Unofficial Portkey Archive

I know I say this every time, but the betas outdid themselves on both this chapter and the epilogue, which is to follow. They worked on 70 pages of text, in an exceptionally short period of time, and made both this and epilogue vastly better. For all your effort, thanks so much to Jane and Melissa. ToR wouldn't be ToR without you both!

V.Leigh

Chapter 24 - The Triumvirate of Resolve

Harry, Ron, and Hermione huddled over the table as Merc reviewed the best strategy they'd managed to devise. "So according to the map Dobby brought," she said as the bat-eared house elf squeaked behind them, "all of the D.A. are in their respective houses. There's a group of students here," she pointed her wand to the kitchens, "and another group locked in the hospital wing."

"It's best for them to stay there. With no means of contacting them, they wouldn't know what to do if they were freed," Harry speculated while pulling at his chin. Hermione couldn't help but watch him. In the hours that passed since Lupin ran out of the mirror, she'd seen the side of Harry that only appeared in the direst of circumstances. During their fifth year, she'd begged this Harry to teach them defense. Last summer, Dumbledore made this Harry Head Boy. In both instances, he'd answered the call and carried out his responsibilities with marked success. It was that history, and the stalwart determination in his eyes, which gave her hope. She had to believe their plan would work because she refused to consider what would happen if it failed.

"What about Madam Pomfrey?" Ron suggested. "She's in the Order," he said, pointing to her name on the map as it flitted about the students in the infirmary. Normally, such a discussion would've been more guarded. After all, until the siege, Merc knew nothing of the Order of the Phoenix, its membership, or its mission. However, that all changed after she'd shared the fruits of her research with Lupin. Her discovery had been its own right of passage and Harry, Ron, and Hermione filled her in on the Order and its relationship to the three of them. Merc took the news, including the story of the "murderer" Sirius Black, in stride.

"No." Harry shook his head. "I have the feeling she'll be attending to other matters. I don't want to draw her attention away from the students," he finished. Ron gave a grim nod of understanding and Merc continued with the synopsis.

"There are three coins here," Merc said as she spread Harry, Ron, and Hermione's D.A. galleons over the map. "You will take two of them, while I'll keep Harry's with me." Ron grumbled. Merc gave him a stern look and continued. "Hermione's charm is still intact, so I can change the coins as the reconnaissance changes."

"I wish you'd change your mind," Ron argued. Merc's stern look ebbed away. Hermione wondered if Merc didn't wish the same. However, she remained steadfast in the decision she'd made over three hours ago.

"No, you don't, Ron," she whispered. "I would be a liability."

"No, you wouldn't! I don't want to leave you here alone!" he snapped.

"I'm safer in here than you will be out there," she retorted. "Someone has to stay here and coordinate between the Order, the map, and you three." Hermione watched Ron's face contort as he tried to think of a response. She knew he wouldn't find one, though; Merc was right. "Besides, I'm not a Gryffindor, Ron. We've already had this conversation." Hermione wondered how that conversation transpired, but she felt confident that she could guess its outcome. In the years she'd known Merc, Defense had always been her weakest subject. What little self-confidence she had evaporated in the face of adversity.

Hermione saw Ron looking toward the tattered and blood-stained sleeve of Merc's jumper. "I know," he lamented. "I just don't want to let you out of my sight." Merc flashed a warm smile.

"As long as the coins keep changing, you'll know I'm fine." Harry cleared his throat and Merc blushed. "Sorry, where were we?" she muttered.

"We're going to hope these dusty old Death Eaters have gone soft in Arithmancy," Hermione interjected. "Merc will encode the movements of the Death Eaters, D.A., and the Order so we won't be surprised."

"It's a good thing we have you then," Ron lamented. "She could give me the arithmantic code spelled out in great big letters on parchment and I'd be hexed trying to decipher it."

"I still don't like it," Harry mumbled.

"That's why I never took Arithmancy," Ron replied. Harry furrowed his brows and looked at Ron in confusion. After a moment's pause, he seemed to realize they were not discussing the same thing.

"I was talking about the plan, Ron," Harry said.

"Oh," Ron answered and looked back to the map.

"What's bothering you?" Hermione asked as she rose from the bench and stood behind Harry. She brushed his hand off his shoulder and began rubbing the knot in his muscle with the heel of her hand. She felt him relax and expel a breath. He picked up his wand and pointed to the map.

"We are trying to coordinate our response from four different locations. I like the idea of the coins counting down to signal the start. But, look here," he pointed to the corridors outside the House portrait holes. "They'll bottleneck trying to come out of there. Even if the first one manages to surprise anyone, the second and third will not." He put his wand down and rubbed his eyes. "It's suicide."

"The only House not guarded is Slytherin," Merc responded.

"Of course. Their bloody parents are running around in hoods. They won't attack their own useless sprogs, will they?" Ron scoffed.

"One might," Hermione added. The group fell into the same uncomfortable silence it had every time she alluded to Malfoy over the past several hours.

"Hermione," Harry's voice wafted from behind his hands. "We've talked about this."

"No, we haven't," she replied and stopped rubbing the knot from his shoulder. "To talk about something implies the other parties listen to what someone has to say. You and Ron have declared Malfoy untrustworthy and completely ignored the resource we have in the Slytherin Common Room." Both Ron and Harry were glaring at her. "Look," she argued and pointed to the map. "Even now, he's not associating with Crabbe and Goyle." Everyone looked to the map and saw what Hermione was talking about. The dot indicating "Draco Malfoy" was secluded in a dormitory whilst the other Slytherin students were gathered in the Common Room.

Harry let out a huff of air and buried his head in his hands. "Hermione, you cannot discount six years of rivalry and contempt. He's not going to change."

"And in your testosterone-driven discussions, you've endeavored to keep an open mind, I'm sure," she retorted. Harry opened his mouth to speak but Hermione, feeling her second wind, pounced before he could reply. "What's the one part of this you've harped on for hours, Harry? It will take every resource we've got for us to have a chance at defeating the Death Eaters! You're consciously ignoring twenty-five percent of the student body!"

"And who's going to coordinate with them, Hermione?" Harry snapped. "There aren't any Slytherins with D.A. coins!"

"Ginny has one," Hermione replied. The look on Ron's face was murderous. "Like it or not, Ginny is in love with him and he's a natural leader in that House. There must be some students who will listen to him!"

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of!" Harry blasted. Hermione had reached her limit. She'd argued this point for hours and they were no farther along in resolving the situation. She was as entrenched in her position as Harry and Ron were in theirs. For the most part, Merc avoided the fray. Hermione couldn't blame her. In choosing a side, she'd be required to alienate either Ron or Hermione. It was clear she didn't wish to make that choice. Hermione held her temper in check over this point of contention for hours. She'd finally lost it entirely.

"What's it going to take, Harry?!" she screamed. "Don't you get it? He's in the Great Hall waiting for you! The prophecy says at least one of you will DIE in this fight!" Her voice started to warble and the tears sprang to her eyes. She'd tried to stay as emotionally reserved as possible, but she was fighting a losing battle. The stress of the situation and the thought of his lifeless body lying on the floor combined to wreak havoc in her mind. As she watched him rise from the bench in front of her, she couldn't stop the visions of Damien's killing curse as it slammed into Harry at Privet Drive.

"Why won't you use every resource you have?" Hermione's voice quaked as she tried to keep shouting. "Your bloody pride will make me a widow before I'm even married," she cried.

The tears began pouring down her cheeks as Harry crossed the room to where she stood. She felt him wrap his arms around her and pull her head onto his shoulder, and she tried to resist. She didn't want him to comfort her. She didn't want him to tell her it would be all right. She wanted to rage at him - she needed to make him understand. But she couldn't do it. The warmth of his arms and the gentle strength of his touch melted her anger and drove it away. She grabbed hold of him with all her might, willing away the danger that faced them. She sobbed on his shoulder until the tears stopped. When they did, she thought to feel embarrassed until she realized Ron and Merc were similarly situated on the other side of the room. The sight of Merc sitting on his lap, wrapped in his arms, gave her pause. She'd managed to forget she was not the only one in danger of losing the only man she ever loved.

"Hermione," Harry's quiet voice resounded in her ear. "Why didn't you tell me how much this was bothering you?"

Hermione sniffled and pulled back from his embrace. "Isn't it obvious?" she scoffed.

"Need I remind you of my marks in Divination?" Harry replied. Hermione couldn't help but chuckle. Harry failed that O.W.L. with one of the lowest marks in recorded history.

"Harry," she croaked. "It's not that I want to trust Malfoy," she said and raised her eyes to his. "I just can't stand the thought that you might…"

"Shhh," he interrupted. "Don't say it…please," he begged with a hint of desperation in his voice for the first time. "I need you to believe I can do this." His eyes glassed over and he shook his head. "If you don't believe in me…"

"I do believe in you, Harry." She threw her arms around his neck and buried her head in his shoulder. She would've protested the force with which he was squeezing her to his chest, but it felt good. If she could have, she would've held him tighter. "I love you so much," she croaked. He turned his head and pressed his warm lips against her cheek. As he peppered her face with short kisses, she couldn't help but taste the tears on his cheeks.

"That's all we need," he whispered, pulling back from her and wiping his eyes with his sleeve. He smiled at her and she dropped her forehead to his, wondering what resolution would come from her meltdown. "Hermione," Harry began. She picked her head up and looked at him quizzically. "I don't trust Malfoy. But I trust you…and your judgment. If you think we should involve Malfoy," he drew a breath, "then we will."

"What?" Ron's voice sounded from across the room.

Harry did not remove his eyes from Hermione's grateful smile. "That's my decision, Ron," he countered. He smiled in return and turned back to the map on the table. Ron grumbled and stalked to the table with Merc in tow. "So, where were we?"

"Bloody Malfoy," Ron groused.

Harry didn't take the bait. "Well, Hermione's right. Ginny has a coin."

"How do we get it to him?" Merc asked. They all looked around at each other in question until a crash behind them signaled the answer. They all turned slowly to see Dobby setting the transfigured chess board back on the table. His giant ears flopped toward the ground as he realized they were staring at him.

"Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter," he cried. He began shuffling around the room, no doubt looking for a dull object with which to beat himself, before Harry stopped him.

"Don't worry about it, Dobby. Ron was cheating anyway," he replied.

"What?!"

"Dobby, I need you to do something for us." Hermione didn't hear the rest of Harry's instructions as she was too busy watching Ron return the chess pieces to the arrangement that existed prior to Dobby's mishap. When Harry finished directing him, the House Elf snapped his fingers and disappeared from the room.

"Ron?" Merc's voice sounded. His eyes were locked on the place Dobby had been standing. "Ron, are you okay?"

"Apparition." Hermione heard him mumble.

"What?" Harry asked, looking in the direction his eyes were focused.

"You're right," Ron replied. "Going through the portrait holes will be suicide." His vision cleared and he snapped his head to Harry's. "We need to talk to Dumbledore." Hermione and the others looked between each other in confusion.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"He's the most powerful wizard in the world, he's in the Order, and he's in the castle. If anyone can lift the protective enchantments on the castle, he can," he answered.

"Why would we want to do that?" Merc asked.

"So we can apparate," Ron responded.

"Ron, everyone knows you can't apparate on Hogwarts grounds," Hermione said, making a mental note to buy him a copy of Hogwarts: A History after this was over.

"Exactly," Ron said with a smile breaking across his face. "What better way to surprise them? The seventh years can apparate out and cause a grand enough distraction that the younger students can use the portrait holes without getting leveled."

"Brilliant," Harry remarked. Before anyone could say another word, Harry turned on his heel and raced across the room to where the mirror lay on the table.

***

The shrouded moonlight cast a murky haze over the dark forest. The chilled air from the castle enchantments condensed Remus' shortened breath into wisps of rising smoke. He stepped over felled branches and cracked through the decaying forest floor with one thought racing through his mind.

"Keres!" he shouted. His voiced resonated between the tree branches and echoed from the depths of the forest. A flock of ravens startled and leapt into the sky replacing the fading sound of his voice with the soft rush of wings. Remus turned on the spot, searching through the dark crevices of the forest for the foe he'd failed to best at Privet Drive. "I know you're out here!" he called. Silence.

Remus stalked further into the forest. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he knew one thing for certain. Damien Keres was hiding among these trees and he wouldn't stop until he found him. As he trekked through the forest, he wondered if Damien's existence here was related to the siege at Hogwarts. He wondered if Voldemort kept him under contract or if Keres decided to finish his assignment of his own accord. He wondered what Tonks would think of him traipsing through the woods in search of a murderous animagus.

Then he tried not to think of Tonks at all.

"Show yourself, you bloody coward!" he heard himself bark through the long shadows of the foliage.

"I'd rather be a coward than a fool," a deep voice chided from behind him. Remus spun around, throwing his wand arm out in front of him. He peered through the wispy branches of the tall pines until he heard the voice again. "Hypothetically speaking, of course, as I am neither a coward nor a fool." Damien's tall silhouette emerged from the shadowed trees as he stepped toward Remus.

He was exactly as Remus remembered him. His inset eyes were the color of cold steel and an obscured moonbeam highlighted his glossy black hair which was tied in a loose ponytail. His clothing was less resplendent than what he'd worn at Privet Drive, yet he remained meticulously well-appointed. A long black cloak draped gracefully over his shoulders and danced along the forest floor below. The darkness of his wardrobe had the effect of illuminating his pale skin. In the midst of shadows, his murderous features glowed in contrast to the dimness of the forest. "I cannot say the same for you, however."

Remus felt the anger stir within him. As a result of his affliction, he'd been relegated to the sidelines of Harry's life for the majority of it. He'd taken it upon himself to assume the role of surrogate godfather in the wake of Sirius' death. He'd failed in that role once. He had no intention of disappointing his "godson" or failing his godson's parents again.

"You are a coward," he reiterated. "You hide in the trees and attack children."

Damien bellowed a laugh. "Potter is hardly a child."

"If you're so impressed by him you'd think a warrior, such as yourself, would've had the courage to face him without the disguises," Remus replied.

Damien's laugh faded and a grin etched itself across his features. "That's the problem with you, Lupin. All of you. You seem to think the manner of victory is important. What matters is the kill, not the hunt." It was Remus' turn to laugh.

"Well, I'm glad to say you're a miserable hunter as you've had at least three opportunities and couldn't claim victory in any one of them."

"I'm not finished."

Remus' eyes lowered to a scathing glare as he replied, "Yes, you are." Keres didn't flinch nor did he appear moderately fussed over Remus' declaration. If Remus hadn't been watching him so intently, he would've missed the indiscernible upturn of his pursed lips.

"My goals are well-supported. You're out of your league, half-breed," Keres announced.

Remus felt an angry fire erupt in his stomach. "Underestimating your opponent?" he derided. "That's so unlike a Berserker."

Keres raised an appreciative eyebrow. "It's about time. I was afraid I'd have to draw you a picture."

"Picture this!" The forest lit up with a blood red hue as Remus dropped behind a moldy burn and fired a stunner toward his foe. Keres spun behind a tree, his robes trailing off behind him, as the spell shot through the air and exploded against a tree behind him. The decaying bark shattered and showered the sky with a confetti of fiery embers. Remus looked up from his position as Keres' wand erupted with a familiar green light. He threw his hands over his head and ducked as the deadly jet careened over his head. Remus, seeing a defensive position amid the trees to his left, leapt to his feet and set off for the grove.

As he ran, multiple jets of colored light ricocheted among the trees around him. He ducked from one side and dove to another, hearing the hiss of a curse as it sped past his ear.

And then it was silent.

Remus dove behind the trees he'd marked as his rasping breath drowned out the sounds of the forest. He peered between the branches hoping to see a moving shadow that would betray Keres' position. He saw nothing. Remus tugged off his robes and gave a fleeting look toward the sky.

A blanket of billowy clouds obscured the moonlight. A silver glow behind a moving sea of white was the only indication that the moon was in full cycle. For the first time in his life, Remus cursed the moon for an entirely new reason.

He knew the eerie silence would soon be shattered by the cry of a ravaged bear. He also knew the Gelidus Bear's ability to stave off ordinary spell work. He wasn't powerful enough to defeat Keres with a wand and he wasn't strong enough to defeat him with his hands. Before Tonks' voice could begin chastising him, he looked around from his position for anything to aid his cause.

"You really got yourself in a spot this time, Moony!" James laughed as Sirius wiped the tears from his cheeks.

"You could be a chum and get me down!" Remus suggested as the blood rushed to his face.

"But you'd make a magnificent Christmas ornament, swinging upside down in that oak, Remmy," Sirius laughed.

"It's May!" Remus shouted.

"I know!" Sirius replied, dissolving into laughter again, as he dropped onto the grass and watched his friend sway in the breeze.

"Come now, Sirius, be…serious," James hesitated. "We can't leave him flapping about the tree for months when I'm quite sure we'll need him to save our arse from Filch at some point," James reasoned.

"Too right," Sirius remarked as he got back to his feet. They pulled out their wands together and released Remus from the hex he'd inadvertently cast on himself. He dropped to the ground in a heap and James pulled him to his feet.

"Thank you," Remus said.

"No worries," James replied. "I'll send you an invoice."

"Invoice?" Remus scoffed. "Certainly! You should expect payment when your first born takes his N.E.W.T.'s"

"Close enough," Remus whispered aloud. He grasped his wand and stepped out of the grove into the clearing he'd just traversed. The only thing that surprised him was the celerity with which Damien attacked. He'd not even gathered his breath when a great mass of fur and fangs slammed into his left side and sent him sprawling across the forest floor. As he skidded over the decaying leaves, his wand slipped from his hand, leaving him entirely defenseless. True to form, Damien took the opportunity to relish in the kill.

Remus was sure if animals could smile, the creature salivating at the thought of devouring him would be beaming. The massive bear stalked around him in a great circle, always keeping his eyes transfixed on the figure lying before him. Remus gathered himself from the ground and searched surreptitiously for his wand, distracting the bear by making a big production of brushing himself off. Nearly six meters away, he saw it. He locked eyes with the bear, who was still circling him like a vulture, and seized his opportunity.

"Accio wand!" he shouted and the thin polished wood flew through the air into his hand. He heard Damien growl and felt his rapid approach. He caught the wand in his right hand and spun around to cast a stunner just as the bear's massive paw connected with his head. Stars exploded behind his eyes, but he kept a death grip on his wand and thought of his purpose in coming here.

This menace had one goal in mind - he would not stop until Harry was dead.

"Avada Kedavra!" he shouted as his wand erupted with the angry fire that continued to roll in his stomach. A horrifying eruption of green light shot from his wand and sent tingles through his arm. Damien, appearing more surprised than scared, failed to move in time and the curse connected with the bear's massive torso. He was knocked backward and flipped over a fallen tree, landing on his back and falling silent.

Remus stood still as a statue, gazing upon what he'd done. The form of the Gelidus bear dissolved and Damien Keres' body replaced it. He looked at the wand in his hand and back to the motionless man on the ground. He dared to believe it could be that easy…he loathed himself for feeling that way. He'd never used an unforgivable curse in his life and he'd managed to end a life in the same way Voldemort had ended James and Lily's. He wanted to believe he was incapable of such hatred, but the proof was lying before him - his gray eyes wide and lifeless - staring toward the sky.

Remus took a breath and stepped toward Damien's body, holding his wand toward him for fear he'd dreamed up the event. As he hovered over him, he felt a prickle at the back of his neck. He'd seen the muggle movies where the villain jumps to life and strangles the protagonist. He nudged his rigid body with his foot. Keres did not respond. He stared at his chest, looking for signs of respiration…none were obvious. But there was only one way to be sure. Slowly, he lowered himself to Damien's side. He reached out, with two fingers, toward his neck, feeling the prickle of his spine spreading over his entire back. Just as he placed his fingers on the chilling skin covering his jugular artery, Damien's hand shot up from the ground and grasped Remus' wrist with painful jubilation.

"I told you I wasn't finished!" Damien growled. Remus felt the pain shooting through him, but it wasn't only coming from the crushing grip Damien held on his wrist. White hot knives burned through his back and seemed to slice him vertically along his spine. He threw his head back as the pain brought about a frightening scream. That was the moment he realized what was happening.

Damien dropped his wrist and Lupin looked back to the ground where he lay. Damien's eyes were wide with an expression that could only be categorized as terror. As Lupin's vision began to blur, he saw the reflection of the full moon in Damien's gray eyes as the last line of clouds floated away.

His body exploded in pain and he heard his voice mutate from that of a man to that of a beast. He smelled the adrenaline in the air. He felt the frenzied struggling of another. Their eyes locked. Instinct eclipsed rationale. The forest echoed with the sounds of tearing flesh and breaking bone. The strangled cries of hunter and prey resounded from the trees as two warriors shared one purpose…to kill the other.

***

"Did you hear that?" Ron asked. His footsteps slowed as he strained his ears to listen again.

"What?" Hermione panted. Ron looked out of the corridor window toward an otherwise still Forbidden Forest. Harry caught his breath and flipped his galleon over in his hand. As soon as she saw him inspect it, Hermione felt the heat of her own coin burning in her pocket.

"It sounded like a werewolf," Ron replied. Hermione hesitated as she pulled the coin from her pocket. She stepped to the corridor window and looked over the Dark Forest. She didn't know what she expected to see. Certainly Lupin wouldn't be standing at the forest edge posing for a photograph. Nevertheless, she was compelled to scan the trees for any indication of his whereabouts. It had been over seven hours since he ran from the mirror.

She strained her ears and listened for any familiar sound. However, what she heard wasn't coming from the Dark Forest; it was coming from the far end of the corridor. She snapped herself back to reality. She thought to check the galleon for Merc's latest indication of the Death Eaters position.

She didn't need to.

"Come on!" Harry shouted as he grabbed her by the upper arm and set off down the corridor. Ron ran alongside them as colored streams of light exploded off the walls around them.

"In here!" a strange voice cried. Hermione looked to her left and a young witch in a portrait swung open to reveal a passageway. The three dove into the tunnel and pulled the portrait closed behind them.

"That was close," Ron lamented as he gasped for breath.

Harry nodded. "We should move on," he added. Hermione sank against the wall. She hadn't eaten a proper meal in nearly a week. While Dobby had been successful at bringing them some matter of sustenance, it was only enough to keep them alive. After two hours of running the corridors and dodging curses, she didn't think she had the energy to continue.

"Can't we rest a spell?" she begged. Harry and Ron looked at her speculatively. "Please," she added before they could respond.

"All right, but let's not take long," Harry replied.

Hermione nodded and drew a deep breath. She hadn't felt as though she'd done that since they left the Room of Requirement. They'd enacted their plan just after sunset. It was rather simple. After some trial and error, Dumbledore managed to drop the protective charms on the castle which had the added benefit of calling the portraits back to their frames. Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way through the castle toward Gryffindor Tower where the majority of the D.A. were located. Upon Merc's signal, they would call for the eldest students to apparate into the corridors where they could engage the Death Eaters. Their end goal was to distract the invaders so the younger students could escape through the portrait holes and out of the castle to the stronghold the Order established by the lake.

Apparition was key to maintaining the element of surprise. Not only would it allow the students the opportunity to circumvent the portrait holes, it would also allow the Order to get in the castle unchecked. Although it was tempting to apparate away from the Death Eaters that had been chasing them through the corridors, Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew better. If the Death Eaters realized they could apparate into the Common Rooms the entire plan would be worthless.

Hermione hadn't counted on the initial part of the plan to take as long as it did. It had taken the three of them over two hours and they still hadn't reached their destination. They'd been forced to move slowly. They had to hide in broom closets and behind suits of armor, and they were forced to wait for patrols to pass. Merc continued to communicate the positions of the Death Eaters around them, but there were so many they'd been confused, and located, on more than one occasion. As soon as the Death Eaters realized they were moving through the castle, the patrols and search parties became relentless. Such developments only slowed their progress further.

Harry slid down the wall coming to rest next to Hermione. Ron flopped onto the dusty floor across from them. "Where do you reckon this goes?" he asked looking down the tunnel.

"Dunno," Harry said. "I don't recognize it from the map." Ron's face brightened.

"Brilliant," he answered. "Fred and George will be completely chapped off."

"Well, we're on the right floor," Hermione added. "If this tunnel branches toward the east, we might find it ends rather close to Gryffindor Tower."

"Good," Harry's dark voice resonated from the stone walls. "I'm tired of running." The three fell into companionable silence. Hermione was sure they were all thinking the same thing. Harry's frustration alluded to the part of the plan no one talked about - the part of the plan she couldn't bring herself to think about, even though it existed as factually as did the air they breathed.

He was here. He was waiting.

Hermione glanced up to catch Harry's eyes. He didn't strike her as scared or even intimidated. His expression wasn't mired in self-pity. He didn't argue about his fate or rant like a child deprived of his favorite toy. He looked…ready. She pulled the galleon out of her pocket and flipped it over in her hand. Merc encoded the movements of all the Death Eaters, including the location of Voldemort. As the code associated with the Dark Lord had not changed, Hermione reckoned he must not have moved.

In actuality, they were guessing that he was located in the Great Hall. The Marauder's Map showed the location of every living creature in the castle and labeled each dot with the owner's name. However, since they'd first inspected the map, one lone dot moved around the Great Hall with some regularity, yet did not have a name. It was Harry who declared it must be Voldemort. After all, if the wizarding world is terrified to speak his name, why would the map wish to spell it out?

Hermione looked across the tunnel to see Ron staring back. He broke a faint smile when their eyes met and gave her hand a supportive squeeze. They both looked to Harry, who reflected the same serene smile, and stood up. "We're ready then?" Ron asked, brushing the dust from his robes.

"We're ready," Harry responded. Hermione was the first to take leave of their respite. She followed her instincts farther into the tunnel and found that it did branch in the direction she'd hoped. She motioned for Harry and Ron to follow her and pushed on the wall at the tunnel's end. It popped open with a soft click and she peered out into the corridor. As her eyes swept along the familiar faces along the wall, she smiled as she gazed upon the Fat Lady, trying to hide her girth behind a wingback chair in her frame. She drew back into the tunnel and pulled the door closed.

"We're here," she announced. "The Fat Lady is directly across the hall." Ron and Harry exchanged looks and leaned against the wall.

"The only question is whether or not Merc knows we're here," Harry said. "I've not seen this passageway on the map. I hope we haven't disappeared from it."

"We'll know soon enough," Ron answered as he squeezed the galleon in his hand. He was right. While Merc had means to communicate with everyone who held a coin, they could not communicate with her. Understanding this, they'd devised a plan. When Harry, Ron, and Hermione reached Gryffindor Tower, she would enchant the coins to reflect a five minute countdown. If the countdown didn't begin, it meant that Merc didn't know their location.

As Hermione inspected her coin, her emotions were thoroughly conflicted. She wanted the countdown to begin. It was their plan; it was their purpose for being in the tunnel. It was the only way to resolve both the siege and the prophecy once and for all. Yet at the same time, that countdown would signal the irreversible possibility that Harry would have to face Voldemort soon. He might die, and she wasn't ready to say goodbye; she prayed she wouldn't have to. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the visions of Harry's defeat to dissipate, when the coin grew hot in her hand. Her eyes popped open…four minutes and fifty-five seconds.

Something inside her began to panic. Cogent thought evaporated from her mind and she all but forgot her name, let alone her part in the plan they'd devised. Her heart was pounding and her hand was shaking; there was so little time left. She looked between Harry and Ron at a loss for what to say - yet she felt she should say something. Should she tell them both how much she loved them or was that too foreboding? Should she make a joke and break the tension or was that too flippant? Should she try to review the plan or would that just confuse them all as she couldn't remember it anyway? The panic began to rise in her chest…three minutes and thirty seconds.

"Er," she began, desperate to say something in the time that remained.

"Hermione," Harry whispered. She jerked her head toward his. It wasn't until his hand closed around hers that she realized it was shaking. "Everything will be all right," he assured. He looked between her and Ron. "We'll get through this…together."

Ron nodded in silent assent. It was the assurance Hermione needed to refocus on the task at hand. She drew a deep breath and looked between her best friends. It was difficult to imagine that their life, so long ago, was replete with mountain trolls, Quidditch matches, and study sessions. In some instances it felt as if the search for Neville's toad was centuries ago, and at other times it seemed like yesterday. So much had changed yet remained exactly the same. She squeezed Harry's hand and reached out for Ron's. She had only enough time to close her eyes and breathe in the safety of their friendship before the countdown drew to a close, as did the life she'd become so familiar with.

"Ready then," Harry's voice broke the silence of her musings as the final seconds ticked off the coin.

"Ready," she and Ron replied in unison.

"Right," he croaked. "In three…" Hermione adjusted the grip on her wand. "Two…" she gave one last look to Harry and Ron. "One." Her eyes locked with Harry's and an eternity of things unsaid passed between them in a glance. With a final squeeze of their hands Harry, Ron, and Hermione apparated into the corridor beside the Fat Lady. Within seconds they were joined by Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, Ginny Weasley, and Neville Longbottom. Seconds later, led by Professor McGonagall the younger students came barreling out of the portrait hole.

If the plan was proceeding as Harry and the Order intended, the same event was occurring outside of each House. The older students were apparating into the corridors while the professors locked within the Common Rooms were leading the younger students into the fray. Hermione couldn't stop herself from examining the looks on the students' faces. They were so young…they were so scared. They clung to their wands, and to each other, as if to a life raft as they tumbled past the Fat Lady together.

"Hermione!" Harry's voice barked. She spun around to see the darkened figures of several Death Eaters charging toward them. Dean knocked over a suit of armor and pulled Seamus behind it with him. Neville grabbed Ginny and slung her behind him as he threw the first of a volley of curses down the corridor.

The younger students erupted in a cacophony of panicked screaming. For all McGonagall did to try and calm them, they were not listening. They bolted off down the corridor as errant hexes flew past their heads and slammed into the stone walls around them. Hermione watched them continue to file out of the portrait hole. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were set to bring up the rear and they'd not been seen as of yet. They needed more time.

Hermione spun around and caught sight of a purple hex hurtling toward her. She cast the shield charm just in time to deflect it into the ceiling above them. The impact splintered the rafter above her head and showered the corridor with a snowfall of debris. She flattened herself against the wall and shot a stunner down the foggy corridor toward the advancing guard.

The corridor was alight with hexes of every variety. Streams of brilliant light shot in every direction. The dust from blasted stone filled the corridor and obscured everything save the deadly streams of light that careened through their once hallowed halls. She saw Harry, with one eye on the portrait hole, shouting orders to the others in the fight. It took a moment before her brain realized some of those orders were directed at her.

"Hermione! Two on the right!" she looked along the scorch-marked wall and saw the outlines of two Death Eaters that had already eluded Dean and Seamus. They were headed directly for Neville and Ginny's position when she saw one point its wand at her best friend's sister.

"Expelliarmus!" she shouted before the Death Eater could cast their charm. Ginny snapped her head around and threw a stunner toward the two - now directly beside them - and ran away as they fell to the floor. Hermione watched her take off down the corridor with Neville throwing hexes behind them for protection. They ran past Harry's position who also seemed preoccupied with their safety. He never saw the hooded figure appear in the corridor behind him.

"Harry!" was all she managed to shout before the corridor ignited with a sickening green fire. It hurtled toward him before he could respond to her warning. The sound seemed to evaporate from the fight as she watched the spell careen toward him. He turned around to shield it, but she knew better.

There wasn't enough time.

Her heart dropped to her feet. The spell was quickly closing the short distance remaining between Harry and his attacker. She saw him suck in a gasping breath and close his eyes. For as much as she tried to move, to react, to defend him…she couldn't. She was frozen in place watching the scene unfold before her.

Just as the spell cast a deadly light over Harry's startled face a short, plump, hooded shadow tumbled from an alcove to Harry's right. His hood dropped down to his shoulders as the green flames enveloped him. The man let out an excruciating squeal as he fell to the floor. Although she'd not laid eyes on him in years, Hermione recognized the man immediately. She turned away and squeezed her eyes shut as the green flames devoured Peter Pettigrew in a matter of seconds. A moment of stunned silence followed before she heard Harry's voice again.

"That's all!" Harry shouted over the ruckus in the corridor. Hermione looked around to see Lavender and Parvati running backwards with their wands extended, trying their best to protect their frightened housemates. Just as she felt some modicum of relief, she heard a cry she'd never forget.

"Dean!" Seamus screamed. She startled and turned back down the hall to be met with a blurry mess of raven hair as Harry tackled her to the ground. Her head connected with the stone floor and the stars burst in front of her eyes. She was moderately aware of the familiar green spell that narrowly missed her and exploded against the Fat Lady's portrait.

The frame slid off the wall and crashed to the floor beside them. Harry grabbed it with one arm and slung it over the both of them as he peeked out to locate the remaining attackers. Hermione squeezed her eyes together and cleared her vision. She looked out from the tattered portrait and her eyes found Dean's. He was laying on the floor behind the suit of armor where Seamus was crouched in shock. Dean looked like a muggle photograph. His eyes were wide and blank. He was looking directly at her, yet it was obvious he wasn't seeing anything. He had no marks upon him. He had no burns. He had nothing but the look of someone who'd just fallen victim to the killing curse. She wanted to look away but she couldn't. She couldn't wrest her eyes from the shocked expression on his face…she couldn't stop thinking that this couldn't be happening.

She wondered if this was what Cedric looked like.

"Hermione, I need you," Harry demanded. It was his voice that broke her catatonia. "Stunners on three!" He slid off of her as she rolled to her stomach. Harry's eyes were connected with Ron's (on the far side of the corridor) as he shouted "One! Two! Three!" She leapt from her place, with Ron and Harry at her side and they unleashed a current of red light the likes of which had not been seen before. A wave of red magic swept down the corridor and blasted the remaining Death Eaters off their feet. Hermione didn't think to be impressed until they stopped skidding across the floor.

"Cor," Neville whispered, as he stepped away from a rather wizened-looking Ginny Weasley. Although her posture cast a fire of indignation toward Neville's efforts to protect her, Hermione noticed her eyes were glued to Dean's body.

"Dean," Seamus' voice warbled. He crawled to where he lay and shook him by the shoulder. "Dean!" he called again. Dean didn't move. He didn't blink. Seamus began to shake him harder, his voice trembling among the rubble. "Dean, wake up," he pleaded. Harry stepped away from Hermione's side and crossed the corridor. He laid a hand on Seamus' shoulder and bent over.

"Seamus, he's gone," he said quietly. "We need to move…now," he pressed. Seamus' eyes flashed and he whipped his head around.

"This is all your bloody fault!" he barked. To his credit, Harry didn't flinch. It appeared as though he was either expecting Seamus' reaction…or he agreed with it. Hermione thought to say something in his defense, but Harry responded before she could formulate a reply.

"They won't be gone long," he continued, unfazed. "We need to get the others out." Hermione could hear the distant sounds of embattled spells and crashing stone. She could hear the voices of student and Death Eater alike…casting…screaming…fighting.

"Seamus," Neville interrupted. "We have to go…now!" Neville, apparently hearing what Hermione had, tugged on Ginny's robes and began to race down the hall. Ron and Hermione joined them, falling behind until they were sure Harry had convinced Seamus as well. When they popped up from the floor and followed, the lot of them set off at a sprint.

The younger students should've been well beyond them, but as they ran, they could hear the volleys of magic crashing in the corridors. There were so many voices, Hermione could barely make out any of them. As they turned the corner, her eyes burned with the vibrant light of powerful hexes. The rafters were on fire and smoke was filling the corridor. It had grown so hot, she almost didn't notice the coin that was burning in her pocket.

She pulled out her galleon and gasped. "Harry," she screamed. "Ten more! Behind us!"

"Damn!" he shouted as he dove for a large alcove. The others followed suit. Hermione peeked around the corner in both directions. The firefight continued down the corridor as she heard the footsteps approaching from the other end.

"What now?" Ginny asked.

"The first-years need more time," Hermione offered. She looked at the smoky corridor and got an idea. "Harry," she said, rounding on him. "They're coming from the other direction! We can disarm them without disarming everyone in the corridor."

"It will take them forever to find their wands in this!" Ron added, looking at the thickening smoke. Without responding, Harry jumped up from his spot and ran into the corridor. "Stay here!" Ron screamed at Ginny as he and Hermione stepped, unprotected, into the corridor. Since it was her idea, Hermione found herself taking the lead on the casting.

"On three," she heard herself announce. "One…two…" An eruption of green light exploded just past their field of vision and headed directly for the three of them. There was no time to duck. There was no time to shield. Hermione heard Ginny screaming from the alcove and did the only thing that came to her mind. "Deliquesco!" She heard her voice harmonize with Harry and Ron's as the spells connected with their bodies.

She felt an ice cold shiver prickle her skin and resonate through every organ in her body. It felt like someone had run her through with a white hot stoker, yet she was standing…what's more, so were Harry and Ron. "Three!" she shouted as they cast the expelliarmus charm into the darkness. As the stunner before it had, their spells combined into a blinding wave of light that swept down the corridor, disarming everything in its path. She turned around to appraise the escort behind them. The first thing she saw was the face of another student, lifeless on the floor. She couldn't help but wonder if they had fallen victim to the killing curse meant for her. As she considered this, the noise in the corridor dissipated and shadows of the remaining students trailed out of sight.

"How in Merlin's name…," Ginny's voice trailed away as she stepped from the alcove with a shocked Neville and Seamus.

"We'll tell you later," Harry interrupted. The footsteps began reforming behind them. "Let's draw them off…come on," he ordered.

They set off down the corridor, allowing themselves to be seen, and turned the corner in the opposite direction from the fleeing students. Hermione was gasping for air among the smoky atmosphere as they ascended a staircase to the next floor. She heard the footsteps closing in from behind. Ron reached the landing first and turned the corner toward the North Tower. As Hermione rounded the same corner, she heard Ron groan.

"Ron?!" she yelled through the smoke.

"Hermione," Harry's voice replied as his hand grabbed her upper arm and threw her toward the wall. He stepped in front of her as every moving object in the corridor came to a halt. Ron's arms were pinned behind him as a rather imposing figure had him by the shoulders. He was thrashing about in his captor's arms but making little progress. As the group of cloaked figures in front of them stepped closer, those giving chase from behind appeared through the gray haze.

They were surrounded.

"Well, well…" a familiar voice crooned. "We meet again." Hermione closed her eyes and her mind began to race for a solution. Just as quickly as she'd discovered it, it was taken away. The brightness of the Death Eater's spell implored her to open her eyes. When she did, she saw a misty silver dome encapsulating them all. "That will keep anyone from trying to apparate," the voice continued. "We're only tricked once." As if she couldn't place the malevolent tone before, it was clear now.

"You're too late, Malfoy," Harry replied to the elder wizard. "They're bound to be out of the castle by now." Lucius threw his head back in laughter and his hood slipped down to reveal his silken white locks.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," he replied. "We have impeccable intelligence." Hermione's mind continued to race as she felt the presence of those behind her draw closer. She was out of ideas. They were outnumbered, they were surrounded, and they couldn't apparate. As she searched the blank annals of her mind she realized the galleon had begun to burn in her pocket. She stepped farther behind Harry, feigning the need for his protection, and slipped the coin from her pocket. She examined the code and blinked her eyes. Merc was a bit late…she already knew Malfoy was in the corridor. Just as the thought crossed her mind, she felt a hand brush along her back as one of those assembled behind walked toward Lucius Malfoy.

The Slytherin robes were a dead giveaway, as was the gasp from Ginny.

Hermione looked between Draco and Ginny, seeing their eyes meet with an indeterminate look from him. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She'd seen Malfoy stand up to his father before. She'd seen what their atrocities had done to him in the Hog's Head. She saw the hopeful look that etched itself on Ginny's face and smiled with the thought she'd stood her ground against Harry and Ron. The surreptitious wink Malfoy gave Ginny before turning around to face his father all but solidified her faith they would get out of this situation alive. He had something planned.

"Draco," Lucius hissed. "I'm surprised you had the courage to show your face."

"I'm full of surprises," he replied with a sneer. Hermione looked at Ginny and noticed that she'd straightened up and stepped toward her brother…now stock still in the Death Eater's arms. Ron's wary eyes caught Hermione's and she did the best she could to reflect that everything would be all right.

"So you've thrown yourself in with this lot," Lucius chided. "And to think you were the pride of the Malfoy family name." He looked around at the assemblage. "Heroes…blood-traitors…and mudbloods," he scoffed.

Draco harrumphed. "You'll never make it out of here alive, Father. The castle is being infiltrated with Aurors and the Order of the Phoenix as we speak."

"So I'm told," he replied. "Alas, I don't answer to them. I answer to the Dark Lord, and he is waiting for him," he responded coolly as he locked eyes with Harry. Hermione felt a chill rise through her spine. There were so many people, so many emotions, filling the corridor, she couldn't sort one from another. She was flooded with hatred, deception, fear, pride, and anxiety such that she'd never experienced.

"Well, you can tell your boss he'll have to wait," Harry retorted amid the laughter of the Death Eaters.

"Too right," Malfoy chuckled. "I'm sure I can persuade you to come along." Lucius inclined his head toward Ron and the hooded man next to his captor slid a serrated dagger from his robes and pressed it to Ron's throat. He sucked in a gasping breath and squeezed his eyes shut as Hermione was overcome with the fear he was broadcasting. She fisted her hands in the back of Harry's robes and failed to breathe. "What's the matter, Boy Wonder? Difficult decision?" Lucius chided.

"Don't do it, Harry," Ron replied through gritted teeth. Laughter again.

"No?" Lucius responded as he began to circle the six Gryffindors. "Perhaps we'll sweeten the pot." Hermione let out a scream as she was seized from behind and dragged to where Ron was held. She felt the cold steel of the dagger tracing a line along her throat.

"STOP!" Harry insisted. They laughed again. Hermione dared to open her eyes. Harry's tortured expression was staring back at them both. She wanted to shake her head, to tell him not to give in, but the dagger remained tight upon her skin and she dared not move.

"Perhaps I should make him choose," Lucius speculated. "The red-haired imbecile, or the filthy mudblood," he spat, running his reproving eyes between them both.

"Draco," Ginny squeaked. He turned to look at her and the corner of his mouth turned skyward.

"Yes, father…perhaps you should," he answered without removing his eyes from Ginny's. Hermione felt the blade poke through her skin as she turned her head toward Draco Malfoy. With all the charged emotions in the room she couldn't have heard him correctly. Except, Lucius was laughing again…and this time the smile was directed at his son. "Frankly, I think they're both expendable."

Hermione could go her entire life and never see the look that darkened Harry's features again. He was enraged. His eyes briefly locked upon hers as his jaw seemed to grind his teeth straight through to his skull. Ginny's mouth was agape.

"No," she warbled. This time Draco laughed with the assemblage of Death Eaters.

"Yes."

"It's not possible," she cried as Neville grabbed her arm to keep her from crossing to Draco's location. Hermione could see her shaking from where she stood. She could feel the rage pulsing from Ron. Regardless of the blood now trickling down her throat from the dagger, she wanted to exact her own revenge - if not for Ginny's sake, for her own. She was the one who convinced Harry and Ron to trust Malfoy.

"So you are the leak," Harry spat. "All of their intelligence has come from you!"

Draco stepped to his father's side. "You give him far too much credit, Potter," Lucius scoffed.

"I don't understand," Ginny sobbed, ignoring the other conversation. "You said you couldn't live in his shadow anymore. You said you wanted to make a life for yourself."

Draco huffed a breath of air. "Some life! To live on knuts and worry about where my next meal is coming from. I should thank you, Ginny. You showed me how to budget. You showed me how to get by with less. You showed me exactly why I despise being poor." Ginny looked as though she'd been punched in the stomach. "If it weren't for you, I never would've contacted my father to set things right."

"You son of a bitch!" Ron barked as he began struggling to get at Draco. Neville pulled Ginny back with both arms and appeared to hold her upright. Hermione watched the entire scene as if it were an out-of-body experience.

"Now, I'll not have Draco's mother disrespected," Lucius said comically as he pointed his wand at Ron. "Crucio!" Ron fell, screaming, to the floor. Hermione gasped for air as the curse resonated in her body as well. She fought through teary eyes and realized Harry was standing with gritted teeth and shaking limbs as well. Then it was gone. The hooded menace behind them stood Ron back on his feet as Lucius continued.

"Imagine my surprise when Draco tried to 'weasel' his way back into my good graces. I chose to prolong his punishment and only allow him reentry to the family if he maintained his 'relationship' with that." He pointed at Ginny, now sobbing freely. "After all, didn't some wise man once say it was best to keep your friends close and your enemies closer?" Hermione desperately wanted to point out that a muggle had made that assertion. However, given the circumstances, she chose to remain silent.

"Then he is the leak!" Harry reiterated.

"Not hardly. Although Draco provided us with excellent information regarding this grand escape of yours…the Order of the Phoenix was its own leak."

"I don't understand," Harry answered.

"Oblivious lot, you are. Did no one ever wonder what happened to Mrs. Black's portrait?" Lucius chided. Harry's face furrowed in question. "It happens that a portrait of our family was commissioned after Sirius Black was banished from the family. Had he ever thought to ask Kreacher, before his unfortunate demise, he would've known it hangs in our dining room."

"Mrs. Black's portrait is the leak?" Harry wondered aloud.

"The heavy drapes that hang in front of the frame do little to deaden the sound and provide a wonderful means of obscuring her presence, when she chooses to make an appearance," Lucius chimed. "They never thought to guard conversations in that house. It may be unplottable, but we never needed to find their headquarters when they so willingly brought the information to us." Even Draco joined in the amiable laughter that was had at their expense. "Now, I believe I've had enough games. The Dark Lord is expecting his guests and I see no reason to make him wait." He turned to his son. "I believe you have business to attend to elsewhere in the castle." Draco nodded and began to sweep down the corridor as the assembled Death Eaters each grabbed a Gryffindor. He only took a few steps before turning on his heel and staring Ginny directly in the eyes.

Her breath audibly caught in her throat and she blinked through her tears. Hermione felt a twitch of hope. Perhaps this had all been a game…a joke…part of his plan to get them out of this situation. As she watched his mouth open with what could only be their salvation, she held her breath.

"Oi, Ginny," he said. His lips curled into a grin and his eyelids lowered smugly. "You're not a bad shag for a Weasley."

Hermione couldn't tell which sound filled the corridor with more noise: Ginny's heart-breaking sobs or Ron's declaration that he'd see Draco Malfoy dead if it was the last thing he did.

***

As the Death Eaters manhandled the six Gryffindors down the corridor toward the Great Hall, Harry couldn't stop thinking how different this encounter would be. Throughout the last seven years, each time he'd faced Voldemort, he'd essentially done it alone. He'd been without aid and without witness to the things he'd accomplished in the name of saving his own arse.

This time it was different. Not only were Ron and Hermione being shuffled through the corridor at his side, but Neville, Ginny, and Seamus were struggling just behind him. In the back of his mind, he wondered why Voldemort would be so keen to have an entourage of witnesses. In reality, he already knew the answer to that question.

He'd seen the swaggering of the Dark Lord's pride in the graveyard during his fourth year. He'd pranced, he'd danced, and sang the music of his own voice to the assemblage of Death Eaters that apparated to his side. Harry had the sinking feeling this would be no different except that he wanted Harry's friends to watch him die. That was the only explanation for why they were still alive.

His escort had a vice grip on Harry's arms and nearly bowled him over on two occasions when Harry wasn't walking with the lumbering gait of his captor. He steered him through the rubble and tattered canvas that littered the floor. He slowed only long enough to kick the hood off a felled Death Eater's head. It was MacNair. In some twist of irony, the executioner appeared to have fallen victim to a well-placed severing charm. When Harry's escort kicked off the hood, MacNair's head rolled away with it.

Harry squeezed his eyes closed and tried to block out the sounds of Neville's wretching behind him. He turned his head to the side and felt his heart drop to his knees. Just within the shadows lay the crumpled body of a familiar student. The blue of the Ravenclaw's robes had been stained red with blood and her face was obscured by her hair. But Harry didn't need to wonder who else had fallen in the battle. Harry remembered…a flash of her robes whipping over the Quidditch pitch, a warm smile from the first meeting of the D.A. at the Hog's Head Tavern, the sloppy wetness of a first kiss tainted with tears. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block anymore memories. Cho Chang had been his first crush, and while Hermione taught him the difference between that and true love, the sight of her lifeless body was surprisingly morose. Harry barely had time to process it before he was shoved down the corridor again. His escort continued to toss him about, nearly tripping him down the stairs, until Harry finally had enough.

"Get off me," he snapped, attempting to throw the oversized meat hooks from his shoulders.

"No," the Death Eater laughed. "I was told to bring you to the Great Hall, and that's what I'm doing."

"I can get there on my own," Harry growled through gritted teeth.

"And let you run off?" He laughed again. "I don't think so." He tightened his grip on Harry's shoulders until it became painfully obvious he'd intended to shove him at Voldemort's feet and claim a bit of glory himself.

"I'm warning you," Harry hissed.

"What do you think you're going to do, boy? You've not got your wand," he jeered. An accompanying hooded figure began twirling Harry's wand in his hand as they walked. Harry looked backward over his shoulder and saw Hermione and Ron struggling as well. It was more than he could take. An angry fire erupted in his gut and he threw his hand toward his wand.

"Accio wand!" The wand flew from the man's hands toward Harry. He snatched it from the air and whipped out of his captor's grip. He drew all the power he could muster and unleashed a banishing charm. His wand exploded with spell light and lifted the Death Eaters from their feet, leaving only the shocked Gryffindors standing in the corridor.

"Blimey!" Seamus gasped. Harry had no interest in explaining his newfound spell strength as the Death Eaters were scrambling to get back up. Their hoods slipped back from their heads and Harry wasn't the least bit surprised to see Crabbe, Goyle, and Dolohov among their captors. Dolohov stepped toward Hermione to reclaim his grip and Harry raised his wand.

"Lay a hand on her and it will be the last thing you touch," Harry threatened. Dolohov paused for a moment and gave a thoughtful glance in his direction. "I said we can get there on our own," Harry reiterated. He had no intention of running away from his fate but he wasn't going to be dragged to it like a toddler past time for a kip.

As Crabbe and Goyle grunted at each other, Harry looked to Hermione and Ron. His brow furrowed in question as he realized Ron's breathing had grown rapid and Hermione was trying to clear her vision. "All right you two?" he asked. They nodded together and began to walk down the corridor at Harry's side. Whereas the corridors were endless under Goyle's grip, the long walk seemed to pass in record time now. They took deliberate steps toward the massive oak doors. Harry paused only a moment before pushing them open and entering the Great Hall.

The scene was exactly how he imagined it would be. The four house tables had been replaced with what could only be described as a grandstand along the Great Hall's outer walls. The floor in the center of the room was uncluttered and cut a path to the Headmaster's chair that sat as a throne at the front of the hall. The room was lit with several wall sconces that contained leaping orange flames. The moonlight from the cloudless sky cast an ethereal glow over the Death Eaters assembled for the show. Before him, the porcelain hue of Voldemort's skin was eclipsed only by the piercing glow of his cat-like red eyes. Although they did not flinch, he could feel the trepidation wafting from Ron and Hermione. He had to remind himself, that while a familiar sight for Harry, this was the first time they'd laid eyes upon Harry's lifelong nemesis.

"I've been expecting you," his high voice hissed. Harry felt Hermione stiffen next to him and heard the warble from Ginny's throat behind. "You're late."

Hermione grabbed Harry's arm in a silent request for him to keep his temper. He begrudgingly bit back a comment about having lost his watch. "You have what you came for," Harry growled. "You don't need the others."

"It's not about what I need," Voldemort replied as he rose from the chair before them. Without warning he snapped his wand from his robes and leveled the Cruciatus Curse at Hermione. She crumpled to the floor and screamed in pain. Harry fell to his knees, in part due to the residual effects of the curse, and in part to exercise the futile effort to comfort her. Voldemort prolonged her torture for what seemed an eternity before his laughter was all that filled the Great Hall. Hermione, quaking on the floor, gasped for breath as the assembled spectators joined in Voldemort's amusement.

Harry's eyes were drawn to the blond witch at the Dark Lord's right hand who cackled with glee. It was the same laugh she expelled when she killed Sirius. Before Harry knew it, he was on his feet, tossing a volley of curses toward Voldemort, each as ineffective as the one before it. This only served to delight the audience all the more. The cacophony increased such that Harry never heard the curse Voldemort cast, but the purple stream of light connected with his chest and knocked him backwards into the wall. He slid down the stones into a heap on the floor. Blinking the stars from his vision, his eyes caught Hermione's. She was still lying on the floor but looking at him with an expression that brooked no refusals.

Harry got to his feet without bothering to brush the dust from his robes.

He stepped back to where Hermione lay and offered her a hand. She didn't take it. Following Harry's lead she gathered herself from the floor and rose beside him. Ron joined the couple at Harry's left side and the laughter rose from the stands again. Feeling the blood pounding in his ears, he looked around the gathered dark wizards and listened to their cackling; a smiling woman, an old man with a finger pointed jeeringly toward them, a smug couple…a young child. As he locked eyes with the boy he was reminded of the spectators at the Quidditch World Cup. The only thing missing from the child's attire was a rosette that yelped "three cheers for the Dark Lord!" As the boy popped a fizzing wizbee in his mouth, Harry returned his attention to the front of the room.

He felt Hermione take his hand but it did little to assuage the anger boiling within him. His death, and that of his friends, was nothing more than entertainment for the darkest of wizarding kind. They had no qualms about bearing witness to his demise nor did they find it offensive for their children. It was no more injurious than any other spectator sport. Harry's eyes found Voldemort's smug demeanor and the audacity of it fanned the rage within him.

"Certainly you have more talent than that," Voldemort said in reference to Harry's retaliation. When Harry didn't respond, the Dark Lord's right hand twitched toward his wand.

Apparently, Harry was not the only one disgruntled with the situation. "Stupefy!" the three shouted simultaneously. A pulse of red light bounded through the Great Hall and connected with Voldemort's chest. He was lifted from his feet and thrown backward over the teacher's table behind him.

"Get down!" Harry shouted as the Hall erupted in spell light from every direction. He pushed Hermione behind the end of the grandstand to his right whilst Ron dove toward the left. Spells ricocheted against the tall windows sending a deluge of broken glass onto the spectators. As they covered their heads, Harry, Ron, and Hermione retaliated with several of their own hexes. The stone walls rattled, the floor shook, and two sections of the grandstands were toppled by a well-aimed Reducto charm to their supports.

Harry looked to his left and saw Seamus, Neville, and Ginny huddled under an empty table. Seamus' eyes were wide with fear while Ginny's head was buried in her hands. Neville sat just in front of them both. They were as safe as they could be.

A jet of pink light shot past Harry's head and exploded into the wall behind him. He threw another curse in the general direction from whence it came before hearing a voice over the crashing sounds of wanton destruction.

"Enough!" a high-pitched voice shrieked. The flurry of curses stopped almost immediately. Harry could hear Voldemort's footsteps descending the stairs. Harry looked between Hermione, at his side, and across the hall to Ron. Hermione's breathing quickened as Ron readjusted his grip on his wand. Harry thought back to the graveyard. He'd promised himself then that he wouldn't die cowering behind a headstone. This would be no different. Win or lose, he would meet Voldemort on his own terms. With Hermione grasping at the sleeve of his robes, Harry felt himself rise from their position. He stepped out from the stands and walked toward the center of the room, never taking his eyes from the seething glare of his rival.

"This is between you and me," Harry declared.

"So it is," Voldemort replied. "Crucio!" Harry's body exploded in pain. His knees buckled and he dropped to the floor. His bones were on fire, his head felt as though it split in two from the scar, he was barely aware of his own screaming before the echo of it was all that remained in the Great Hall. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt as though he should be building some sort of tolerance to the Cruciatus. After all, he could throw off the Imperius Curse, it seemed only logical he should be able to fight this. Yet he wasn't. His muscles quaked in the aftermath and he struggled to get to his feet. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw both Ron and Hermione trying to gather themselves as well.

Maybe Dumbledore was right about the enchantment.

"And this is the boy who's prophesied to defeat the greatest wizard of all time?" Voldemort scoffed. He turned to the onlookers and raised his arms before him. "Through the most convenient of luck, this whelp has managed to evade me…but no more! I summoned you here to witness the dawning of a new age - the age in which Lord Voldemort and his faithful supporters will lead the wizarding world to its greatest achievements!" The crowd exploded in applause. "This world begins tonight!"

He turned back to Harry and leveled his wand at his chest. "I have enacted such enchantments on this castle that not even your precious Dumbledore has been able to suspend. There will be no escape this time," he added in a hushed voice. He spun back to his supporters and raised his voice through the rafters. "You will be rewarded for your faithful service to me! We will purge the wizarding world of its denigrations and restore honor to only those who deserve it!"

"Kill the mudbloods!" a woman shrieked from the stands. Her declaration was met with raucous approval. The walls shook with their enthusiasm. Harry chanced a fleeting glance toward Hermione. She was crouched, immobile, behind the grandstand. Her eyes were wide as she scanned the angry mob. Harry closed his eyes and willed her to hear him.

It will be all right.

Whether she got the message or not, he did not know. But when he opened his eyes, hers were fixed upon him. That was good enough. He gave her a supportive grin and addressed the crowd himself.

"What about the half-bloods?" he yelled. Voldemort's head whipped around as if he'd been scalded. He opened his mouth to either reply or hex Harry, whichever it was Harry didn't afford him the chance. "Or did you fail to tell your supporters that your father was a muggle?" Harry rebuked. It was the equivalent of blasphemy. The crowd erupted in angry jeers and pointed their wands in Harry's direction. Voldemort threw up a hand to stop them and smiled.

"You see! The boy associates with mudbloods and traitorous purebloods who tolerate them. He's as weak as the muggles that raised him!" Inexplicably, for as much as Harry despised the Dursleys, he felt it was his right alone to deride them. Hearing the words issue from Voldemort's mouth only incensed him further. It also gave him an idea.

"Prove it!" he barked. He saw Ron and Hermione's heads snap in his direction. Voldemort threw his head back and laughed.

"Crucio!" he yelled. His wand erupted with a bolt of magic that headed directly for Harry. Using every seeker reflex he possessed, he dove out of the way and rolled as the stream of light blasted a crater in the wall behind him. Voldemort, visibly agitated, threw another hex, and another, as Harry evaded three more. The hall fell silent as Harry got to his feet. He straightened himself to his full height and looked directly into Voldemort's eyes. Having done that, he could see Voldemort's gaze turn to a spot over Harry's shoulder. Before Harry knew it, he'd been hit from behind with a body bind hex and felt the fire of the Cruciatus before he'd ever hit the ground.

Voldemort punished him for his disrespect, holding the Cruciatus on him for an interminably long time. When he finally lifted the curse, the whole of Harry's vision was white. He couldn't see, he couldn't breathe, but he could hear. He could hear laughter resounding through the hall. Before he could clear his vision, he felt two pairs of hands hoisting him to his feet. His legs shook such that he could barely maintain his posture when he experienced the strangest sense of déjà vu.

"If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us, too," Ron announced as the grip on Harry's left arm shifted. Blinking the spots from his eyes he looked to his sides and realized Ron and Hermione had pulled him to his feet.

"No," he gasped.

"We said we'd face this with you, mate," Ron said. "That's exactly what we're going to do." Harry wanted to argue with them but he was in no shape to do so. He needed time to gather himself. Luckily Voldemort's burgeoning ego afforded him just that.

"Mudbloods," Voldemort sneered. He spun around and paced the stands maliciously. "Mudbloods! This is the filth with which the great Harry Potter associates!" The audience hissed and spat toward the three. "To think such a wizard could defeat Lord Voldemort!" An approving cacophony circled the grandstand. Harry managed to gather his senses and clear his vision by the end of the Dark Lord's prancing. As he finished playing to his supporters, Harry turned to Ron and Hermione with his original idea.

"If we're to defeat him, we have to turn everyone against him," Harry whispered.

"Not likely, mate," Ron answered while keeping an eye toward the spectators.

"How can we possibly do that?" Hermione asked.

"Trust me," Harry answered. "Just be ready."

He straightened up and shrugged their hands from his shoulders as he stepped forward. "The way I see it I've defeated you six times already," Harry shouted over the din. "I don't even think Ludo Bagman would bet on you," he continued as the Great Hall fell to a deafening silence. Voldemort turned and squared his shoulders to him. The blood was rising to his pallid face.

"You've defeated no one," he hissed.

"Yeah? Well, for being such a powerful wizard, how is it I'm only seventeen and I'm still standing here." Harry threw in a sly grin for extra measure and Voldemort reacted exactly as he'd hoped. His wand leapt to his hand and fired another Cruciatus toward Harry. He reached to his sides, in an effort to hedge his bet, and grabbed Ron and Hermione's arms as he shouted the Deliquesco charm. The seconds it took for the curse to cross the room seemed more like hours. If this didn't work, he'd just dug his own grave…and likely Ron and Hermione's with it.

He heard the audience cheer as the stream of light connected with his chest. He staggered backward, as did Ron and Hermione, as his body burst forth with an infestation of prickling tingles. He gasped for a breath and the sensation passed. Before he could dare to imagine what happened, a Death Eater began screaming in agony behind him. He spun around to discover the bystander directly behind him had fallen victim to the curse intended for Harry.

It worked.

He scanned the faces of those assembled as he turned back toward Voldemort. Their expressions were unreadable. Some were looking at Harry, others were looking at their master; some looked nonplussed while others had furrowed brows. It wasn't enough. He faced his attacker, whose eyes betrayed his concern. Harry gathered his resolve to turn the tide.

"I'm sorry, was that intended for me?" He glanced at the discombobulated Death Eater behind him and turned back around with a smile.

"Crucio!" Voldemort barked again. This time the spell was careening toward Hermione. His voice caught in his throat and all he could do was squeeze her arm in the split second between the casting and impact. He trusted she'd know what to do.

"Deliquesco!" she shouted as the curse slammed into her. In the second the spell passed through her body, she seemed to glow with its magic. Although it lasted only a second, Harry felt the physical drain. It felt like the air had evaporated from his lungs and the energy had been sucked from his muscles. He wobbled back on his heels and felt Ron's hand grasp tighter on his arm. Intending to tell Ron he was fine, he looked at Ron's face. His eyes were closed and his face was screwed up in concentration. It was evident he was holding onto Harry, not to steady him, but to maintain his own stance.

Another spectator leapt out of the way as the spell impacted on the stone wall behind them. The shower of dust and rubble rained down where Neville, Ginny, and Seamus were located. Harry saw the shocked expressions each of them bore. It encouraged him that his plan might work. Again, he scanned the stands. There was a significant change of expression among those assembled. Spectators were looking between Voldemort and Harry. A few were whispering and pointing to Hermione. More than one had their jaw planted on the floor.

Harry opened his mouth to go for the kill, but Hermione beat him to the punch. "Not bad for a mudblood, eh?" she chided.

Harry had never been more proud of her in his life.

He couldn't help but notice the hissing from the stands was far less pronounced than it had been. Voldemort noticed it as well. He cast a fleeting glance to the shocked faces he'd summoned to the Hall and turned as red as Ron's hair.

"Hold on," Harry whispered to Ron and Hermione. He'd seen that look before. His plan had worked and Voldemort obviously felt compelled to prove his supremacy. He unleashed a litany of curses, one right after the other, all streaming toward the three of them. Each cast a Deliquesco charm and held onto the other for support. Curse after curse passed through their bodies, sucking the air from their lungs and draining them of the energy required to remain upright. Harry stood through sheer force of will as his legs turned to jelly underneath him. When the curses ended, it was all he could do to straighten his back.

The Great Hall fell silent. Harry looked across the room and saw the panic behind Voldemort's eyes as he glanced around the room. Everyone in the crowd was staring at the Dark Lord in complete disbelief. Scrambling for a response, he lowered his wand and addressed his supporters. "You have seen the brilliance of my plan!" He pointed at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "They've been gracious enough to show it to you," he announced. "He'd have you believe he can dodge curses and evade the wrath of Lord Voldemort." The spectators began looking at him in speculation. "Yet, he falters! He must rely on the strength of a mudblood to hold him upright. He must lean on the tainted magic of a traitorous pureblood to delay the inevitable." Some of the assemblage began to nod appreciatively. Harry looked around and saw the tide he thought he'd turned begin to ebb away.

As his eyes darted around the hall, they found the figures of Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange. They were still seated on either side of Voldemort's perch at the front of the hall. That was when he realized the foolishness of his plan.

He could never change everyone's mind.

Even if he had succeeded in turning the masses against Voldemort, or at least calling his prowess into question, there would remain an inner circle of wizards who would not be persuaded. They were powerful. They were charismatic, and they could rally or intimidate a following for the Dark Lord as quickly as Harry could turn it away. It was an infinite struggle of good versus evil. That's when the grim reality crashed into him as a wave along the shore.

Neither can live while the other survives.

He'd always worked to forget about that part of the prophecy. He wanted to believe that he could accomplish his defeat without becoming the murderer Trelawney prophesied. Even as he stood in this room, his chance at hand, he didn't believe he had the willpower to take anyone's life…not even Voldemort's. He'd seen death. He'd seen murder. He'd endured nightmares about holding his own wand toward Cedric as he fell. If he'd chosen to take Voldemort's life, how would that make him any different? He wouldn't become the next Voldemort to dispense with the one standing in front of him. His confidence evaporated as he felt the inevitability of his own death.

"Harry," Hermione whispered as Voldemort continued to prattle on. "Are you all right?" Harry lied with a simple nod of his head. How could he leave her? How could he give up? He felt her eyes burning through him; he couldn't look at her. How could he live another second knowing she will have watched him fail? It was all he could do to shield himself from her until the last moment. She couldn't know. He drew a shaky breath and looked back to Voldemort.

"Regardless of the tricks this boy has pulled from his sleeve, he cannot withstand the most powerful wizard of all time forever." He turned to face Harry with a look of complete satisfaction etched on his face. "And now, honored guests!" he announced. "Bear witness to the death of Harry Potter and the dawning of a new day!"

Harry's world slowed to a geologic pace. The faces of everyone present turned toward him in slow motion. Voldemort's mouth opened with excruciating leisure. He was vaguely aware of the vice grips that had replaced Ron and Hermione's hands on his arms. Saving only the memories that were flashing across his conscience, his mind was blank. He saw the end of Voldemort's wand erupt with a familiar green light. He heard Ron and Hermione's voice cast the Deliquesco charm once more. When the curse hit him, he felt the wind in his hair and his robes flap around him as he flew backward from where he stood. His head collided with the flag stoned floor and he squeezed his eyes shut in pain. It was that sensation more than any that brought him back to reality.

He shouldn't have felt anything. He opened his eyes to see Ron and Hermione sprawled on the floor with him, but each still alive. He turned his head to Voldemort just in time to see him unleash a second, third, and fourth wave of the killing curse. As each impacted him, he felt the curse move through his body as if it were a razor blade. He looked at Hermione and saw her gasping and writhing on the ground. Her eyes were rolling back in her head. She couldn't hold on much longer. Voldemort was content to kill them all whilst Harry survived, and that was something he would not accept. The prophecy said he must die…it didn't say anything about Hermione. If it was the last thing he did, he would ensure she left the hall alive, even if that meant sacrificing himself.

As that last thought passed through his mind, Voldemort took one last opportunity to show off before his assembly. As he began talking about his "brilliant strategy," Harry grabbed hold of Hermione's hand. Her eyes fluttered open and she turned her head to his. His vision blurred with tears as he struggled to find the right words. He looked at the hand in his and toyed with the Hungarian Horntail wrapped around her finger.

Things were so much easier then.

"Hermione," he croaked. "I love you more than anything in the world." Her eyes widened in shock and she worked to prop herself on her elbow. "I will always love you," he added.

"No!" she croaked. "You are not leaving me!" Harry squeezed her hand and turned to Ron.

"I'm trusting you to take care of her," he directed.

"Harry?" Ron asked. Harry broke contact with them both and got to his feet. Neither could muster the strength to scramble from the floor and stop him. He drew a breath, thought of his parents and Sirius, and waited for a pause to get a final word in edgewise.

"His strength flows in me," Voldemort continued with his tale. "I could've chosen any wizard in the world to aid me in my rebirth." He pointed at Harry. "I chose him. I chose my rival. I chose my nemesis. I took his blood and used it as my own. I nicked the protection of his mother and grew stronger everyday. I am the sorcerer you see before you because of my own brilliant plan. After I've killed him…I will carry both his strength and my own!" The crowd erupted in applause. Harry wanted to roll his eyes at the Dark Lord's incredible lack of intelligence.

Honestly, if you used my blood then won't you die when I do?

The fleeting thought was enough to send his heart pounding. Why hadn't he considered that? Suddenly, he felt like he needed to call a time out. His mind was racing but he didn't have time to process a coherent thought. Any moment Voldemort would bluster on about being the world's greatest wizard and blow Harry from the face of the Earth. He only hoped that despite the Foederis enchantment, he wouldn't kill Ron and Hermione in the process.

That's it!

Harry's head snapped up as he felt Hermione and Ron struggling to get up beside him. His eyes fell upon the prideful looks plastered across Malfoy and Lestrange's face. He glanced around at the gathering of dark wizards who had but one thing in common…their hatred of muggles. An echo of Ron's voice erupted in his head…

Voldemort might not survive even if Tom Riddle does.

Harry gave a pained glance to Hermione as she pulled herself to her knees. "I'm sorry, Hermione." She turned a tear-stained face toward him. "It's the only way." He focused his attention on Voldemort as his mouth opened to recite the fatal incantation. He snapped his wand skyward and shouted an incantation that was arguably more powerful than what Voldemort was preparing.

"Infractium foederis et dissolvi a tres!"

Hermione and Ron's screaming protestations were barely audible over another sound. He collapsed to the floor and a moment passed before Harry realized it was his own voice, harmonizing with that of Voldemort's, as they filled the Great Hall with an excruciating cry. It felt as though every cell in his body was being ripped in half. He felt his muscles slice open, one by one, as the magic was wrenched from his body. His back arched from the floor as he convulsed under the power of the incantation. He felt the tattered shards of his wand slash through his forearm as it exploded in his hand. He was marginally aware of Ron pulling Hermione away from him as he thrashed on the floor under the very definition of agony…

And then it was gone.

He lay on the floor with every inch of his body throbbing in pain. The breath he gasped burned in his lungs. He forced his eyes open to find Hermione scrambling toward him. "Why?" she repeated in succession. The tears streamed down her cheeks. He tried to respond, but could barely form a whisper.

"I'm so sorry," he mouthed. He couldn't meet her eyes. He couldn't fathom what he'd done, and now he was left to wonder if it even worked. A stab of pain shot through his neck as he turned his head to where Voldemort lie. He was aided by Malfoy and Lestrange who were helping him to his feet. His eyes flashed to those standing silently in the grandstand he'd conjured.

Harry rolled to his side and pushed himself up on his arm. "Some brilliant plan…to use my blood," he struggled to annunciate the words.

Blissfully unaware of his condition, Voldemort shrugged off both Malfoy and Lestrange. He mopped the blood from his wand arm and replied with a wavering voice. "I'm not dead, Potter."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked. Voldemort looked around the room as if Harry had gone mental.

"You have failed."

"Perhaps I have," Harry croaked as he fought to stand up. Hermione and Ron helped him to his feet and lent a supportive arm to keep him upright. "But, I can live like this…can you?"

"Lord Voldemort has triumphed again!" he announced suddenly. "Harry Potter has taken leave of his senses. He speaks nonsense!" Harry couldn't help but notice it appeared to take every ounce of strength he possessed to make such a proclamation.

"Then kill me now," Harry challenged, praying that his logic would be proven correct. To make the point, Harry shrugged off his robes and pushed Ron and Hermione away. Voldemort didn't move. "What's the matter?" Voldemort's eyes flashed with indignation. "Surely, the most powerful wizard of the age can kill an unarmed boy."

Voldemort threw his arm in Lucius Malfoy's direction. "Accio wand!"

Nothing happened.

"Accio wand!" It was Harry's turn to burst forth with a maniacal laugh. Voldemort stepped to Malfoy and snatched the wand from his outstretched hand. He snapped it toward Harry and yelled, "Avada Kedavra!"

Nothing.

Harry couldn't contain the laughter that shrouded his relief. Harry turned to the audience assembled before him.

"Yes, a brilliant plan! He chose to use my blood and therefore formed a connection between us that he could never break. In his arrogance, he only thought of the things he could draw from me. He never considered what I could do to him. He never heard the entire prophecy."

Several pairs of eyes began to follow Harry as he paced the floor. "It said I had the 'power the Dark Lord knows not.'" Harry turned to Ron and Hermione. "That power is love." His breath caught in his throat. It was taking everything he had to remain standing and he didn't know how much longer his legs would hold him. "Voldemort cannot understand love." He winced at Hermione's stricken expression. "He does not comprehend a love so profound that nothing else matters." He looked back to the crowd, now hanging from his every word. "I do understand love. And I'd gladly give my life for it," his voice called through the Hall. He leveled his eyes at Voldemort and finished. "The Boy Who Lived is dead….and so is Lord Voldemort."

Voldemort furrowed his brows in question and looked at Malfoy's wand in his hand. Harry was inspired to reiterate the point. "You're a muggle, Tom."

"Impossible!" he hissed. Harry gazed at the Death Eaters assembled in the hall and saw the looks on their faces. Some were mumbling while others pointed. Every eye was glued to Voldemort. The collective disdain of their expression was palpable. Harry used it to his advantage.

"You couldn't levitate a tea cosy in a tailwind." Voldemort stumbled backward as he attempted to cast a succession of curses toward Harry. With each incantation, the din in the hall grew louder. Bellatrix looked at her master as if she'd never seen him, and Lucius Malfoy grew as pale as his hair. Harry's legs grew unsteady beneath him. He realized the quaking was not entirely due to his condition and gathered the last of his strength to drive the final nail into Voldemort's coffin. He looked to the crowd and spoke one last time.

"If he was still a wizard, the enchantments he'd conjured around this castle, including those protecting all of you from the Ministry's Aurors, would still be intact." In a stroke of impeccable timing, the Great Hall doors exploded behind them and a flurry of wizards began spilling into the room. The cavalry had arrived.

Harry was knackered. Every muscle in his body felt as though it were made of gelatin. He let out a long breath as his vision began to darken. The room tipped sideways as he felt himself topple to the floor. He saw errant streams of light pass over the room like fireworks. He heard the distant echoes of desperate screams. He saw the gentle face of Albus Dumbledore above him as he slipped into the blissful unconscious of someone who's fate, finally, lay in his own hands.

***

Harry heard the whispered voices. He couldn't open his eyes but he could hear every word. "Is there nothing to be done, Poppy?" Dumbledore's voice pled.

"Nothing, Albus. I've done all I can think to do. There's not an ounce of magic left in his body," she answered. Harry's heart sank. It hadn't been a dream. Somewhere inside of him he'd hoped everything would be different when he woke up. He hoped he'd have imagined the fight in the Great Hall. But he didn't. He remembered it all with perfect clarity.

He remembered the words exchanged. He remembered the spells cast. He remembered the excruciating pain of his decision and the fact that it was painless compared to the look on Hermione's face. Her stricken expression burned into his vision like the negative image of a photograph. He couldn't erase it. He couldn't ignore it. He forced his eyes open with the futile hope that she'd be at his bedside, telling him everything would be all right.

He wasn't surprised to find himself alone, behind the privacy screens in the hospital wing. The tears welled in his eyes as he tried to dismiss the possibility that when he'd destroyed his own magic, he'd erased their future. He squeezed his eyes closed at the thought of it and curled up under the blankets. He'd accepted death. He'd prepared for it. He hadn't prepared for this. He hadn't prepared to lose her.

He buried his face in the pillows and tried to muffle the sounds of his own sobbing. As the wall he'd constructed around his emotions crumbled, the full measure of all he'd seen crashed into him. His mind replayed the incessant visions of Dean Thomas, MacNair, Cho Chang, Hagrid, Cedric, Sirius, the graveyard…and Hermione's expression. His body throbbed with the dull ache of a battle won, but a war lost.

He hadn't lost Hermione…he'd sacrificed her.

He couldn't help but notice the whispered voices had fallen to silence. He didn't care. He'd experienced pain beyond any he'd ever imagined, and none of it compared to the agony of his broken heart. The tears were still meandering down his cheeks when he drifted back to sleep.

"I can't believe she's not going through with it," a hushed voice broke through Harry's dreams.

"Neither can I," Ron replied.

"It's so unlike her! She's planned every detail, right down to the exact mix of flowers for the bouquet. How can she refuse to go through with it?" As the grogginess cleared from Harry's mind, he realized the voice belonged to Merc. He already knew what they were talking about.

"After all that's happened, this is the worst time to make this decision. She should at least wait a few months…give him some time," Ron added.

"How do you think he'll react?" Merc's voice dropped to a whisper.

"I dunno," he replied. They fell into silence. Harry felt their pitying eyes upon him as he continued to feign sleep. "So, er…" Ron stammered. "Since all of the exams have been cancelled, there's not much time left before we leave."

"I know," Merc replied. "I'm so excited that the professors awarded us N.E.W.T.'s for what's happened over the last few weeks. I guess it was as practical an exam as we've ever had."

"That's not what I'm talking about," Ron added. "What are your plans for next year?"

"I was thinking of attending Stonehenge. They have an outstanding program for historical studies," she answered. "What about you?" she added uncertainly.

"I don't know," Ron replied. Harry knew where this conversation was leading. Eventually, it would focus on when they would see each other again and how they would keep in touch. Given the state of his relationship with Hermione, he couldn't stand to listen to it. He had a feeling they would pass the time, waiting for him to wake up, with sentimental conversation and he felt it best to end his misery sooner rather than later. He drew a breath and opened his eyes.

Ron and Merc were sitting next to each other at his bedside. Ron had his arm around her shoulders and she was curled into his chest, her fingers playing with an errant thread of his jumper. His cheek was propped against the top of her head as his hand rubbed lazy circles along her upper arm. Harry saw in them what he'd seen for himself, the first time he'd realized his love for Hermione. They were meant for each other. He only wished they achieve the happy ending that eluded him. In a measure of deference, Ron sat up and inconspicuously slid his arm from Merc when his eyes met Harry's.

"Harry," he exclaimed.

"How are you feeling?" Merc asked, sitting forward in her chair.

"I'm all right," he replied, clearing his throat. The three of them looked at each other, avoiding the obvious question, and Merc shuffled around for something to say.

"You look much better today," she added with false enthusiasm. The statement struck Harry as odd.

"How long have I been here?" he asked.

"Tonight will make three days," Ron answered. "Madam Pomfrey says you're fine. She just thinks you were pretty well knackered."

"She said she'll probably release you tomorrow," Merc added brightly. Harry was less than enthused. What would he be released to? Where would he go?

"Great," he responded as he pushed himself up on the pillows. They'd not been at it long, but he'd had enough small talk. He had loads of questions and no answers. "What happened?" he asked, adjusting his blankets.

"Well, you…," Merc began to answer. Harry shot her a look that only Ron seemed to understand. He squeezed her hand and told the story himself.

"He's gone," Ron answered.

"How?" Harry prompted.

"Well, anyone who didn't believe you were telling the truth was fully convinced by the time the dust settled in the Great Hall. Riddle couldn't throw a single curse. He couldn't defend anyone else or himself. He was overtaken in a matter of seconds," Ron continued. The significance of the name Ron used to describe Voldemort was not lost on Harry. "He passed out as well and the Magical Law Enforcement Corps left him in a muggle hospital with only the name 'Tom Riddle' to identify him."

Harry dropped his head backward along the pillows and let his stare graze the ceiling. Although Ron answered the most important question, there was another that begged to be addressed.

"How many?"

Ron fell silent and Merc looked between them in confusion. The longer Ron waited to answer the question, the more Harry dreaded the response.

"Twelve." Harry squeezed his eyes shut and tried to steel himself for the elaboration.

"Who?" Harry asked. He opened his eyes and turned his head toward Ron, whose hand was firmly grasped in Merc's. Ron cleared his throat and gathered a breath.

"Well, you know about Dean and Cho," his voice croaked. "There was also Lavender and that Evans bloke from first year. Hannah Abbot, Mandy Brockelhurst, and Blaise Zabini were the others from seventh year."

"Zabini?" Harry asked.

"He was the only Slytherin," Ron answered. "There were three younger students from Hufflepuff, but I don't know their names."

"Rose Zeller was one," Merc whispered. Ron fell silent. Harry counted the names in his head and looked at Ron in question. Before he could make eye contact, Ron blinked back a tear and looked away.

"Who were the other two?" Harry prompted. Ron didn't take his eyes from the pattern of the privacy screen. Harry looked to Merc and saw the expression on her face. She was absently rubbing her hand along his arm and looked fit to burst into sobbing. Ron's mouth bobbed open a few times but no sound issued forth. With a painful expression, Merc turned to Harry and answered the question.

"The other two weren't students," she explained. Her voice dropped to such a low decibel that Harry couldn't hear what she said, but he could read her lips.

Bill and Charlie.

"Oh my God," Harry whispered. His mind flashed to a dusty memory of Mrs. Weasley's boggart at Grimmauld Place. He wanted to say something, anything…to Ron, but he couldn't conjure the words. He watched Ron's jaw work silently to hold back the emotion that was clearly welling within him. Merc started to run a hand along his back and a tear escaped his eye. Before it could reach his cheek, he'd brushed it away and turned back to Harry.

Ron continued as if nothing was awry. "The Aurors suffered a few losses. The Order won't tell us how many Death Eaters were killed. With what we've heard, we think it's between ten and twelve though."

"What about Lupin?" Harry asked, not giving one jot about the fallen Death Eaters. He was greeted with more unnerving silence.

"We don't know," Ron answered. "No one has heard from him. They've been searching the forest, but without Hagrid," he paused. "Well, it's pretty difficult to get around." Ron shuffled in his seat. "I'm sure he's fine," he added uncertainly.

Harry didn't respond. He couldn't. He didn't know what to say or how he'd think to say it. He ran through the faces he'd come to know so well, grateful for the names Ron hadn't mentioned. He was desperately trying to avoid the one person he wanted to talk about. He settled, instead, for discussing Ginny.

"How's Ginny?" he asked. The first signs of emotion broke through Ron's exterior. His eyes caught a quiet fire and his face darkened.

"Not good," he replied. "Mum took her to the Burrow. Aside from Malfoy," Ron sneered, "she's having a really hard time coping with…," he trailed off. "Well, just with everything." Ron picked at an invisible bit of lint on his jeans as he fell silent. Harry wondered how much of his brothers' deaths Ron blamed on him. Regardless of the answer, he didn't think he had done the wrong thing.

"Harry," Merc said gently. "Is there anything else you want to know about?" she asked. Harry knew exactly where she was going and that was a road he couldn't travel. The fact Hermione had not been at his side when he awoke, the look on her face when he broke the enchantment, and the conversation they didn't think he heard…he had those answers already, and he couldn't stand the thought of them.

"No," he answered flatly. Merc seemed to argue with herself over whether or not she should reply. In the end, silence reigned supreme. Appearing unnerved by the quiet, Merc tried to pick up where she'd derailed the conversation.

"Well, Ginny is no different than many of the students. Hordes of parents flooded the school even before the Aurors secured the castle. They gathered up what they could carry and took the students home in droves," she said while Ron nodded. "Those who stayed behind have been working to rebuild the castle. Either way, they're closing the school for the summer holiday in a few days."

"You could come to the Burrow," Ron offered.

"Thanks, Ron," Harry replied. "But I'll figure something out. I'll be fine."

He wished that were true. He had no idea where to start. He had no energy to think about it. He laid his head back and closed his eyes. He thought about the students that didn't make it home. He thought about Molly making nosh for two sons that weren't coming home. He couldn't think about Hermione.

"We should probably let you sleep," Merc's voice interrupted. "I'm sure you'll have other visitors that want to see you," she added. "You'll need your strength." She rose, with Ron by her side, and squeezed Harry's hand supportively before disappearing around the privacy screen. Ron rocked back and forth on his heels and finally raised his eyes to Harry's.

"I know what you're thinking," he said quietly. "It wasn't your fault." Harry looked at him in shock. "They were doing what they chose to do…they were trying to save us all." Ron's voice broke. He cleared his throat and looked up sharply. "You've given up enough," he declared. "Don't think for a minute you sacrificed any less than they did."

Harry couldn't formulate a reply before Ron trailed out of sight behind the screen. He slumped back against the pillows and tried to process the story they'd told him. But his thoughts kept returning to one face…one smile…one laugh he hadn't heard in far too long.

That's what made his decision.

He already knew what Hermione's intentions were. Merc all but informed him she would be coming to see him soon enough to break the news to him. He thought about how she'd do it…how she'd phrase it. He couldn't think of anything she could say that wouldn't tear her to pieces, and that wasn't her fault. None of this was her fault.

She fell in love with Harry Potter. But Harry Potter didn't exist anymore. He wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived. He wasn't a wizard. He was no better than a Dursley and that wasn't who Hermione had fallen in love with. He couldn't provide for her in the manner she undoubtedly expected. She hadn't signed up for marriage to a muggle. Harry couldn't blame her for wanting to get on with her life. In the end, he wanted only one thing - to hear her laugh, to see her smile. He wanted her to be happy and he knew how to help her achieve that.

As he sat on the bed, waiting, he ran through a thousand versions of the same speech. He tried changing the words. He tried changing the inflection. He mulled it over so often, the words dulled in his heart. He was grateful it took her so long to appear. His heart needed to be numb to follow through with his plan.

"Harry?" her voice jolted his heart into great pounding thumps against his ribs. He opened his eyes and found her settling into the chair Ron had occupied. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

He cleared his throat and tried to sound calm. "I'm fine," he answered.

"Good," she replied. She sat on the edge of the chair, her hands pinned between her knees as she rocked up and down on her heels. She was obviously nervous about this meeting and her discomfort was affecting Harry.

"Er," he stammered for a topic of conversation. "How are you?"

"Fine," she replied. Harry was at a loss. This was entirely unfamiliar territory. For as long as he could remember, he'd not been uncomfortable in her presence. But the tension was palpable. The silence stretched into hours. He couldn't look at her for long. If he looked at her, he was bound to pull her from her perch and wrap her in his arms. He'd never let her go and that was not part of his plan. He had to let her go, for her sake.

"We need to talk," they chimed together. Both stuttered, inviting the other to proceed, before Harry decided to get it over with. This was killing him and he couldn't stand being in her presence if he couldn't hold onto her forever.

"Hermione," he began, although he could barely remember what he wanted to say. "This didn't turn out like we planned, did it?" She shook her head and took interest in her shoelaces. "I hope you understand that what I did, I had to do. It was the only way," he continued. She nodded her head in silence but did not meet his eyes.

Feeling his throat constrict, he tried to clear it so the words could escape. "I also hope you understand what I'm doing now," he continued. At these words her head snapped up and she caught his gaze. "I never thought I was good enough for you." He huffed a breath of air and smiled painfully. "I guess I was better at Divination than I thought." He looked away as her brows furrowed in question. He couldn't drag this out any longer. "Hermione, I can't marry you." Her jaw dropped open. "You didn't ask to be with a muggle and I didn't give you the choice," he declared.

"Harry," she interrupted.

"I want you to find someone who can give you everything you want. I want you to be happy," his voice started to waver. "I can't give that to you and I won't let you sacrifice your happiness for me." He gathered the courage to take a final gaze into her eyes…while they were still his. "I'm sorry," he said. The golden flecks of her eyes began to sparkle as they glassed over. He was grateful to see that they were tears of sadness rather than relief. But he couldn't hold his resolve for long. He needed her to leave. He couldn't let her see what this was doing to him and he couldn't bear to hear her reply. So he ended the conversation with the only words he could manage. "Goodbye, Hermione."

Saying it aloud gave the concept a crushing finality. It was all he could do to sit as she rose from her chair in silence. She seemed to float past the bed in a daze, before returning to her senses.

"Good bye, Hermione?" she barked. Harry's head snapped up to where she stood. Her hands were on her hips and angry tears began streaming down her cheeks. "Who do you think you are?!" she yelled.

"Hermione," he interrupted.

She blasted on without stopping to listen to him. "Well, this is just bloody perfect!" she announced. Harry winced at her choice of language. It was never a good sign to hear Hermione curse. "Did you ever think to ASK me what would make me happy? Does my opinion matter in the least?!" she screamed. Madam Pomfrey appeared around the screen admonishing Hermione to lower her voice. Hermione didn't appear to notice her presence at all. "And for the record, I'm OFFENDED that you can find it in my character to toss you aside simply because you can't cast a spell! Do you think that matters one jot to me?" Having given up on verbal admonitions, Pomfrey began to pull Hermione around the privacy screen.

"Miss Granger!" she barked. "I will not having you disrupting the peacefulness of my infirmary!"

"I don't care!" she yelled as Madam Pomfrey pushed her out of sight. "How can you do this to me?!" Hermione demanded as her voice echoed against the stone walls. The heavy crash of the oak doors signaled Pomfrey's victory over Hermione's outburst. The room fell into awkward silence. Although he couldn't see the students recuperating in the beds around him, he could feel their eyes burning through the screen. He dropped his head back against the pillows and drew a breath. Perhaps she didn't understand it now, but she would. She had to. He couldn't be a burden to her for the rest of her life. He couldn't stand to have her compare him to the person she'd once known. This was how it had to be. At least the worst was over.

***

"I think you should take the bed with you, Harry. I think your name is engraved here somewhere," Madam Pomfrey said as she folded a blanket at the end of it. It had been several hours since Hermione left and upon his request, Madam Pomfrey released him early. He had every intention of getting out of the castle before anyone knew he was gone. He still had Hedwig, so he'd send Ron an owl as soon as he got…well, wherever he was going. As he pulled his trainers on, the room erupted in a crashing din that sent his heart into his throat. Reaching for a wand that no longer resided in his pocket, he jumped from the bed.

"Harry Potter! What in bloody hell do you think you're doing?!" Merc shouted as she swept across the hospital wing. She completely ignored Madam Pomfrey's protestations to quiet down for the other recovering students.

"I'm leaving," he answered.

"Like hell you are," she barked. "While you've been sitting here, planning your grand escape, I've been trying to put Hermione back together! I had to restrain Ron from coming down here and beating you to within an inch of your life!"

"What are you talking about?" Harry blustered. "I heard you talking! I know she wanted to get out of the relationship. I just made it easier for her!"

"You broke her heart, is what you did!" Merc bellowed. Harry was thoroughly confused now.

"You said yourself she wasn't going through with it…even after all her planning!"

"Exactly. Merlin!" Merc threw her arms in the air and growled. "She's not going through with the wedding you were planning!"

"That's what I'm talking…"

"Because she wanted to marry you tonight!" she yelled while driving her finger into his chest to make the point. She spun around in frustration and paced the floor between the stunned students recuperating in their beds.

"She said she was stunned at the sacrifice you made for everyone. For the entire wizarding world…and for her. She said it made her love you more than she ever thought possible."

Harry could feel his jaw hit the floor. "She was going to come stay with you while you were recovering, but I convinced her to get cleaned up and have a bite to eat first." Merc flopped onto an empty bed as Harry lowered himself onto a vacant chair. Merc huffed a breath of air. "She spent half an hour looking for that old green jumper of yours that she has. She wanted to wear it. She said it warmed her almost as well as you did." Harry couldn't help but smile. He'd been looking for that jumper for months.

"I helped her rummage through her things. While I was looking, I ran across a brown wrapped parcel." Harry looked up in question. Something about this sounded familiar. "She couldn't remember what it was, so we opened it together. It's the most beautiful set of embroidered ivory robes I've ever seen. Apparently, Mrs. Weasley bought them for her over the summer."

"I remember seeing the package," Harry mused.

"Well, as soon as she saw it everything changed," Merc declared. "She got this look in her eyes and muttered something about the Great Hall. I followed her downstairs and watched her chuck that wedding planner she'd been carrying around into the Common Room fire!" Merc scoffed. "She took off for the Great Hall and hasn't left it until this afternoon." Merc's eyes flashed as she rose from the bed. "When you decide to drop her!"

"But, I didn't…," Harry stammered. His heart was racing. She didn't want to leave him. She wanted to marry him! Tonight!

"I asked you if you had any other questions! I can't believe you didn't ask about Hermione!" she argued.

"I don't….I didn't…" Harry blustered.

"The words are 'I do,' Harry," Merc interrupted. "And you better practice up! I told Hermione not to worry about a thing. You're getting married in two hours and if I have to chain you to the dais, that's exactly what I'll do!"

She turned and headed for the doorway. Just before leaving, she snapped her head back to Harry and announced, "I'm going to disarm Ron and send him to help you get ready. You need to be in the Great Hall in ninety minutes!" Harry was stunned silent.

"Wow," a young Ravenclaw boy said from the bed under the window. "I think she's scarier than Voldemort." Harry couldn't help but join in the laughter that comment elicited. He couldn't have stopped smiling if he tried.

***

Harry turned from the window as the door opened behind him. "What did she say?" he asked as Ron entered the room in the dress robes Fred and George had gotten him.

"I should ask you what it said," he answered. Harry rocked back and forth on his feet. He knew Ron was livid over Harry's decision in the hospital wing. "I've rarely seen a girl cry that much."

Harry cleared his throat. "It took me an hour to write it. I would've rather seen her in person, but there's this muggle superstition about seeing the bride on their wedding day." Ron raised an eyebrow in speculation. "I hoped that was the reason she refused to see me."

"Well, I'm sure she wrinkled my robes from the hug she gave me. She told me I was supposed to give it to you, but, er…" Ron brushed his robes absentmindedly. "Well, you know…" Ron gave him a masculine bob of the head and cleared his throat. Harry smiled and redirected the conversation.

"Do I look all right?" Harry asked. Ron adjusted Harry's robes for the third time and picked a ball of lint from his shoulder. He and Ron were standing in the room where he'd had the wand weighing ceremony during his fourth year. The Great Hall was filled with people, mostly students and their families, and a string quartet was playing soft prelude music.

"If you could ever get that ruddy hair to lie flat," Ron answered.

"I gave up on that years ago," Harry replied, ruffling his hand through it. Harry gave a nervous laugh and shuffled back and forth on his feet.

"I need to ask you something," Ron said as he leaned against a table. "I know I've asked it before."

"What?" Harry asked.

"Do you love her?"

Harry looked at him. It appeared he wouldn't evade telling him what he'd written in that letter. "More than you can possibly imagine," he replied. "For a matter of hours, I thought I'd lost her forever and I couldn't breathe. I didn't exist. I just laid there and cried. I felt like my heartache would swallow me whole." He looked at Ron. "She's the air I breathe, Ron. She's the blood in my veins. I can't live without her." Ron nodded and looked toward the floor.

"Then don't ever hurt her like that again," he responded, catching Harry's eye. It was the most serious face Harry had ever seen him make, and in an instant it was gone.

"You clean up well, Potter," he chuckled. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and fidgeted in front of the mirror. "If all that waffle was true, why are you so nervous?"

"Just wait until you're the one standing on the dais!" Harry chuckled. Ron didn't reply. He merely gazed off to some unseen point across the room. "Oi! If you're done dreaming of Merc, please tell me you have our rings," Harry said, patting his pockets for the box.

Ron pulled it out and flipped open the top. "Right here, mate," he answered. The music grew louder and the crowd fell to a hush. "I believe that's our cue."

Harry's heart was pounding against his ribs. He couldn't breathe. He suddenly realized the purpose of the best man was to hold the groom upright when the groom's legs refused to hold him. Ron stepped past him and opened the door to the Great Hall.

The room looked entirely different than it had when he'd been here last. The damage was repaired and the enchanted ceiling opened to reveal a chandelier of twinkling stars over their heads. The torches along the walls leapt with warm flames and the sconces were draped with greenery and Scottish heather. The house tables were gone and large potted trees, with luminous red fairies, lined the walls. Hundreds of eyes smiled up at him from the chairs that lined either side of an elegant aisle draped with a velvet runner in Gryffindor Red. Red and white candles danced in the air as Ron walked Harry toward a raised dais at the end of the aisle that sat beneath a canopy of flowers and candlelight.

Harry looked over the crowd and saw the warmth of familiar faces staring back. He was especially comforted to see Seamus sitting with Parvati Patil and cocked an eyebrow at the look Neville Longbottom was giving Ginny Weasley as he handed her a handkerchief. Looking over the remaining crowd his eyes found their way to the front of the room. He sucked in a breath of surprise, turned to Ron, and inclined his head to where Percy Weasley was seated next to Molly.

"What's this?" he asked Ron. Ron followed Harry's eyes and smiled when Molly waved like a child on a Catherine wheel.

"Oh, that," Ron responded. "I'll tell you about it later." Harry continued to look at him in disbelief. Ron rolled his eyes and continued, "Let's just say my brother was leading a somewhat double life only he and Dumbledore knew about. Feel free to call him Riley anytime you like." Harry thought to be shocked by the news, but as soon as he made to reply, the doors at the back of the Great Hall swung open.

Ron's face broke into a wide smile as Merc began to float down the aisle. She carried a small bouquet of red and white flowers that were also adorning the elegant twist atop her head. Harry thought to feel a bit left out as Merc's eyes never left those of his best man. Litanies of words were exchanged between them without ever speaking a syllable. Before she stepped to the side, she caught Harry's eye and winked at him. He chuckled to himself and mouthed the words "thank you" as she took her place to his right. And then it was time…

Everyone in the Great Hall stood up as the music grew to a triumphant fanfare. Hermione appeared to be surrounded by a halo of light in her embroidered robes. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He wished he could've described what she wore, how she looked, the flowers she carried…but he couldn't. He couldn't take his eyes off of hers. She was his guardian angel. She was his savior. He felt Ron's arm on his shoulder and realized he was wobbling dangerously. He gave him a brief glance to express his gratitude and grew concerned over the look on his face. Something was wrong.

"Ron?" he asked. Ron shook himself from his thoughts and looked to Harry.

"This isn't right," he whispered. "I'll be right back." Harry could've killed him. This was the most important moment of his life and Ron was leaving? Ron stepped off the dais as several people turned their heads to watch the commotion. Rather than leaving the room, Ron walked deliberately up the carpeted aisle to a stunned Hermione. He leaned forward, whispering something in her ear. Harry saw her wipe a tear from her eye and nod appreciatively. With that, Ron offered his left arm to her. She snaked her arm through his and beamed as they walked the remaining steps to the dais.

Harry had given Hermione all of his attention, so much so that he never realized Albus Dumbledore, in stunning silver threaded robes, had appeared behind him. He felt the headmaster's hand upon his shoulder as Ron escorted her to his side. Harry felt as though he was drifting on a cloud of pure exhilaration. He wasn't sure if it was within the boundaries of proper etiquette, but he couldn't stand in her presence another moment without saying what he'd been forced to do through the written word.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he whispered. Still grasping Ron's arm, hers eyes found his and she nodded imperceptibly. "I love you so much," he added. Her lip trembled visibly as she tried to focus her attention on Dumbledore.

"Welcome friends and honored guests to this most delightful of occasions. Amid the destruction and sadness of what has transpired here in this hall, we are truly fortunate to celebrate such a glorious event," Dumbledore said. He continued to talk about marriage, partnership, sacrifice and love for an indeterminate amount of time. Harry didn't hear a word of it. His eyes were locked on Hermione's and all he knew was her.

Her hair was swept up and pinned with small white roses. Errant tendrils of curly locks softened her jaw and neckline. Her embroidered robes shimmered with the glow of the dancing candlelight and warmed the highlights in her hair. For as much as Harry felt like he'd pass out, she was steady as a rock. Ever considerate of others, Harry realized her bouquet was made of red and white roses and even he recognized the scent of the purple garnish…it was English lavender. He brushed at a nuisance pushing on his shoulder until he realized it was the Headmaster, and Hermione was giggling at Harry's obliviousness.

"I asked what your intentions are this evening," Dumbledore reiterated with a smile. For a moment, Harry thought it was a trick question. He had to bite back his first response, which was apparent to the guests as they all knew what his intentions were for later this evening. Feeling they didn't need such detailed information, he gave them the more reasonable answer.

"My intention is to make Hermione Granger my wife."

"Excellent response," Dumbledore whispered. Hermione wiped another tear from her eye as Ron cast a fleeting glance toward Merc. "In the code of wizard law, Miss Granger's hand must be granted by another who deems the groom worthy of her affections." Ron shuffled his feet and drew his wand. "Is permission so granted?"

Ron raised her hand toward Harry as Hermione offered her bouquet to Merc for safekeeping. Harry took her hand in his as Ron closed his other hand around them both. Harry felt his lip tremble as he recognized the importance of the moment. Ron smiled at them both and answered Dumbledore's question. "I offer her hand to Harry and declare him a worthy husband," Ron replied. Ron and Hermione turned to each other and he pulled her toward him.

"I love you, Hermione," he whispered as he kissed her on the cheek. At a loss for words, she nodded her head and wiped another tear from her eye before it could run down her cheek. He flicked his wand and muttered an incantation Harry didn't recognize before taking her hand and walking her up to where Harry stood. As Harry took her hand, Ron stepped back to his side as best man.

"You're breathtaking," Harry muttered.

"You're forgiven," she replied.

Suddenly, as beautiful as the ceremony had been, he wanted it to be over. He wanted to say 'I do' already and sweep her off to another room, a broom closet, he honestly didn't care. He simply wanted to show her that she'd made him the happiest man in the world. Something about her Cheshire grin told him her empathic skills extended to muggles.

"And so I must ask if there is anyone present that objects to the casting of the marriage bond," Dumbledore stated without looking to the guests for an answer. As he opened his mouth to continue, another voice called out in the hall.

"I object!" A collective gasp was heard throughout the hall. Ron spun around, his wand extended, and Harry snapped his neck toward the back door. Before he could draw the breath that evaporated from his lungs, another shriek echoed from the walls.

"Remus!"

A flash of hot pink hair leapt from the front row and charged down the aisle. Remus was supporting himself on a makeshift cane and had his right arm in a sling. Tonks nearly bowled him over when she threw her arms around him and Harry saw him wince before he closed his eyes and buried his face in her neck. It lasted only a moment before he pulled out of her embrace and began limping down the aisle with Tonks at his side. He stopped briefly at the aisle she'd been sitting in and dropped a kiss on her cheek. He whispered something in her ear and, beaming, she sat down. He approached the dais and extended his hand to Harry.

He and Hermione descended the dais and embraced him together. Remus pulled back, the tears welling in his eyes, and he looked up to Dumbledore. "Now, Albus…you may continue," he said as he stepped to Ron's side.

"Very well," he remarked with the signature twinkle in his eye. "Before we cast the bond, would you, Harry, like to say anything to Hermione?" Harry gulped and looked at Dumbledore. He hadn't prepared a speech. Roughly two hours ago he thought he'd never see her again, and here he was - getting married.

"I, er…" he began. She squeezed his hands supportively and the nervousness evaporated from his body. "I never thought I could love someone as much as I love you. You are the most beautiful, caring woman I've ever had the good fortune to meet." She smiled and looked at their hands. "And everyday I'm amazed that you chose me." She looked back to him with shining eyes. "I promise, whatever may happen, whatever has happened…I will love you my whole life. I will cherish every second we have together as the gift that it is. I cannot promise you long life, or wealth, or material possessions. But I can promise you my unending devotion and unconditional love for as long as we both live." She dropped one of his hands to wipe the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. She gave a fleeting glance toward Dumbledore and made her own declaration.

"My whole life changed the moment you screamed that you loved me in front of thirty stunned Gryffindors." The Great Hall cackled with laughter. "I never dreamed someone could love me as much as you do, and I never thought it possible to love that person more. I love you so much it hurts." Harry's eyes blurred as her voice cracked under its own emotion. "I realized for all the planning we'd done - all the conversations about our age and our decision to do this - none of it mattered. The only thing that matters to me is you. You are my soulmate. I cannot be me without you. I can promise you only this…that I will give you everything I have, everyday of my life, for as long as we draw breath."

She fell silent and Harry desperately wanted to kiss her. He looked to Dumbledore in the hopes he'd make some offer in that regard, but it didn't happen. His gleaming eyes followed the path of Dumbledore's wand as a warm amber glow showered from the tip and enveloped them both. Under the shimmering cloak of light, Harry couldn't stop himself. He leaned in and captured her lips with a gentle kiss as the spell faded away.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and Harry stepped back in embarrassment. The audience cackled again and Hermione giggled at Dumbledore's words. "We're not to that part yet."

"Sorry," Harry lied.

"I've had the pleasure of enchanting these rings once before," Dumbledore announced. "They are just as beautiful now as when I placed them on your parents' hands, Harry. I trust you will wear them as a symbol of the same love and devotion that they shared every day." Harry heard a quiet sniffle from the person beside Ron as Dumbledore waved his wand and the rings slid onto both of their hands. Following Hermione's lead, he laced the fingers of his left hand and hers together as Dumbledore cast a final spell.

"And now, Harry, it is time to kiss your wife." Harry gave a fleeting glance to Dumbledore and looked back to Hermione. He wrapped one hand around the small of her back and pulled her toward him. Under the dancing warmth of the candlelit canopy he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. His eyes fluttered closed as the warmth of her body radiated through his. He opened his mouth against hers and their tongues met in lazy exploration of each other. He ignored the giggles of the assembled guests as he realized the kiss had lasted longer than the normal limits of propriety. He didn't care. He pulled her tight to him and deepened the kiss as well as he dipped her backwards. She began to giggle as the crowd whooped and laughed. He stood her back on her feet and wiped his thumb across her lips as he kissed away the last of her tears.

"And now, I'm pleased to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Harry James Potter!"