Unofficial Portkey Archive

Chapter 34: Final Contact

The deadline for having all mixed blood and Muggle-born wizards and witches 'safely' shipped off had finally arrived. Umbridge, feeling she ought to publicly support her own decision, had come to the train station on a warm breezy Saturday morning and stood out of the way and to one side to personally watch the goings on.

Things were going along smoothly. The Hogsmeade Transport had been restored to its original glory and, as it had originally been a freight train, was now outfitted to provide its passengers with minimal comforts on the long trek to the Grampian Mountains.

The train station was packed with hundreds upon hundreds of witches and wizards milling about; some exchanging trunks with the luggage handlers, some running after mischievous children, some searching for friends and relatives, and others generally herding their families together in one area so as not to get separated.

At the doors to each open car, Ministry officials checked wizarding ID for security and to verify bloodlines. All wands for the duration of the trip were to be confiscated. At times, Ministry law enforcement were called on to run off cowardly pure-blooded wizards and witches who were trying to gain false access to the train to make it to the commune themselves.

As she watched the 'mudbloods' and 'Muggle-born filth' wind and twist their ways like lost ants round each other and move toward their appointed train cars, Umbridge smirked covertly to herself. With each successive boarding she could feel the knot of disgust in her abdomen loosening more and more. Each dirty-blooded family that disappeared through those doors, blissfully ignorant as to their real fates, brought her a little thrill of joy.

How proud must Voldemort be at this moment? Even now he must be sitting in his cabin, awaiting Delores' report that all had gone smoothly, and that the filth and trash that littered their world was slowly being bundled together and herded toward the bin.

Oh and how grand his plans were for them! For the duration of the war they were to be treated as less than common prisoners. All worldly goods were to be stripped from them and set aside for the remaining purebloods after the war. They were to be set to work making weapons caches and all other necessary amenities Voldemort and his army might need for the dark lord's impending world purge. Enough food would be provided to keep them alive and working, and if some died, well, they were not strong enough to be of use at any rate. Should any who remained refuse to work, they would be tortured and killed.

And after all was done with Potter and Dumbledore; Voldemort, his army, and the Dementors would gather up the defeated enemy, carry them to the commune in the mountains, and in a brilliant display of power, dispatch of them and those already there who had survived.

A delicious thrill of excitement shivered its way down Umbridge's spine. Oh what a glorious day it would be! And, along with Lucius Malfoy; both of them having been the most integral ones in bringing to fruition the dark lord's plans; she would be the one standing closest to the dark lord's side when it all came about...

However, as her small, narrow eyes swept the train station, Delores Umbridge spotted a few flies in her otherwise unpolluted ointment.

Dumbledore, Minerva McGonnagol, the werewolf Remus Lupin, Rubeus Hagrid, Arthur and Percival Weasley, (her former Prime Minister of Magic), and Harry Potter and his two friends, the blood traitor and the mudblood, stood along one side of the station watching the proceedings with mixed emotions of sadness and anger on their faces.

Umbridge watched Potter and his friends occasionally leave Dumbledore and his group to approach mudblood children who until recently had attended school with them, and who were waiting to board the train. She was sure they were attempting to persuade them and their families of the underlying sinister plot surrounding the Ministry's decision to take them away.

As Potter and his friends were turned away one right after the other and sent trudging sorrowfully back to their group of nay-sayers, watching as others from their group attempted the same strategy with adult witches and wizards that passed by, Umbridge could not help the triumphant little smirk that twisted her flat, slack face. The Ministry, along with Voldemort's Death Eaters, had done too convincing a job in plunging fear into the heart of the community. It was clear very few would refuse an opportunity to escape such danger, especially with some believing Dumbledore and Potter were in on the dark lord's plots and secretly aiding his cause. All who were going to listen to the Headmaster and the boy-wizard wonder had already done so, and it appeared no others were going to join them. Umbridge smiled. And it was all the more better for her.

As she continued to watch them, curiosity made her wonder whether Dumbledore and his entourage really understood what she had in mind for the Muggle tainted wizards and witches boarding her death train. But she was sure of one thing. If Voldemort had anything to say about it, and he most certainly did, Dumbledore, Potter and the rest would eventually be joining those traitors gathered together at the commune after the war, and would be done away with just as efficiently.

With narrowed eyes she watched the pretty mudblood, Hermione Granger, leave her group and move determinedly forward to speak with another student standing in line with her family for the train.

Umbridge recalled what hell the little swot had given her at Hogwarts with her incessant questioning and know-it-all, I'm-more-knowledgeable-than-the-professor attitude. And along with the equally as infuriating Potter lad, it had been she who had led her into the Forbidden Forest two years ago on the guise there was a hidden weapon stored there, and had allowed fate and a bunch of mongrel centaurs to decide whether she lived or died.

Umbridge's eyes flashed with something unholy, her nostrils flared, and her mouth set into a thin line. What an opportunity fate had handed her this day! Oh payback could be a bitch. And that alone would be Hermione Granger's final lesson.

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After some debate, much pleading, and assurances that former Hogwarts students might better listen to their peers rather than their professors, Dumbledore had allowed Hermione, Harry and Ron to come along with him and some of the other teachers as they attempted to persuade others to their side. Hermione was eternally grateful for the chance.

She wended her way through the crowd, swallowing back tears and wishing she could save everyone she passed. However, she knew that was impossible. She had to choose with whom she was going to argue reason, and she was choosing those she recognised.

She kept her eyes determinedly fixed far ahead in line on the long black glossy hair of her target as she weaved and bobbed her way along the station; her eyes searching for more she recognised who were further away from boarding the train. These she would approach next if Harry and Ron didn't get them first; but one at a time. Cho Chang and her family were closer in line to being whisked away to Merlin knew where, and despite she and Cho's less than friendly history in school, she was damned if she wouldn't try reasoning with her.

"Cho!" Hermione shouted, jogging as fast as she could toward her.

Hermione swore under her breath, a thing she rarely did. Her path was being blocked by trunks, baggage trolleys, wizarding families shooting her half- nervous, half-annoyed glances, and all other manner of blockages. And the line beside her was moving ever forward. Finally she was close to reaching her.

"Cho!" she yelled out breathlessly, dodging one small boy clutching his father's hand. "Cho, it's Hermione!"

As she skidded to a halt in front of her, Cho finally turned and fixed Hermione with a look of mild surprise. Granger's hair was wild around her face, falling in messy ringlets, and her expression looked equally as wild and full of urgency. She took Hermione's arm and led her to one side out of her family's hearing.

"Hermione," she said in carefully pleasant tones. "Um... hello. Are you waiting in line with your family?"

Hermione forcefully shook her head. "No! No, it's what I've come to talk with you about... Please don't go on this train, there's a really strong suspicion you're being taken somewhere to be harmed."

Cho frowned at her and glanced behind at her mother who was watching the two closely.

"Hermione... that's just guff. The Ministry's been trying all along to keep us safe, and Mum and Dad wouldn't have pulled me out from my first year at University of Sorcery if they didn't believe the dark lord might harm us..."

"But that's just it!" Hermione interrupted aloud, her eyes filled with begging as she wrenched her arm from the older girl's grasp. "We've got reason to believe Umbridge might be working with Voldemort to..."

"Don't say his name, are you mad!?" Cho hissed, her eyes widened with fright.

"Oh just shut up and listen to me!" Hermione shouted frantically. "Please hear me out, alright? D'you remember Percy Weasley?"

Cho snorted. "Percy Weasley the Gryffindor Prefect, or Percy Weasley the recently fired Prime Minister of Magic?"

Hermione started and stared at her. "He wasn't fired, he resigned!"

"Not what Minister Umbridge says," said Cho curtly. "She said he didn't care enough about the welfare of non pure-blooded witches and wizards; that he felt there were better, more important things to be going on about. She let him go, after. It's what the Daily Prophet said, anyway. Don't you get the paper at school anymore?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, but as I don't put much faith in it, I've not been reading it much. The Prophet's controlled by the Ministry as well, isn't it? Anything printed in there's going to be tainted by Umbridge. Anyway, we're getting off subject. Since Percy WAS Prime Minister, you'd think he had access to loads of inside information the rest of us didn't, wouldn't you?"

Cho watched her warily. "Yeah, so?"

"Cho, Percy found a book Umbridge has been studying. It's all about the atrocities Philetus Harold did to those innocent Muggles sixty years ago when he changed his name to Adolphus Hitler, disguised himself as one of them and killed almost the whole lot," Hermione babbled out, the words coming out so fast they jumbled together almost incoherently. "Think back on your Muggle studies... A lot of the strategies he used on the Muggles are awfully similar to what Umbridge is doing now... herding you all together, the train ride to a 'commune'..."

Cho gave Hermione an impatient sigh. "If you're implying what I think you are..."

"It makes sense!" Hermione said in a pleading voice, grabbing Cho's arm. "Think on what she was like in your sixth year! Wasn't she always insulting giants and unicorns and all other manner of creatures who weren't human!? Didn't she always favour Slytherin over all the other houses? And which house has always only taken pure-blooded wizards and witches!?"

"That doesn't prove anything," said Cho with a dismissive wave of her hand. "She might've been a poor professor, but that doesn't mean she's out to kill all the Muggle borns. Fact is, You-Know-Who has targeted us, and if we're hidden until he's gone, he won't be able to find us to do us any more harm."

Hermione couldn't help the tears that sprang to her eyes. "But Cho… what if we're right?"

Cho's expression hardened. "By 'we', do you mean you and Harry?"

Hermione sighed inwardly. Merlin, she really hadn't wanted to get into this with Cho...

She answered cautiously. "He's one... along with Dumbledore and a load of others."

Then the thought occurred to her to mention the defence association Harry had headed and Cho had been part of some two years ago. Perhaps if she knew most of them believed, it might persuade her to believe as well…

"And most, if not all of the former DA believes," said Hermione, almost breathless with the hope Cho might now change her mind. "We understood even then how Umbridge was up to no good... You remember being part of that, I know... "

"I remember having to fight to get Harry's attention whenever you were around. You never were happy when other girls caught his eye, now I think on it."

Exasperated, Hermione closed her eyes for a brief moment, and then opened them. "Cho, once again and for the last time, even though I thought school was the last time... I DID NOT steal Harry from you."

And to Hermione's horror, she began to tear up. Cho turned to see Harry's tall form a bit further down the station, dressed casually in a white T-shirt, faded jeans and trainers, and talking animatedly to Castor Eustance, a Muggle-born Ravenclaw. She swallowed hard and rasped out a whispered reply.

"I needed him more than you... I still do."

"See but that's the difference," said Hermione, trying even in her annoyance to be tactful. "I don't just need Harry. I love him."

"I loved him too!" Cho shouted, upset. "But you just couldn't have that, could you!? Every time we started to get a bit closer, there you were to put a stop to it!"

"I never put a stop to anything! What Harry did, he did on his own!" said Hermione, her exasperation now fully showing on her face. "Cho you never even knew Harry... not really. I just... I... I know who he is on the outside, and on the inside. I know when he's trying to act the person everyone wants him to be, and when he's being himself, which he's far better at, believe me. No matter how he tries to hide it, I know when he's tired of the world and ready to give up and I can know in an instant what made him that way because I know the right questions to ask and how and when to ask them to make him open up to me. I know when to be silent with him and when to make him talk, because I can feel what's going to make him shut himself off inside. I know what irritates him, what hurts him, what makes him angry and what makes him happy. I know every last one of his insecurities and his strengths, his ups and downs... and I still love him for them! And because I know him so well, I know how to love him. And, I know everything I've just said is the same he feels for me. Can you honestly say the same?"

Cho just stared at her; the expression frozen on her face, the tears dried. She turned her head once more to look at Harry, and saw him now standing alone and looking downtrodden, his hands shoved miserably into his pockets. Apparently he hadn't been able to convince Castor Eustance to stay off the train anymore than Hermione had been able to convince her. And though she did not believe either of them, in that instance, if put in Hermione's shoes, she knew she would have no idea what to say to comfort Harry about it.

She turned her gaze back to Hermione and gave her a feeble smile.

"I... I hope one day I find that."

Hermione smiled at her. "You will, Cho. But please... we've gone off-track and this is really important. Please try to see what danger you're in..."

Cho shook her head. "Hermione, you aren't going to convince me staying out in the open is safer than going to some hidden camp far away from You-Know-Who's reach."

Hermione looked about ready to cry. "Please, Cho..."

"No," Cho answered firmly. "And you'd do well to put yourself right on that train with us. You're fully Muggle-born. You'll be one of the first targeted."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, to try convincing Cho until there was no breath left in her lungs, but a hand grabbed round her wrist and something sharp jabbed into her back, cutting her words short.

"Miss Chang has a very good point, I think," said Delores Umbridge pleasantly, pushing the tip of her wand hard into Hermione's lower back and simultaneously slipping Hermione's wand from the back of her jeans. "You would do well to be far away from the dark lord and his followers; and as you've no wizarding relatives who really understand the threat and can try convincing you to save yourself, I must take it upon myself to help along your decision. After all, if one of my students were to fall to an attack, and I had not done everything I possibly could to prevent it, I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

Cho gazed at the both of them quizzically and Hermione opened her mouth to speak out, but felt Umbridge shove the wand even further into her back. She let out a small hiss of pain and hoped, pleaded with all deities that were listening that Cho could see what was happening. However, after a moment, it became clear she could not see Umbridge's wand.

"She's right Hermione, you'll see. We've never really been friends, I know, but I... I'd really hate to hear something had happened to you."

Hermione stared at the other girl, her eyes wide and pleading, begging her to see something very, very wrong was happening, but Cho merely gave a firm little nod as if something that had been slightly off was being put right, and watched as Umbridge began to march Hermione toward the head of the line for the train.

"No worries Miss Granger," Umbridge hissed happily in her ear as she prodded her along. "You'll be with the rest of your kind, safe and sound against the dark lord, won't you? You'll want to thank me once all this is over, I should think."

Hermione growled aloud. "Thank you!? I'd gladly murder you if given half a chance..."

Umbridge jabbed her hard in the spine as they walked, causing the girl to cry out a bit.

"Careful," the Minister snarled through gritted teeth. "I could finish you off with one spell and no one here would think twice on it. I could make it look as if you'd tried to harm me. Assaulting the Minister of Magic would call for serious measures, would it not?"

Hermione turned her head as far as she could to see if she could spot Harry, but he was no where to be seen; lost amongst the crowd. Dumbledore, Ron, and the rest were all dispersed here and there as well, and none were looking her way.

Inside, she began to despair. Hot tears stung at her eyes. Her heart began beating at the speed of a snitch. Small beads of sweat rolled down the back of her neck. Gods, was she going to be forced onto that death train? She would be inside, locked in a compartment and gone before anyone could find what had happened to her...

Oh my god, Harry please see me…

"Almost there," Umbridge whispered, keeping a smile plastered on her face and nodding pleasantly to everyone who looked her way. A few more yards and they would be at the front. No one would question the girl being brought ahead of them to board, after all, it was the Minister of Magic escorting her…

Someone help me, oh gods please, please, please…

Umbridge gave an ominous little chuckle. "Just a bit closer and you'll be on your way to safety. Just think... no more worrying on the war until it's over..."

"Save your lies," Hermione choked out, her face now white with rage and her voice cracking with panic and fear. "You and I both know your plans for all of these have nothing to do with safety."

Umbridge shrugged. "As you wish."

As they passed by a few witches and wizards stared, but seemed to think nothing of Umbridge escorting her to the front of the train. Hermione's heart sank even further. For the love of Merlin could they not see the expression on her face? If she yelled out, if she screamed, she had no doubt Umbridge would kill her on the spot and make it seem like self-defence.

Oh god, oh god, oh god...

They had reached one open car. Hermione looked up into the face of the wizard guiding people on board and felt as if she were staring at her executioner. Here was the Ministry appointed official who would be escorting her to her death... Strange how normal he appeared; not a trace of hostility in his features...

She decided to take a chance and turned round to face Umbridge one last time.

"Just let me go, please Minister. Moment they find me missing Harry and Professor Dumbledore will suspect you. And it isn't as if we've stood tall and screamed out to everyone what you're planning..."

"And you don't think I know the only reason you haven't is because too many already suspect Dumbledore and Potter of supporting the dark lord, and because the moment you did you'd be arrested?" Umbridge favoured Hermione with a condescending little smirk. "Oh no, Miss Granger. You'll be getting on this train. This goes much further back than just today. I've never got to pay you back for the torment you caused me at Hogwarts. I'll take my revenge today, I think."

Something jabbed the Minister sharply in the back, causing her to gasp sharply.

"I don't think so," a deep, deadly voice sounded quietly behind her.

Umbridge watched the colour return to Granger's face; the girl's eyes closing briefly in relief before opening to gaze gratefully into eyes that must be a good two feet above the Minister's own head. Though the voice behind her sounded deeper and more mature, there was no guessing needed to tell who it was. She made a move to turn round but the wand stabbed even further into the fat lining her ribs.

"Don't turn."

"Potter," Umbridge snarled angrily.

"Shut the hell up," Harry whispered angrily through gritted teeth. "Now... you tell that porter you're just stepping to the side to have a word, and you'll be back in a moment."

"Damn you to hell, you little bastard..."

"You do it, or years on they'll still be finding bits of you along these tracks," Harry growled out in a sort of deadly calm voice that chilled not only Umbridge, but Hermione to the bone.

"Try it," Umbridge persisted hatefully. "You'll be in thrown in Azkaban so quickly you won't have time to whine for your dead parents."

Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously. "You bitch..."

"Hermione, don't." Harry said quickly over Umbridge's head as Hermione made to move forward. The fact Umbridge had shrunk back against him from the sight of his girlfriend's rage made him feel like glowing with pride. He bent down to whisper menacingly in the Minister's ear.

"You think threatening me with Azkaban will work? I know what you tried to do to Hermione. I hope you make a move. Go on, give me a reason."

A familiar harsh voice behind Potter suddenly sounded out as well. "And if he misses I'm next for a go."

Umbridge realised she had no choice. The porter standing in the doorway above her was oblivious to the details of the conversation going on below him, and only looked on with the sort of bored impatience one might have when working a particularly dull job.

"If you please Minister, the line's being held up," the porter finally said with a sigh.

Umbridge smiled feebly up at him, giving a little 'oomph' of discomfort as Harry jabbed her impatiently with his wand.

"I'll just be moving to the side for a while then," she simpered her voice wavering. "Bit of unfinished business to attend to. Please continue."

The porter merely nodded and waved the person behind Hermione, Harry, Ron and Umbridge on board.

The four moved to the side away from any listening ears, and Umbridge whirled round swiftly to eye the three teens with a look that could have set fire to the entire train station.

"You bastarding little blood traitors... Filthy little mudblood bitch!" She heaved out furiously.

At her words, Harry had to physically hold himself in check, his eyes blazing with hatred.

"Just you wait until it's all ended," Umbridge continued in a crazed sort of frenzy. "Should you survive, I'll personally ask my lord to murder you three first!"

"Oh, I think we're already tops on his schedule," Ron answered, giving his wand a lazy toss and catching it effortlessly.

Umbridge scowled at him with pure loathing, but upon glancing down, noticed Harry was the only one minus his wand.

She smiled rigidly. "Frightened to show you're armed, Potter? You should be. Threatening the Minister of Magic is a serious offence. And since I'm head of the Ministry, I'll leave your punishment up to myself, I think."

"You won't be punishing anyone," said Hermione stonily, glaring daggers at her. "You tried forcing me onto that train. The decree is clear about the trip being voluntary. You say anything and I'll keep you in court for months, tied up with injustice hearings."

"You think a jury will believe you over me!?" Umbridge spouted in disbelief. She laughed mockingly at her. "You're a mudblood and a nutter, aren't you!?"

"Don't call her that!" Harry suddenly yelled aloud, his whole body bristling and his eyes glowing a furious Slytherin-hued green such as Umbridge had never ever witnessed before.

The Minister took a step back in fright; her body shaking uncontrollably and, as she stared, her eyes watering from the intense glow. As she watched the brilliant light finally recede from the younger man's eyes a sudden thought occurred to her. She glanced down at Harry's wandless hand.

"You... you never even had a wand, did you..."

Harry merely stared at her and smirked unpleasantly.

"And what would you have done Potter," she hissed contemptuously, "if I'd suddenly decided to call your bluff?"

Harry shrugged. "Call it now if you want. I don't need a wand any more."

Umbridge stared at him, her face suddenly draining of all colour.

"Y.. you little liar..." she sputtered hatefully, although her lips shook with fear as she spoke. "You filthy little liar!"

Harry turned his back on the tirade to look at Hermione.

He placed his hands on her shoulders, his eyes full of a wretched guilt as he gazed down at her.

"I'm sorry... Love, I'm so sorry I didn't see you sooner, gods..."

"It's alright, Harry," said Hermione, pulling him into a hug and sagging gratefully into his embrace. "You came in time. It's alright."

For a moment he leaned his forehead against her own; relief that he had seen her before it was too late washing over him so powerfully it left him weak. He released her and nodded to Ron, who began walking with her back toward Dumbledore and the rest.

Harry however, turned slowly back round to face Umbridge once again; his eyes blazing and his expression set with such ferocity and wrath she felt sure he might strike her down, impending prison sentence or no.

He took a step closer and glared down at her speaking in a deep, hostile tone. "I'll be watching for you when it all comes to a head. Count on it."

Though shaking from the fierceness in his voice, Umbridge affected a superior air.

"I'll be watching for you as well, Potter. In the end, when he's finally ready to rid himself of you, the dark lord has promised me front row viewing." She smiled triumphantly up at him. "And I know you're a liar as well as a blood traitor. Even my master uses a wand, and he's infinitely more powerful than an arrogant little bastard like you."

"I don't give a shit what you think you 'know'," said Harry flippantly. "Though, now I think on it, there is one wand I still have use for."

With that, he pulled a hand lazily out of his pocket and flipped her off.

Umbridge flushed almost purple with rage.

Harry grinned nastily at her; a look of immense satisfaction on his face. He shoved the offensive 'wand' back in his pocket and turned to make his way back down the train station as well.

Some standing directly near saw the exchange, but either murmured amongst themselves or continued to move forward toward the train. Confrontations between the Ministry and its opposing factions were common occurrences these days, though the fact it had been the Boy-Who-Lived having a nasty exchange with the Minister of Magic was something to gossip on, to say the least.

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Three days of solemnity passed for the wizarding world, and for Hogwarts. The school seemed as if it had been stripped down to bare bones and felt intensely empty and even lonely from lack of so many students. Curiously, it had been Slytherin house that had lost the most. While most others had been removed from the school for being Muggle mixed or just from having extremely frightened parents, Slytherin was known for being the only house carrying the strictly pure-blooded.

It came across as particularly odd to Harry, Hermione and Ron that so many of them had left school.

Even amidst the unsettled chaos Dumbledore made certain that regular school activities continued, and began a newer regiment at school to try alleviating the even more intense separation the school houses now felt from one another. At each mealtime he had everyone, no matter what house they belonged to, sit together along two tables. It was all the school needed any more since holding such fewer students. Classes were also changed to allow a mixture of same year students from all houses. The Headmaster was determined now more than ever to heed the Sorting Hat's song and pull everyone together before Hogwarts ended up, as the hat had warned, 'crumbling from within'.

He had good reason to worry on it.

The students had begun warring with each other much like the rest of the wizarding world had. There were those who stood with the Ministry's 'safety' plans and who also suspected Dumbledore and Harry of having an alliance with Voldemort; and those who supported Dumbledore's dark theories on Delores Umbridge, and who knew beyond any doubt neither the Headmaster nor Harry Potter would ever join with the dark lord.

Both sides went at each other constantly, and hardly a day went by when a professor wasn't called on to break up one or more fights. No room in the castle was immune. Madame Pince had nearly gone mental over one battle in the library that had toppled two bookshelves. During Care of Magical Creatures, an argument broke out between sixth year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors that, before he could end it, left Hagrid's new patch of cabbages in ruins. Professor McGonnagol was given no choice but to hex one Ravenclaw, one Slytherin and two Gryffindors for starting a scuffle in the middle of Transfiguration that she could not break apart despite her yelling from the top of her lungs.

However, Draco Malfoy by far had it the worst. He was constantly put on the defence from the few remaining members of Slytherin, and it seemed every day brought about a new brawl between him and some other house mate; though Ginny Weasley stood staunchly by him.

To Harry, Hermione and Ron, it seemed the entire world had gone completely mad. Everyone's nerves seemed stretched to their ultimate limits, what with the stress and anxiety of impending war, and every day school activities that still needed to be gone on about. It was one week until final testing for the entire school, and the strain of everything combined put on professors, students and staff alike had really begun to take it's toll.

For Harry however, on the day 'IT' finally happened, everything progressed so quickly and in such unbroken order, that he felt as if he moved through it in some false dream-like state.

The morning had brought about little drama, although since the Daily Prophet had begun giving small status reports on the well-being of the Muggle-mixed who had been recently whisked away to safety, (whereabouts not stated for 'safety reasons'), Hermione had decided to once again read the newspaper. The articles promised every witch, wizard, and child were being well taken care of, though since these reports were being fed to the Prophet by none other than the Minister of Magic herself, the only one privy to such information, no one loyal to Dumbledore put much faith in it's truthfulness.

It was now June tenth, three days until N.E.W.T.s and end of the school year O.W.L.s. Graduation had been set for June sixteenth, and since classes were officially over and the days remaining had been set aside strictly for study, students were seen all over the castle and its grounds surrounded by books, wands, cauldrons, quill and parchment, and all other manner of magical study implements.

The general atmosphere round school was one of barely controlled frenzy. House elves had been asked politely by Professor Dumbledore if they would not mind for a while being on constant call should any student need a snack break or a particularly strong caffeinated brew.

Professors were sent to each area of study to make certain no new fights broke out, and to keep extra watch on students who had decided to study outside. Dumbledore and Professor McGonnagol were busy contacting Professor Marchbanks and her colleagues to schedule the exact time of their arrival, and any staff who at this particular time in the school year would not normally be loaded with duties were sent round the outer edges of Hogwart's grounds to ensure security wards were still strong and in place.

Near the castle and standing in the shade one gigantic wall provided, Professor Snape stood rigidly watching over the outside students; his greasy hair covering most of what was an extremely sour expression. Pulling guard duty, it seemed, was the last thing he wanted to have to do.

The late Saturday afternoon was much like any other, if one didn't count the obvious lesser number of students, the now shared knowledge that Voldemort was indeed back, and the palpable feeling of dread that permeated the atmosphere. All were trying to go about business as usual, but although they knew Hogwart's grounds were perfectly safe, the constant fear of what might happen to the world outside their small fortress weighed heavily on their minds.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were trying their dead best to go on with regular activities as well, but as the threat of Voldemort and the war was to them so much more real, they had a harder time pretending. On the outside they were sure they appeared like the rest, but on the inside, they were filled with dread on what was to come.

The June air was warm, clean, and filled with the scent of mountain breezes. Each ripple on the lake caught some beam of the late afternoon's rose- coloured sun and turned to threads of pinkish gold along the water. Students lolled about on green grass, under lazily waving trees, or near the lake; some alone, some in pairs and others in large groups. Although most were studying, there was much less of the lightness or laughter that usually accompanied such a beautiful weekend. Most were solemn.

Ron glanced up from studying The N.E.W.T.s Abbreviated: A Summary for Seventh Years, by Marceo Angustus and once again set his eye on his sister and Draco Malfoy who were sitting some distance away near the lake, and getting on entirely too well for his liking. From the corner of his eye, he caught Hermione again peer disapprovingly over her Ancient Runes textbook at the volume in his hand. She sighed in a conspicuous manner and turned her eyes back to her studies, making it quite obvious she wanted herself heard.

Ron set his jaw in a mulish way, rolled his eyes, and resigned himself to the inevitable.

"What, Hermione? Go on and lecture me. Get it all out of your system, why don't you…"

She narrowed her eyes reproachfully at him, but lowered her book to scold him anyway.

He had known she would.

"I simply can't believe you're studying that rubbish instead of your school books!" She finally admonished. "Ron, you aren't going to pass N.E.W.T.s with some set of wizarding cliff's notes! Where you got the idea anyway is beyond me."

Harry glanced up from his seventh year Transfiguration primer and smirked, clearly amused.

Hermione sent him a disapproving look as well, but he merely winked at her.

Ron grinned craftily. "Where I got the idea is closely guarded upon penalty of death."

Harry chuckled.

"As for not passing, there's where you're wrong," Ron continued in a conspiratorial manner. "This isn't just some outline, 'Mione. It's an actual copy of recent past N.E.W.T.s. And everyone knows from year to year the tests don't actually change much. All I've got to do is study the basics of this little book and I'm all set."

He thumped the back of the thin volume and leaned back against the elm tree with a satisfied smile on his face.

"And who told you the tests don't change from year to year?" asked Hermione.

"Andrew Kirke," said Ron, yawning lazily. "His brother dates Professor Marchbanks' sister's granddaughter's best friend."

"How's that?" asked Harry sarcastically, leaning back on his elbows

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Anyhow she told Andrew's brother her friend told her that Professor Marchbanks and the rest go by a standard test so they don't have to think up a new one each year," said Ron smirking triumphantly. "Andrew's brother gave him this little book he found at Flourish and Blotts his last year at Hogwarts. Said all he used was this and he got an E in practically every area."

"Yeah, but Ron you don't think Marchbanks and the rest would change the test every year just for that reason?" asked Harry. "If they kept it the same she'd know some of us would try nicking the plans for it or something. There'd be a right little black market going on…"

Ron was hardly listening. His face was full of meditative glee. "Fred and George'll piss themselves once they see Mum falling all over me for getting all E's. 'Course they didn't actually take the N.E.W.T.s, did they? But it won't matter. They'll be sickened all the same. Gods, I can't wait to see their faces…"

"Ron," said Hermione, now thoroughly exasperated. "I know for a fact the test is changed every year."

Ron rolled his eyes over her way and sighed. "Yeah? And how is that?"

"I asked her."

Ron frowned and sat up straight. "Asked who?"

"Professor Marchbanks!" Hermione blurted out, annoyed. "I asked her last year during O.W.L.s."

Harry looked on, wholly entertained, as Ron went from disbelief to confusion to alarm in a matter of seconds.

"Wh..what'd you mean…"

"I mean I asked her Ron, as in I walked up and posed a question." Hermione repeated, scooping up her Ancient Runes textbook once again and lifting it in front of her face to read. "I wanted to know."

Ron blustered aloud and held the little book of cliff's notes in front of him. "Well then what the hell is…"

"Did you pay for it?" Harry broke in with a smile.

Ron scowled, annoyed at him. "Everyone has. You think Andrew'd give away something like this? He's made a killing."

Harry waited for the inevitable, staring at Ron until a look of horror finally dawned on his friend's face.

Ron clenched his fists and stood. "I'll murder him. I'm gonna reach down his throat and pull out his small intestines…"

"It actually never crossed your mind he might be snowballing you?" Harry grinned, still leaning comfortably back on his elbows.

"Well he's sold it to everyone, hasn't he?" Ron blustered defensively. "I'm not the only one who fell for it!"

He turned his back on Harry, who seemed to be enjoying Ron's own tribulations far too much for his liking and, muttering expletives, began to stomp back toward the castle to deal with a certain fellow Gryffindor.

However, just then and completely unforeseen, the light atmosphere of an otherwise ordinary day was suddenly and inexplicably drenched with darkness.

Harry would later say what happened next literally began the day from hell.

An ear-splitting, wrenching explosion like the firing of hundreds of cannons all at once suddenly split the calm early evening. The ground shook violently, the vibrations throwing students off their feet and causing a once calm lake to begin lapping and crashing with shock waves, each one larger than the next.

In a matter of seconds, an eruption of blind, stampeding panic took over the grounds.

Terrified, Hermione screamed and crawled toward Harry who, having had his elbows knocked from under him, had hit his head hard on the ground.

He brought himself painfully to a sitting position on the still trembling earth, thoroughly shaken and startled, and turned wide eyes toward the general direction of the blast.

An impossibly large, thundering pillar of fire had erupted some four miles away, lighting the once dusky purple sky beyond forests of trees with flames of bizarre reddish light. It roared upward with such raging force that it left a great, dark mushroom-shaped cloud billowing larger and larger in it's wake.

Hermione turned wildly in Harry's arms, watching in disbelief as screaming students began to make their ways toward the school, stumbling along and being pushed unceremoniously toward the great double doors by a screaming and thoroughly unsettled Professor Snape.

"Get inside NOW!" He yelled, pushing and shoving students toward the castle. "All of you, to the Great Hall and DO NOT MOVE from there, you understand!? GO!"

Ron scrambled back toward Harry and Hermione and threw himself on the ground beside them.

"Are you alright!?"

"Yeah," said Harry breathlessly, his eyes transfixed on the sky as it turned grey with smoke. The blast had been so powerful, the sky now began raining black ash all along Hogwarts grounds. "How about you?"

"Been better," Ron panted excitedly, rubbing his back and ruffling ash out from his hair. "Threw me to the ground. But we've got to get inside, mates. Snape's forcing everyone to the Great Hall. Dumbledore's just made it outside..."

Harry turned to see Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonnagol at the bottom of the great stone steps leading inside the castle, each looking startled and out of breath from running. McGonnagol put a hand to her mouth as she regarded the now greyish smoke-filled sky and her eyes flitted over the grounds to land on Harry, Hermione and Ron, still huddled under the elm tree.

"Great Merlin's Ghost! Potter, Granger, Weasley... get your arses in here NOW!"

Harry stood to his feet and pulled Hermione up with him. He regarded Ron apprehensively over the top of her head as the three moved quickly toward the castle.

"That was Hogsmeade, Ron. He blew up Hogsmeade..."

"I know, mate."

Hermione swiped at the tears tickling her cheeks and accepted Dumbledore's hand as he helped her up the steps into the castle.

**********************************************

Hogwarts' remaining students huddled together in a frightened mass near the front of the Great Hall, talking so fast and all at once with each other that not much could be determined from the madness, save extreme fear. The remaining professors and staff had already made it down to the Great Hall, and were currently doing their best to calm frantic, hysterical students, despite being more than frightened themselves. More than a few students' voices were heard quite clearly above the din exclaiming they now wished they had taken the Hogsmeade Express and gone away with the rest to safety. Many others began arguing with them, and it took very little time amidst the chaos for fighting to begin once again.

It was one of the things that maddened Harry most as he, Hermione and Ron were ushered into the Great Hall by Professors McGonnagol and Dumbledore, the latter of whom swept in looking by all accounts, more solemn, majestic, and authoritative than ever he had done before.

He did not look at any one student, but left most gaping and swarming in his wake as he moved to the front behind his school podium and raised his arms.

"SILENCE!"

He thundered the word so loudly that it echoed off the walls and left everyone utterly speechless. All quarrelling stopped, and every eye turned toward the Headmaster.

"We will not panic! We will not succumb to terror! And once and for all, WE WILL NOT FIGHT AMONGST OURSELVES for NOTHING will be accomplished by it!"

Those who had been involved in the arguments still had enough sense about themselves to look ashamed and immediately moved away from one another.

But separation was the last thing Dumbledore wanted.

"If any amongst you are injured, I ask you to stand if you are able and move toward the back of the hall, where Madame Pomfrey and Hermione Granger will see to you."

A bit startled, Hermione turned a surprised look to Ron and Harry, and gave Harry's hand a squeeze before moving back through the crowd toward where a nervous Madame Pomfrey stood, looking a bit out of sorts, but completely ready to handle any situation.

Harry watched them consort with one another and then turned his attention back toward the front.

"Now," Dumbledore continued, trying his best to speak with a voice that sounded completely in control of the situation. "Professor McGonnagol and I will be leaving you in capable hands as we leave to find exactly what has happened. While we are gone, I want the rest of you to sit down at these tables together. I want you to think on all the tragedy that has recently transpired. Remember the song the sorting hat has sung to you for the past two years. Remember how it has continually warned us that should we continue to divide amongst ourselves, our school will crumble from within."

Dumbledore's face seemed even more impossibly lined as he studied the young wizards and witches before him; his very manner pleading with them to open their ears and minds and listen to him. The students began to make their ways slowly toward the two long tables that remained in the hall

"What we have most feared has finally befallen us," Dumbledore continued, "and yet, while most on the outside has fallen apart, our institution still stands. We must fight to keep it standing. If we are to be strong enough to defeat what might soon come our way we must come together, not as different houses within a school, but as four parts of a whole. As Professor Trelawny has correctly divined, the four parts of our circle must join."

Harry and Ron stared at each other, jaws gaping open. It was the same conclusion they and Hermione had come upon some months back after the Divination teacher's prediction. And here it was, being confirmed for them in front of their very eyes.

However, Dumbledore's next words were not what they had expected.

"As such," he continued gravely, "Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff as they stand today are NO MORE. We will no longer be divided and sorted by our personalities, attributes and strong points."

Instant outcries and murmurings erupted at his words. Even some of the Professors looked taken aback.

The Headmaster held up his hands for silence and looked sternly out into the crowd.

"You will still be allowed to live in your same houses, but the name by which you are called, will no longer separate you from one another, or summarise who you are. For too long our school has been divided with competitions, discord and rivalry. It has caused us to separate from amongst ourselves, and at a time when our world is in most danger, there is no more room for division of any sort. You may still be called brave Gryffindor, intelligent Ravenclaw, gracious Hufflepuff and shrewd Slytherin, but as we are all well aware, no one witch or wizard can be summed with one quality or characteristic. Every one of us, with every one of our strongest traits, will be needed when facing such evil. We are all parts of a whole, if we will allow it. Divided, we can do nothing, but together, we stand strong. We will bond together, and we will oppose this evil together… or we will fall with the rest."

He had spoken with such eloquence and truth, that no one dared disagree.

The sound of silence was deafening as Dumbledore and McGonnagol swept from the Great Hall as abruptly as they had come in. Very soon though, the students began talking amongst each other once more, all conspiring on what had been targeted outside the school, and what exactly had given off such a strong explosion.

It was odd to look up and see the enchanted ceiling continue to depict the outside sky, with ash floating down like great grey snowflakes, and smoke clouds floating lazily overhead. It seemed like an omen of worse things to come, and no one, even those who had not yet been personally affected by Voldemort's actions, was daft enough to think there weren't more horrid days ahead.

After Hermione and Madame Pomfrey finished taking care of the few wounded, Hermione wended her way back through the crowd to sit with Harry and opposite Ron once again.

An odd feeling of dread that had nothing to do with what had just happened had begun coursing through her the moment Dumbledore had finished his speech. She had never put any stock in Divination, ESP or any art form associated with such rubbish and yet, she felt if she did not move as close to Harry as possible once she was able, he might somehow disappear like mist before her very eyes. Something worse was coming. Something that was going to rip her heart to shreds. She knew it, and she feared it so wholly that she snaked her arms round his waist and held on as if her life depended on it.

Hermione was not a clingy witch by any stretch, so Harry knew something beyond the obvious was wrong as she sat near him, trembling and grasping fistfuls of his shirt so that he could hardly move.

He put his arms about her for comfort and leaned down to whisper to her, staring into a face that had gone pale.

"Hermione… love, what is it…"

But she merely shook her head and stared straight ahead, her hands clenched so tightly in his shirt that her slim knuckles had gone white.

Ron looked curiously from Hermione to Harry, but Harry had no answering look to give him. Whatever was wrong she was unwilling to say, so he would be content to hold her and hope she would tell him later.

Dumbledore and McGonnagol re-entered the Great Hall an hour later; their whole beings carved with such grimness that the area felt electrified with apprehension once more.

"It is as we feared," said Dumbledore gravely, standing before them all once again. "The Ministry has informed me that Hogsmeade and those who decided to remain there have been attacked, and most of the village destroyed. We do not yet know how many lives were lost, but as we are the closest establishment near the village and have an infirmary here, those who are too injured to be transported safely to St. Mungo's will be brought here for treatment. As I have said before, Hogwarts and it's grounds are heavily charmed with protections. We will extend those protections and our resources to those who are now in need of them."

He turned his attention briefly to Madame Pomfrey as she looked absolutely overwhelmed at the potential prospect of so many being brought to her for care.

"Poppy, healers and medi-wizards not immediately needed at St. Mungo's will be flooing here to assist you, so no worries… you will be properly staffed. As for the rest of you," he said, eyeing the students who sat round the two tables, and who all looked as if they had no idea what to do with themselves, "You will all immediately move back to your houses for the night. I understand it is not near curfew, but given the events of this evening, it is imperative we know where each one of you are, and I have no doubt we are all in need of a good rest. Our head boy and girl, and your house prefects will now begin leading you to your dorms. I will see you all tomorrow morning at breakfast... Dismissed."

With a weary sigh Dumbledore watched Harry, Hermione and the house prefects round up the students and shuffle them out into the hallways.

The Hall was left once again in relative silence and, looking upward, Dumbledore regarded the charmed ceiling much as the rest had done earlier. The outside sky was clearing, and ash only fell here and there now upon the ground. He was sure the outside looked littered with some odd form of freshly fallen grey snow, and wondered to himself just how many more witches and wizards had been murdered this night.

He turned his eyes back to the remaining teachers and staff who all stood round the Great Hall, and noticed how, now all the students had left, most pretence of courage and control had been dropped. The adults staring at him for some sign of what to do next seemed equally as lost and without comfort as the young ones had. And truth be told, Dumbledore felt the same.

What was there to do next but wait? With no idea where Voldemort and his forces were located, despite efforts from his Aurors to find them, all that could be done was to wait for the dark lord to show himself. Then would begin the greatest, most significant war the wizarding world had ever known.

As the Headmaster motioned the teachers and staff to the two long student tables to conference with them, somehow he had a deep suspicion that the time for it was undeniably near.

*******************************************

TONIGHT THE COLD - E.D.

"…This is the most silent of nights.

Inside my head the noise, the panic, the rushing.

The night had turned cool, black and starless. Greyish clouds hid the moon, not the least of which Harry was sure were still mixed with smoke from the explosion.

Cold as the night air had become, it was incomparable to the icy dread that clutched its fingers round his heart.

He and Hermione had long since turned in for the night. Moment they had slipped into his bed Hermione had snuggled closely to him, tangled her arms and legs with his, and wrapped so bodily round him that even when sleep had finally come she had not let go. He held to her just as tightly, his chin resting atop her head and his arms wrapped round her, pressing her face into his neck and chest, with the rest of her body flush against his. It was more than instinct that made him understand her need for security this night, and he knew he needed it just as desperately.

Harry had finally given up on sleeping, himself. Anxiety wrapped round his thoughts and continued to coil downward to pit into his chest and stomach, twisting his insides and tightening round his nerves like twine.

Hours passed.

The Muggle clock over his bureau read two fifteen a.m. The only time he allowed his eyes to stop searching the darkness outside his window was to read the time. He had begun dreading the nights, though for obvious reasons, this one in particular made his heart thrum even faster in his chest.

Even before the explosion, most of Hogsmeade's inhabitants had already left. Though there were still a few stubborn witches and wizards who had refused to go, there had been no apparent reason to destroy over half of it, save one Harry could think of. Hogsmeade was close enough to Hogwarts for its destruction to serve as warning to the school, or more particularly, someone within the school.

Was this the sign he had been waiting for? Was Voldemort even now standing amongst some vast army giving instructions, examining fighting skills, or going over strategies while he waited for his final note to reach his enemy?

It was why Harry could not take his eyes from the window. Why even now, his mind tricked him over and over into seeing some shadow, some outline of the ominous against the blackness of the sky. He blinked his eyes once, twice, and upon opening them, still found nothing there.

He rubbed at his tired eyes with the heel of one free hand, and craned his neck to kiss the top of Hermione's sleeping head.

And still his gaze returned to the window. This was the night. He was sure of it.

And finally, as if his certainty had somehow made it so, a soft tapping came from the window.

He jolted against Hermione, causing her to stir a bit. Inwardly, he raged at himself. For her to wake was the last thing he wanted. If he was to have to leave her, it would be much less painful if she were not awake to try talking him out of it.

Slowly he untangled himself from her limbs; many times sure he was going to startle her awake. Blessedly though, she slept on.

He stood as slowly as he could from the bed, careful not to make the sudden shift of weight noticeable.

He snatched his glasses from off the night stand and shoved them onto his face, suddenly aware of the dark fuzzy outline of a post owl perched impatiently on the sill of his window.

And Harry's heart felt as if it suddenly froze mid-beat and sank into his stomach like a lead weight.

Not needing his wand, he held a hand out in front of him as he crept slowly and cautiously forward.

The owl was well trained and simply stared at him with yellow, lantern-like eyes as he approached. Noiselessly, Harry slid the window open. It stuck out its leg for him as if midnight post was a regular occurrence and, with shaking hands, he untied the small scroll from its leg.

Soon as he had done the owl hooted once and, with a gentle whooshing of long black wings, took off into the night. Harry closed the window softly and moved back toward where he had carelessly thrown his tee shirt and jeans the night before. After dressing he turned one last time to let his eyes sweep over Hermione's form, sleeping so peacefully in his bed, and moved quietly out into the common room.

Because of the unusually cold night, before retreating to his bed they had lit a fire in the hearth and sat in front of it on the couch, cuddling. As Harry stood before it now, restless shadows dancing across the dark wooden walls, orange flames reflected in his lenses and, clutched in his hand, what he knew was his final note from the dark bastard, all he saw in the dancing fire was Hermione's face. The way she had kept glancing at him as if he might disappear as they sat silently in front of the hearth, holding one another; the way her soft skin, warm like liquid velvet had felt against his hands; how the firelight had spun copper-gold into her long curls; how, when she had glanced at him with those doe-brown eyes, he was sure she didn't know the flames had done little to hide her tears.

They had both known, but said nothing. It had gone well beyond suspicion that tonight was to be the night Voldemort would contact him. Somehow, in some way beyond reach, Harry knew Ron had felt it as well.

He opened his fist to regard the small scroll crushed in his hand and decided stalling would change nothing. He sat on the couch and unrolled it, his eyes quickly scanning words once again appearing before him in a glowing blood red.

Potter,

The words struck him as if he had been kicked hard in the gut. The air in the room suddenly felt stale and unbreathable. His heart began to jump unevenly within his chest. The sweat beaded on his body trickled cold as ice down his back.

Voldemort had a servant at Hogwarts? The thought some traitor had been watching his, Hermione's, and Ron's every move without their knowledge made him sick to his stomach. If he had the time, Harry knew he would go through every male in Hogwarts one by one until he found the little shit.

Unfortunately, time was one thing of which he had very little.

Somehow he had known it would come down to Hermione. Especially after the events of last year, Voldemort knew his girlfriend was the one person most valuable to him.

In his mind, Harry could almost see the images of the near future playing out before him like some bizarre sneak preview. He knew even now, Voldemort must be sitting in that damnable cabin in the Kavan Forest, a smile stretching his horrid skeletal face, thinking close to the exact same things Harry himself was.

He knew the dark lord knew him; knew how much Harry loved Hermione and would do anything to protect her. He knew Voldemort was sure he would come.

Harry crushed the note in his fist.

He was right.

He strode to the back of the room and grabbed one of Hermione's quills, an ink pot, and a small piece of parchment. Despite himself, a large lump throbbed painfully in his chest as he sat and began to write.

No sooner had he finished writing than a hard determination mixed with storm-like fury rose up to replace the sadness. His eyes flashed a brilliant green as he snatched up the note, stood, and strode purposefully to behind the couch where he had left his trainers. He yanked them on, snatched up Godric Gryffindor's sword, and as an afterthought, shrugged into his black school robes hanging over the back of the couch; the lion's crest of his Gryffindor ancestors resting red and gold above his heart. Before tonight, he might have looked on the sentiment as foolish. And even had it not been, there was still the small matter of being half-Slytherin as well to contend with. Now he felt as if it gave him some hidden strength; some reminder of who he was; who he chose to be. Even with all of his extra abilities he would take whatever help he could get, be it sentiment or not.

With each step he took toward leaving his heart gave another painful lurch. He might never see Hermione again. He might never have her finish his sentences, hear her laugh, hear her correct him, feel her touch him… He might never taste her again or feel her body move under his, smooth her soft skin with his hands, hold her close enough to feel complete…

But none of it mattered if he could not keep her safe, and it was this alone that drove him.

He reached the hearth and held the parchment to the mantle, muttering a sticking charm. As he stood for a moment clutching his sword and gazing at the paper, firelight making it glow yellow from behind, he couldn't help thinking to himself how it would be for Hermione to wake hours later and find his note. He couldn't stand the thought of her heart breaking; of her crying out for no one to hear…

"Harry?"

A breathless feminine voice sounded quietly behind him, shattering the silence, and for one miserable moment, he stopped breathing.

Damn it to hell.

He squeezed his eyes shut briefly and slowly turned round to see a wide-eyed Hermione, dressed in one of his long-sleeved tee shirts and a pair of his boxer shorts, both much too big for her, standing silhouetted in the doorway to his room and staring at him.

Merlin, she's so beautiful…

Her wide eyes scanned him all over, from his dressed state, to the sword in his hand, and to the expression of regret on his face. And suddenly, she looked petrified. She swallowed harshly as her eyes welled with tears.

"I..I woke up and you weren't there…"

Harry tried to speak, but what came out sounded more like a weary sigh.

"Gods, Hermione…"

"Are you going somewhere?"

She was shaking, her voice trembling, and Harry found he could no longer meet her gaze. He bowed his head to look at the floor.

As she caught sight of something white and rectangular hanging near him, Hermione gasped. She quickly rushed forward bent on snatching the fluttering parchment from the mantle behind him, but Harry blocked her with his body.

"What is that!?"

"I'm so sorry, Hermione..."

"I asked what is that!?" She bellowed at him hysterically, frantically grabbing round him to get at the note.

They grappled for a few moments, Harry grabbing onto her wrists and trying to reason with her until she twisted from his grasp and darted under his arm to rip the paper away.

Her eyes flew over the words; her face twisting with more and more horror the further down she went. She held a hand over her mouth, tears streaming down her face and over her slim fingers until Harry could no longer bear it. He grabbed her shoulders and watched painfully as she let the letter drop from her hands to drift to the floor.

"I'm sorry. I hate this... I don't want to hurt you..." his voice cracked harshly with emotion. "I NEVER want you hurt..."

He moved his hands gently to her face but she twisted away from him looking betrayed.

"So you were just going to leave me!?" She shouted, her voice full of agony. "You thought you would just walk out the door to face him ALONE, and leave me a bloody note!?"

She stabbed a finger at the parchment on the floor, and Harry clawed at his face in frustration.

"I don't want to Hermione, believe me! I don't have a choice!"

"What'd you mean you 'don't have a choice!?" Hermione yelled. "Of course you have a choice! You can't go off to face him and his whole army by yourself, Harry! You honestly think you would win!?"

"He won't bring his whole army into it," Harry replied firmly, staring at her. "I know him, he's too damn full of himself to let anyone else have the glory for killing me... besides if he wants his powers back I think he thinks he's got to kill me himself..."

While he had been speaking, Hermione had situated herself between him and the portrait door, and looked desperately ready to fight him for his exit.

Harry sighed painfully and clawed a hand through his inky hair. She didn't understand what was at stake, and he could not let her read the note from Voldemort and find he was leaving on his own all for her. She wouldn't understand. She didn't understand how precious she was. He would do anything to keep her safe.

"We knew this was going to happen..."

"And you thought I would go along with it?" Hermione asked incredulously, swiping at the tears on her cheeks. "I love you Harry! I won't let you go off to fight him alone! I don't care what the hell he's threatened! Please let's just go get Dumbledore… He'll call his army and the Aurors and the Order and we'll all fight him together, the way we're supposed to! Please, Harry!"

...'Be forewarned, Harry. Should you arrive with others, the whore will meet her fate by my servant's hand. If even he should fail, know this: I will not stop hunting her. You can be assured I will pass the task along to another, and even to another until it is complete...'

'…should you arrive with others…'

Harry steeled himself and shook his head. I'm doing this for her... for her... she's worth everything...

"I have to go alone."

She moved backward to lean against the portrait door, her voice trembling with repressed grief.

"No, Harry… I don't care what I have to do, I won't let you sacrifice yourself!"

And suddenly, she whipped out her wand from the back waistband of the boxers and pointed it straight at him. Her hand shook, and she stifled a sob as he stared at her, but she held her sturdy façade, her heart beating so fast she felt it might burst.

Harry moved toward her, his expression contorted with anguish. He held up his hand and whispered something under his breath.

"Please Hermione, please don't do this..."

She felt goosebumps rise on her arms and she stiffened.

"Stop! Stop Harry, I WILL curse you... Whatever it takes... I won't let you go..."

"You know you won't win," said Harry, still advancing and swallowing back tears. "Not anymore..."

"Please don't make me..."

"I have to go... I swear I'll do my best to make it back to you; I swear it on my life, Hermione! ... Please, please try to understand..."

She stiffened even more, her body language making it quite evident she was ready for a fight.

"How can I understand when you won't explain it to me!? What's he threatened, Harry!? Just tell me, we can face anything togeth..."

Her voice trailed off as she studied him, a look of dawning horror replacing the outward stiff façade.

"It's me..."

Harry closed his eyes briefly. "Hermi..."

"It's ME! He's threatened to hurt me!" Hermione cried out furiously. She advanced toward him, her wand extended. "I don't give a damn, Harry! I understand why you want to do this, but I'm not worth your life!"

Harry's mouth dropped open. "YOU'RE WORTH A HUNDRED OF MY LIVES!"

"NO," said Hermione, shaking her head violently. She lowered her wand as she stared at him. "Harry, you're the one that's to end it all... like it or not, you are the saviour of the wizarding world. 'And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives,' remember!? You can't risk your life for mine and leave the rest of the world to fend for its own!"

"The hell I can't!"

Harry gritted his teeth, furious not with her, but with whatever deity it was that had decided long ago his life was not to be his own.

"It's MY LIFE, Hermione! For ONCE, I'M going to choose what I do, who I love, and who I'm willing to die for, you hear me!?"

She began to tear up again, her back pressed firmly against the portrait door. She raised her wand again and pointed it at him, shaking uncontrollably.

"N..no…"

"I won't let him hurt you," Harry repeated firmly, his hand outstretched toward her. "I won't let him take you from me again, you understand? I won't."

"Please Harry," Hermione sobbed, "Please…"

He shook his head determinedly. He was almost to her, and Hermione made a choice.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

But to her unending horror, the spell merely bounced off him and landed harmlessly on the floor beside her.

Quickly she raised her arm to throw another but Harry grabbed her wrist and plucked the wand from her hand.

"NO!"

"I'm sorry Hermione, I'm sorry… I love you…"

He grabbed her in a hug even as she struggled against him.

"I won't let you, Harry! Please don't go! Don't do this! Please, please don't go…"

Harry broke down in sobs, his face buried in her hair. "I have to… I'd do anything for you… You're all that's important to me, you understand? You're everything…"

"You don't think you're everything to me too!?" She yelled as she struggled in his grasp. "Let me go with you, Harry! Take Ron, take your father if you have to… please don't go alone!"

"He'll kill you, Hermione… I can't, I…gods I'm sorry, please forgive me…"

She hadn't noticed Harry move them against the far wall until she felt the cool wood press against her back. He took her wet face in his hands and desperately planted kisses all over it.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

His tears were mixing with her own as she cried, her heart, her very soul throbbing with despair.

"Please don't leave, Harry," she whispered against his lips one more time. "Please don't…"

Harry merely shook his head and pressed against her one last time, his lips crushed to hers, his arms encircling her and crushing her to him with a fierce desperation. Finally he moved a few inches back and stared into her eyes with his own haunted ones, both of his hands coming up to frame her face once again as he whispered.

"Elevopendium."

Her whole body began to rise, sliding up the wall to finally come to rest levitated some two feet in the air.

"Harry! Harry, no…"

He clawed a hand through his hair and gazed up at her despondently.

"I'm sorry Hermione. I'm so sorry, I can't let anyone follow me…I can't let anything happen to you… It won't last long, I promise…"

"Don't go!"

She watched him walk backward toward the portrait door, and struggled against the wall, feeling as if her heart were walking out the door with him.

"DON'T GO! PLEASE DON'T DO THIS!"

He swiped miserably at his eyes as he opened the door and peered one last time back at her.

"I love you. Never forget that, Hermione. Don't ever forget…"

Her pleading was cut off as he pulled the portrait shut behind him, though he could still hear her screaming and sobbing from inside.

The hallway was dark and damp, lit only by the dim torches Filch kept burning at night to watch for trespassing students.

Harry muffled a scream of rage and complete suffering and pounded his fist into the wall, not caring that the knuckles came away bloody and scraped. For a brief moment he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cool stone, Hermione's muffled cries from within their common room carving into his soul like a sharp blade.

It's for her… it's all for her…

Finally he lifted his head from the wall, stood upright with determination, and fingered the handle of his sword.

It was for her. And the son of a bitch was going down, tonight.

Harry peered down as far as he could see toward both ends of the hall and, seeing no one, took off at a run.

(A/N: Well, here we are at the very edge of the final war. I'm not as happy with this chapter as I've been with others as I'm extremely tired and probably not as 'on' artistically as I could be, but I hope you enjoyed it all the same. I promise even though you may have to wait a bit for the next chappie, the final war, it will be quite the nail-biter. The poem toward the middle of this chapter called "Tonight, the Cold" by E.D. was found by me as I surfed the net one night for poetry. I don't know who this person is, or what E.D. stands for, but I wanted to give him/her recognition for it as it's not mine, and I think it's hauntingly beautiful.