Chapter Text
The horror literally begins with the calm before the storm. Although it can’t really be described as calm. After all, a wedding is a celebration. And the Weasleys are not known for being quiet people.
The wedding planning seems to have been very stressful, especially with the operation for Harry just a few days before. But it was worth it. The most striking colour is gold, but it covers well with the rest of the white and purple.
After the ceremony, those gathered scatter and wish the newlyweds well, form conversation tables and start dancing. In this phase of cosy chaos, a hand finds Daphne’s. Turning around, Daphne catches sight of lilac dress robes wearing Hermione, and promptly smiles a little wider.
She hadn’t expected to see Hermione again before some kind of final showdown. But when Daphne received the invitation one morning, this one, presumably last, opportunity presented itself.
“You always are, but today you’re looking very pretty,” Daphne says.
Her smile turns into a grin as Hermione blushes slightly. “I feel a little overdressed.” She points to Fleur, who, after the first dance, happily continues to accept the congratulations with an arm around Bill, and takes note of her plain white dress.
“She’s always looking gorgeous, ‘Mione. If she wore a lavish dress as well, no one would notice Bill.”
They stick to shallower topics until eventually the dance floor becomes more crowded and Daphne offers her hand.
“They complement each other very well,” Hermione whispers as they watch from a distance as Ginny and her sister wait for Luna’s dance with herself to end. All three are wearing different colours.
“Like fire and water and all life in between.”
Hermione hums in agreement. “I just met Xenophilius for the first time. I disagree with him on most things, but he’s surprisingly easy to talk to. That sensitivity towards the other person, Luna has it too.”
“You certainly can’t deny the similarities.”
The next song is more subdued, slower. That is, Hermione and she move closer together, and for a moment all the glamour around them breaks with the dark reality outside the marquee. It’s so beautiful in here, Daphne doesn’t want to let it go. She just wants to hold Hermione as tightly as she can, and be held by her in the moment too. Just dancing, knowing Hermione held and safe.
“This brings back memories...” Her voice trails off.
“I never told you directly how indescribable what you did for me that night was.”
The song ends and with that Daphne leads her slightly away from most of the spotlight. “From first year, I’ve kind of had my eyes on you. I didn’t know it at first, of course, but that night? I knew I cared for you in a special way. I still do, and now I know it’s,” Daphne delves into the deep brown sea of eyes and just lets her heart speak, “I’m fine if you interrupt me at any time, but I know I’ll regret it if I never tried to say it.”
She pauses again briefly anyway, but Hermione just looks at her warmly. Daphne hesitates for another heartbeat. She doesn’t want to make the impending separation any more difficult. But in the end, the heart always wins.
“I’ve been in love with you for so long, I can’t remember when exactly it started.”
Hermione kisses her. Blood rushes loudly in her ears, then there is complete silence and only Hermione. Daphne’s body relaxes, a heat flows through her, melting away.
Then Hermione’s mouth opens and few words that are to change everything ring out. “The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.”
The Patronus disappears and the whole moment freezes. Then everything happens quickly. Panicked guests run around, Disapparate, scream. Daphne holds Hermione’s head, gives her a quick, final kiss on the forehead and then pushes her towards Harry, who has already drawn his wand.
“Go! I’ll be waiting for you.”
=
Hogwarts is different, although Snape only plays a minor role. The decisive factor is the Carrows. They’re gruesome and cruel, worse than Umbridge has ever been, and they do everything to make sure that Voldemort’s beliefs are taught and followed. There are no more courses about Muggle culture and lifestyle, but on the fact that Muggles are unworthy, dirty animals.
Many students decided not to attend Hogwarts this year, Muggle-borns weren’t even allowed, and that’s probably for the better. Daphne doesn’t even want to imagine what they’d do with them.
DADA is now Dark Arts. Instead of merely showcasing the (no longer) forbidden curses on minor creatures like Fake-Moody did, they are now expected to be practised and used by students – even on other students, as punishment or simply on first years. Rule breaking can now easily lead to agony beyond imagination, as goes for all things that usually would’ve ended in punishment.
The teachers aren’t allowed to do so themselves; instead, they have to send them to the Carrows, who then punish the harsh way. They are supported by a few selected students, pretty much as in Umbridge’s days. It goes without saying that these are all Slytherins that actually believe in Voldemort’s ideology. Some poor children of Death Eaters simply are too afraid of possible consequences if they weren’t being compliant and playing by the rules.
For pretty much everyone but Daphne, Pansy Parkinson is an insane surprise. That is, if they knew about it.
“I’m going to volunteer as patrol,” she whispers one evening they’re the only ones in their dorm. “And I’m going to make the corridors I’ll be walking obvious of my presence.”
“Why would you do that? Someone could report you should they find out,” Daphne whispers back.
Pansy scoffs. “There are too many of us who treat this whole punishment thing serious because they’re afraid. But I just don’t care at this point. I was the bloody arse for far too long. If this is a way to make up for it, I’ll take it.”
Daphne hums thoughtfully. This is the exact same reason Astoria and she are here. They had to do a lot of persuasion to get their parents to come to Hogwarts in the first place. Her sister plans to resurrect the DA together with her girlfriends and Neville. Daphne’s there to look after her and because she’s got the strange feeling that Hogwarts will be an important place in the future.
She hugs Pansy, who’s a bit reluctant at first, but lets her walls down after a few moments. “I’m proud of you.”
And she’s also proud of Hermione, Harry, and Ron. The next day, the first news about them arrives at Hogwarts. The trio managed to successfully infiltrate the Ministry and made it out alive. The room of requirement, the only safe hideout for students – even though Snape should be and also is aware of it – shares a sigh of relief. No one knows what these three are doing, but the fact they’re trying to do what they said they would is among the only things that give hope.
=
Harry, Ron, and Hermione keep track of their friends, and in Ron’s case family, as good as they can. Ron listens to the radio all day long, fearing to hear a familiar name. It’s driving the other two crazier each day, but it’s reassuring Ron. And Hermione and Harry aren’t less nervous.
Every night, they study the Marauder’s Map. As long as the names move across the parchment, they’re probably well. It was shocking when almost no one was on the map, until Harry saw by chance Neville’s name popping up where the room of requirement would be.
Some names aren’t visible for days. Ron is helpful then, stating that he hasn’t heard the names either. Hermione is glad that at least Daphne’s is there most of the time. She imagined Tracey Davis to stay at home or even flee the country, but she’s there too, always close to Daphne.
The nights are an exception. It’s usually only two names in the Slytherin’s dorm: Daphne and Pansy Parkinson. When the other girls enter, Pansy leaves and slowly walks through the castle.
All in all, map and radio bring more worries, stress, and questions than reassurance and answers, but they’re the only things they have to know their friends are safe. They can’t do without.
=
“Why don’t you leave then?”
“Maybe I will.”
He didn’t leave right away. He didn’t stop to be irritating either. She’s still not sure how much of a role the Horcrux played, and she can also see there’s reason in what Ron complained about, but their situation was already unnerving enough. Ron’s behaviour was just not helpful.
Was it wrong of Harry to insist that he’d leave? Was it wrong that Ron did leave then? The answer to both should be ‘yes’. They can do more in threes – provided they harmonise together. They obviously didn’t. Ron leaving them didn’t feel wrong at first, but it also didn’t feel right.
Now it feels wrong. As haphazard as their hunt has felt like so far, Hermione has never felt like they have so obviously failed, made a mistake. She doesn’t even know where Ron’s heading to now. Or if he’s safe. It’s one more uncertainty, one more person to worry about. To top it all, the radio is still on, sending…music?
She looks up, eyes watery with tears not yet shed. Harry stands right next to her, silently offers a small smile and his hands. Likewise saying nothing, Hermione slowly takes his hands and gets up. They dance. Not fast, not enthusiastic, not with their minds in the right place.
That is what it’s all about, what Harry wants: to temporarily switch off her brain. To make her clear her mind for but a moment. To cheer her up. It finally works once Ron has left her thoughts, but then they run to Daphne. Daphne, with whom she used to dance, who isn’t here, nor are Ron, Ginny and Luna, Neville, her parents. The day she cast the memory spell on her parents will forever be one of the worst days of her life, if not the worst.
Tears are falling now and she stops dancing and closes her eyes. The thick sleeves of Harry’s jumper wrap around her as he hugs her. The only person she knows for sure in what situation he is.
She hugs him back.
=
“I’ve seen Snape yesterday,” Astoria tells her on the way to breakfast.
Daphne looks around and pulls them into a small alcove. Her sister didn’t return to the common room last night and she spent it sitting on the couch, waiting for her.
“He caught us before we could get it.”
“Are you alright?” Daphne asks and already looks her head up for any sign of injuries.
“Yes, now stop that.” Astoria shoves her arms away. “That’s what I want to talk about. He didn’t punish us, really. If he told the Carrows what we were trying to do, I don’t think I could tell you any of this. No, he sent us to help Hagrid.”
“Why should he do that?”
“I don’t know. Hagrid wasn’t surprised, either. Said Snape sends students to him occasionally, but I’ve never heard of it before.” She shakes her head in thought. “Do you – it sounds mental, honestly, but do you think he actually tries to protect us? I mean, he has to know about our ‘rebellion’. All the times the Carrows caught Neville couldn’t have gone unnoticed, could they?”
“He knows about the room of requirement,” Daphne says. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he even knew we use it, now you say this.”
“Why should he not act, then?”
Why should he?
=
The Deathly Hallows. Of course, it must be Luna’s dad who knows the meaning of the symbol. He was initially helpful and reminded of the story of the three brothers, but now he seems nervous and not quite with it, and Luna, whom they also wanted to visit, they don’t see at all.
“You forgot the water?” asks Ron cautiously. Since his return (that she welcomed in a way she still partially thinks he deserved), things have been better between them. They all are grateful for it and Hermione is confident that it will stay that way.
“Water?” Xenophilius asks back, confused.
“For the tea.”
“Did I? How silly of me.” He laughs, still nervous.
He’s odd, Hermione thinks, even for Luna’s dad. He seemed more stable at the wedding. “It’s no matter,” she quickly assures him, “I think we really should be going anyway.”
Harry hasn’t even opened his mouth to say goodbye when Xenophilius yells at them. “No, you can’t!” His face doesn’t stay angry for long, though. On the contrary. Not a moment later, fear can be visibly read.
Ron and she are flinched in shock, but Harry slowly approaches him. “Sir?” His voice is calming.
“You’re my only hope. They were angry, you see, about what I’d been writing.” Tears form in his eyes and fall immediately. They don’t get too much, but The Quibbler was and still is on their side, holding out against the other newspapers controlled by Voldemort.
Hermione and Ron move slowly to Harry’s side as Lovegood shakes his head in exasperation. “So, they took her. They took my Luna. My Luna. They took my Luna and I don’t know where she is, what they’ve done to her.” He grabs his heart and then looks at Harry. “But it’s really you they want. They might give her back to me if I - If I... I must save Luna. I cannot lose Luna. You must not leave.”
“Who took her, sir?” Harry asks, probably already fearing the answer.
“Voldemort,” Xenophilius whispers. A heartbeat later, Death Eaters appear in front of the house.
The older man looks at them with fear and regret as a voice comes through the door. “You can have your little girl, Lovegood, if you get up those stairs and bring me down Harry Potter. But if this is a plot, if it’s a trick, if you’ve got an accomplice waiting up there to ambush us, we’ll see if we can spare a bit of your daughter for you to bury.”
He slowly makes his way to the door, towards the Death Eaters. Hermione, on the other hand, grabs Harry and Ron by one arm each and pulls them towards the stairs. “Upstairs,” she hisses, and they quickly hide.
They cannot see what is happening downstairs, but they can hear it. The Death Eaters briefly beat and torture Xenophilius, convinced that he is lying about Harry’s presence and wasting their time, while the poor father sufferingly insists on telling the truth and begs for his daughter to be returned.
Suddenly there is silence, then a muffled voice sounds from below, “Homenum revelio”, and soon footsteps are audible.
“Trust me,” Hermione whispers after thinking of a plan.
And then everything happens very quickly. She throws the Invisibility Cloak over Ron and grabs Harry’s hand. With the other, she holds her wand and aims for the stairs. Ron puts a hand on her shoulder. Xenophilius then appears and she releases a Memory Charm before blowing a hole in the floor below them, allowing the two followers of Voldemort to see her, and more importantly Harry, before Hermione Disapparates all three.
After a few gasps in safety, Harry is the first to recover enough to speak. “That was good, Hermione. Really good.”
“Not good, brilliant,” Ron corrects with an admiring grin. “You saved us, him, and my story that I’ve got spattergroit and have to stay home.”
Harry hugs them both, repeating “Brilliant.”
And Hermione simply sighs in relief.
=
“Snape sent it to my vault in Gringotts!”
Bellatrix is wildly flailing her arms, discussing with Greyback, her sister Narcissa, and giving orders to take the men she has stunned to the courtyard and them to the cellar as prisoners. “Wait,” she says sharply. “All except... except for the Mudblood.”
“No!” exclaims Ron. “You can have me, keep me!” Instead of more words, a bang echoes through the room as Bellatrix punches him in the face.
“If she dies under questioning, I’ll take you next. Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my book. Take them downstairs, Greyback, and make sure they are secure, but do nothing more to them - yet.”
While Harry and Ron are still being led away, Bellatrix drags Hermione by the hair into the middle of the room. Once there, she is pushed to the floor; the manic witch’s bent wand pointed at her.
“Where did you get that sword?”
Hermione stays silent, and then a long drawn out, terrible scream escapes her. She has read and heard a lot about what the curse is supposed to feel like, but in reality, it hurts beyond imagination. Dully, she thinks she hears her name, but the pain robs her of all receptivity.
“I ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where from?”
“We found it,” she answers this time. “We found it - please!”
Bellatrix screeches the curse again, and Hermione cries out loudly once more.
“You’re lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You were in my dungeon in Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!”
Again, the maximum amount of pain she can feel penetrates her skin, leaving her head white with nothing but the feeling. She doesn’t register Bellatrix continuing to yell at her, asking questions, cursing her over and over until a hand grabs her by the chin and presses her lips together before she slams her head on the floor.
And then her mind breaks. The whiteness before her eyes turns to heat and blood rushes loudly in her ears; the heat, like the acrid pain before, flows through her entire body, melting the pain away in the process.
“It’s not the real sword, it’s only a copy,” Hermione manages to say during that moment. “Only a copy.”
Luckily for her, this offers her the time (and break) needed for Dobby to rescue her along with Harry and Ron.
Ron has brought her into the house and left to go fetch something to help her. Wrapped in a blanket, she hears Luna say a few last words to Dobby through the window. Hermione would like to be with them, but she can barely keep herself shakily on her feet, let alone say anything.
She wraps the blanket tighter around her, warm, soft and snug. A kind of hug that makes her body feel that it is alright now, that she is safe.
Her mind has recovered a little more and keeps wandering to the torture. It felt more than real, but she still hasn’t quite processed what exactly happened, why it all stopped at once - why she felt protected in a way.
The door opens and Luna walks in, a cup of tea in each hand.
"I’m sure you awaited Ron to come back, but I think he can help Harry better right now. One shouldn’t be alone when not feeling good. Dean, Fleur and Bill, we all don’t know in what ways his death hit him.”
She places the cups on the table in front of Hermione. “And you shouldn’t be alone, either.” Luna sits down on the couch, facing her. In silence, she gently reaches for Hermione’s shoulders, turns her around so she can lie down and against Luna’s front, blanket covering them both. “The tea will stay warm.”
For someone who was being held captive since around Christmas, Luna is too unchanged. Hermione values her as a great friend, but just now she starts to realise how admirable her sometimes rather unnerving trait of remaining unaffected und unfazed actually is. It makes her realise another thing.
“How are you?” she asks with all the strength she can muster.
“Oh, I wasn’t tortured. Draco had to bring us food and it was even delicious most of the time. I doubt he liked to be there…”
“Do you need anything, Luna?” Hermione interrupts.
Luna says nothing for a moment, then uses her arms to hug Hermione under the blanket. When she relaxes into her arms, Luna softly says, “This is lovely, thank you.”
Hermione rolls her eyes behind closed lids, ever so slightly shaking her head. “Thank you.”
They fall asleep. When Hermione awakes before Luna and waits for her drowsiness to disappear, there are several things on her mind.
One: She feels a lot better already. Her legs are still shaking a bit, even while lying down, but it no longer feels like she has just been tortured.
Two: Dobby’s death starts to sink in. She registered it, now she is slowly realising it as well. It hurts unbelievably in a way the Cruciatus curse couldn’t.
Three: Bellatrix asked what else they’ve stolen – there might be another Horcrux in her vault.
Four: Lying like this, surrounded by blonde hair, reminds her of Daphne. She misses her deeply. Looking for her name on the map to know she’s well, or thinking of her in general, is one thing, being reminded of her in a way so tangible is quite another. Plus, now knowing that they will probably have to break into Gringotts soon, it will still take a while until they can see each other again. And, Merlin, Hermione does want to see her again.
But it also gives her hope and an incentive reason to pursue Dumbledore’s mission. If she’s risking her life to help saving the wizarding world, let this comparatively tiny, personal longing for the simple possibility of being able to live happily and safely be her very own selfish reward.
=
“Daphne! Daphne!” The frantic voice and hands shake her awake. She dozed off waiting for Tracey, but presumably Blaise delayed her.
“Mhh… Tori?”
Moving close to her ear, her sister whispers, “Snape knows Harry was seen in Hogsmeade. Ginny is telling the others right now. We can-”
“Gather in the Great Hall, please. The Headmaster wants to speak to every student,” Professor Slughorn announces.
“Sir, I’m afraid not all of us are down here,” Pansy informs him.
“Then I suggest you find them as quickly as possible, Miss Parkinson. For this, I don’t want to imagine the consequences that might follow. It is safer for all of you to gather.”
“I don’t-”
“I know where the two are. I can get them too,” Daphne interjects.
“Oh, Miss Greengrass.” Slughorn turns to her, a strained expression on his face. “So go in pairs, and hurry. I am reluctant to know anyone alone in the corridors tonight.” He shoos them up. “Hurry! Hurry. Our common room is closest to the hall, but we can’t wait forever either. And we had better arrive as one.”
The girls do as they’re told and run, but instead of immediately fetching Blaise and Tracey, they hide in a small side passage.
“It’s Harry. He was in Hogsmeade,” Daphne hisses.
“It’s happening then, isn’t it?” Daphne nods and Pansy curses. “We have to separate the Slytherins. If there’s battling, too many will be on the wrong side.”
“We could lock them in there? With Peeves’ help maybe? The Baron-”
“Won’t work for long enough. We have to, argh, I don’t know! Just keep thinking of something while we get them.”
Daphne thought about possible solutions for weeks and months - to no avail. The easiest and most promising option would be asking a professor to give an order. It’s easy because almost every professor is on their side on this matter. It’s just that those few who aren’t are the ones with the true power. As long as the Carrows are there, Daphne sees no working way.
Pansy didn’t come up with anything either, and now they’re standing in the Great Hall, silently waiting for an end of Snape’s questions and warnings about what would happen if someone knew something about Harry but without saying so now.
Eventually, no one steps forward when prompted. Well, no one except one Harry Potter. In seconds, a gang of wizards and witches steps through the door, some of whom Daphne even recognizes. There’s Lupin, and Shacklebolt from the newspapers, and Ron, and…Ron. Eyes as big as her hope, she scans the group and, indeed, Hermione is here as well.
Unfortunately, she can’t go to her, because even with everyone startled, this doesn’t stop Snape from drawing and aiming his wand. Several teachers draw theirs in return, McGonagall, though, stands her ground and promptly stands directly in his way, and he lowers it for a moment. Then non-verbal magic collides.
Interestingly, Snape doesn’t attack McGonagall at all. He only defends himself – even passively helps her by deflecting her curses onto the Carrows, who go down, and then unceremoniously flees the scene.
Daphne (and presumably everyone else in the hall) holds her breath. For a short time, nothing happens; nobody moves, says anything or reacts in any other way. But just when the realisation dawns of what has just happened, students let out cheering screams and McGonagall enlightening the hall, a young girl screams and everything goes dark again.
A piercing voice resounds, one of the sorts that shakes to the core. “I know that you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood. Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight.”
This time the silence lasts longer until Pansy breaks it. She takes one small step forward and points at Harry. “What are you waiting for?” she screeches. “Someone grab him!”
No one grabs him, but Ginny, Hermione, and soon a wall of students of all houses put themselves between Harry and Pansy. Daphne subtly moves behind the wall when the door bursts open again, revealing Filch.
“Students out of bed! Students in the corridor!”
McGonagall looks confused. “They are supposed to be out of bed, you blithering idiot.”
“Oh. Sorry, ma’am.” He takes a step back, but she stops him.
“As it happens, Mister Filch, your arrival is most opportune. If you would, I would like you, please to lead Miss Parkinson and the rest of Slytherin House from the hall.”
He grunts. “Exactly where is it I’ll be leading them to, ma’am?”
“The dungeons would do.”
And the whole hall sinks into deafening cheers. Pansy is brilliant, Daphne thinks. Also brave, for she has just ruined her entire reputation should the upcoming battle go their way.
Daphne pushes her way through the crowd, towards Hermione. She looks at her and they hug very briefly. “I’ll stay with you,” Daphne says, determined.
Hermione nods, asking “Astoria?”
Raising a finger, Daphne points at her near them. She’s already joined Ginny’s side, discussing something intensely. “She won’t have it any other way.”
Chaos ensues in the following minutes. Slytherins get escorted, other students start to panic and run around, and Ron, Hermione and Daphne back out of the hall to catch up with Harry, who’s headed to the Ravenclaw Tower.
“Harry!” Hermione calls out and he stops. “We need something to destroy it.”
“The Chamber of Secrets,” Ron says. “You destroyed the diary with a fang.”
Harry takes several steps at once to meet up with them. “Here.” He hands Hermione a map. “Find me afterwards.” Hermione nods and he makes his way back up the stairs. Just a tad later, Luna sprints past them, following Harry. As it will turn out later, she’s going to lead him to Helena Ravenclaw. (Of course, Luna is friends with a ghost.)
“This is how this goes: You get that fang, and I’ll join Ginny and my family to protect the castle,” Ron instructs them. He hasn’t seen them in months and probably worried himself to death, Daphne thinks. From what she gathered about Weasleys, it’s that family comes first. “I just spoke to Neville and perhaps we’ll blow the bridge.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Wait, how do we open it? Didn’t Harry-”
“Parseltongue, yes. Harry talks in his sleep, haven’t you noticed?” Hermione shakes her head, letting Ron telling them certain sounds and having them repeat them a few times before wishing them good luck.
“What are our chances?” Daphne asks while they run for Myrtle’s bathroom.
“As of now, you-know-who is leading. We have to hope that Harry finds that diadem and that we can get a fang. And after that, we have to find something else.”
“What else?”
“We don’t know. It could be anything and it’s not even here for sure.”
Pushing her questions and doubts aside, Daphne instead opens the bathroom’s door. “One thing at a time, then.”
Luckily for them, their remembered Parseltongue is sufficient, and they’re able to pull a fang. Hermione takes out a noble cup and hands it Daphne. “Hold it steady,” she orders.
Daphne kneels down and Hermione takes a swing, jabbing the fang into the cup. A mass of water emerges, floods the chamber and, despite their effort to run away, crashes over them in a huge wave. Drenched down to the bone, they still move back a few steps in shock, hands holding each other tightly.
Their breath is ragged and quick when they look at each other. Without thinking about it, Daphne throws her arms around Hermione, who in turn grabs hold of her face and pulls her close, kissing for the first time in far too long and enjoying their small, tiny moment of victory.
They allow themselves one more moment in which they lean their foreheads against each other and let out a mixed sound of relief, joy, despair, and the hitting mark of reality. As much as she (both of them) feels during these passing seconds, it’s not the time for it.
“I missed you so much,” Hermione whispers before she steps out of her arms.
Daphne offers a sad smile and drops her arms to her sides. “When Luna told me what has happened to you, I…”
“It’s in the past.” Daphne can read the “for now, at least” from her mind.
They pull a few more fangs and make their way back to Harry. One moment they see him standing there, the next he has disappeared.
“The room of requirement,” Hermione concludes.
That room and the Chamber of Secrets are probably the only places that are safe for now. At least as long as Voldemort shouldn’t open the latter personally. On their way, they meet Neville in the stairwell.
“Have you seen Ron?” he asks them. He looks like he’s had plenty of action already. The protective wall was breached when they were down there and now Voldemort’s henchmen are gradually advancing towards and into Hogwarts. With a great bit of luck, Hermione and she might make it to the seventh floor without any encounters.
“Ron?” Hermione asks. “Why? The last thing we know, he was coming to you.”
“If you see him, tell him I’m bonkers for him,” he yells full of enthusiasm.
Daphne grins and the three continue running in opposite directions. “You tell him!” she shouts over her shoulder.
They make it to the room without being held up too often by explosions that shatter the castle. When they arrive, Harry is confronted by Malfoy and three blokes, one of them being Blaise, Daphne recognizes, the others Crabbe and Goyle.
“So? I’m not killing him, am I? But if I can, the Dark Lord wants him dead anyway, what’s the diff-? It’s that Mudblood! Avada Kedavra!”
Hermione sent a disarming charm after them, thus drawing attention to them. Daphne pushes her behind an old shelf on instinct and dives the other way herself to avoid the death curse. The following battle is rather short but intense, and it ends with Crabbe conjuring Fiendfyre, effectively setting the whole room on fire.
Harry, who has just laid hands on the diadem, tries to kill the fire with conjured water, but it’s fruitless and he soon runs after Daphne and Hermione to make it somehow out of the circle of fire.
“There!” he shouts from behind them. “Brooms!”
They all jump on one (Hermione doesn’t even hesitate) and rise into the air. On the top of one pile of things Malfoy, Blaise, and Goyle, who is still stunned, beckon for them to rescue them. Without wasting another thought, Harry heads straight for Malfoy. Daphne follows him and helps Blaise on her broom, whereas Hermione carries Goyle’s immobilised body.
Landing is rough, but at least they’re alive.
“I’m sorry we eavesdropped you,” Blaise says to her. “Thank you. I shouldn’t have”
“Go! Leave!” Daphne waves him off. There’s no time for that now and Tracey will have word with him anyway. Malfoy and Harry pass an oddish long glance at each other before Daphne’s housemates sling their arms around Goyle and walk away.
“One more,” Harry says. “The snake. It’s the last one.”
“Where is she?” He shakes his head. Thinking quickly while they move downstairs, Hermione asks, “Can you look into him?”
Daphne doesn’t understand why exactly they have to find and possibly kill this snake or what Hermione means by ‘looking into him’, yet she soon finds out. Recovering and getting up from the steps, Harry wears a determined expression.
“The Shrieking Shack. She’s with him,” he wheezes. “We can enter through the Whomping Willow.”
They do and hide under the Invisibility Cloak (what is a strange experience for Daphne despite having heard all the stories). There are voices; Snape’s and the cold, dead-like voice from before the battle.
“The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. It only belongs to who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot truly be mine.”
Daphne never imagined she’d ever feel something regarding Snape that isn’t negative, but the painful scream, one so unreal for Severus Snape, that immediately fades away dead in the room, makes her feel sorry for him. She turns her head as the snake bites his neck, only to see Hermione doing the same while Harry watches helplessly.
Snape sinks to the ground, the Snake lets go of him and disappears with the Dark Lord. Daphne decides not to think about the fact that she was practically in a room with the most feared wizard of her time. But with him gone now, they enter the shack and Harry approaches the dying Snape.
He kneels down, presses his hands on the wound to stop the bleeding. Hermione rushes to Harry’s side and Daphne moves closer as well when Snape offers silvery light threads.
“Take it,” is all he says. He dies looking into Harry’s eyes. Not the slightest bit of the contempt he always showed Harry can be seen in his las gaze. In fact, he looks sad and almost remorseful, to a small degree even proud. It’s the last time anyone will ever look into his eyes; Harry will look through them for once. During the one-hour truce, he seeks out the Pensieve.
Daphne and Hermione on the other hand enter the Great Hall. The first impression she gets is shock. Shock about the atmosphere, the dead, the injured. The entire hall is nothing but a picture of suffering, grief, and depression.
“No,” is all Hermione whispers as her eyes fly across everyone. Her hand grabs for Daphne’s and Daphne squeezes it firmly. Hand in hand, they walk the usually teeming with life hall. Ron is entangled in a Weasley group hug right next to the body of one of the twins. Daphne feels terrible that she can’t even tell if it’s Fred or George.
Growing restlessly, she begins to scan the people for her sister, and when her eyes finally get a hold of her, her heart almost stops beating and drops down in her chest, pulling her down with it. Hermione hastens with her to the small gathering around Astoria.
“She’s alive,” Ginny says, and an indescribable heaviness falls from Daphne.
“What has happened?”
“She got herself injured when she caught a spell for me, yet Luna tried to deflect it and managed to protect her, but it still…” Ginny’s voice trails off. “I-I’d be dead if not for her.”
Daphne pulls her into a tight embrace, then does the same with Luna as Hermione hugs Ginny.
“Thank you, Luna.” Her voice is but a silent crying.
“Madam Pomfrey has sent Neville and Dean to fetch anything still undamaged. They should be here soon,” Luna says gently as always, but unusually gravely.
Hermione sits down next to Daphne while Luna talks with Ginny, who leaves for the Weasleys after holding Astoria’s hand and kissing her on her forehead.
Within this hour, time flies, but at the same time it also stands still. Hermione checks in on Ron at one point, Ginny comes back and Luna reports in detail exactly how the battle went for them all down here.
After what feels like an eternity, Neville and Dean show up and Hermione helps Madam Pomfrey as best she can. A few minutes before the end of the truce, Ron gestures for her to leave the hall with him.
This is shortly after Astoria has woken up and clung to Daphne. Over her shoulder, Daphne meets Hermione’s gaze and nods.
“I have to go now,” she whispers in her sister’s ear, then moves her head so she can look into her eyes. “Whatever happens next, I love you, Tori. Please, stay close to Ginny and Luna.”
“I will,” she answers, looking up at Daphne as she stands on her feet. “I love you too.”
Daphne rubs her eyes and locks eyes with Ginny and Luna, then leaves her sister with the two of them to meet up with Hermione and Ron outside.
As it turns out, Harry is there as well.
“Kill the snake, and then it’s just him,” he instructs them.
Hermione hugs him, Ron shares a look with him that says more between them than anything else he could do, and with that Harry walks towards the courtyard.
“He’s not going to… Is he?” Daphne asks.
Ron exhales and runs a hand through his hair. He is. She moves to hold Hermione. The atmosphere is a mixture of anticipation, dreading, fear, nervousness, hope, desperation, grief, and loss. They don’t talk as the last ticks of the truce come closer and closer. They just lay in each other’s arms, not daring to give room for the thought they both have: these could be the last moments they have together. The last moments they could have in general because they might die.
Ron breaks the silence. “What do we do about Nagini?”
“It’d be best to isolate her somewhere in the castle. Then distract her from one side and attack her from another. I don’t see a way as long as she sticks at his side,” Hermione says. Her words are the last ones before the next sound that cuts the air is the declaration of what they knew would come but couldn’t and can’t believe.
“Harry Potter is dead!”
They are under the first people to go outside. Neville, the Sorting Hat in one hand, limps next to them, eyes fixated on Hagrid, who carries Harry’s body in his arms to the yard. He’s crying, that’s obvious even from the distance. Slowly, everyone from inside the Great Hall has arrives outside.
“Harry Potter is dead,” Voldemort repeats.
“No!” McGonagall screams, but she’s shut down by the pale wizard.
“Silence! Foolish woman.” He addresses all of them. “Come forward and join us. Or die.”
Not a single soul steps forward. Not until Lucius Malfoy prompts his son, “Draco.”
His wife supports him. “Come,” she says, holding out her hand.
Don’t go.
Daphne turns to her class mate. His expression is unreadable, but it’s surely not enthusiastic or happy. He hesitates.
Don’t go.
She’s certainly not fond of him in any way, yet he’s changed since he was tasked with killing Dumbledore. For nearly two years now he’s been more irascible, more unstable, more bundled up with nerves. Daphne used to picture his life similar to Pansy’s – except he had to take the step and become a Death Eater.
Considering his behaviour up to that point, it’s obvious to see that he’s changed. He is disillusioned, but still compelled to do what’s expected of him.
He could put an end to that now, though. It wouldn’t be the smartest decision, seeing that all hope they somehow had, Harry Potter, is gone. But smart and right aren’t always the same thing. He’s got the whole school behind him and they all would stay at his side.
Sadly, but not shockingly, he slowly steps forward.
“Well done, Draco, well done,” Voldemort says. “Now, set him down, Hagrd, at my feet, where he belongs! You see? Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!”
It’s always lies that’ll be written down until there’s justice again, Daphne thinks as Voldemort carries on. Harry has just sacrificed himself.
Or, as the Lying Lord puts it, “He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds. Killed while trying to save himself-”
What happens then, no one could have imagined. Neville Longbottom, the ‘scared Gryffindor’, limps forward, focus set on the very man who’s made him the Vice-Chosen One, and all at once starts to spring towards him.
Faster than the speed of his sprint, he gets knocked to the ground hard, wandless and audibly painful.
“Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?” Voldemort asks mockingly.
“It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?” a ghastly crazy witch laughs. Bellatrix Lestrange, who has tortured Neville’s parents in a way all the Crucios of this year combined can’t compete with.
“Ah, I remember. A pureblood, aren’t you?”
Unable to move, Neville stands his ground and speaks against Voldemort while facing him. Something comes flying from inside the castle. The Sorting Hat. He sets it ablaze and places it on Neville’s head. He begins to burn and Daphne can’t look away.
Right, not sma-
Neville breaks free. He simply does, and takes the hat from his head, puts his hand inside and draws the Sword of Gryffindor, aiming for Nagini and swinging it.
At that very moment, Harry suddenly comes back to life and jumps up. Draco, standing near him, calls his name and throws him his wand before hurriedly running away.
Voldemort, who in the meantime has sent Neville flying in a high curve towards the castle to save his snake, turns speechless to Harry, who in turn unleashes spell after spell on the huge creature.
Some Death Eaters disappear and in the chaos that erupts, the defenders of Hogwarts retreat into the entrance.
Harry runs towards Voldemort and the two disappear with a bang, only to reappear briefly on the stairs to the main staircase. When they disappear again, Nagini is left behind. Ron, who is the only one on the stairs with Hermione and her, points at her and sets off to get behind her.
Hermione picks up a stone, waits until Daphne is hidden behind a pile of rubble, and throws it at the snake. Nagini spins around, hisses at Hermione and chases after her.
Fang firmly in hand, Ron approaches her from behind, but she must have sensed his presence because she whirls around again and pushes him up some steps.
Nagini turns again as Daphne leaps out from her hiding place. Hermione hits her head again, but it doesn’t buy enough distraction for Daphne, and she too is attacked by the snake. Hermione tries her best to stop it, but the snake has the better of them both. Daphne grabs Hermione’s hand, just then Ron comes running and pulls them both with him. Together they run down the stairs until a large pile of debris blocks their way.
Their forlorn position at least affords some view in the last few seconds as the creature slithers towards them: of the courtyard outside, where Harry and Voldemort are just landing and rolling through; and of the Great Hall, in whose entrance Ginny, Astoria and Luna are engaged in a fierce battle with Bellatrix. There are three of them, but the dark witch is still too strong.
Ginny goes down to avoid a green spell and Bellatrix laughs, but another voice drowns her out.
“Not my daughters, you bitch!” Molly Weasley bellows.
It’s the last time Bellatrix Lestrange laughed.
Hermione trembles in her arms. Daphne prepares herself for it to be the last thing she will ever feel. Nagini is now so close that the wind she causes blows her hair into her face.
She squeezes Hermione and Ron’s arm, that he draped over he in a last-ditch attempt to defend her.
This is it.
She closes her eyes.
Something cuts the air in front of them, a gurgling sound fades, and no bite comes.
She opens her eyes.
In front of them stands Neville, exhausted, with the bloody Sword of Gryffindor in his hand. He stares stunned at the snake’s corpse; the three of them stare at him. Before the realisation dawns that they have just barely escaped death, two shouts go up.
“Avada Kedavra!”
“Expelliarmus!”
They remain in silence as the duel that will determine history unfolds before their eyes. It is unreal, especially after the experience they have just had.
The spells form a beam of magic that connects both wands. They meet in a core point and this moves and finally meets Voldemort.
It is over.
They are alive.
Voldemort is dead.
=
They are sitting in the Great Hall again. The price of victory takes hold: the mourning of losses.
They have won, but no one is cheering. Few say anything at all.
After hugging all their family members, Ron sits down next to Neville, who is still staring perplexed at his hands.
Some stare at Harry until Luna provides a distraction in which they can sneak outside.
They walk to the bridge. “What are you going to do with the Elder Wand, Harry?”
He looks at the mighty piece of wood in his hands.
“The right thing, I hope,” a familiar voice says.
A few debris away sits the owner of the voice. Abruptly, Harry breaks the wand in two and throws them from either side of the bridge. Then he continues walking. Hermione wants to go after him, but Daphne holds her arm.
“Leave them,” she murmurs softly. Her hand slides down her wrist and Hermione intertwines her fingers. She throws her head over her shoulder twice more, as if to make sure that the first headline after Harry’s triumph over Voldemort will not be the news of his death at the hands of Draco Malfoy, but finally they re-enter the hall, sit down by the Weasley circle, lean against and hold each other.
Around them, things just happen.
It is not a time for words or clear thought. All that keeps Daphne in reality are Hermione’s calloused fingers.
--
It was never planned that Hermione would meet her parents for the first time and stay with them directly for a few weeks. But, with only half a regain of her parents who like it so much in Australia that they stay there, she accepted Daphne’s offer.
She could have stayed with the Weasleys, but it is still a difficult time for them, with the death of Fred. Hermione didn’t want to be intrusive and interfere with this very family time. (Even though Molly insisted she was family.)
A veritable hype has sprung up around the trio who single-handedly ensured Voldemort’s downfall. None of the three are happy with the wording or the sudden media frenzy. Harry, who is the most used to the whole thing, has spoken in public exactly once.
He mentioned to the Quibbler that they all didn’t want to talk about it. Ron and he would be training to be Aurors, so that they could continue to provide security in the future. He mentioned Hermione’s request for privacy, but reporters will always be reporters.
Hermione had considered getting a flat in Muggle London, but she was followed at every turn to every viewing, so she quickly dismissed the idea. It was then when Daphne’s father suggested she could stay with them until the new school year started.
After all, Greengrass Manor keeps unwanted visitors far enough away. And if it also offers the chance to meet their daughter’s friend, Rick and Suzanna would be the last to turn it down.
Hermione was unsure, but eventually Daphne did persuade her. Daphne’s and Hermione’s fathers are creepily similar, although one didn’t know magic existed and the other comes from a formerly Muggle-despising family. Suzanna was blown away: someone with whom she could discuss all her questions about Muggles.
They once invited the Weasleys and Luna and her father over for dinner. Daphne felt sorry for Hermione, who was kept in conversation the whole time by Arthur Weasley and her mother, though she later assured it was fun. Her father, who then saw himself as the sole host, having to interact with all the other guests, did so happily. The joke show of Ron and him felt like it would never end – until George, Ginny, and Astoria started one themselves to mock them.
All in all, it was a nice evening. A necessary change after the gloomy thoughts that came with the war.
The next change is now imminent.
=
Everything is different. Hogwarts feels strange. The castle still bears clear traces of the battle, even if it has been repaired. The rooms and corridors seem sad, as if they are mourning all those who lost their lives in them.
It is strange to have these trivial problems after the past year. Homework, preparing for exams. (It’s only the first week, but it's better to be ahead of things, isn’t it?)
It is strange, but clearly better than the fear of life and death.
More students than she thought have decided to finish Hogwarts properly, so year eight is quite big after all. She could have done without a returnee, though.
“Granger.”
“Parkinson.”
She continues walking.
“Wait!” She is jerked around, nearly dropping her stack of books. “I want to apologise.”
“You’ve got the wrong person,” Hermione replies coolly. Her betrayal of Harry just before the battle almost slipped her mind until she saw her again at Hogwarts.
“What?” She dares to look actually confused.
“You should talk to Harry directly.”
Parkinson’s face falls a little. “Wait a minute. Didn’t Daphne tell you?”
“Didn’t tell her what?” Daphne appears behind her and Hermione exhales in relief. Even though her former bully hasn’t paid attention to her for a long time before she left, Hermione has never lost the feeling that she was just planning something big to really get her riled up.
“That I was on Harry’s side.” Hermione has never seen Pansy Parkinson looking hurt.
“Oh, shite!” Daphne hits her forehead. “I completely forgot about that.”
“Uh, what?”
“Look, Granger. I said that to keep Slytherin out of the battle. Too many of us were expected to fight against you or would’ve enjoyed it.”
“That’s right. That was brilliant of you,” Daphne says.
Parkinson smiles, Hermione shakes her head. “I feel like I’m missing out here.”
Her smile disappears again. “A few years ago, Daphne helped me rethink my instilled beliefs. I stopped insulting you every chance I got, if you noticed.” Hermione nods silently.
“She didn’t want me to tell you about her change of heart. The fewer who knew, the better, at least as long as everyone expected that specific behaviour from her,” Daphne whispers in her ear.
“With the war, conditions have changed for me. I spent the summer standing up for myself,” her voice trembles slightly, but she continues. “Anyway, now I can finally apologise to you. For how I’ve treated you since the first day.”
“Is this really happening right now?”
=
Everything is different.
It’s “Pansy” and “Hermione” now. Harry promised to invite Pansy the next time he’d go out in public with Draco to help restore her image. (This again was easier for Hermione to believe than for the media.)
Much like their sixth year, this year is free of dangerous distractions - apart from Daphne. She misses Harry and Ron, of course, but there are still many of her other friends, and Hermione realises how lucky she is to have them all.
Before her eleventh birthday, she had no idea of this whole world that has opened up to her. She was alone then.
And now she falls asleep at night in the arms of the person she loves.
=
The morning quietly and secretly creeps into the dorm room, warm sunlight gradually sweeping her dreams away. Daphne Greengrass yawns softly, opens her eyes and inhales. Almond and mint, and a faint smell of parchment. Its source is in her arms.
She would never have imagined eight years ago that this Gryffindor girl, Hermione Granger, would fuel the then Ice Queen’s heart like this. Daphne looks down on her, carefully studies her face.
It starts to tell her many a new discovery as well as dear and familiar things. There are images that were buried, almost lost, and moments so full of life that time took from them.
Sleeping peacefully, eyes closed and relaxed, that is all in her. Daphne sees it, can look deep inside her.
“I love you, my princess,” she whispers, closes her eyes again as she snuggles closer, and sneaks into the dream to her.