taken Ron’s space. She gave him an affectionate smile and held the curtain aside, gesturing for him to go ahead in, whispering to be careful and quiet until Hermione gathered a bit more strength.

Gulping loudly to himself Ron stepped forward, casting one nervous glance at the Healer before ducking inside the curtains. He lost his breath when he saw Hermione gazing at him, her face much more relaxed now, sleepiness curling the edges of her features. The Healer chuckled to herself at Ron’s nervousness and sidled around him, leaning down beside Hermione’s pillow and speaking soothingly in her ear.

“Someone will be by to check on you in a few minutes, dear. Till then I’m leaving you in good hands. You know this lad of yours has hardly left your side in days? Just let him know if you need anything, and otherwise you rest and don’t try to talk just yet, alright? Good, I’ll leave you to it then.”

Ron blushed a brilliant crimson as the Healer passed, staring hard at the floor long after she’d closed the curtain and walked away. Finally he chanced a glimpse at Hermione through the side of his eye. He was half expecting to find her sound asleep again, or perhaps just having him fixed with one of her piercing, all knowing glares. What he found was the same calm, peaceful expression, the faintest of smiles playing on her lips, her eyes bright and alert.

Relaxing in the easiness of the silence he finally walked to her side, his hands unconsciously pulling at his robes, teeth mercilessly biting the inside of his cheek as he searched for something to say. He pondered sitting in the chair beside her, wondering if it would be easier for her to see him if he remained standing instead. He opened his mouth to ask her but changed his mind immediately, hopelessly melting in that same soft look on her face, her eyes starting to glitter with unshed tears.

Seemingly reading his dilemma, Hermione’s hand started to move ever so slightly across the bed. It clearly took some effort, her face crinkling with concentration until her hand finally touched the edges of Ron’s robes. She took the material between her fingers, tugging on it almost imperceptibly until Ron finally noticed, his hand reaching automatically for her own as he cautiously sat on the bed beside her. He ran his thumb across the back of her fingers, small and warm and oh so alive, and his face started to split with happiness. It felt strange to smile, almost wrong to feel joy like this. It seemed too impossible, that simply holding her hand was enough to make his heart swell and practically sing.

He looked into her face, wanting to say a million things, to ask her a thousand questions... but the happy tears in her eyes were enough to appease him for the moment. With a contented sigh he leaned forward, placing awkward kisses on her face, first on her forehead, and then along her scarred cheek. She smiled and closed her eyes at the light touch, drifting back into her peaceful slumber. It was comforting for her to have Ron at her side, knowing he would still be there when she woke. In return she shared these small moments of alertness with him. No matter how brief they might be each time, they gave Ron the strength he needed to keep going.

In this moment, they were happy, comfortable in this quiet time alone, wallowing in temporarily obliviousness. They basked in it greedily, knowing that all too soon reality would bring them crashing back to their senses.