June 2003
Hermione completed the bomb in two weeks. The final product was silver, ovoid with a faint luminescent shimmer, slightly smaller than a crystal ball, and freezing cold to touch.
The timing of the construction had been precise. When it was finished, she sent immediate word to Severus. He was due to visit Hogwarts that afternoon, to select new prisoners for use at Sussex.
"It's only visible to those who know to look for it," she said, handing it carefully over. "It's set to activate at exactly noon on July 1st. There are some cushioning charms where I could risk them, but—don't drop it."
Severus had been surveying it carefully until her warning.
He looked up and sneered at her. "Thank you, Miss Granger, without your warning it would never have occurred to me to be cautious with a bomb."
Hermione didn't blink. "Would you rather I not mention it's delicate?" She arched her eyebrows. "It's designed to target the magic keeping us out of Hogwarts, so the higher you can get it, the better. The Astronomy tower would be ideal. It has some combustive power, but it's primarily designed to break the wards, the lower it is at detonation, the less impact it will have. At least—well, it's based entirely on arithmancy—I couldn't actually test it."
"I'm overcome with confidence," Severus said, looking down at it again.
Hermione was so nervous her chest felt fractured. Lately it was a constant, grinding pain until she could barely breathe.
"I was unaware you had added bomb-making to your repertoire," Severus said after a minute.
Hermione pulled off a heavy dragonhide apron and gloves and looked down at her hands, wincing. Her skin was speckled with burns, and several fingertips were green and withered; she'd have to carve off the remaining tissue and regrow it. Protective clothing and wards had limited effect when working with materials specifically chosen for their ability to destroy protection.
She rubbed her fingers together and watched as the skin cracked and fell off, leaving the bones exposed in places.
She grimaced and carefully wrapped bandages infused with essence of Dittany around her hands. "I started after we heard about the Albanian hospital—just the theory. I didn't understand the reports, and I felt guilty that maybe it was partly my fault that the hospital had been targeted. I thought I should at least know what happened to everyone there. Then—after the raid on the labs of the curse division—I had everything, but it wasn't even worth trying to propose that the Order use a bomb."
She shrugged and started packing up her materials into all their carefully sealed and cushioned boxes and containers while Severus watched.
They were in an abandoned barn in the countryside that the Order had sectioned off for Hermione to work in. Initially, there had only been half-hearted objections made when the idea of using a bomb was proposed, but in the end the Order had agreed. No one had a better idea, and after half a year, and dozens of casualties from the attempts, there was a sense of raw desperation in everyone.
Hermione gingerly placed a flask, still half-full of shimmering, silver liquid, into a warded box and sealed it with several protective spells. "When Bill brought his analysis of the wards on Hogwarts last month, I realised that there was a chance I could combine charmwork and arithmancy with the traditional use of potions and alchemy for explosives. I was rereading Dumbledore's collaboration with Flamel on the uses of dragon's blood and had the idea that it would react with silver nitrate dissolved in unicorn blood powerfully enough to dissolve the wards. The main challenge was finding a way to suspend it in something that could penetrate and adhere to the magic, so I used manticore venom to emulsify it. The detonation is primarily intended to create a blast radius large enough to destabilise and collapse the wards when the solvent hits it. I ran the numbers dozens of times before I brought the proposal to Moody; I'm almost positive I've calculated it all correctly."
She caught herself rambling and stopped, looking up at Severus.
As he studied her, his eyes glittered. Then his mouth pursed, and he stared back down at the bomb between them. "Are Potions and healing such tedious wartime careers that you must invent an entirely new field of magic in order to preoccupy yourself?"
Hermione felt her cheeks warm. Her eyes dropped as the corner of her mouth quirked. "I thought it seemed like a logical way to combine the branches."
"You would," Severus said with muffled snort. "If this explodes prematurely, I hope you will recall all the occasions in which I answered your incessant questions with the reminder that just because a thing can be imagined by you, doesn't mean it should be attempted."
He sighed. "You always were an insufferable student to teach." There was a pause as he eyed the bomb again. "This is precisely why."
Hermione ducked her head to hide a smile.
That night she apparated to Whitecroft and waited nearly half an hour before Draco appeared.
She'd barely seen Draco since he'd returned from his trip. He'd brought the occasional report and renewed warnings that Voldemort was likely preparing for his own final blow. More Death Eaters than merely Lucius were being brought back to England.
She'd decided, from the beginning, not to mention her most recent occupation within the Order.
When he appeared in the shack, he was dressed in formal robes, and his expression was braced. It was as though he had expected to find her bleeding to death on the floor.
Relief flooded across his face as he stared at her. "I can't stay unless it's an emergency, I'm at a dinner. What is it?"
She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she held herself back. Her fingers still hadn't fully healed; she had them carefully glamoured to hide the scarring.
"I was sent to tell you the Resistance will attack Hogwarts in two days. It will begin at precisely noon."
His jaw twitched. "I'm assuming you will not be there."
Hermione nodded. "I'll be in the hospital."
His eyes narrowed as he kept studying her. "The Order found a way through the wards?"
Hermione didn't react. "Yes. The wards have been taken into account."
"What do you need me to do?"
She licked her lips and curled her left hand into a tight fist. "Harry will be there. We want a final confrontation, but before we can do that, we need to kill Nagini. Harry says he's positive she's a horcrux. Either get her brought or find a way to kill her when she's left behind."
His eyes gleamed. "If the Dark Lord appears, she'll be there."
"Good." Hermione gave a sharp nod. "That's all we need."
She turned to leave, but Draco stepped forward and caught her arm. His eyes were dark as he closed in on her. "Come back. Tonight."
She shook her head firmly. "You said we couldn't, Draco. This isn't a time to take risks."
She tried to back away, but his other hand caught her hip, and he backed her into the door. He seemed to have forgotten he was the one who couldn't linger.
"I want to see you." He slid his hand up her arm to her jaw, tilting her face up towards his.
Hermione's breath caught, and she shivered.
She was cold. She was so cold, and he was warm.
It might be the last time.
She wavered. "Alright. I'll come. You have go now though."
He let go of her. "I'll call you."
She nodded, and he vanished without a sound.
She went back to Grimmauld Place and carefully finished healing her hands until the scarring was almost undetectable. The fingerprints on her right hand were gone, but unless she looked for them under certain light, it barely showed.
She traced her fingers down her sternum. With treatment, the scars on her chest had faded so that the injury was less mangled looking. Her inner breasts had been pocked with acid burns all the way into the mammary tissue, which she'd managed to restore somewhat. The scarring, however, was permanent. The best she could do was treat them so that the scar tissue was elastic and add cumulative glamours so the injury would fade and become less discolored and painful looking.
It was three in the morning when her ring burned.
Draco appeared the instant she stepped into the shack and apparated them. She found herself crushed against the wall as his lips found hers, and he ravenously kissed her.
She gripped him tightly, running her hands along his shoulders, desperate for the feel of him. Her fingertips were overly-sensitive from all the new skin she'd regrown.
She gave a low whimper against his lips as his hands slid up her throat to cradle her jaw, and he drew back to study her, his sharp eyes taking in every detail of her face.
Someday I am going to love him in a moment that isn't stolen, she promised herself.
"You're alright? You've been alright?" he asked, studying her.
"Yes. I'm fine. I'm fine. Are you alright? Have you been hurt at all?" She gripped his hands in hers.
Draco dropped his forehead against hers. They stood for a minute before he slipped his hands free and turned her face up to study her eyes again. She knew she looked tired, and thinner, and grey from staying indoors with little sunshine. She gave him a wan smile as she met his gaze.
"I should have called you sooner." His fingers were tracing along her cheekbones as though he expected her to shatter in his hands.
She shook her head.
"It wouldn't have been worth the risk. We shouldn't be doing this now. I shouldn't have come," she said as her hold on his robes tightened. She drew his mouth down against hers. As he kissed her, he pulled her away from the wall and walked her backwards towards the bed.
The steady tick of the clock on the wall felt like a countdown.
She usually unbuttoned his clothing, or pulled at it until the buttons gave away, but instead she pulled her wand out and muttered a spell she'd used a thousand times in the hospital ward. His clothing flickered and phased off of him. She repeated the spell on her own clothes.
"Efficient," he said under his breath as his hand slid up her bare spine.
She gave a breathy gasp as his skin pressed against hers."I don't want to waste time."
She ran her fingers along his neck and down over his shoulders. She was so desperate she could feel her heart pounding inside her chest as he arched her body against his chest and kissed across her breasts and down her stomach as he pushed her back into the bed.
She reached for him, pulling on his shoulders. "Please, Draco—we don't have time to go slow. I can't come back tomorrow."
He lifted his mouth from her hip, and she ran her fingers along his jaw, feeling the faint stubble under her fingertips. She pulled him back up her body and traced her fingers lightly across the back of his neck as she kissed him, parting her legs and wrapping them around his hips.
She didn't close her eyes. She kept them open and studied him, memorising everything in his face. She watched the way his eyes flickered and changed colour when the pupils dilated, silver, grey, mercury, diamond, and ice. She wanted to commit to memory the way he felt under her hands; the tendons in his neck and the curvature of his bones; the taste of his skin and the scent of oak moss and papyrus and cedar in his skin when she buried her face in his shoulder.
He entwined their fingers as he pushed inside her. His expression was of possessive, searing adoration and a hunger that she could feel in her soul.
She kissed him. She closed her eyes as she kissed him.
Don't let this be the last time. Don't let this be the last time. She said it to herself over and over again as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Afterwards, Draco had her gathered against his chest, his head resting against the top of hers, his fingers drawing runes and patterns across her skin.
I'm going to take care of you. I'm always going to take care of you. I'm going to take care of you. I'm going to take care of you.
The words were silent, but she could hear them in the shifting of the air, and feel the faint, rapid movement of his jaw as he mouthed them. Over and over again, until her throat felt thick.
She closed her eyes for several minutes before she sat up and stared intently at Draco.
As he looked up at her, his quicksilver eyes were guarded. She studied him, memorising him; this aspect of him that was hers alone.
She entwined her fingers with his and traced her over-sensitive fingertips along the ridges of his knuckles. Her mouth twitched, and she hesitated.
"Draco," she finally said, "there's a chance—we're hoping, that the war will end at Hogwarts. We don't—we aren't sure how much longer we're going to last, if it doesn't."
His fingers twitched.
"If it doesn't—" she gave a tight, half-sobbed laugh, "—well, we'll just keep trying then, I suppose. But—if it is. If this is the beginning of the end of the war, you—" she bit her lip and hesitated, "—your vow to aid the Order will be fulfilled, and if you stay and try to keep your cover in place to help us, you may risk violating the secondary vow you made. So—all that to say, if Harry manages to defeat You-Know-Who on Tuesday, you have to go,"—she looked up from his hand and met his eyes—"you have to run."
Draco's expression didn't so much as ripple.
Hermione looked down and played with the ring on his hand. "I—there will be things I'll be needed for, so I wouldn't—I won't be able to go with you—if we win. But you should go anyway."
Draco scoffed. "I'm not going to leave without you, Granger, I'll—"
Her throat tightened. She pressed her fingers to his lips and met his eyes. "You have to run. If you're caught—I might not be able to protect you. If you're put on trial, even with Moody and I testifying for you, you could still be kissed or executed. If he dies—as soon as he dies—go. You'll finally be free. It will be your life, Draco."
He sat up, his expression contemptuous. "I'm never leaving you behind."
Hermione's stomach dropped, and she shook her head, looking down. "I've been thinking about this for a while. Draco, I have to stay. My job starts after the battles. At the end—things could be messy. The Death Eaters will be desperate. You'd be a high priority to catch, and I don't know if I'll be able to protect you—there—there will be a lot that will come out."
He leaned forwards and gripped her hand. "You're mine. Now and after the war. Your oath, you swore it."
"I am." She looked up and met his eyes. "I promised you always, and I meant it. Always, always, as long as I live. But—," her chest tightened, and her jaw trembled, "—I won't be ready to go when you'll need to. I don't want you to risk getting caught because you're waiting for me."
Draco's eyes narrowed into slits. "How long do you expect I'd be waiting?"
Hermione's eyes dropped. "I don't know. That's why I want you to go without me."
"You have an idea, I'm sure."
She shook her head. "I don't know how fast things will move. It might be that I'll have chance to leave once the hospital quiets. But—if we have prisoners and victims from Sussex, I'll be the one responsible to care for them—last time—last year, it was several months. Trials could start by then, and then—I might not be able to—to leave. I don't want to have to worry you'll try to come for me and get caught."
"You're referring to your trial; for your alleged war crimes." His tone was accusing.
Hermione looked away. "I'm sure it won't be for long. Once I'm free—I'll go somewhere you can find me. This—it will be good for you—to have some time to find yourself on your own."
"Is that why you came tonight? Because you wanted to say this to me?" There was a derisive drawl in his tone.
He gripped her hand and pulled her towards him until their faces were almost touching and slid a hand up her throat.
"You're mine. Mine. You swore it. Your fucking Order sold you to me to buy themselves time. If anyone tries to put you in a cell to make themselves heroic, I will kill them."
He didn't wait for her to respond; he kissed her as though he were trying to brand her with his lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
When the hands on the clock pointed to five sharp, she drew back. "I have to go. I have more work."
She redressed quickly and drew her wand to apparate. Then she hesitated and stepped towards Draco.
"Be careful, Draco. And just—keep in mind what I said, if you get a chance—"
His expression was so hard he could have been carved from marble. "I'll see you after the battle."
Her fingers twitched. "Please, be careful, Draco."
Don't die. The unspoken words hang in the air.
She swallowed and apparated away.
Grimmauld Place was almost throbbing with nervous activity. There were dozens of Resistance leaders whose names Hermione didn't even know in the war room, meeting with Moody and the rest of the Order. The attack was being planned as both a rescue and final confrontation.
Hermione was in the hospital ward working on preparations with Poppy, Padma, and the other field healers and nurses the Resistance had.
In the middle of the afternoon, Bill's Irish Setter patronus came bounding into Grimmauld Place in search of Moody. Alastor left, leaving Remus and Tonks to run the meetings for an hour.
Hermione went to visit Ginny. It was off-schedule, but she didn't know how much time she'd have for the next several days.
She handed Ginny a counter-potion for the spattergroit glamour and flicked her wand to remove the additional glamour spells on Ginny's stomach.
"How are you?" she asked, sitting down as Ginny's skin cleared, and her stomach slowly swelled into a bump set low in her pelvis.
"Bored out of my mind, especially when I can hear everyone rushing around out there getting ready for tomorrow," Ginny said. Her face was pensive and regretful, but her eyes were bright. "Do you think it really could be the final battle?"
Hermione twitched a shoulder and looked away. "If it's not, I don't know what we're going to do."
"Here, he's awake. You can feel him kicking." Ginny caught Hermione's hand and pressed it against her stomach, just above her hip bone. There was a pause, then Hermione felt a faint flutter under her palm.
"Feel that?" Ginny said.
"Yes, I felt it." There was another flutter and then stillness for several minutes.
"He probably went to sleep " Ginny said, making a face. "You should feel him at night, I think he does somersaults."
"I wonder where he gets his insomniac troublemaking genes from," Hermione said in a dry voice as she stroked her fingers along Ginny's stomach.
"Can you imagine him at Hogwarts someday after the war is over?" Ginny's eyes were shining.
Hermione met Ginny's gaze and managed a wan smile as she withdrew her hand. "I pity the professors."
Hermione waved her wand and brought up all the diagnostics.
Ginny put her hand on Hermione's wrist. "You don't need to. I've been practicing, and I can pretty much do all the checkups. Just—talk to me. How's Harry? Is Ron alright? Have you seen Mum lately? I've got all these letters from them, but it's always just half the story."
"Harry is—," Hermione hesitated and put her wand away, "Well, he's doing better at the moment. Padma and I have had him in the hospital ward for the last few weeks, to get his weight up and monitor his sleep. So, he—he's seeming a bit better, I think. He still has a lot of nightmares, I've been trying to get him to practice occlumency, but he won't listen to me about it. With the attack coming up, he's finally stopped sneaking out and getting into fights. But he's making up for it by smoking more." Hermione gave a small sigh. "He's been very quiet lately, even with Ron."
Hermione fidgeted with her nails. "Ron's—Ron's holding on. He knows Harry is relying on him, but he's still broken-hearted over Lavender, and he still thinks Kingsley's death is his fault. But he's—he's holding on."
"Do you think it's going to work tomorrow?"
Hermione felt as though there were a pit of acid in her stomach. "Well—the Arithmancy numbers are good. Flitwick and Minerva both looked over my theory, and so far we haven't heard anything that indicates it's blown up prematurely." Her heart was pounding violently in her chest, and she kept speaking more and more rapidly. "If it doesn't go off, most of the Resistance is going to be there waiting and—"
"I wasn't referring to your part. I meant, do you think the Order can win tomorrow?"
Hermione swallowed, her mouth dry. "We're going to try." She looked towards the door. "Ginny, I really can't stay. I'm supposed to take Dreamless Sleep and get a few hours of rest before tomorrow. I still have a thousand things to do."
"Oh right. Of course." Ginny deflated. "I won't keep you."
Hermione pulled out vials of potion to restore the spattergroit glamours and watched carefully to ensure they took effect properly.
"I'll let you know how it goes, as soon as we know," Hermione said, glancing towards the door.
"Tell Harry I love him. Tell him I believe in him," Ginny's voice trembled.
Hermione turned back and gave her a small smile. "I will."
It was the earliest hours of morning when groups of the Resistance started heading out towards Scotland. Hermione went to triple-check the potion inventories. Padma had already checked the inventory, but there were some potions Padma didn't know about that Hermione wanted to count the stores on. She was halfway through her count when she felt her personal wards breached.
She snapped a compartment closed and was recounting Skele-Gro vials when Harry appeared at the door.
She paused and looked over at him.
Harry rarely came to see her before he left. He'd leave on missions without a word, as though leaving things open-ended meant they'd surely carry on once he came back. Or he'd stop by to give quick, "I'm heading out. See you in two weeks."
There was never any mention of risk. It was like the summer holidays in school. Just a brief parting. The reunion was always regarded as inevitable.
He looked different. His stay in the hospital ward had gotten his features to fill out slightly, and his eyes seemed less dull and sunken. His colouring was pale but not so grey.
There was a pensive forlornness about him. The skinny boy in oversized clothes with broken glasses, who bought a trolley cart worth of snacks for his friend. He felt bruised. Not physically, but emotionally; as though he'd been beaten into the ground.
Hermione studied him in silence for several seconds.
"What is it, Harry?"
Her voice was soft, cautious. A voice she'd learned in the hospital ward.
The corner of his mouth twitched, and he cocked his head to the side. "I think this is going to be it."
Hermione gave him a small smile. "I hope so. I hope we're right about this."
"I—," Harry started to speak and then fell silent. He fidgeted with the knob on the door. "I—I'm going to try to kill him. I haven't told anyone else. But I keep thinking about the prophecy. If it's real, I have to kill him. I don't think I can fight this war again."
Hermione stepped over and took his hand, entwining her fingers with his and staring into his eyes.
"I believe in you, Harry. I told you when you were eleven that you were a great wizard. I've never stopped believing it."
Harry gave her a wan smile, but it faded as quickly as it appeared. He stared at her, and he seemed almost like a ghost. As though her fingers might suddenly fall through his hand.
"Hermione, I think I'm going to die today."
Hermione stared at him. She'd never heard him say anything like that before. No matter the battle, no matter the injury, no matter the odds; Harry had always believed they'd make it to the next day.
"No!" Her voice cracked like a whip. "No. The whole Order and most of the a Resistance is going to be there—"
"Hermione—" Harry interrupted her with a firm voice. He let out a low breath and looked down at their hands. "I can feel it. I thought—for awhile I thought there would be more—" his shoulder twitched, and his lips pressed together. "—that winning would just be the beginning. But—I'm—I think you're right. You were always right. The war—is going to be all there is for me."
Hermione felt as though she'd been struck. She gripped his hand tighter. "That's not how I meant it, Harry. That's not how I ever meant it. You cannot go to Hogwarts today with this mindset. This will work. I swear—the equations were perfect—I checked them a hundred times. We can win. You can do this. Ginny's waiting for you—"
"Hermione, stop." Harry cut her off. "I need to say all this before I go."
He drew a sharp breath. "I'm sorry it took me so long to believe you. I wanted you to be wrong about it all. I didn't realise how angry I was at you just because I wanted you to be wrong. I just—I don't have time to make it up to you."
He was speaking faster and faster as though he were running out of time. As though he could see the remaining minutes of his life, and there were few.
"I know I shouldn't be here asking you for anything but—but—I want to ask you to take care of Ginny for me. In case I die." His hold on her hand tightened more. "I don't know what's going to happen today. I want to know someone will take care of her. She can't protect herself if she's sick, but I know you'll—you'll—you'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe. I want to know she'll be alright, no matter what happens. I know if she's with you, she will be."
"Harry—you'll come back."
Irritation flashed in Harry's eyes, but before he could speak, there was a noise beyond the door.
Hermione looked up to find Ron poking his head through the door. "Harry, we've gotta go. Everyone's waiting downstairs."
"Right. I'm coming." Harry let go and stepped back. He gave Hermione one last look and a small salute before headed down the stairs. Hermione watched him until his head vanished from sight.
Ron lingered until Hermione looked back at him. "He alright?"
Hermione's eyes dropped away. "He wanted me to promise to take care of Ginny, in case he dies today. Ron, watch him."
Ron's expression tightened, but he seemed unsurprised. "I will. Wherever Harry goes, I'll never be more than a few steps behind him."
Her mouth opened before she knew what to say. "Ron. Be careful, Ron." She reached for him. "Bring him back."
He gave her a crooked smile that didn't reach his eyes.
He was so aged by the war. His narrow face was gaunt. His cheekbones jutted out, and his features were lined. The grey streaks in his hair had grown thicker. He looked so much older than twenty-two. Lavender's death had extinguished some of the light in him.
Hermione hadn't even known. Hadn't noticed the relationship until it was gone.
His pale blue eyes still had steel in them. "I bring him back every mission. That's my job." He glanced towards the stairs, and Hermione could tell his mind was on the day ahead. "Take care, Mione. This one could hit hospital ward hard."
She gave a shaky nod.
"Right. Well, they're waiting for me now." Ron rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment and turned to leave.
Hermione stood alone in the potion cabinet, trying to remember when they had stopped hugging each other goodbye.