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Summary
Hermione Granger does not believe in prophecy, or any claim, really, that requires faith over evidence.
To her great dismay, her body has decided to provide her with just that: evidence so compelling it cannot be ignored. One moment, she’s brushing her teeth. The next, she’s bleeding over her toothbrush. She’s dying, and the thing killing her is Draco Malfoy’s absence. He is dying too. The universe has a truly appalling sense of humour.
What follows: the Horcrux hunt with an extremely unwilling additional participant, an abandoned Malfoy estate because Draco categorically refuses to camp, and a frankly ridiculous amount of time spent in a place operating on principles nobody consulted Hermione about.
Slow burn. DH-era. Existential dread, but make it sexy.