End of an Era
A fire, a storm
Circling around them
Victims of circumstance,
Of tempestuous weather
They will rise and
They will fall
Together.
A fire, a storm,
Circling around them
Fighting the circumstances
Which lead them to rise
And fall, in love
During this terror
For all that they’ve known
It will be
Their end of an era.
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“You truly are your parents’ son, Harry.”
“Sirius would be proud…”
“Just like James, he is…”
“You may only be a teenager, Harry… but you’re far from ordinary.”
His mind automatically clung to these memories, striving to recuperate from the mental and emotional abuse of the past few days. The steady rhythm of warm, gentle hands running through his hair had successfully calmed his heart and stabilized his rapid breathing.
But it was short-lived. There was a thumping up the stairs, a hard knock on the door, then a loud creak in the floorboards. Yet not until Hermione’s hands stopped and drifted away did Harry begrudgingly open his eyes.
“How are you feeling?” Lupin asked somberly, shutting the door behind him.
Harry sat upright and fixed the man with a sardonic glare. “Brilliant.”
Moving towards the bed, Lupin conjured a simple wooden chair and melted into it, his exhaustion evident in the expression on his face. “I meant your wounds,” he corrected, eyeing the black bruise swelling around Harry’s jaw.
“I mended his wrists the best I could,” said Hermione, “but the bruising… it’s beneath the skin, I couldn’t do much with them…”
“I’m fine,” Harry sighed exasperatedly, feeling like a broken record.
“And you, Hermione?”
“I’m all right,” she replied, rubbing the side of her neck. “A bit sore, but…” she trailed off for a moment, averting Lupin’s gaze. “How’s Ron?”
Lupin heaved a deep breath and sat back in his chair, his hands resting on his knees. “He’s stable,” he said quietly, looking off into the corner of the room. “We have Pomfrey working on him right now. She thinks he’ll be all right, but… we can’t be sure yet.”
Harry hung his head. Hermione consolingly grazed her fingers across his back, unable to feel the wave of chills it was causing to run down his spine.
“Any word from McGonagall yet?” Hermione asked quietly, startling Harry into remembering that she and Kingsley were still at Hogwarts searching for Draco Malfoy.
“No,” Lupin replied, “but we didn’t expect contact for several days. She needs to be extremely careful, and can’t give off any signs that she’s there. But if we don’t hear anything by Sunday, we’ll be flying to Hogwarts ourselves.”
Hermione nodded solemnly.
“Harry,” said Lupin, his voice changing direction. Harry knew what was coming. “We need to talk about what happened at Azkaban.”
Standing, Harry strode to the opposite side of the room and began pacing.
“I know you don’t want to, especially now, but we””
“After we were separated I was surrounded by Death Eaters,” he began, feeling a faint dizziness engulf him as his mind whipped through the images. “Voldemort appeared, I don’t know from where… and there was Ron.”
His voice shook involuntarily at the end, but he swallowed hard and looked up to Hermione’s anxious stare and felt momentarily sobered.
“And he was unconscious?”
Harry nodded. “Yeah…” he paused, forcing himself to relive the experience. “He was bound together with chains.”
“Chains?” Lupin inquired, leaning forward in his seat. “What did they look like?”
“I don’t know,” Harry scoffed, not seeing any possible significance in Ron’s bindings and wanting to be done with the conversation. “Rusty, I think…”
Lupin’s brow furrowed. “Okay… continue.”
Harry took a deep breath and shot Hermione an unidentifiable look. She smiled warmly, temporarily concealing her uneasiness, and urged him on with her eyes.
Harry licked his lips and continued pacing, his voice echoing off the wide, dank walls as he told them everything.
Twenty minutes later, Harry sat on the edge of the bed, watching Lupin’s distant expression register everything he’d just learned. Hermione was silent beside him, her head spinning though her body sit still.
“What I don’t understand,” she finally said, her words coming slowly, “is why Voldemort didn’t simply kill you. Clearly he had the opportunity… why go through all the trouble of making you a Horcrux?”
Lupin looked up and focused on Harry. “That’s a good question.”
Harry nodded and straightened his glasses. “I know, I’ve thought about that. But it makes perfect sense when you figure who we’re talking about. It’s Voldemort. What’s the one thing he’s sought more than anything” even more than killing me?”
“Immortality,” Hermione whispered, her eyes bright with dawning comprehension.
“Exactly,” Harry confirmed, instinctively massaging the still chaffed skin around his wrists. “He’s thinking into the future. Who’s to say another prophecy won’t be made a hundred years from now? Two hundred? Getting rid of me only solves half his problem… the immediate half. But he expects to live forever, and not even Voldemort knows how the future’ll turn out… but keeping me around as his human Horcrux ensures a lot…”
“It ensures his immortality,” Hermione finished, shifting to face him on the bed. “Because you’re his ‘equal,’ and there can only be one real threat at a time… which explains why he never went after Dumbledore. Aside from being terrified of him, Dumbledore posed no threat to his life, because the prophecy claims only you can destroy him…”
“One threat at a time,” Lupin mumbled, his eyes growing hazy again as he concentrated on their rationale.
“Yes, because that’s what the prophecy implies” by stating only Harry can kill Voldemort,” Hermione affirmed, clarifying for herself as much as for Lupin, “and keeping Harry alive fulfills his ‘threat quota,’ but keeping him alive as a Horcrux fulfills his goal of immortality…” she trailed off then as she too gazed off across the room. “It’s the perfect plan,” she whispered, disbelief and horror mingled in her voice.
A long moment passed in which Harry said nothing. Hermione had begun fingering a torn piece of fabric from the bed sheets and Lupin had his arms crossed, his stare still intent on the wall opposite.
But after a while, Harry said, “But he didn’t get to go through with it… thanks to you,” he muttered, his eyes moving from Lupin to Hermione. Hermione’s cheeks reddened. “And it taught us something else about Voldemort… something that could be used to our advantage. His downfall, even.”
“What’s that?” Hermione asked curiously.
“He takes things too literally.”
Lupin looked up at Harry in confusion before a knowing smile tugged on his lips.
“Come again?” said Hermione, her head tilted as she watched Harry closely.
“Voldemort’s plan works under the assumption that I’m the only one able to destroy him, as you pointed out,” Harry enlightened, a shadow of a smirk growing. “But that’s not necessarily true… He’s taking the prophecy too literally. Dumbledore explained that it’s still our choice to validate the prophecy… that the prophecy holds true only because we make it true, because we’ve both made the choice to be the other’s end. But if I’m gone, that doesn’t mean there’s no hope,” he concluded, staring Hermione directly in the eye. “That doesn’t mean Voldemort can’t still die.”
Bluebell flames flickered in their glass jars, lining the room and reflecting their soft glow in the four tall windows. Heavy rain was pounding against the old house, dampening the air and casting flickers of shadow on the floor through the light of the flames.
Yet the dreamy atmosphere was lost on Hermione, as all her attention was focused on much more daunting details.
“All right, so we have…” she trailed her finger down a scrap piece of parchment, her bottom lip prey to her teeth. “Hogwarts, the obvious… umm…” she clicked her tongue as she eyed the list. “Hogsmeade, the unlikely… Merope Gaunt’s old house, which we can’t even be sure is still there… where else could Voldemort have hidden Horcruxes?” The distressed tone of her voice made it clear she was still somewhat shaken by the recent events.
Harry let himself fall face first onto the bed. “Anywhere,” he said, his voice muffled through the mattress. “Absolutely anywhere. That bloody necklace was in a cave for Christ’s sake… I’d never even heard of it before.”
Hermione sighed and turned back to her parchment, struggling to ignore her anxiety. “Well,” she considered, “didn’t Dumbledore say Nagini could be a possible Horcrux? It would make perfect sense now that we know he’s so keen on targeting living creatures,” she spat, sounding particularly menacing.
Harry quirked a half smile, his face still pressed to the bed.
“Yeah, but we’ll have to save Nagini for last… wherever that snake is, it’s with Voldemort.” He lifted himself straight and started walking towards the other side of the room, his hands behind his back. After a moment, his head snapped up. “The orphanage!” he nearly shouted, striding briskly towards Hermione.
Hermione’s eyes grew wide. “Yes!” she cried, clasping her hands together. “Riddle’s old orphanage, where he grew up!”
“It’d be the perfect spot, hardly anyone knows where he came from,” Harry deduced.
“But do we know where it is? There are loads of orphanages…”
“Don’t worry,” said Harry, a faint grin reaching his eyes, “I went there with Dumbledore in his pensieve… I know exactly where to find it.”
Hermione beamed. But she quickly turned back her parchment and began scribbling madly. “Okay, so we know where we’re going,” she mumbled distractedly, her pink tongue appearing between her lips as she wrote. Harry stared, mesmerized… before hurriedly averting his gaze.
“We need a plan on how to destroy it once we have it though,” she continued, her hand stopping as she lifted her eyes on Harry. “We don’t know what it’ll be, and we may have to improvise… best to go in having some sort of idea as to how we get rid of it.”
Harry’s brow furrowed. “We’ve been lucky so far… Dumbledore did all the work for the first few, and with Hufflepuff’s goblet… well, that was just a stroke of genius on your part.”
Hermione flushed deeply but had trouble hiding the faint smile appearing on her lips. “Well, that was only””
“No,” Harry said forcefully, stepping closer, “we’d have one more to track down if it weren’t for you,” he added, then paused, his eyes newly bright as they surveyed her face. “There would be a lot” a lot of things, actually… that would be harder… if it weren’t for you…”
Hermione’s smile lingered until Harry coughed roughly and looked away. She bent her head to meet his eyes, but he was adamantly avoiding her gaze. Tension quickly swelled through the room, which wasn’t helped by Hermione’s mystified silence.
Harry let out a tense breath. “Anyway,” he continued, his voice cracking involuntarily. He cleared his throat. “A standard curse won’t work… so, we can eliminate typical dueling spells.”
Hermione’s stomach was inexplicably unsettled now, and she found that looking at him made it worse. So she focused on the floor as she said, “I think Voldemort would be expecting magic… didn’t you say Dumbledore had a Horcrux, a ring, that he wore?”
Harry nodded slowly. “Yeah… but what’s that got to do with this?”
“Well, why else would he continue wearing that ring if it was causing him so much pain? Voldemort must have created it so that someone had to endure wearing it in order to destroy it… maybe we need to think in those terms?”
Shoving his hands in his pockets, Harry surveyed the ceiling and let out a long breath. “Maybe.”
Hermione stood and positioned herself between Harry and the bedpost, ignoring the quickened pace of her heart as she drew nearer. “Harry, why don’t we…” she stopped, her whispered voice deciding how to propose an idea she knew he wouldn’t like. “I think we ought to take a couple days to plan this out properly,” she eventually managed.
He straightened and looked her in the eye, momentarily startled by her closeness. Still, the skepticism was clear on his face.
“I know you don’t want to wait,” Hermione affirmed knowingly, “and I know why. We do need to make it our top priority now we’ve got Ron… but it won’t make any difference if we get there and don’t know what to do. Some research could go a long way…” she licked her lips, hesitant to imply her next thought. “And… we really should prepare for what we might” might encounter… and practice some defensive spells.”
Harry took a long breath through his nose before finally giving his nod of consent. “All right.”
Smiling, Hermione reached out a hand and lightly squeezed his elbow. Harry half-heartedly and reluctantly returned her contentment, until he watched her grin fade and her face fall despondently.
“Hermione?”
She hung her head quickly, eyes scanning the side of the room in a feeble attempt to distract herself from the slight welling of tears stinging behind her lids.
Focusing on the glow of a bluebell flame, she calmed her nerves and listened to the rain still trickling down the windows. “I need you… to promise me something,” she whispered, her face still turned away.
A concerned crease formed between Harry’s brows as he watched something new flash behind her eyes.
“Promise that… that you won’t sacrifice yourself,” she finished, finally looking up into his shining green orbs.
Harry opened his mouth to speak, confused and dazed, but nothing came out. For a long while he merely stared into her eyes, overwhelmed with the look she was giving him.
“What are you talking about?” he finally whispered, inching closer in hopes of catching her stare.
Hermione inhaled deeply before swallowing the burning lump in her throat. “Earlier with Lupin you said” said it didn’t have to be you who killed Voldemort,” she whispered. “As if… it wouldn’t really matter if you died… and the look you gave me… the tone in your voice…” she cut herself off, blinking rapidly. “Everything’s changed,” she continued, barely audible over the soft thud of rain, “nothing about our lives is the same now… and all I have left is you.”
For a second Harry forgot to breathe. He looked down at her, willing her to look back at him. “Ron will be okay,” he insisted quietly, staring. “And you have your parents””
“For how long?” she said suddenly, challenging him as she stepped closer. “How long before there’s an attack? Months? Days? They’re in a Muggle town, Harry! They’ll be the firsts targeted! And you can’t guarantee Ron will be all right,” she cried, “you can’t guarantee any of the Weasley’s will be all right! No one can guarantee that!”
She swiped at her eyes before peering back up at him. His mouth was slightly open and his forehead wrinkled in deep concern.
“Hermione, I””
“Please,” she breathed, settling down, “just… promise.”
Harry swallowed hard but couldn’t tear his eyes away. Somehow he knew he would feel guilty promising something like that. The time might come when he’d have to break it, and if in that moment he remembered how her eyes were begging him right now, he might falter.
With measured breaths, Hermione took the last step forward, her body nearly pressing against his. Her stomach jolted and her hands grew hot but she refused to think of these things as she leaned in and whispered, “Promise me…”
She watched the emotion flicker in his eyes. He wasn’t breathing, at least not audibly, and when she placed a gentle, pleading hand on his chest, imploring for his promise, a light shiver raced down his arms.
He swallowed, the soft hue of the flames illuminating his glasses, casting a glow around him in the darkness of the room. Her chest constrained in surprise when she realized how very close his face was… if she just leaned in…
Her lips parted slightly and her stomach flipped uncontrollably. He was looking at her, through her… she couldn’t decipher the message in his eyes but what she didn’t know was that he couldn’t either. Something in her mind screamed to stop but his gaze had refocused on her mouth and she couldn’t…
Gradually, timidly, their lips came together, Harry pressing against her ever so gently… it was a whisper. His hands trembled imperceptibly as one cupped her cheek and the other nervously wrapped through her hair. Her face still wore an expression of surprise, but now melted completely as she gave a tender gasp.
Their mouths worked slowly, lazily, his soft lips tugging gently on hers, their minds swelling with astonishment at what was happening.
Then suddenly, neither being able to tell which made the first move, their kiss deepened as Hermione moaned softly in amazement, feeling their warm, velvety cores clash gently, shyly, eagerly together…
After a moment Harry pulled away, his eyes still closed. Hermione breathed heavily to catch her breath, eyes nervously scanning his face. Her insides were fluttering, her heart on fire, and every nerve ending tingled across her skin in the places his hands had been.
His throat rose and fell with a harsh swallow, his lids finally trembling open to look into hers. She could not conceal her shock or her worry… or her glassy, hopeful eyes.
Stepping back, his brow creased in deliberation. He was surveying her flushed face, her swollen lips, his gaze flashing to hers as he struggled for coherent thought. His heart was racing… yet a reprieved sob threatened to push at the back of his throat.
After an extended minute, he felt her hands slide down his chest to rest back at her sides, and he looked away.
Finally, his breathing still somewhat irregular, he glanced up at her one more time, an unidentifiable look in his eye, before turning quickly and walking out the door.
Hermione blinked into the shadowed room, taking shaky breaths. Her mind was buzzing and her fingers shivered in remembrance of the feel of him… What just happened?
She had received her promise.
For all that they have known
It will be their end
Of an Era.