Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Jo, the title and lyrics belong to Avenged Sevenfold. And just so we're clear, they're meant to be directed towards the Order, not Hermione.

Author's Note: I dedicate this chapter to my good friend and fellow H/Hr shipper AstridSkywalker. She's been the best support I've had while writing this story, as she always encourages me to believe in whatever amount of talent I may or may not have. Fellow tree-burner, here's to you!

Avenged Sevenfold
Desecrate Through Reverence

Hard news, taken harder,
Don't look to me.
Disappointed, we don't agree,
(Don't look my way for help,
from the beginning you came to me)

Darkened eyes you'll see,
There is no hope, no savior in me
(Don't look this way, don't breathe this way,
don't stare this way, anymore)

Harry tried desperately to move a limb, any limb at all, but he'd experienced this curse before, and deep inside knew it was pointless.

Not Ron, not Ron, they didn't take Ron, he kept thinking, still struggling to stir.

"Arthur?"

Harry's stomach fell.

Mrs. Weasley had woken. He knew what the sight looked like even without being able to see it: Her entire family was defeated, unconscious and unmoving, sprawled at her feet.

"Arthur!" she shrieked loudly. "Ennervate! Ennervate! Oh, Charlie! Fred?! George!"

Just then, Harry heard a series of loud cracks emit from behind his head.

"Good Merlin," came Remus Lupin's voice.

"Molly, are they- are they dead?" Harry heard Tonks ask quietly.

Though Harry knew better, the spoken words made him internally flinch and fight harder to move.

GET UP he screamed at himself.

"N- no!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked. A second passed in which Harry assumed she'd taken their pulses, because when she spoke again, there was much more confidence in her voice. "No, they're- they must have just been stunned," she sighed, sounding relieved.

Harry felt pressure on his shoulders, and soon the world was right side up. Lupin leaned him against the wall, eyeing Harry's stiff face.

"He's alright," he spoke to Tonks over his shoulder. "He'll be back in another few minutes."

No! We don't have a few minutes! Harry thought achingly. They've got Ron! THEY'VE GOT RON!

Harry felt his chest physically quiver. His hands and feet pricked, as if going numb, and hot steam rose in his throat. He was breathing heavily, his eyes a bright green flame. Get up! GET UP!

And suddenly, not knowing how he did it, he toppled forward, his muscles obeying his command.

"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley cried. "Oh, thank goodness, I-"

"THEY'VE GOT RON!" he shouted immediately.

A relieved smile hung on Mrs. Weasley's face before her eyes widened in horror.

"What?" Lupin asked forcefully. "Who has Ron, Harry?"

"The Death Eaters!" he screamed loudly, his face flushing scarlet. "Bellatrix- they took-" he gestured helplessly towards the door, his hand flying madly through the air.

Tonks was white. Her hair suddenly turned a silvery gray. Harry looked to Lupin, still pointing towards to door, who only gaped at him in disbelief.

Anger pushed at Harry's chest. Why were they just standing there?!

He flew out the door and ran into the middle of the yard. He searched the skies wildly for any sign as to which direction they fled, but he knew that Apparation left no such hints.

Storming back inside, he was met by a hysterical Mrs. Weasley, who was clutching at her husband's lifeless arm. "Ron, no, not Ron! Oh my baby," she was murmuring, her agonizing cries muffled into Mr. Weasley's robes.

Harry turned on Lupin furiously. "Why're we just standing here?!"

Lupin's mouth hung open, his eyes confused and unblinking.

"Harry, is everyone else ok?" Tonks stepped up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Harry moved away.

"Yeah, everyone's fine!" he shouted. "Professor Lupin, why are we standing here?!" he questioned angrily.

"Harry…" Lupin spoke softly.

"Are you sure? You didn't hear the killing curse?" Tonks continued.

Harry's shoulders tensed, his rage barely under control. "No, they didn't use the killing curse, they're just stunned! And Hermione and Ginny Apparated to Grimmauld Place, alright?!"

Tonks let out a low, steady breath and turned to face Lupin. "We've got to get everyone to Headquarters," she whispered steadily.

"What?!" Harry yelled. "Headquarters?! What- what're you- they've got Ron!" he hollered desperately, pounding his fist against the wall.

"I know, Harry, but we've got-"

"Got to what?! Wait for orders?! From who, Dumbledore?! In case you forgot, he's dead, no one's here to save the day anymore," he stormed furiously. "We have to go after them! THEY'LL KILL HIM!" he cried, ignoring Mrs. Weasley's increasing sobs.

Lupin shook his head, remaining as calm as possible. "No, they won't."

Harry blinked.

"You've gone mad," he said, his voice breaking.

"They didn't kill any of you. They could easily have, but they didn't kill, not even Ron. There's a reason… they have a plan…"

Harry's brow scrunched tight in mingled bewilderment and frustration.

"They took Ron for a reason, Harry," he continued solemnly. "They won't kill him. They need him for something-"

"Oh, well that makes me feel loads better," Harry snapped.

"Where do you presume we go, Harry?" Lupin said, his voice finally rising. "Did they leave you any clues? A map, perhaps?"

"Well I- I thought-"

"We haven't any better idea as to where they took him than you," Lupin spoke, lowering his head and massaging the bridge of his nose.

"That's not- but there's-" Harry staggered. The realization hit him like a thousand stabbing knives, digging into his heart.

Ron was gone.

And they had no idea how to save him.

-------------------------

Harry made his way up the staircase of Number 12, Grimmauld Place in a daze. His palms were sweaty and fidgety. His chest was tight, his breathing constricted. It took all his effort to lift his legs high enough to reach Hermione and Ginny's bedroom.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione shrieked the second he opened the door, as she ran into him, obscuring his vision with a great mass of brown hair. "I was so worried, thank goodness you're all right," she smiled into his neck.

Harry didn't know what to say. How do you tell someone their best friend has been kidnapped by Death Eaters?

He stood stiffly and wrapped his arms around Hermione in an almost mechanical motion. It was all he could think to do.

But Hermione backed away and read the terrified expression in his eyes. The back of her hand grazed across his forehead. "Harry, do you feel faint? What's wrong?"

He shook his head, his eyes darting to the floor. "I- there was…" he croaked.

Ginny approached the pair, her hand reaching to clasp Harry's arm. "Harry?" she whispered. "What happened?"

Looking up to meet her gaze, Harry blinked back tears.

"Ron-"

Hermione gasped and Ginny dashed from the room, fear and panic etched on her young face.

"Harry- is Ron ok?!" Hermione asked despairingly. "Harry, talk to me! What happened to Ron?!"

Harry lowered his head. "The Death Eaters took him."

"What?!" she shrieked. Her eyes were wide and pleading, begging for Harry to break into a grin and say, `No, just kidding…' only he didn't. Her bottom lip trembled and her hands shook at her sides.

Then suddenly, Hermione fell to the floor in a heap of silver and red night robes. Harry rushed to catch her just before her head smacked against the door.

"Hermione!"

Harry brushed back her hair and gently shook her arm. She looked up at him, her eyes blinking heavily and searching around the room as if she was intensely dizzy.

Lifting her to her feet, Harry wrapped her left arm around his shoulders and eased her out the door.

"Harry, no," she whispered weakly. "Not Ron…"

He bit back the urge to scream in misery. Hearing Hermione fumble with his same indistinct, disbelieving thoughts, made the situation seem much too real.

"Where are we going… who else…"

"Everyone else is fine," said Harry, allowing Hermione to lean against him. "They were all stunned- no one could do anything, I was in a body bind," he explained wearily, as if trying to describe a nightmare. "It was… they just took him, Hermione… they took him…" he finished, pausing briefly on the steps to let his words wash over him.

Hermione straightened and met Harry's eyes with her own. They were so filled with dread, it winded him. "They're all- the Weasley's are downstairs?"

Harry nodded.

"Do they… are they all awake now?"

Another nod.

Hermione bit her lip and turned away from him.

She knew what that meant. It meant they all knew about Ron by now. It meant she was on her way into a room filled with grieving, horror-struck people who'd just had their son, brother, friend, stolen from them by Voldemort.

When they reached the kitchen, it was to a sobbing Ginny and Mrs. Weasley. They were holding each other, the mother caressing her daughter's long, red hair. Mr. Weasley sat in a chair beside them, his face in his hands. Charlie was leaning in a corner, consoling himself just as much as he was attempting to console Fred and George.

Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley, and Professor McGonagall sat around the table, each looking exhausted, speechless, and out of place.

Hermione, chewing on her lip with bloodshot eyes, made her way towards Mrs. Weasley. She placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, afraid to make a wrong move, but Mrs. Weasley quickly grasped Hermione in a tight embrace, crying into her hair.

Harry stared as Hermione gently patted the woman's back, cooing soft words in her ear. She looked beside herself.

It was all too surreal.

"Harry," Lupin said from the opposite side of the table, snapping him out of his trance. "Why don't you take a seat… We're just waiting for Moody and Hagrid," he explained in a hushed voice.

Harry looked around and saw Fred giving his twin a tight squeeze on the arm. They were turned towards the wall, but he could hear their muffled, watery sniffs.

He reluctantly obeyed Lupin's request, and spent the following minutes staring at the wooden table on which his entwined hands were resting. Mrs. Weasley calmed down, just slightly, and Hermione took a seat beside Harry.

No one said a word. The silence was all-consuming, ringing in their ears. Dust from the table swirled and disappeared into the faint, muted light every time Harry nervously drummed his thumbs against the hard surface. He found himself squinting at a rusted nail in concentration, but distantly registered that no coherent thoughts struck his numbing mind.

He just wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

But then, the distinct sound of Apparation hung in the room. Harry set his jaw, disappointment that it hadn't been a dream flooding through him.

"What in the blazes happened?!" Moody shouted just behind Harry's ear.

Lupin began explaining the night's events in a detached whisper. Moody grunted and shook his head profusely, his ethereal blue eye rolling around vilely in its socket.

"Harry, Hermione!" Harry turned in his chair, but before he could get a look through the doorway, he was being held tight to a chest in a bone-shattering hug.

"Hagrid," Harry choked.

"What happened?" he asked scruffily. "I was on me way ter feed Witherwings when Tonks' patronus-"

"They took Ron."

Hagrid gaped, his bushy eyes shifting restlessly. He began shaking his head, nearly falling backwards, as if Harry's words had hit him hard in the stomach.

"Wh-"

"Everyone else is fine," he continued. "Except Ron."

Harry looked away from Hagrid's stricken face. He couldn't handle watching anyone else crumble at the news.

Instead, he glanced at Hermione, who had her arms wrapped around herself as she stared hard at the floor.

I won't sit here and let them torture Ron. I won't sit here and let them play him like a chess piece to get to me. I won't.

"Professor Lupin," Harry called, interrupting his conversation with Moody. "I need to talk to you."

Without waiting for a reply, he strode into the hall and waited by the landing.

He watched the gloomy, orange light from the streetlamps filter through the murky windowpanes, trying to collect his thoughts. The curtain that disguised Sirius' mother's portrait gave a small stir.

Harry felt sure she was mocking him.

"What is it, Harry?" Lupin asked as he appeared from the doorway, his forehead wrinkled in uncertainty.

Harry unlatched his revolted focus from the curtain with a straining sigh.

"Horcruxes," he blurted out, meeting Lupin's eyes. "Do you know anything about them?"

Lupin's wrinkles deepened. He seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, his mouth hanging slightly open.

"Yes, I do," he said slowly. "What's this about Harry? How do you know about Horcruxes?"

"Voldemort. That's what he's using… Horcruxes, to stay alive. That's his lifeline."

Harry watched intently as an assortment of emotions flickered on Lupin's face. Turning away from Harry, he lifted his arm to lean against the stair's railing, his eyes dark and set.

"How do you know this?" he finally asked.

"Dumbledore," Harry responded simply.

Lupin gave an almost indistinguishable nod.

"I'm telling you this," Harry began, the first hints of pleading in his voice, "because I trust you."

Lupin turned his head to meet Harry's eyes, his own half-hidden behind a thin layer of graying hair. "I won't betray that, Harry," he muttered.

Heaving a deep breath, Harry kept his focus on Lupin's gaze. "And also because I need you to search for the remaining ones."

Lupin lifted himself from the railing and shot Harry a suspicious look. "What?"

"He split it seven ways- his soul, I mean-"

"Harry…"

"I destroyed one my second year, it was his old journal. Dumbledore destroyed another- Slytherin's ring- and he suspected that Hufflepuff's goblet was one, and his snake, Nagini, too, so they might be the best places to start-"

"Harry, I'm not sure-"

"-but here's the thing," Harry continued, determined to give Lupin every amount of information he had. "…we went to destroy another, the night he died. We got to it, but there- it was a fake. Someone with the initials R.A.B. stole the real one and left a note with the fake," he said, which caught Lupin's attention. "I have the phony one, if you want to see it. Actually," he thought, "You can have it. I don't need it."

Lupin eyed him sadly.

"Harry, don't you see what's happening here?"

Harry shook his head. "No," he said, his lips thinning. "And to be honest with you, I don't much care. All I know is, Ron's out there, being held by Death Eaters. He's not dead… you said it yourself, they need him for something-"

"Yes, Harry, and that something is you, understand?" he replied urgently, taking Harry firmly by the shoulders. "This is what they do, you must know that by now. Voldemort's plan is to take everyone you love and turn it against you, in more ways than one, might I add. This time he's using Ron to distract you from looking for the Horcruxes. He knows you, Harry," he sounded apologetic. "It wasn't luck that kept you from being murdered tonight. It was Voldemort's orders-"

"No, that doesn't make any sense," Harry refused, taking a step back as he felt hot irritation rise in his throat. "Voldemort's always wanted me dead, why would-"

"Because Voldemort must do it himself," Lupin pressed, his voice rising. "He's figured out that sending Death Eaters and portkeys and diaries won't work, Harry. He's tried to kill you your entire life, and nothing, nothing he's done has worked," he smiled, and Harry thought he heard a tinge of pride in his voice. "He can't get at you physically, so he's trying to tear you apart emotionally."

Harry thought back to Bellatrix's words, and grudgingly admitted to himself that Lupin was right.

"But she had me, Lupin," he mumbled gravely. "She even said it- `I could kill you right now… and besides, how would Voldemort know that I'm looking for his Horcruxes? Dumbledore didn't tell Snape, if that's what you're thinking, so I- I don't understand-"

"I admit it's suspicious," he divulged solemnly, tearing his eyes away. "But that only means there's a piece of the puzzle we haven't figured out yet. Harry," he reached for his shoulders again. "Please listen to me. I can help you search for these Horcruxes… but I can't do it for you. You're the only one Dumbledore confided in. You alone have the information and means to track them down… you're the one who's connected to Voldemort, through your scar-"

"But I'm not!" Harry fumed angrily, his patience wearing thin. "Not really… He's been using Occlumency, I can't-"

"You're still connected, even if you don't realize is consciously."

Harry's teeth clenched as he stared at his feet. He felt walls of loneliness and despair mounting around him, suffocating, gripping his heart.

It was too much. It was all too much. He'd been abused, neglected, taunted, ostracized, and tormented his whole life. He'd been alone, so very alone, for as long as he could remember. Everything about him set him apart from everyone else.

He hated it.

And he wouldn't let it control him anymore.

Not this time.

Harry's fists tightened into fists as he reached his conclusion.

"I'm still going."

Lupin closed his eyes in mingled frustration and fatigue.

"Where, Harry… where will you go?"

He shrugged. "Anywhere. Doesn't matter. I'll start with places Voldemort was last spotted. Something'll turn up."

"Harry, you can't just-"

"I said I'm going," he repeated, his voice steady and deadly calm. "I'm tired of being everyone's hero, Lupin. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of putting all of me into this- this life I didn't ask for. But I've done it anyway," he spoke in a dangerous whisper, shooting Lupin a defiant glare. "Because it's right, because I'm the one who has to. I've made a choice to see this through. But my loyalty to a cause becomes severely limited when it means sacrificing my loyalty to the closest thing to family I've ever had."

Rubbing his eyes, Lupin heaved a deep, audible sigh. Harry watched him, daring him to protest.

But as soon as he opened his mouth, Harry cut him off.

"Listen," he continued heatedly, looking up to capture Lupin's eyes. "I'm not going to fail. I'm not going to abandon what needs to be done, alright? But this is Ron, d'you understand? Ron. And I won't play the martyr this time. I won't play the- the rescuer. I'm not a prop or a- an empty shell, just taking orders to do what everyone else needs, and that fact… that fact is the reason nothing Voldemort's done has worked. My feelings… this is what separates me from him. And I know it can be my downfall, I'm not stupid," he spat crossly. "Don't think for a second I didn't learn something from Sirius' death. But this is where I draw the line. I won't be your savior, Lupin. It's time I learn to save my friends first. It's time I learn to save myself."

And with that, he stormed up the stairs without a single glance back, leaving a stunned and helpless Lupin in his wake.

------------------------

Hermione stood anxiously outside Harry's bedroom door, eyeing the knob as if it were prone to burning her hand if she touched it. Her fingers grazed against the cold, rough metal, but quickly clutched themselves at her side before she returned to ogling it.

Finally, she gathered the courage to proceed.

"Harry?" she asked the large wooden frame as her knuckles softly rapped against it. "Harry, can I- can I come in?"

She heard the floor creaking in the bedroom behind the door, and registered the sound of a mattress being shifted by weight, but still no encouraging voice met her ears.

After a moment, Hermione jiggled the handle to see if it was locked.

It was.

"Harry, please, I just want to talk to you," she pleaded, her eyes struggling to somehow see through the wooden barrier. "Lupin told me you two had a- a bit of a row downstairs, but he… I don't know what's going on, Harry… I just want to know what's happening…" she finished, sounding defeated and worn.

A gentle click resonated through the long, empty hallway. Hermione looked down and noticed the doorknob had rotated.

Turning it fully, Hermione pressed her weight against the door and slowly entered the room.

Harry's school suitcase was lying open on his bed, overflowing with what appeared to be unfolded clothes and old, large books. The window beside the bed was thrown wide, allowing gushes of warm, summer night air to dance with the moonlight on the hardwood floor.

But Harry himself was no where to be seen.

"Harry?" Hermione called worriedly.

Then, standing beside the window, a tall frame came into focus as droplets of color ran down its length. Suddenly, it looked as if a bucket of paint had been thrown on top of it, as the colors began to take form and outline a top of unruly black hair.

"Disillusionment Charm," Harry explained quietly as its affects wore off. "I had to make sure I knew how to do it."

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip, her fingers pulling at themselves in a concerned fit. She turned from him, towards the suitcase, and nodded in its direction.

"You're leaving?" she whispered.

Harry stepped next to the scattered belongings and met Hermione's gaze. "Yeah."

Hermione nodded, the corners of her eyes stinging furiously. "Lupin told me about your row."

Harry sucked in a huge breath of air, his eyes closed, and sat on the corner of the bed. When he opened his eyes, he found two great, brown ones peering into him, filled with anguish and unbidden worry.

Hermione was kneeling before him, asking some question without words.

"Hermione," he quietly exclaimed, "This isn't… I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, `It's a trap, you can't fall for this, you know there's a greater reason they took Ron…' is that right?"

Hermione tore away her gaze and hung her head, focusing on Harry's shoes.

"I know," he said, his voice taking on an air of defiant determination. When Hermione lifted her head, she could see the fierce resolve etched into the fine lines of his face, even through the strings of curly hair positioned in front of her eyes.

"I know," he repeated, softly this time. "But I can't- I won't… does that mean I sit around and pretend he's still here?" he questioned at last, his chest rising and falling steadily.

Hermione sniffed back a tear, her head shaking somberly. "I don't know, Harry. I just… I don't know."

Harry leaned closer, his hot breath almost reaching Hermione's skin. "But I do," he whispered. Hermione looked up and her cheeks flushed upon seeing his deep, green eyes boring into her. She bit her lip, and thought of nothing else to do besides place her frail, shaking hands on his knees.

Hermione thought she saw Harry flinch at her touch, but when he placed his hands on top of hers, the idea was immediately dismissed and replaced with a warm smile.

"Lupin looked a bit… err… put off," Hermione grinned impishly.

Harry, however, didn't return the demeanor. His brow knitted together in concentration as he refocused on the chair in the corner. "He means well. I know he does," Harry spoke almost inaudibly. "That's why I trust him. But he doesn't- he can't understand."

Hermione shifted her hands in a comforting embrace. Harry looked down to see his fingers entwined with hers. He gave her hand a quick squeeze, leaving Hermione wondering how he always managed to be so soothing, even when it was he who needed it.

"You might… I mean, you understand, don't you?" Harry asked her, his eyes begging for something Hermione couldn't place. Assurance?

"Of course I do," she cooed gently.

Harry swallowed hard. "I've done this… I've been this forever. I've always been the `Boy-Who-Lived'… and I know I can't escape that. I know… I'm the one. I have to finish him."

Hermione's lips quivered at his softly spoken words. She already knew what he said to be true. She'd always known, even before the prophecy. But the weight of hearing it now, on this night, was unbearable.

She closed her eyes and let the warm, calming wind tangle itself in her hair, hoping it would carry away her fears and Harry's burden. Allowing the pressure of Harry's comforting hands engulf her senses, she sighed a deep, miserable sigh that enveloped her worst nightmares.

"You know that," Harry whispered. "Everyone knows that. But you… me and you- and Ron- we know something the Order doesn't."

Hermione slowly lifted her lids to meet Harry's intense stare. His eyes weren't as bright as she remember them being, even a minute ago. They were dulled and sorrowful, almost apologetic, and Hermione couldn't ignore the flicker in them that said it had nothing to do with Ron this time.

"What do we know, Harry?" she asked meekly, blinking back the burning sensation behind her eyes.

Harry released one of her hands and cupped Hermione's cheek, wiping away a single tear that had fallen despite her greatest efforts.

"We know that everyone has a breaking point… and that this is mine," he said sadly, watching her. "We know that… there comes a time when we have to break the hold on us. We have to grow and meet our challengers... We know that I can't be everyone's savior all the time. You know that… you've seen me for… for more… you and Ron are the only ones who've ever separated me from the name on that prophecy. I know that. We know… that sometimes… sometimes I have to stop being the Boy-Who-Lived. Sometimes I just have to be-"

"Harry," she choked, finishing his thought with a sad smile. "Sometimes you just have to be Harry."

Don't look this way, don't breathe this way,
Don't pray this way,
Anymore.

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