Chapter 19

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"This...this can't be true..." Ron spoke through the tears that ran down his face. Nearly two weeks had passed since their escapades at the ministry. His arm had been wrapped and put into a sling as the salves and potions worked on repairing the muscle.

It had been a near life taking experience when Harry had gone to the burrow to seek help. Having left Ron in the forest, he'd barely made it out alive. His family had been relocated after the attack. Harry had somehow managed to appear right in the thick of it and was lost in the chaos.

Remus, who had spotted him nearly instantly had followed him back to the woods where he'd miraculously been able to save his arm. The elder had begged for them to return to the safe house but Harry had outright refused. Saying that they'd come too far to give up now. So they had stayed, hidden away, to lick at their wounds.

Harry gave his best friend a small glance from beside the kettle. He'd had this exact conversation with him every day since he'd shown him the file. His heart had been at his feet ever since he'd taken a look for himself; and despite the prayer he'd sent up to give him strength to believe it wasn't true, his heart was steadily losing hope.

Ron sniffled wiping away the last of the tears that had long since stained the paper within. Though it wasn't the words his focus had locked in on. It was the photos. Three in total taped to the inside of a page that had been included behind her certificate of death.

The first showed her simply walking down the street her house sat on, her back to the lens. Her walk was strong, tall and confident. It made his heart ache to think he'd never see that purpose filled stride ever again.

The second was of her parents, laying dead on the floor of their kitchen, their eyes wide and filled with fear as they laid in a growing pool of blood. The report had listed their cause of death as a muggle crime but Ron was no fool. There was no way Hermione would have died to some muggle burglar. No, he could smell Voldemort all over it.

The third picture had undone any logical thinking he had ever possessed. It had been taken by a different camera, the image black and white though still moving. He was sure it was the proof that the snatchers had used to collect their bounty in lieu of taking her actual body with them to the ministry. A secret snapshot of her life.

The image repeating inside showed just her shoulders and head. A hand coming into the frame to pull the heavy mass back. Hermione's face was coated in blood, nearly unrecognizable with the amount that oozed down over her features. Her eyes were closed but Ron was sure he'd seen her lips moving, speaking—to him.

It was an image that would never leave his mind.

"I can feel her...in my heart...I know she's alive...she...she wouldn't have died this way..."

Harry pursed his lips but had nothing to say. His eyes turning towards the fire as he tried to think of any possible way of winning this war. He couldn't even begin to think about the reality that was so heavily pressing down on him. He had thought he'd lost her once already, in the Department of Mysteries. Her body collapsing against his own, the fear, the cold dread of having led his friend to their death. This was not a game. This was real.

oOOo

Severus shifted some paperwork aside, stifling a soft groan at the mundane routine. The requests for extended detentions had increased nearly exponentially over the time that had passed and it was taking everything inside him to keep the children from being subjugated to meaningless torture.

The twins had been discreet thus far but it had been noticed. So much so that he couldn't in good conscience keep Misty from the hospital wing. Though she had delivered on finding a book on helping Miss Granger's mental state the results had been less than spectacular. She was still very much attached to his person, something to which he was just starting to accept though she had begun to communicate just a little bit more when it came to her basic needs.

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