AN: Realized I'd forgotten a disclaimer. The characters in this and the previous chapters are not mine. Neither infringement nor profit is among my objectives.
Resistance
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Crescendo
For a long moment, Hermione and Fleur could only stare at the parchment's ominous message with dumbfounded shock.
Hello, Mrs. Potter.
The words were insidiously polite. Almost against her will, Hermione found herself looking nervously over her shoulder, as if she thought the salutation had been spoken by a malevolent new arrival there in the cavern.
Helplessly, she met Fleur's eyes.
"What's wrong?" Ginny asked, not failing to notice the tension between the other two, which had skyrocketed with the sudden appearance of words on the Map. Hermione quickly filled her in.
"Who - who is writing - how could they know - ?" Fleur stammered, clutching little William closer, pressing his cheek against her chest.
"Neville…" Hermione spoke, and her voice was a barely intelligible squeak. "Neville was… with Voldemort, and now - now Voldemort has his Map."
"But how does he know you're here?" Fleur whispered, as if the Map had suddenly sprouted ears. "At the other end of the Map?"
"More to the point," Ginny interjected. "How does he even know that there is a Mrs. Potter?" The three of them sat in silence, as they digested this stunning revelation. William began to snuffle in distress, also picking up on his mother's strain.
And Hermione realized the truth, something so paralyzing that she thought her heart might cease to beat, and her lungs refuse to take in air.
"Neville…" she managed to say again. "Like - oh my God - like Thaddeus Brookhaven." She could still hear the sickening shriek of the young Auror, along with the crack of wood as he was Summoned right through the wall of the safehouse.
Fleur's lips parted in utter horror, and her pupils seemed to dilate until her eyes looked huge and very dark.
"If - if he broke into Neville's mind - if he found out who you are, then - "
"He could know where we are," Hermione finished for her, feeling the words woodenly leave her numb lips. "And he could know - Harry!" She broke off suddenly, her voice cracking in the middle of her husband's name.
"What is it?" Fleur asked. Once again, it was Ginny who answered.
"The Map. If he can access Neville's Map, then he'll know exactly where on Hogwarts' grounds every single fighter is."
"Then they're walking right into a trap," Fleur's low exclamation was almost frenzied in its despair. She flung a glance over her shoulder at the scattering of discarded medallions. "And we've no way to tell them…"
Panic was welling up within Hermione like a bubble, rising and tightening until she thought she'd no longer be able to think clearly. She was assailed by her own mental pictures of Harry, on the green at Hogwarts, looking proud and defiant, even while disarmed and surrounded by Death Eaters, of Harry, bloodied and battered, bathed in green light, mouth open in a soundless cry, of Harry, bent over Ginny, his eyes closed, her hand clasped in his, as he fought to bring her back…
She thought of the words she'd said when she made him take her wand.
We're linked, Harry.
So were Harry and Voldemort. If enough time went by, Voldemort would be able to sense Harry's magic in the vicinity anyway. Would Voldemort be able to sense her by extension, or did he already know where the feeble remnants of the Order hid? It was a risk that they had no choice but to take.
"I'll try…" she choked out. "I'll see if I can reach him…somehow." She clasped her hands around the obstacle in her lap, glorying briefly in Laurel's reassuring presence, and closed her eyes, bowing her head, as if in prayer.
And she reached out, extended beyond herself, farther than she'd ever tried before, feeling a tense, taut stretching sensation in her mind, hoping that she'd be able to find her way back.
Harry?
There was nothing.
She pushed again, and the pain in her head was terrific. She knew that, ideally, Legilimency needed eye contact, that the imprint that Harry had left in her mind after he was captured had been unusual, if not unheard of. She was hoping against hope that the last message they had exchanged mentally - his almost casually sent I love you, and her response, I know - was enough to facilitate what she was trying to do. It had worked before, but she had only gotten flashes of Harry; he had not been trying to actively send her a message, nor she him, while he had been imprisoned by Voldemort.
Air rushed out of her lungs, in a kind of pained sigh, and she slumped forward onto the table, spent. It's not going to work, she thought, in a dull despair that was almost resigned. I can't reach him from here.
Her eye was drawn once again to the Map, watching as Harry's team made its way through the dungeons, as the Death Eaters began to slowly filter down towards them, smoothly and quietly taking up stations - to wait…
Panic like she'd never known thrummed through her veins like quicksilver. She had been so sure, so confident that their plan would succeed - that the Repository Stones in the tip of Harry's wand held the means by which Voldemort could be destroyed. But if Harry were ambushed, disarmed, if he were accidentally killed in a scuffle, before brought to Voldemort… if…
Wretched helplessness wrenched her from inside out. She could not go and warn them - she had promised Harry. None of those who remained were in a fit state to go. Her lungs and throat begin to ache with the desire to expel a sob. Laurel twisted inside her so tightly that it was painful.
"I'll go," Fleur said quietly, as if reading Hermione's mind, and Hermione jerked upward in astonishment.
"You can't go," she found herself saying automatically.
"And why not?" the Frenchwoman asked, with one eyebrow elegantly arched. "I am in perfect health, am I not? There is nothing - nothing physical - that hinders me from going." She lifted her chin regally, even while her eyes clouded at the thought of leaving William.
"You just gave birth," Ginny pointed out, somewhat obviously.
"Let me go," rasped a voice from behind them. They all turned to see Ron standing there, supporting himself by leaning heavily on the back of a chair. He was so pale that his skin almost seemed translucent, and Hermione had never seen him look so unhealthily thin. The shadows beneath his eyes were nearly black.
"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," Hermione snapped, masking the way his presence hurt her by sharpening her voice. "You can barely walk. Does Madam Pomfrey know you're up?"
"What about Madam Pomfrey?" Ginny suggested quietly. "She's not…incapacitated in any way." There was a tinge of bitterness in the youngest Weasley's voice.
"Ron's too ill," Hermione shot down that suggestion quickly. "If - if she didn't come back…"
"We've got to be able to do something!" The redhead retorted, desperate anger flushing her cheeks. She slapped her open palm down on the table, crumpling one corner of the Map beneath it.
Hermione's eyes were drawn to the Map once again. Harry's team had fanned out, splitting into several of the lesser traveled lower corridors, but Hermione could see Death Eaters lying in wait for each group. They could not hope to defeat an enemy who knew their every move, and she wished once again that they had taken the Map with them. Blaise and Harry had agreed that it was better to leave it at the cavern, hoping to meet up with Neville's clone in the castle.
The Death Eaters would still know where they were, Hermione thought, but if Harry had the Map, at least he would know they knew.
She barely noticed Ron sag into the chair adjacent to hers, watching the Map almost as intently as she was. Laurel thrashed again, and she shifted jerkily as pain shot through her back. She absently noted the thinned numbers of Death Eaters, and mentally sent up thanks to Neville's clone, thinking that he had more than made up for his involuntary attempts at espionage. If they hadn't been able to capitalize on the fact that copies could be destroyed along with the Primes, then…
She straightened up suddenly, gasping as a thought occurred to her, barely noticing the dull ache that diffused down into her thigh muscles.
"Copies…" she breathed, wonderingly, drawing everyone's attention.
"What have you thought of, Hermione?" Ron asked.
"Do we have the original Map?" she asked.
"I think so," he replied.
"Lupin helped make the copy, so that Neville's clone could take it with him," Ginny chimed in.
"Why?" Ron added, curiously, referring to Hermione's original question.
"If we destroy our Map, do you think - mightn't we also destroy the copy?" She felt as if she were out of breath, and leaned back a little, trying to ease the pain in her back. Laurel was kicking her so hard.
"There's only one way to find out," Ron noted, fumbling for his wand.
"Wait!" Hermione stayed his hand. "They still don't know that Death Eaters are in position. I need your help, Ron. You've got to try to get me to Harry's mind." She lay one pleading hand on his arm, but Ron was already shaking his head.
"I don't think it's possible."
"I know it's a long shot, but we've got to try. You helped me before, remember? Please, Ron." She was thinking of Harry, wading backwards into the Lake, his eyes fastened on hers.
I love you.
I know.
Ron pressed his lips together, as if he'd like to protest, but he finally nodded. Hermione closed her eyes again, braced herself against the table, as her muscles seemed to twist agonizingly, and reached…
This time, she could feel Ron's mind with hers, behind her, bolstering her, although she was alarmed at how frail he seemed, his mind almost flickering, a mere candle-shadow of the last time they had linked minds, when Harry was freed from the Circle.
Go…she felt him say. The strain was evident. Hurry…
Pain… the pain was everywhere…inside her, outside her, her head, her abdomen, swirling around her, threatening to overwhelm her. Too much… something inside her shrieked… She felt as if she was trying to claw her way to the surface, but didn't know which way was up.
And there was fear and tension, snaking around her, insidiously gleeful - torches glowed on dull stone walls - things were lurking in shadows, there were whispers winding down corridors, paranoia, worry, determination married to despair - what was that?- heartbeats that quickened with surges of adrenaline.
Somewhere far away, a baby fussed - Laurel? - and Hermione could not tell whether the sound was generated from within, or came from without - and just when the pain threatened to drown her in its depths, smother her beneath its weight, she found him, a warm, comforting presence, seeming to burn white-hot with the knowledge of the necessity of what he had to do. His very determination made him a beacon for her; in her mind, he glowed like a brand, calling her to him.
Harry? She felt him startle, swear in his mind, and panic briefly, before he realized who it was.
Hermione, what the hell? How on earth did you - ?
There's no time, she interrupted him. Voldemort has Neville's copy of the Map. Sadness tinged the edges of Harry's mind. He did not have to ask how Voldemort had come by that copy. They're waiting for you, they know your position. We're going to destroy the original Map, and maybe that will destroy his Map as well.
White haze seemed to be overtaking her, and the pain was so rampant now that she couldn't tell if it was Ron's or hers or both. She hoped it wasn't bleeding over onto Harry.
Anger licked around the edges of her consciousness like tongues of flame, and she wondered briefly from where it originated.
…framed portraits in a round room…a visage in a mirror, red-eyed, wraith-like…
She froze suddenly, wondering if she had inadvertently traversed the link between Harry and Voldemort. She felt like prey that had suddenly stumbled upon a dangerous predator unawares, and slowly backed her mind away, hoping that he would not sense her presence.
I've got to go, she breathed to Harry, feeling the sudden upsurge of her pulse relax, as there seemed to be no malicious presence trailing hers. Be careful. She reached out to briefly caress Harry's mind with hers, and felt the pain increase to an ever more soaring crescendo.
Hermione… he began, but unable to last any longer, she let go, and she felt something cold against her face, as the pain rose up ever higher, and far, far away someone was screaming…
When she opened her eyes again, she was on the floor and the coolness of the stone was seeping through her clothing. There was something warm and wet on her cheeks, and she realized that she had begun to bleed from her nose and ears. Madam Pomfrey was hovering over her, and Ron was holding her hand, looking scared to death.
"He knows. I told him," she informed them, trying to rise, but hissing a breath through her teeth, as her cumbersome stomach protested. Together, Ron and Madam Pomfrey helped her to her feet.
"Mrs. Potter, are you quite all right?" the mediwitch asked, daubing away the blood with quick, short strokes of her wand. Her use of Hermione's married name startled the younger witch, and Hermione jerked her gaze down at the Map, her eyes falling on the slashing handwriting at the bottom.
Hello, Mrs. Potter.
Hermione seized a quill, and wrote neatly beneath:
Go to hell, Tom. And lit the corner of the Map with her wand.
Blue flame hungrily lapped at the dry parchment, as it began to curl up and crumble into a powdery ash that fell like snow at their feet. Hermione held the top-most corner between thumb and forefinger, until the heat compelled her to drop it, and the Map burned serenely as they all watched, hoping that, up at Hogwarts, there was another parchment burning.
The title of the Map seemed to flare with a brief, but bright, orange gleam, before the parchment was completely consumed. The last thing Hermione saw was …tail and Prongs.
And then it was gone.
Hermione felt another pang of regret, as she realized that it was one of the last legacies that Harry had from his father, and that it had been utterly destroyed by her hand. She felt a hand gently cup her shoulder, and looked up to see Ron's sympathetic expression.
"Hey," he said, "you know he'll understand. If there was even a chance that destroying it might work…"
"I know," she replied softly. "I just hope it was enough…"
She broke off suddenly, as the pain returned, with renewed vengeance, and at first, she couldn't understand why. She was no longer reaching beyond herself; she had returned safely to her own consciousness. She threw a bewildered look at Ron, as her knees simply ceased to hold her up, and he caught her under one elbow, nearly toppling himself in the process.
"Hermione…Hermione?" Ron was saying her name over and over again, and somehow she could not make the word have much meaning at all. A wail ripped through her and from her like a klaxon of denial, as she realized, looking at the ring of shocked and worried faces around her, what was happening.
"Hermione, dear…" Madam Pomfrey began, sounding surprisingly casual and tender. Harry's wife was already shaking her head.
"No," she bit out, and it didn't even sound like her voice. "No. Not now. Not like this. He's not here - he's not here - and it's too early. Six weeks - too early." She was almost gibbering now, terrified and panicking, recalling with too-perfect clarity Luna's Yuletide prophecy.
"Born out of light, into light, at the heart of rebirth,
Illumination in darkness, bringer of
Hope in death,
Hope in death,
Hope in death,"
She had repeated the last phrase several times, before she even realized that she was speaking aloud.
Whose death? Whose?
"He's going to die. He's going to die," she said, half out of her head. She clutched at Ron's sleeve, as Laurel writhed within her. The pressure in her back was immense. "It's my fault. It's my fault for having her now. I'm having her now. Her birth, his death, my fault."
"Hermione!" Ron's grip was vise-like around her upper arms, as he squared her around to face him directly, his intense blue eyes only centimeters from her unfocused brown ones.
She let herself sag against his grip again, as the pain threatened to twist her in two. Was this normal - was it normal for labor to come on so suddenly and violently?
Whose death? She wondered again, Maybe mine?
"I need Harry," she said, scared beyond all of her normal logic and practicality that somehow the prophecy was fulfilling itself right in front of her, that she was powerless to stop or alter what would happen, that her ability to control her own destiny - and Laurel's - had been ripped from her - or had never been hers to begin with.
"He's not here," Ron told her firmly, with a straightforwardness that she was suddenly and overwhelmingly grateful for. "And you need to pull yourself together. For Laurel."
She blinked at him, clarity seeping slowly back into her dazed and frightened eyes.
"L - Laurel," she stammered. "Right. Yes." The contraction eased, and she felt as if she'd returned to herself: Hermione, the Brightest Witch of her Age, who did not shirk or shy from a problem to be solved, a task to complete.
Here was a task - and a most important one, especially for her and Harry - for her to complete.
Don't think about anything else, she ordered herself, talking in that precise matter of fact mental voice that she often used, when motivating herself to study or research. Right now, nothing else matters, except making sure everything is done for Laurel's benefit.
Harry's face swam in her mind for a moment, but she resolutely pushed the thought of his peril away.
Nothing else matters, she said sternly to herself.
She smiled vaguely up at Madam Pomfrey, grateful for Ron's fingers under her elbow.
"I think we should get to the infirmary now."
~*~*~*~
Fleur and Ron helped Hermione sit up, as Madam Pomfrey cast another Refreshing charm on the sheets, which had become wrinkled and damp under her striving body. With the back of one hand, she brushed away wet tendrils of hair that wanted to cling to her cheeks. Fleur's labor had only seemed to progress slowly, she thought, while this - this was actually lasting eons. The sharp edge of the pain had been dulled with a potion, but still crested upon her, wave after unending wave.
*
*
Gray stone erupted into graveled pieces, spraying the corridor with a hollow rattle. Someone swore.
"That was too close," said a voice - a voice she knew. "Have we heard from Remus' team yet?"
*
*
"Fred?" Hermione said aloud, confusion adding itself to her breathlessness.
"What?" queried Ron, clearly bewildered. Hermione's brows lowered, as she tried to figure out what had just happened.
"I - I - " she began, but the merciless onslaught of another contraction began, and she lost her train of thought, as she clamped down harder around Ron's fingers.
*
*
Now she was looking down at shoes, scuffed and worn trainers, against a backdrop of flagstone that flickered in torchlight. The shoes paused, shuffled and recoiled slightly, before stepping gingerly over a body. A hand pulled at a robe, so that the hem would not drag, and Hermione saw the blank, staring eyes of Antonin Dolohov. Part of the wall had fallen in on him.
"We've got to move this stone." Harry spoke, his voice quietly frantic. "We're going to be pinned down."
*
*
"All right then, that's the last of that one. Relax for a moment, Mrs. Potter," said Madam Pomfrey, and Hermione collapsed backwards onto the supple surface of the mattress. "You're coming along nicely."
"How - how much longer?" Hermione asked.
"You're at 4 cm," the mediwitch replied, sounding somewhat reluctant. "It may yet be awhile."
Hermione seesawed between apathy, anticipation, and despair; this was her baby - hers and Harry's - and they'd been waiting for her for so long. If she was totally honest with herself, however, all she wanted at that moment was Harry. It was difficult to try and focus on something besides him, difficult to deliver his daughter, while wondering if he'd ever meet her.
*
*
Harry whirled, whipping his wand up at the running footsteps that rounded the corner, but dropped it quickly as Blaise appeared, clothing torn, covered in an ashy gray powder.
"Where are the rest?" Harry demanded, fear driving anger into his voice. "Where's Remus?"
Blaise could barely speak, leaning over to brace his hands on his thighs, trying to slow and deepen his breathing..
"We were drawing them off - had them over toward Gryffindor Tower, but - "
"But?" Harry prompted.
"There was an explosion or something - didn't you hear it? Felt like the bloody castle was coming apart. I dug myself out of the rubble - I - I don't know what's happened to the others."
Harry appeared torn, looking first at the tumbled wall and then back in the direction from which Blaise had come.
"We've got to get through here. He's waiting for me, and the quicker I get there, perhaps the fewer people will die."
*
*
"Hermione?" Ron's voice broke in again, and she looked at him, startled, as if she'd had no idea
he was standing there.
"I can see it," she panted. Ron looked dubiously in the direction that her eyes had been pointed.
"See what?"
"I can see it - see him, the battle. He's trying to get to the headmaster's office." Her voice was as breathy as Luna at her dreamiest.
"Madam Pomfrey!" Ron called with obvious alarm, drawing the mediwitch's attention from the potion that she'd been measuring out. "Hermione's hallucinating!"
"Not hallucinating," Hermione corrected him, stiffening as the pain began anew. "I can see him, Ron."
*
*
Padma Patil was stationed at the corner, keeping watch down the next corridor, as the other team members Levitated the pieces of the wall - some the height of a first-year - out of the way.
"Someone's coming," she hissed, causing everyone else to redouble their efforts.
"We're almost done," Fred said. "Should we blast it?"
"They'd come even faster," Harry said, negating the suggestion.
"And we don't know what that would do to the rest of this wall," Blaise added, eying the ruined structure warily. Dimly, the remains of splintered desks, dusty with disuse, could be seen in one of the exposed classrooms. They worked as fast as they could, pausing only when they heard Padma cast a spell; there was an answering cry and a crash.
Then the battle began in earnest. Two others - fairly new members from the cooperative - joined Padma at the corner. The air began to thicken with vapor from spellfire; one yell was cut off as blood spattered unevenly across the stones.
As soon as they got a big enough breach in the collapsed wall, Fred Weasley shoved Harry through it first, even as he protested.
"Come on!" he shouted, waving his one arm for Blaise and the others to go through. "Padma! Gordon!"
The young man with pale hair ducked through the opening.
"Where's Ramey?"
"Dead," was the broken reply.
Fred was reaching for Padma's hand, pulling her through; the flickering light was very bright now on the walls, as many lit wands approached; a new sound - almost a sonic whine - grew to a swelling crescendo, and the smallest pieces of rock began to rattle ominously. A few of the Order members gasped and put their hands to their ears.
In the space of a heartbeat, the entire wall had caved in, completely burying Dolohov beneath it. Fred lost his grip on Padma, as he staggered backwards and fell; her shriek was swallowed up by the hollow voice of the falling rock.
*
*
"NO!" Hermione cried aloud, and then realized where she was. But Ron was not looking at her; instead he was staring toward the entrance to the infirmary.
"What the hell was that?" he asked.
"You - you heard that too?" she said, surprised. Then she noticed that everyone was focused, transfixed toward the transparent dividers. Fleur edged toward the door, and peered out, even as shrill, repetitive alarm began to wail. The lights flickered.
"The water - the Lake - something is stirring it," she reported back, her voice higher than normal.
"Check the panel in the War Room," Ron said. "Is it blinking?" Fleur checked and assured him that it was. "Then the wards are coming down."
"Which ones?" Ginny cried.
"Does it matter?" Ron asked, the caustic tone born of fear.
"All of them," Hermione croaked, as the pain bore down on her once more. Questioning eyes all turned to her. "He's taken - he's taken them all down - everything - there're no more protections at Hogwarts."
She knew - knew without knowing how she knew - that that had been the horrible, bone-jarring sound she'd heard.
"That will rip the very stones from their foundations," Madam Pomfrey declared. "The Founders' magic - Hogwarts cannot survive without it."
"He knows - he knows… and he doesn't care…" Hermione gasped. The contraction clawed at her from the inside, and her eyes rolled up in her head, as she fought to stay conscious.
*
*
"What the hell is going on?" Harry shouted to be heard above the din, the very mortises and joists of Hogwarts crying out in protest. There were screams of fear from the portraits.
"He's bringing the castle down on top of us," Blaise yelled back. There was a deafening sound from further away that may have been one of the towers collapsing in on itself.
"Why? He'll die right along with everyone else!" Somewhere, the castle hallways were now open to the outside air, and a cool draft swept through, ruffling their hair.
"P'raps he doesn't care anymore," Blaise lifted one shoulder in suggestion, "s'long as he kills you."
Harry stopped and stared at Blaise for a long moment, as if trying to ascertain the plausibility of what he'd said.
No, Harry, Hermione thought desperately, unable to tell if he could hear her or not, unsure of why she was suddenly mentally sling-shotting back and forth between the two places. You know how he operates; you know how much he fears death. He wouldn't kill himself, and he doesn't want you to die yet - not until he has the opportunity to look you in the face, and laugh at your pain. You know him - he'll want to…
She stopped suddenly, and horror flooded her.
Hello, Mrs. Potter, she remembered the words slashed onto the bottom of the Map.
The wards are down…her thoughts were coming at her like disjointed gasps. The wards are down…Harry!
She had no idea if he heard her - he did not look around startled, or attempt to communicate with her mentally - but evidently they had arrived simultaneously at the same conclusion.
"Dear God…" he said. "Hermione. He knows about Hermione."
To his credit, Blaise did not appear nonplussed or surprised at this sudden burst of information. He put a supportive hand on Harry's shoulder.
"That's all right then," he said. "He can't know where she is, or how to get there."
Harry shook his head brokenly.
"Neville…"
*
*
"They're coming!" Hermione shouted suddenly, as her heart pounded a staccato rhythm within her chest.
"Who's coming, dear?" Madam Pomfrey asked, in that tolerantly maternal voice that she used for patients who were hysterical, but her eyes darted up to the dividers. Ginny sat nervously on the edge of a chair, as if she'd like to leap up at any moment, and Fleur and Ron were nowhere to be seen.
"Where's Ron? They're coming! We've got to get out of here now!"
Madam Pomfrey's eyes were solemn, and she pressed her lips together, appearing to try to compose herself enough to speak placidly.
"Mrs. Potter, I'm afraid you're in no condition to go anywhere at this moment. And besides that, where would we go?"
"Down Remus' tunnel," Ron's voice preceded him back into the infirmary. "We'll have to cave in the entrance behind us. It's the only way. Fleur's packing up the most confidential stuff - " he shook his head suddenly, "Though I guess it doesn't really matter now. Madam Pomfrey, can you get everything you'll need for the - for Laurel?"
The mediwitch was already in motion. Ron came to the bedside, and looked at Hermione for a moment, his eyes as solemn and tenderly stalwart as she had ever seen them.
"Ready to go?" he asked.
"Ron, don't be ridiculous," she said, the asperity in her voice a shade of its former glory. "You are in no condition to pick me up. Besides, I'm the size of a Hungarian Horntail."
"Quit thinking like a Muggle," Ron said, with a shadow of his quirky grin, and, as he flourished his wand, she rose gently up into the air. Not taking his eyes off of her, he backed up until he was near his sister, and held out his hand for her. "Ginny?"
She stood in response, and tucked her hand through his elbow.
They could hear clattering from the laboratory as Fleur hastily threw things into a rucksack, and Hermione hoped that she'd cast a Cushioning charm first. Not that it will matter now, she thought, unconsciously echoing what Ron had said, if - if they catch us.
They made their way into a small opening, tucked back into a corner of the cavern, which led them into a serpentine tunnel that wound and twisted its way to nowhere.
"There's no way out," Ginny observed, and her voice sounded shrill.
"We're not trying to escape," Ron responded. "We're trying to hide. I put as much resistance at the Lake as I could… it probably won't hold them for long."
"We could use our medallions," Hermione offered, feeling slightly ashamed that she hadn't thought of it before, and wondering that Ron hadn't. He quirked one eyebrow at her.
"There's no one with a medallion outside of here, remember? Unless you fancy giving birth up in a tree in the Forbidden Forest?"
"Then you should go - get out of here. There's no reason for any of you to stay." Hermione felt another contraction grip her, and a moan escaped from between her gritted teeth. Ron said only,
"Don't be stupid, Hermione."
In the ensuing silence, they could hear the shuffling taps of rapidly moving feet. An instant later, Fleur, with the rucksack on her back, and baby William strapped to her chest appeared, followed by a similarly laden Madam Pomfrey.
"Get back behind me," Ron instructed, "Somebody hold Hermione." Fleur took over the spell, while Ron uttered the words that would cave in the entrance, covering the opening with crumbled rock. The artificial light they had installed in the cavern was blotted out, and it was utterly dark.
"Lumos," Ginny said, and the rest of them inspected Ron's handiwork.
"It'll have to do," Ron said, casting a few more security spells, but looking dubious as to the eventual outcome.
"All of you should go," Hermione ground out. "I've read plenty of books. I know what to do."
"And should the Death Eaters break through?" Fleur said archly. "Will you also fight while you are delivering the baby?"
Guilt and despair drained what color was left from Hermione's face. She held out one hand for Fleur to clasp.
"I'm sorry," she said. "They're coming because I'm here. You're staying because I'm here. I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Fleur said softly. "I'd be dead, and so would my sweet Guillaume - if not for you."
"Let's go," Ron said, thrusting his wand upwards and taking over the Levitation spell again. "We've got to get as far back as we can. And Fleur, you'd better cast Silencio on William - just in case."
They began to trudge away from the now defunct entrance, the silence feeling oppressive as it and its companion, fear, crowded the narrow pathway with them. With the analytical part of her mind that was never completely turned off, Hermione noted the deep gouges left in the walls by maddened claws. In places, the smooth floor had been worn to the slightest of dips from canine pacing. A couple of times, Ron stumbled in these, and Hermione felt herself drop suddenly and quickly correct, accompanied by a mumbled apology from her best friend.
The pain was not exactly growing worse - the potion was taking care of that - but the pressure was increasing and the onslaught was coming faster. She knew it wouldn't be long now, and she felt the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes as she thought of Harry.
*
*
Harry was walking through the corridors near the headmaster's office; he, Seamus, and Blaise were keeping close to the more uncertain lighting near the walls. Harry sounded grim and worried, when he said,
"You should've gone with the others."
"We might not be able to fight Voldemort for you," Seamus said, shaking his head. "But we can make damn sure you get to him in one piece."
"The Death Eaters won't kill me," Harry hissed in argument. "They want to - " He broke off as a red beam of light sang above his head, causing the wall sconce to clatter noisily to the floor. The three fighters instantly dropped into postures of attack.
"You were saying?" Blaise offered lightly.
Three Death Eaters issued from behind a tapestry, and when the battle was fully engaged, Lucius Malfoy also appeared in their midst, smiling mirthlessly as he took a bead on Harry. His thin lips parted as he spoke in a blood-chilling voice of supreme satisfaction,
"Crucio."
Harry's arm flew upwards of its own accord, sent into spasm by his frenzied nerve endings, and Hermione's wand sailed through the air, quickly becoming lost to sight in the chaos.
*
*
"Harry!" Hermione shrieked, startling everyone in the tunnel with her.
*
*
He didn't feel the pain of actually striking the floor, his system was already overloading by the pain that couldn't be overcome or assuaged. His body convulsed, and he barely registered the hoarse screaming as coming from his own throat.
There was a crow of laughter, and a curse from Seamus that was never completed. There was a solid noise as a body collided with a wall.
He heard Lucius repeat the curse again, and his nerves sizzled with acid fire.
*
*
"What's the matter? What's happening?" Ron asked intensely, his eyes boring into hers.
"I thought… I was `hallucinating'," Hermione murmured, slanting a look at him to enjoy his expression of chagrin. But then she took pity on him; he was the only one in the room who understood how badly she wanted to be by Harry's side, the only one who wanted to be there as badly as she.
"Lucius… Malfoy," she informed them. Ginny made a strangled noise in the back of her throat. "He - he's used Crucio on Harry."
Ron paled even more, and his wand hand shook.
"I - I thought…"
"They won't kill him," Hermione said, her calm tone belying how Harry's pain was tearing at her. "They'll do everything but…" Another contraction hit, and she clenched her jaw.
Illumination in darkness… hope in death.
Please not Harry's, she pleaded, with whoever might be listening. Please…
*
*
"…very disappointing, Mr. Zabini. To desert the Dark Lord, and side with… with this?" Lucius flicked his long cloak backwards, contemptuously. "Potter, we could perhaps excuse, but you - you were raised to know better." Precise clicks echoed in the corridor, as he paced forward, then back. "However, he could be merciful if…if you tell us where they were hiding, what they had planned, who were among their number?"
There was a long silence. Harry shifted slightly and tried to stifle a moan, clearly in terrible pain, but just as clearly not wanting to reclaim the attention of the Death Eaters at the moment. Hermione noted from her observer's position that Harry had scrabbled something under his palm, that he was trying in vain to subtly close his fingers around it, but his body was not cooperating.
"You make an interesting offer," Blaise mused. "We'd be better able to discuss this as equals if you returned my wand to me."
Lucius' sudden laughter rang out in the hallway, startling Hermione - and Harry, who froze his tentative movements and became very still.
"Mr. Zabini, I cannot in good conscience allow you to keep laboring under the delusion that we are equals. You are a traitor. Your cooperation would merely reflect itself in the rapidity… or exquisite slowness… of your death."
Blaise's eyes widened, as he considered Lucius' offer - or seemed to. His gaze flicked briefly to Harry. Hermione could see now that Harry had a wand - her wand, if she was seeing correctly. The Death Eaters had evidently lost track of it, when they disarmed Harry, and now, by merest chance, he had ended up near it. He tried to grip it, but a spasm shook his arm, and the wand rolled away from him, out of reach.
She felt, rather than heard, his intense disappointment. She felt herself straining with him to reach it. Accio…she thought… just a little bit more.
"You want me to answer your questions?" Blaise began to tick the points off on his fingers. "Where we were hiding is irrelevant, as we are hiding no longer. As to what is being planned and who is with us - just look around this castle." He spread his arms in a lofty and expansive gesture. "I should think it obvious."
One corner of Lucius' mouth went downward in a slash of disapproval.
"Your name is too good for you," he said, and whipped his wand upward.
Hermione's wand shot into Harry's hand, as if pulled there by magnetic force, and red fire blazed from its tip, even as he was still prone on the floor. Blaise flung himself to one side, dodging Lucius' curse, and the battle erupted once again.
*
*
A low rumble seemed to issue from the very bowels of the cave itself, causing their pitiful little band to look around nervously. There was a hiss like escaping steam, as a fine shower of dust and tiny gravel rained down around them. Hermione noticed Ron glancing anxiously toward the ceiling.
"Are they here?" Ginny quavered anxiously. The grim silence that met her question was response enough. And then, a bluish light engulfed them, buzzing briefly, and winking out almost as suddenly as it had come. Hermione felt her hair crackle with the intensity.
"They're searching for concealed passageways. They'll locate this tunnel soon."
"Let's step it up a bit, shall we?" Ron remarked lightly, brandishing his wand again, and picking up the pace. Hermione could see the pallor on him, though, and the way his chest was hollowing out when he breathed.
*
*
Harry was being marched up the spiral staircase to the office of the Headmaster of Hogwarts, his arms spellbound behind his back, and Lucius Malfoy jabbing his wand between his shoulder blades.
Seamus and Blaise were nowhere to be seen. Hermione surmised that it must have gone quite badly. She saw her wand in Lucius' other hand, and could only hope against hope that Harry's wand had evaded detection, that the Disarming spell had caught the first wand, and no one had bothered casting it on him again.
Lucius rapped sharply on the door, and called out,
"I have him, my lord."
*
*
"And so it's all come down to this," Hermione murmured, causing Ron to look at her sharply.
*
*
When Harry entered the office, Voldemort was hunched over something, watching it intently. Hermione could barely make out what looked like parchment, ash-gray and feathery, as if it had been hastily reassembled from shredded scraps. She was glad to see that it was only partially legible. He scraped the tip of one pointed fingernail through a portion of it, creating a neat, dark line.
He looked up at Harry and smiled mirthlessly.
*
*
The rumble became a roar, as the sifting shower of dust became a storm. A vicious crack bisected the ceiling, and the rocks themselves seemed to cry out in agonized protest.
"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed, trying to shield Hermione.
"He's found us!" Hermione's voice cracked with fear and pain.
*
*
"So here we are again, Mr. Potter," Voldemort smiled calmly, as if meeting someone with whom he had an appointment. "It greatly resembles our last meeting, wouldn't you agree?"
"If you mean that you've taken me prisoner and disarmed me because you're afraid to face me like a man, then I do agree that they are similar."
Red fury flared briefly into Voldemort's eyes, but he did not lose control.
"How does it feel knowing that all your struggles, all your efforts to resist me were for naught? How do you like knowing that you and all your friends - your wife - are about to die?"
Terror had leeched the color from Harry's face on Voldemort's last few words, though he was struggling not to show it.
"What are you talking about - my wife?" he stammered roughly, trying to feign ignorance.
Voldemort shot him a look that was mock-pity. He tapped his finger on the remnants of the Map.
"My followers are almost upon them."
*
*
When Hermione floated back to awareness in Remus' tunnel, Ron was saying,
"Criminy, here they come."
And, indeed, over the creaks and whines of uneasy stone, Hermione could hear the rush and rustle of footfalls and whispered shouts. They were not making much attempt to sneak up upon their prey.
They know there's no way out, Hermione thought glumly, and they could have realized that, for whatever reason, Apparation was not an option.
Another minor rumble sent down a small cascade of good-sized rocks, and one of them winged Ron, while another narrowly missed Fleur, who bit off a cry of dismay. Ron gave a hoarse cry of pain and staggered sideways, but managed to recover before Hermione plummeted to the stone floor.
"Ron, are you all right?"
"I'm fine," he said, not at all convincingly. They came to a widened place in the tunnel, where it split into two paths. "I didn't think there were any other paths but this one."
"There's a sort of a den to the left," said Ginny, who'd helped to excavate the tunnel. "We broke through to a natural little cavern. No outlet though," she added quickly to their hopeful looks. "The right just winds around a little before it stops completely."
"The cave would be easier to spread out and mount a defense," said Fleur decisively. "And we could pick them off more easily, especially if the entrance is small."
"Then we go to the left," Ron said, and had only begun to move in that direction, when spellfire whined above their hands, leaving a black gouge in the ceiling. The tunnel moaned restlessly, as the ragtag team plastered themselves up against the nearest wall. Ron carefully leaned Hermione against the wall behind him, while Ginny and Fleur put up a combined Protego.
Hermione found herself slumping down into a squat, feeling incredible pressure, and wanting to hunch over.
"Hermione, get back!" Ron shouted, trying to move where she wasn't so exposed.
"I need to push," she admitted, and Ron's eyes widened in a way that would have been comical in a different situation.
Spells sang randomly down the tunnel, as Ginny and Fleur tried to answer back. The Death Eaters weren't in sight yet, but knew they were close.
"They're pinning our ears back," Ron growled, as he tried to step closer to his sister and sister-in-law, while still guarding Hermione. "Madam Pomfrey," he said. "She needs you. Can you get her into the cave?"
*
*
Harry must have become violent, because he was now being restrained by two Death Eaters, though he was still struggling against them, his eyes sparking furiously.
"You claim I disarmed you," Voldemort was saying, as he twirled Hermione's wand slowly in his fingers. "Yet you do not carry your own wand. Did you think to duel me again, without the … incident… that occurred last time?"
The clench of Harry's jaw was mutinous. He did not speak.
"Let me make a bargain with you," Voldemort said, insidiously polite. "Your magic has clearly been restored to you. If you can take this wand from me, then we shall duel. Like `men', as you put it." His twisted smirk indicated that he clearly did not consider Harry of his caliber.
Hermione could see quite clearly that Voldemort held his own wand in his other hand. He was making no attempt to conceal it; everyone in the room knew that as soon as Harry Summoned Hermione's wand - if he could even do so -- Voldemort would cast the Killing Curse.
*
*
A deafening noise drowned out Madam Pomfrey's reply, as the tunnel, harassed to its limit, finally gave way. Ron stumbled backwards, but managed to shove Hermione down the narrow neck that led to the cavern and then into it, before the rockfall blocked it completely. Hermione hit the ground heavily, but did not lose consciousness. She became aware of a larger, blacker emptiness around her, able to sense the space of the cave, even though the darkness was total.
*
*
The tension grew, like a rope being winched ever tauter. Harry regarded the Dark Lord, his eyes going first to Hermione's wand, then Voldemort's, as if measuring which would move the faster.
"Do we have an arrangement?" Harry had still not moved, but Hermione could see that one edge of his cloak had billowed unnoticed over his right hand.
"Accio Wand!" he shouted suddenly, his voice cracking with its intensity, attempting to take Voldemort off-guard.
Voldemort's wand moved, Hermione's wand dropped, but Harry's own wand was already in his hand. The slitted red eyes widened in surprise.
"Your guards don't search prisoners very well," Harry said.
*
*
"Ron?" she called out shakily. The need to push was becoming almost painful. "Ron, are you here? I need some light. Ron! The baby's coming, Ron, please."
There was a rustle and then a groan of response,
"I'm here," he said shakily. "Lumos."
"Where are the others?" He shook his head grimly.
"I don't know."
*
*
"Avada Kedavra," Voldemort said, but Harry's,
"Priori Incantatem," was in perfect unison. Brother beams of light arced upward and joined, crackling and spitting out sparks.
"Corripio," Harry murmured next, repeated the words he'd heard Voldemort say when his powers were being ripped from him. The tip of his wand glowed green, and, for the first time, Voldemort looked afraid.
*
*
"Dammit, Hermione, you've got to stay with me," Ron was shouting at her. "I don't know what to do."
"I can't control it; I can't stop it," she replied weakly. "It's almost all over now."
"You've got to do this," he said, as she fumbled with her robes, and he tried to help her into a comfortable position, casting a Cushioning charm. He wouldn't look her in the face, but Hermione felt too emotionally wrung out to be embarrassed by his presence. Another wave rolled in, and she braced her hands on her knees to deliver Harry's baby.
*
*
Voldemort arched backwards, and yanked at his wand, trying desperately to break the contact. But the beam of light connecting the two wands gradually turned red, and when the red hit Harry's wand, Voldemort began to scream. The light grew blinding, and the other Death Eaters, who'd been watching, transfixed, barred from the combat by the same shielding effect from before, began to stumble away and cry out in distress.
Harry lifted his left hand up to steady his grip on the wand, which had begun to tremble in his grasp.
*
*
"I can see the head," Ron announced. "How are you doing?"
"I've been better," Hermione gasped. Sweat was streaming down her neck and dampening her robes.
*
*
And still the red beam kept coming and coming, pulsing forward as through a tube that Harry was draining. Voldemort's drawn-out cry was bone-chilling, earth-rending. Harry's eyes had closed due to the overwhelming glare, but he maintained his two-handed grip. Hogwarts began to tremble in earnest now. What had been left of Dumbledore's tiny silver gadgets began to bounce and vibrate, until they clattered to the floor.
And then Harry himself began to scream.
Hermione smelled burning flesh.
*
*
"Har - ry," Hermione gritted out, as she pushed again. The potion was wearing off, and the pain was mounting.
"Head's almost out," Ron remarked. "When you push again, I'll get the shoulders." He leaned forward with his wand, to give himself better light, and Hermione saw that the left side of his shirt was scarlet.
"Ron, you're hurt!"
"I'm fine," he told her, in a voice that brooked no argument.
"Ron…" she trailed off, as another contraction began. How had she not noticed how badly that rock had hit him? He hadn't been well to begin with. Her anxious eyes began roving anew over his face, which had a grayish cast.
*
*
The Headmaster's office shook, as distant rumbles foretold its eventual fall. Bodies of Death Eaters - whether dead or merely unconscious, Hermione could not tell - were strewn everywhere. Behind the desk lay Voldemort's smoking and distorted remains, so imbued by magic that he could not hope to survive its loss.
And then she saw Harry, collapsed in a heap, hands badly charred, wand a twisted lump. As she tried desperately to discern whether or not he was alive, the portraits began to fall off the walls, as doorframes warped and bowed.
"Get out of there, Harry! Hogwarts is falling! Harry! Move!" she screamed soundlessly, as panic welled up within her.
*
*
"Here she comes," Ron said, and Hermione shook her head weakly from side to side, unable to rid her mind of the image of Harry, just lying there, as Hogwarts collapsed around him - on top of him.
"Harry…" she said wistfully. "Oh my God."
"One more push should do it," Ron said, and then he darted a look at her, and she knew that he was forcing himself to be clinical for her sake, that he wanted more than anything to ask her what was going on, but would not, until he had helped her in this.
From somewhere, Hermione summoned up the strength for one more push, even as her heart broke to pieces within her. And then, with a shrill and reedy wail, the tiny gooey baby that Ron held aloft started putting it back together again.
"Laurel…" she breathed, holding out her arms for the baby, without even realizing she had done so. Ron fumbled a bit, but cut the cord with his wand, and wrapped the baby in the robes that he had quickly shucked off. Without the concealing robes, Hermione could more accurately see how much of his shirt had been soaked in blood.
He handed her the baby, and she took a moment to run a fingertip around the circumference of the little, red face and check the number of fingers and toes. Laurel stared at her mother petulantly from puffy bluish eyes that looked out from under fine, downy black hair.
"Hey baby…" she whispered, captivated by the disgruntled face.
"You did really well, Hermione," Ron said.
"So did you," she replied, in a voice thickened with tears. She darted another glance at his shirt. "You should sit down…. and let me look at that," she tacked on as an afterthought.
"It's - it's fine," he insisted, plucking the shirt away from his side with two fingers. It made a squelching noise. "I think - I think I will sit down though."
His collapse after this admission was so sudden that it startled Hermione. She called his name, her voice becoming a frantic cry, but got no response. The pool of blood that had formed under him began to spread rapidly, glistening in the Lumos-light of his wand.
TBC
One chapter left. I sort of hate to leave it at a cliffy when I can't update as regularly as I'd like, but cliffhangers are so much fun. Anyway, I'm hoping to have this story completed before it has a birthday.
Hope people continue to be interested, and I hope the flip-flopping wasn't too confusing. It was the only way I could think of for me to show you the finale, when the whole story has generally been from Hermione's point of view. If there are any questions, please feel free to ask, and I'll try my best to clarify.
You may leave a review on your way out if you like.
lorien
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