A/N - this is a longer chapter and one that I enjoy. A bit more going on (I got a 'snore' review for the last chapter, which is fair enough - it was kinda boring!) and again, my viewpoint on canon.
Now, while I was doing 'research' on this chapter, I had an interesting thought. Harry had Voldemort in his head while in Malfoy Manor, the connection strong enough previously to have Harry forget everything else and 'see' what Voldemort was doing. However, he was able to shut that out so he could work on how to save Hermione.
In the next chapter, when he is burying Dobby, he still has Voldemort in his thoughts but he consciously blocks it out so he could concentrate on what he was doing - his grief (though Dumbledore would've said love) drove Voldemort out.
So - I thought about this. He could drown out Voldie when he was determined to save Hermione and he could drown out Voldie with his grief (or love) of Dobby. Both are canon facts. Yet another H/Hr moment given to us and overshadowed by the 'epilogue' (in fact, the whole Malfoy Manor, to me, is H/Hr all the way). I was going to put this bit of info in the forums, but don't know how to start a thread so if any of my readers also find this interesting and is more computer savvy than me - feel free to post.
Anyway, enough of that. Thanks again for your reviews (even the snoring one!) and I hope you enjoy this.
Chapter 6 - the Truth
Three forty-five.
Three forty-five in the morning.
Harry groaned, rubbing his eyes under his recently placed glasses while putting his alarm clock back on the bedside cabinet. He could feel the sheen of sweat on his back as he stared at the ceiling of his room, the remnants of his latest nightmare chilling him in the early morning October air.
Sighing, he sat up and reached for his dressing gown and wand - it was no point trying to get back to sleep now as his months of experience with bad dreams has taught him. Thinking that a nice cup of hot milk and perhaps a few chapters of his latest book might calm him, he headed out from his room and down the stairs.
Thinking how thankful he was that at least he had five hours sleep so he won't be totally wasted at work later, he stopped in surprise when he saw the light flickering in the drawing room. Frowning, he entered the room to see Hermione already there, sleeping on the couch with a book laying over her chest, the fire in the hearth dancing in the otherwise darkness.
He wondered how long she'd been there and when had the lights extinguished themselves, thinking that she must've come down quite late as he hadn't seen her all evening and he hadn't left until well after eleven.
His curiosity turned to concern when she started to grimace in her sleep, her body convulsing so that her book thumped heavily to the floor. She let out a muted scream, her body tensing as a wave of pain crossed her face. When she groaned out his name before another scream wracked her, Harry hurried to her side and took her clammy hand in his.
"I'm here, Hermione," he told her, not caring if she could hear him or not.
"We found it…we found it - please!"
Harry knew those words, they were forever etched into his brain - she was reliving her torture at Malfoy Manor. Hermione confirmed this when, after screaming once more, she told her dreams that the sword was a copy, that it wasn't real. Every time the cruciatus curse wracked her body, she tensed and although her screams weren't the strength or the loudness that they had been, they cut Harry just the same.
Her grip on his hand was vice like, but he didn't let go. He felt he deserved the pain after what he had let her go through and what she continued to experience. She muttered his name again, her voice full of fear, and then with a cry of anguish, she yelled "no!", waking up abruptly, her eyes snapping open, full of horror.
She looked frantically around her as reality began to replace the nightmare, her eyes finally falling onto Harry.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, snatching her hand out of his and bringing her knees protectively to her chest, making herself as small as she possibly could, "how…how long have you been here?"
"Long enough," he replied quietly, making his way to the armchair opposite her, a flick of his wand turning the lights on softly, "it sounded like a pretty bad dream."
"It…it was," Hermione stuttered, running a hand through her already disarrayed hair, "it's one of the worst."
"Would you like to talk about it?"
She looked at him, her eyes wide with fright.
"Talk?" she repeated, hugging her knees in closer to her.
"It might help…"
"What are you doing here?" she interrupted harshly, "it's late!"
"You know you're not the only one that has nightmares, Hermione," he told her and she sagged into the corner of the couch, dropping her chin to the top of her bent knees.
"It…it's difficult to talk about," she whispered, "I don't want to remember what she did to me, but I see it so often in my dreams that I…I can't forget."
"I know what you mean," Harry agreed, "there's so many things that I wish I could just forget, but I can't," he paused, glancing at her, "it might help if you talk about it."
"You don't," she said bluntly.
"You don't want to be like me, Hermione."
"But that's just it," she cried, rearranging herself so she was now cross-legged, "I do want to be like you Harry! Because you've been through so much more! And when you tell us, it's like you're describing a Quidditch match or something! When I try and talk about what I've been through, I just start to cry! What good is that? What purpose does that fill? I hate feeling! I hate feeling like this! I wish I just didn't feel…anything, any more!"
"I wished that once," he admitted, "after Sirius died. Dumbledore told me that feeling made me more of a man, more human. I told him, well, shouted at him actually, that I didn't care, that I had had enough. Trouble is, it's really hard not to feel. I think I've just had better practice in hiding stuff like that from everyone," he paused again, noting how Hermione was chewing her bottom lip in thought - he ploughed on, "when…when I heard you scream, at Malfoy Manor, I had to save you, had to make it stop. Ron had gone mental, and I…I had Voldemort invading my mind but all I wanted to do was get you out of there. It was my fault that happened to you…"
"Harry…"
"No, Hermione, it was," Harry stopped her protest, she finally glancing at him briefly, "it was me who said his name, even though we knew it meant trouble. I've done some incredibly stupid things over the years but that would be up there with one of the worst. The other was getting Sirius killed and putting everyone else in danger. Actually, following Bathilda was a pretty thick thing to do as well…"
"You've done some pretty incredible things, too," she told him, "you saved me at the Manor."
"No, Dobby saved you, saved us. I'm not such a great hero."
She looked up at him a bit longer than before, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She changed her position again, returning to having her knees drawn up to her chest, hugging them tightly. After a moment, she dropped her gaze to the coffee table in front of her.
"I was terrified when they recognised who I was," she began, Harry knowing full well, who 'they' were, "not so much for me but because they would then guess about you. As long as we were together, though, I thought we'd get out of it. When…when we got to the Manor and Bellatrix separated me from you and Ron, I thought I was going to die. After the first time she…she hurt me, I wanted to die.
"I could hear Ron yelling out my name, but I tried to block it out - I needed to concentrate on Bellatrix and keeping the lie going. Every time she cursed me, I knew I wasn't going to be able to hold on for much longer, the only thing that kept me going was…was knowing that I was giving you and Ron time to escape.
"I…I wanted the pain to end so badly, I just wanted it to be over, for it to stop. I didn't care anymore. I tried to remember good things, spending time with mum…mum and dad, Hogwarts, you and Ron. And when the pain stopped, I was so thankful…"
"It stopped?"
"For a moment," she replied, thinking, "for a moment, everything went white - I had on this pure white gown and my grandmother was there, watching me. I was slightly confused because even though I was happy to see her, she had died when I was ten…"
"You died?" he repeated, unable to hide the shock from his voice.
"I think so. Gramma told me that I still had things to do, that I needed to go back - so I did and all the pain come rushing back.
"Everything was blank for a while and then I woke up in a comfy bed…"
with Ron and Fleur looking on worriedly. Hermione tried to sit up, her eyes scanning the room.
"Where's Harry?" she asked panicked, her voice raw, barely acknowledging the flash of hurt that crossed Ron's face, "where are we?"
"Harry's fine," Ron answered, "and we're at Bill and Fleurs'. How're you feeling?"
"Sore and tired," she told him, sinking back into the pillows and closing her eyes wearily.
"You've been through…" he started, his words catching awkwardly before he quickly blurted, "I'm really glad you're alright."
Hermione opened her eyes to see Ron stand abruptly, his face beetroot red. He looked down at her and gave her a half hearted smile.
"Thanks," she smiled back.
"I better go and help Harry," Ron muttered embarrassedly, then quickly departed.
"Help Harry what?" she asked Fleur before drinking some more potion.
"Zat leetle 'ouse elf zat belongs to 'Arry…"
"Dobby?"
"Yes, zat is 'im," Fleur explained softly, "'e was killed. 'Arry is burying 'im…"
"I need to get up," Hermione stated, trying to make her aching muscles move, "I need to help Harry."
"'Ermione, you need to rest!"
"I can rest later," she hastened, "please, help me get up!"
Fleur stopped protesting and instead wrapped a dressing gown around Hermione's shoulders and helped her stand. They made their way slowly down the stairs, meeting a quiet Luna on the way. The blond joined the small party, that was completed with a solemn Bill and the four of them made their way into the night.
Every step was a struggle, but she was determined. She could see Ron taking off his socks and placing them on the feet of the small body in front of them, then Harry placing a hat that Dean gave him, on the elf's head. She wanted to cry, but she had no more tears left and when she saw the blood and dirt on Harry as they came up to the grave, she realised that he must've dug it himself.
Something in her broke - seeing the pain in Harry's face as he looked down onto his fallen friend. Ron came to her side and supported her, holding her up with an arm around her shoulders. She welcomed the comfort.
"We should close his eyes," Luna said quietly, gently reaching down and doing just that, "there, now he could be sleeping."
But Dobby wasn't sleeping, and as Harry placed the elf into the grave, the finality struck her hard. Another of their fellows was lost - faithful Dobby, the free house-elf who was devoted to the boy who gave him his freedom. And now he was dead.
Harry looked as if he was going to break, but he held onto the emotions that Hermione knew were coursing through him. She could see the pain, sadness and guilt in his face as he looked down onto the little body.
"I think we ought to say something," Luna suggested, "I'll go first, shall I?"
No-one said no, so Luna said her eulogy, with Ron, Dean and Harry voicing their thanks to Dobby before Bill covered the small grave with the excavated dirt. Hermione stayed silent, not trusting her voice but not knowing what to say any way.
She always saw herself as the fighter for elves' rights, their sole crusader - but in that moment, she knew that Harry had done more for house-elves than she ever had. She felt inadequate in so many ways; weak and ashamed. When Harry asked to be alone for a while, she was relieved to leave the gravesite and return to the house.
It was suggested she go to bed and rest, but Hermione refused. Instead, she sat with Ron and listened to Bill update them on what was happening with the family and the Order. Harry entered the living room, his face hard and removed of any emotion. He grimaced when he heard the Weasley's had gone into hiding, but - as she had seen so many times before - the leader he one day would become took control.
He gave orders, but not demands - told what was needed while still holding back the whole truth. She sat with Ron in silence, both intent in trying to guess what Harry was going to do next. When he asked to see Griphook, neither she nor Ron knew whether they were to be included, moving only when Harry asked them to. He praised her for her efforts under torture but still she said nothing. What could she say? Thanks?
Griphook was brought to them and Harry began asking him about Gringott's and how to break into it. This came after Griphook told Harry that his treatment of elves and goblins made him an 'odd wizard' and Hermione realised that Griphook was right. When Ron started arguing with the goblin about why wizards had more right to carry wands than goblins, the matter was confirmed. Ron would always see other magical creatures as lesser beings because he was brought up that way. Harry was not.
"…I got so mad - mad at Ron, mad at Griphook, mad at myself. My stupid attempts to free house-elves when the years of prejudice…" Hermione paused with her recollection and looked up at Harry, who looked back supportively, "sorry, I've rambled on a bit. My nightmare doesn't normally go this far, it jumps from Malfoy Manor to Hogwarts, where you…you are dumped in front of us but you…"
This time she stopped, once more looking downwards as she fought away her tears.
"How can you ever think that you're weak?" he asked softly, "Hermione, you're one of the strongest people I know."
"Even though I spent most of last year crying?" she tried to laugh, "and most of this year, it seems."
"That doesn't make you weak," Harry frowned, "and you were going through a lot, are going through a lot," he paused again, knowing that his next move was a delicate one - for him and for her, but he wanted to know. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "what happened when I went into the forest? Before Hagrid brought me back?"
It was like Hermione was expecting the question as she took a deep, calming breath, her hands playing with the cuff of her pyjama bottoms. After getting herself under control, she began to tell her story.
"I couldn't believe Fred, Remus and Tonks were all gone. It just felt so wrong. I kept thinking of little baby Teddy and how he was alone now, just like you were. When I thought about you, I looked up from where I was with Ginny and couldn't find you. Ron seemed to think the same thing at the same time as we both left the Hall…"
"Have you seen Harry," she asked Ron in an urgent whisper.
"No," he said, still looking around, "where do you think he's gone?"
"I don't know," Hermione answered, trying to hide her panic as she thought quickly, "I'll go and check the headmaster's office and you check the common room, if he's still in the castle, chances are he'd be there. Or the Room of Requirement, I guess. Meet you back here in ten minutes?"
Ron nodded his agreement as they both sprinted off to their destinations. Hermione tried not to think of the worse case scenario, that Harry had gone off to face Voldemort on his own, but in the back of her mind, she knew that that was a very probable possibility.
The entrance to the headmaster's office was damaged, but she didn't look twice as she made her way up the spiral staircase. The room was empty - even all the picture frames stood desolate. She was about to leave and go back to Ron, but she noticed the Pensieve sitting on Dumbledore's old desk. She knew Harry had taken Snape's last memory and something told her that whatever it held had now determined Harry's fate.
Before she could think any further, she bent over the swirling liquid and went head first into Snape's childhood. She watched as her old professor's fascination with Mrs Potter unfolded and then the betrayal which led to the man she had known for the last six years. But things changed when the conversations with Dumbledore became more and more alarming. When she stepped out of the Pensieve and back into the office a new form of terror spurred her back to the entrance hall. Ron was already there, waiting for her, his worry making him sharp.
"What took you so long?" he snapped, but Hermione ignored him and continued for the door, "Hermione?"
"He's gone," she spat as she strode past Ron.
"I know," Ron agreed, falling in step with her, "he wasn't in the common room and I guess he wasn't in the office. Dean just went by and said he wasn't in the Room of Requirement either. Where do you think…"
"He's gone to face You-Know-Who," she interrupted, hurrying down the steps, "we need to go and help him!"
"Wait, Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, grabbing her arm and making her stop, "he wouldn't do that! He wouldn't face…he wouldn't go off without us!"
"Well, he has and we have to help him," she stated firmly, ripping her arm from his grasp and continued walking, "we need to find him because the git is going to get himself killed!"
"Hermione, stop!" Ron commanded and she did so, turning to him impatiently, "we can't go off like this! We don't know where Harry is or even where You-Know-Who is!"
"They're in the forest…"
"But where? The forest is filled with Death Eaters and tons of creatures that just want to do us in! All we'll do is get ourselves killed. We can't do this without thinking things through!"
"We haven't got time!" she nearly screamed, "don't you understand, he wants to die! He's a Horcrux, Ron!"
Ron looked at her in horror, a strangled 'no' coming from his lips.
"Is everything alright?"
Hermione looked at Neville, who suddenly appeared at their side, carrying a body of a sixth year Hufflepuff girl.
"We're looking for Harry," she said immediately, and Neville nodded.
"He passed by here a little while back," he told them, "but he has his cloak so…"
"Which way did he go?"
"That way," Neville pointed towards a section of the forest and without thinking, she started to stride in that direction, only to find her way once more blocked by Ron.
"I can't let you do this, Hermione," he said solemnly.
"Get out of my way!"
"No," Ron stated firmly, "Harry has made his choice and we can't follow him this time. I know for a fact he would throttle me if I let you go off and die because of him. He'll come back, he has before. If you continue to run off, I swear, I'll stun you."
She looked at him carefully and knew he was telling the truth. But she could also see he believed that Harry would come back. Fighting back her tears, she nodded her acceptance and Ron let go of the breath that he had been holding.
"Come on," he smiled sadly, guiding her back to where they'd come, "let's help and find survivors."
For the first time, Hermione took in her surroundings and saw the grounds covered with bodies. Others were looking at each of the fallen and ascertaining whether they were one of them or one of their own, dealing with each body appropriately. She could see Ginny and Mr Weasley - Ginny far enough away to have missed Hermione's panic.
Confused, she made her way back into the castle and into the Great Hall. She went over to where Remus and Tonks lay, along side so many others, and felt shattered. Aware that she had been joined by others, she took no comfort in their presence.
When the voice of their enemy filled the air, she closed her eyes as if to block out what she knew was coming.
"Harry Potter is dead!" the voice proclaimed and nothing else mattered. Hermione was aware that Voldemort was still talking, aware that a chorus of fear echoed around the Hall. She opened her eyes to see Professor McGonagall exit the Hall, her action starting the exodus of the other survivors, Ginny and Ron among them.
Ron took her hand and she numbly followed, standing on the steps as she watched a sobbing Hagrid carrying what looked like a rag doll in his arms. She heard a cry, but she was unaware that it had come from her. Around her, there was a roar aimed at the strutting Voldemort before them but she wasn't really listening. All she saw was the body lying lifeless in Hagrid's arms.
The command for silence broke through the horror that had engulfed her mind, and she watched as Harry was placed on the cold ground - his eyes closed but still framed with his familiar glasses. She couldn't believe that he was dead, that he was gone. He had been such a major part of her life for so long, that the thought that it was over made her feel like part of her had died with him.
You were supposed to live, she thought miserably, you were supposed to live and have the life you deserve!
"He beat you!"
She heard Ron yell out, interrupting Voldemort and his victory speech. With a slowness that seemed out of this world, Hermione turned away from Harry and looked at Ron - pale and shaking at her side. He had let go of her hand when they had first seen Hagrid and she could tell that he had forgotten her.
Harry wouldn't have forgotten me, she thought, turning back to their gloating enemy and back to the body at his feet, remember Harry? Remember what made us friends? You saved me from the troll, you and Ron, because I wasn't a nobody to you. I was worth saving, I was worth something, even way back then. How could you leave me now?
Hermione fell to her knees, her legs no longer able to hold her. How could he leave her? How did he expect her to be able to survive without him in her life? He was everything to her! She had spent what seemed like a lifetime helping him win, keeping alive and it was all for nothing - because he was dead.
She felt someone rush past her and saw Neville try and attack Voldemort, only to be disarmed and thrown to the ground. A wave of pride briefly weaved through her numb despair as Neville still defied their supposed victors. But something new caught her eye - for the briefest of moments, she saw a slither of green under the dark lashes of Harry.
Immediately, her numbness disappeared as she concentrated on him, not seeing or hearing the exchanges between Neville and the others. All she saw was Harry.
He's breathing! she thought wildly, I'm sure of it! He's alive?
But before she could think of anything else, pandemonium broke around her. Creatures of all sorts streamed from the forest while the survivors began fighting once more.
"Hermione!" Ron screamed at her, frantically trying to get her to stand, "Hermione, what're you doing?"
She tried to shake his grip from her, totally unaware of what has happening around her - she needed to make sure he was still alive.
"Get up!" Ron yelled, "get up and fight!" He yanked her harder, bringing her to her feet and she turned to him angrily.
"He's alive!" she told him and for a moment it seemed the world stood still. Ron gaped at her, a strange look on his face and she realised something that she, if she thought hard, had known for a very long time.
"HARRY! WHERE'S HARRY?"
Hagrid's question broke whatever spell Hermione was under. She turned to the spot where Harry's body lay and saw it empty - he was gone. With an elated grin at Ron, she drew her wand and joined in the fray.
Harry was alive. She knew it with the whole of her heart. Harry was alive.
She fought hard and soon found herself facing Bellatrix in the Great Hall, Luna joining her as it became apparent that Hermione's skill couldn't match that of the older witch. She didn't know how or why, but before long Ginny came and fought at her other side and the three of them tried to overcome the one.
It was with more than a little surprise when Mrs Weasley took over, pushing them out of her way as she took on the battle with Bellatrix with furious passion. Hermione joined the others to watch, though she was drawn more to the other duel between Voldemort and Professor McGonagall, Kingsley and Professor Slughorn. If Harry were going to come back, it would be to get rid of Voldemort.
Her attention was momentarily diverted when Mrs Weasley cast her killing blow and Bellatrix Lestrange was no more. Voldemort's anger was instant as his opponents flew in all directions by an unseen force.
"Protego!"
Hermione heard his voice and the part of her that died moments before struck into beautiful life. He appeared before them - strong, defiant and very much alive.
She unfolded herself from the couch and stood, sighing heavily as Harry watched, trying to comprehend what she had just told him.
"There was something that I had been denying for such a long time," she continued quietly, "trying to ignore because I knew that I couldn't have those type of feelings. Feelings that wouldn't be returned."
"I don't understand," Harry said, confused.
"I knew then, when I thought you had died, I knew that I couldn't ignore what I felt any longer," Hermione looked at him then, her eyes sad and tired, "you were wrong when you told Ron that I love you like a brother, Harry. The thing is, I just love you. You. I love you."
When Harry stared at her in numb shock, she smiled a tiny smile and left him sitting there, contemplating what she had just told him with surprised disbelief.