Disclaimers: Dark themes, police state ideas, mention of spousal abuse (including rape) on and off-screen, death of minor characters, graphic imagery and violence, frank sex discussion, copious bad language, bashing the fucking Weasley's and Dumbledore, liberties taken with mythical history.
***
Enola was utterly mindless, frantically racing around from room to room and putting everyone more on edge than they needed to be ... and they were bad enough as it was. Hermione was flirting with the idea of subduing her magically, if only for her own good. If it wasn't for the fact that she was clutching onto her baby wherever she went, Hermione would have probably taken that extreme option by now. She understood her anxiety completely, but Hermione was in no mood to argue with her friend.
"Sit down, Enola! You are not coming ... and that's final!" Hermione told her firmly, for at least the third time. She accepted her battle robes from Sally and stripped out of her regular clothes.
"You can't stop me! That's my husband out there!"
"And that's your daughter, crying for her mother!" Hermione shot back, nodding at Alison, balling away on her shoulder. "Her need is greater than Neville's right now. So go to her!"
Enola tried to argue, but she couldn't think of one strong enough. So she just fumed for a moment instead, then went to comfort her daughter.
"In any case," Hermione went on, fastening the dragon-teeth toggles of her robe as fast as her trembling fingers would allow. "With Harry out of action, and Neville in action, the defence of the palace falls to you. Your place is here."
"But Neville ..."
"Can take care of himself!" Hermione cried, cutting her off shrilly. "And he's not alone in the fight. Besides, I'll be there myself in the next few minutes if you leave me be!"
"And what do you intend to do?" asked Enola. "We've only had a few days of combat training together ... you aren't anything like ready to lead a rescue mission!"
Hermione turned fiercely to her. "Do you have any better ideas? Will you force Harry to wake and go in my place?"
They both looked over at the bed near the window, where Harry was sleeping peacefully away, blissfully unaware of the dramatic events unfolding in his world.
Enola frowned. "You know I wont. He's still not recovered enough of his strength yet. His body shuts down in this mode, pretty much to a coma-like state, to allow his mind and magic to heal. He comes out of it when he's ready and able ... it isn't something I can force."
"Then I have to go, there isn't another choice," Hermione replied stoutly.
"There is," Enola tried again. "You stay and I go."
"And potentially deprive that little girl of both her parents?!" Hermione volleyed back, hotly. "Not if I have any say in it, Ennie ... not in a million."
Enola opened her mouth again, but she had finally run out of arguments. She sat on the edge of Harry's bed and practically willed him to wake up ... but he just slept on soundly.
"What will you try and do?" Enola asked quietly.
"I'm not going to try anything," Hermione declared powerfully. "I'm going to find Neville and the others ... and together we'll rescue Luna, if she's still alive. Now that he's started this reckless action we might as well finish it. Then I'll burn that infernal place to the ground ... and if that fucking husband of mine is still inside it, so much the better! If not, at least I can get some closure by blowing the place to High Heaven!"
Hermione looked angrily at the piece of parchment on the desk. She eyed the single word, written in a nervous, bloodstained script ... and her restless anger bloomed again.
Hengest ... Home sweet fucking home.
"Please hurry, Hermione," Enola groaned, desperately. "Don't let them kill my Nev ... don't let them take him from me ... I don't know if I can face a world without him!"
Hermione darted forwards and snatched the baby from Enola before she dropped her on her head. For Enola had suddenly forgotten how to breathe. She slid faintly from the bed to crumple on her knees, weeping profusely into the mattress. Hermione handed Alison to Sally, who cooed to her and took her to a safe corner.
"I'll bring Neville back," Hermione vowed faithfully, clutching Enola's tear-wracked body tight to her own. "I promise."
Just then, Cassie skidded into the nursery. She handed Hermione a handful of what looked like red ball-bearings.
"Magical bombs," Cassie explained to Hermione's confused look. "Condensed Explosive Hex in each one. Just aim and throw ... and they'll take down the thickest of walls with one a hell of a bang! They really kick-ass ... I think you'll find them handy."
"Thanks," Hermione grinned, as she pocketed the little ball bearings.
"Good luck ... my Lady!" Cassie smiled with a little bow. "Arianwen and I are prepping the infirmary ... just in case you can liberate some survivors from the Camp. I have to get back to it."
Enola whined on the ground next to them. Hermione took a steeling breath, then she summoned Rhian, who appeared with a crack. She didn't speak, just nodded at Hermione, who clutched her wand tightly in her shivering grip.
"We will be back," Hermione promised to Enola as she looked up at her. "But ... if anything does go wrong ... take care of my Harry for me, wont you? Tell him I lo -"
"You'll tell him that yourself!" Enola snapped back. "A promise is a promise, Min!"
Hermione took another heaving lung of air ... and nodded curtly. Then Rhian took her hand and whipped her away in a whirl of colour.
***
The Hengest Interment Camp courtyard was in utter disarray.
As Hermione materialised into the chaos and melee she found there, she didn't know quite which way to turn first. After all, she'd never seen the camp like this before. It was totally devastated. She looked one way and saw Frank Longbottom, furiously duelling with a trio of Section Seven Agents on his own ... and winning. There were even reserves waiting to take up the fight when one of their comrades fell to Frank's wand.
Just to the right of him, Owain Glyndwr Jones was spinning his arms aloft high above his head ... and conjuring an actual hurricane ... sending Death Eaters spinning away from him at literal breakneck speed. Their bodies were breaking against a nearby palisade wall, the wooden spikes of which were already soaked crimson with Death Eater blood.
Then there was Patrick O'Brien and David Pincott ... who were literally on fire. They were like two men made out of pure, red-hot flame ... burning and searing any enemies who were stupid enough to stray across their paths. Beyond them, Hermione could see Angharad and Myfanwy, back-to-back, at the eye of their own personal storm. They were sending out spiralling waves of a magical force so powerful that they were cutting through the brickwork of a prison block nearby like a circular saw. Hermione watched the display in abject awe, then she saw Neville trying to push his way through an opening the girls had created.
"Rhian! Take me there!" Hermione commanded. "Right to Neville!"
And the elf obeyed. In a quick flash of light, Hermione was at Neville's side. She slashed her wand through the air and two Death Eaters nearby were blasted back at least twenty feet, where they lay quite motionless in an awkward heap. Neville span to look at Hermione, deeply startled to see her.
"Hermione? What are you doing here?" Neville cried. "Don't tell me that you and Ennie -"
"No, it's just me ... Ennie's still back at home," Hermione replied. "Though I think you're probably safer here than you are there! You know that Enola is going to kill you for this little stunt, don't you? That's if you can get out of here in one piece."
"I can handle a telling off, so long as we get what we came here for," Neville frowned. He was sporting a black eye and a split lip. "But you shouldn't be here. Harry will be pissed with every single one of us when he finds out."
"He'll be pissed if any of us die," Hermione corrected him, angrily. "You shouldn't have done this, Neville. Not without planning it properly first."
"At the risk of sounding dismissive, Hermione, but I've been doing this sort of thing for a lot longer than you," Neville retorted. "I know what I'm doing ... and Harry trusts me to make decisions -"
"He'd have never agreed to you doing this without him!" Hermione cut him off sternly. "And you know it! You're trying to play the hero in his absence ... and he's bad enough at that as it is!"
Neville guffawed at that. "Yeah, he is a bit hit-and-miss isn't he! So, what now?"
"We have to get everyone out of here before one of us gets killed," Hermione scowled. "That's your role now, do you think you can stick to my orders, if you wont listen to Harry's?"
"We're not leaving ... not without Luna," Neville insisted, unmovingly. "We've taken all this risk just to get her back ... and none of us are leaving until we have her."
"I'll find her," said Hermione. "I have a much better chance than anyone at that."
"How do you work that one out?"
"Nev ... I lived here for over two years," Hermione seethed. "I had to accompany Ron on his weekly inspections of the camp facilities. I know my way around the network of tunnels, and workhouses and torture suites better than most of the senior guards. I know all the blind spots, too, so I've got a better chance of sneaking around unnoticed than any of us. I'm the best option ... you have to see that."
"You even being here shouldn't have been an option to start with," Neville huffed. "Look out!"
Neville pushed Hermione behind a wall and flicked a powerful spell at a Death Eater guard who had spotted them. He crumpled to the floor where he'd been standing, quite dead. Then Neville looked back at Hermione, battling with his indecision.
"Oh, for fuck's sake ... just go!" Hermione commanded, losing her patience with him finally. "I know how to take care of myself. Just be ready to get us the hell out of here once I have Luna."
"Alright, fine," Neville huffed back at her. "Right, we know that this is the High Security wing ... and that all the Potter Supporters are being imprisoned here. Find Luna, get her out, then we go.
"Just know this, Hermione ... we have to find Luna, but if we cant get her out, we must make sure that she cant tell Section Seven what she knows about Harry. If we can't reach her ... then we have to silence her. She cant give up her secrets, they're too vital to our final plan and, as much as I'd hate myself for doing it, I will make sure she doesn't. I have to be absolutely clear on that ...
" ... you have fifteen minutes ... then I'm gathering everyone up and we're coming in with everything we have."
Hermione faced Neville square-on, staring at him fiercely.
"I'll be out in ten."
Then Hermione raced into the undercroft of the building and Neville darted off across the smashed courtyard.
***
It was oddly quiet down here, the air cool and prickly with moisture. Hermione could still hear the ferocious battle raging outside, but it was dim and dull and little more than background noise now. The cracks and bangs, the screams, the crashes of falling brickwork, it was all going on above her ... but Hermione felt somehow detached from it all. She was set to task, focused on a singular goal, one she felt was within her remit. Fighting and duelling was the domain of Harry, and Neville, even Angharad and Myfanwy.
But covert resistance ... this was something far more up Hermione's street.
And she could use put her insider knowledge of the camp to real use now. It was almost as though, in a perverse sort of way, something good might actually come from her own time as a prisoner here, as though the universe had sent her here for a reason ... to learn to survive ... and to come out with a new sort of power and influence at the other end. She may have lived in the big house on the perimeter, but she'd had just as few freedoms as the poor souls trapped within these dank walls, faced just as bleak a future ... and was just as much under the heel of the Commandant as any of they could claim to be.
But now she had a chance to wreak her first act of vengeance on him ... for all of those whose life he had made a misery. And Hermione hoped it would be the first of many such little victories for her.
Though she couldn't sense Ron's presence yet. He wasn't here ... somehow Hermione could tell that. She felt emboldened by the sensation, as she realised that her perceptive abilities had come with her from The Blue Palace. It wasn't just a skill she could use there ... it was a talent she carried inside, one that Harry had awoken within her. She felt inordinately close to him just then, as though he were right there at her side, guiding her through this maze of shadowy corridors with his blinding, ever-supportive light showing her the way.
Though in truth, the map of the place was so ingrained into her memory that Hermione felt she would have known her way around in the dark.
She darted along at a brisk pace, never missing a turn. She hurried past the interrogation suites, ignored the groans for help from the prisoners held in windowless cells, and descended down metal spiral staircases into the very bowels of the building. She just knew that this was the right way to go. She hid in alcoves when she had to, breathless until the guards rushed past, slipped through intermittent circles of candlelight and shadow, all the while getting closer to her quarry.
And then, eventually, she turned a corner and knew she had arrived at the right place.
There was only one cell here, right at the far end and it was crammed to bursting point with prisoners. Hermione's senses tightened focus, honed in on the signal she was looking for ... and she found it, weak and fragile, but undoubtedly still alive.
I'm coming, Luna! Hermione thought desperately.
And she sped off, but she hadn't moved more than a few feet when, quite abruptly, a couple of guards Apparated right in front of her, blocking her path. She cursed bitterly to herself ... she'd forgotten about the motion detectors down here. It was a silly mistake to make. She had scant minutes before the place would be crawling with more guards ... so she had to dispatch these two quickly.
They flung curses at her, but Hermione's battle robes absorbed them as if they were nothing. She cast a Blasting Curse in response, cracking both their pelvises in half with one spell. Enola had taught her that one first, as it was a personal favourite of Harry's. It seemed fitting for her to use it now ... as though casting it on his behalf. The guards screeched in agony and Hermione advanced on them. She raised her wand again, ready to finish them ... but faced with the enormity of the act, Hermione hesitated. And in that same moment, one of the guards flicked his wand at her ...
... but a spark of magic from the dark took his life he got to finish the spell. Hermione span around and gasped.
"Sally! What are you doing here?"
"Look after Lady Hermione at all costs!" said the elf vivaciously, emerging from the shadows. "Master Harry be very specific with Sally! And if it mean going into battle at her Mistress' side, then that what Sally must do!"
Hermione knelt down and hugged her elf. "Then you stick with me!"
"Yes, my Lady! ... Lady Hermione, where are we's?" Sally whispered.
"There are people trapped down here," said Hermione, moving along the corridor again. "One of them is an old friend of ours that we need to rescue. Once we find her, we have to get her to safety. But I'm not sure if there's an easy way out ..."
"No ... there isn't ..."
A hated voice from a hidden spot near the cell door ... a flash of green ... and Hermione felt Sally's magic push her clear and out of the way. The spell missed Hermione by an inch ... but hit her elf instead, connecting at a high point near her shoulder and ripping her arm violently from her body. Sally screeched in pitiful agony, before slumping against the wall and whimpering softly.
"Sally!"
Hermione raced over to her. Blood was shooting out from the wound, surrounding the little elf in an astonishing pool of oozing darkness. Hermione was mindless at the sight, shocked by how much blood could be contained in such a fragile, tiny little thing.
Sally blinked up slowly ... the light was dimming fast in her eyes and dark bubbles were popping at the corners of her little mouth.. "La-lady Hum-iron -"
"Don't speak, just be still," Hermione whispered, casting the swiftest, strongest healing spells she knew onto the open wound. She had no idea if they had worked ... after all, she'd never tried to fix the damage from a such a vicious Curse before.
"Sa ... Sally done good? Sally s-save Master Harry's favrit ... est ... wuh ..."
And her words tailed off in a raspy breath. Hermione heard hideous laughter from the end of the corridor and she stood ... riled, roused, pumping with the most furious emotion she had ever felt in her entire life. She marched towards the laughter, ferocious anger burning in her veins, tears boiling in her eyes and breaking on her cheeks like lava. She glowered at the source of the evil spell ... and the forked tongue that had cast it.
"You're a long way from home, Granger. Or, funnily enough, really close to it. I always said I'd get you down here, didn't I?"
"Malfoy," Hermione hissed with every bit of acidic bile she could muster. "You should be careful what you wish for, you know, because I have no intention of dying by your hand today. Or any day, actually. Imagine the shame! How could I look Harry in the face, knowing I had been bested by a man who couldn't lay a single spell on him, when he had eight cronies to help him out!? The shame, I tell you."
"Ah, yes, where is Potter?" Malfoy sneered, stalking forwards into a pool of dull amber light, cast by a dirty candle hanging from the low ceiling. His shoulders rolled menacingly as his komodo dragon-infused body edged closer, his wand gleaming in his fist. Hermione steeled herself against his approach, gripping her own wand tightly ... ready to strike.
"Oh, I told Harry not to bother himself with this fight," Hermione taunted. "Told him to save his strength for wizards who might actually pose a threat ..."
Malfoy bristled, then flicked a surprise spell at Hermione, sending a jet of purple light rocketing in her direction. She dodged it and fired a Blasting Hex in reply. Malfoy side-stepped it somewhat lazily, but it still smashed a hole in the wall above his shoulder. He shook off the brick dust where it fell onto his robe.
"I see you've developed some claws, Mudblood," Malfoy drawled, spinning his wand. "So much the better. This might actually be fun."
And then it began. Malfoy rattled off four or five curses in quick succession, but Hermione easily deflected or dodged them. Enola's duelling advice was ringing in her ears ... you'll win if you don't get hit. She would be in the fight as long she wasn't struck. But Malfoy's spells were powerful ... some thundered into Hermione's Shield Charms and almost broke through. One even clipped the hem of her battle dress, but the runes absorbed the magical energy, recycled it through the enchantments and sent it flowing back through the fabric, fortifying the protections.
And despite the power of Malfoy's early spells, Hermione quickly realised that she could hold him off. Malfoy's magic was strong ... but hers was stronger. Not only that, but she was more physically nimble, lithe ... she danced and span away from a series of lightening blasts, which crashed into the walls, but did her no damage at all.
Then one took her by surprise, hitting her right in the gut. She doubled up, winded ... but the spell had done only superficial damage. The battledress had done its job again. And Hermione realised something else as she assessed her injury, flexing her tummy as she allowed herself to feel the dull ache of the spell impact and quickly master it.
Malfoy was weakening.
These spells were costing him huge amounts of energy. Like a heavyweight boxer throwing all his best punches early on, Malfoy was fast running out of steam. Attack after attack was being repelled, but apart from the prospect of a bit of a bruised belly, Hermione was still full of energy and zeal. She felt deft and springy, whereas Malfoy was breathing heavily as he lumbered through the gloom towards her.
"Is that all you have?" Hermione taunted with a mirthless laugh, ducking clear of another wayward curse. "Merlin! If I'd known you were this much of a pussy, Draco, I'd have smacked you around years ago!"
"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Mudblood ... getting smacked about?" Malfoy sneered, firing off another angry bolt that Hermione had to conjure a golden shield to deflect. It connected with a clanging gong, as both shield and bolt vanished before them.
"Yeah, but at least Ron managed to hurt me," Hermione spat back, viciously . "You haven't even made a dent! Fancy a Malfoy being out-bullied by a Weasley? Your family might disown you for that."
Malfoy roared and cast a gout of fire from his wand. Hermione Apparated clear, quick as a flash ... reappearing right next to Malfoy. He had crumbled to one knee with the effort of the last spell, and he looked up in shock at Hermione's sudden appearance next to him.
"Here, let me show you what I learned from Ron."
And with that, Hermione balled up her fist and drove it fiercely into Malfoy's face, magic be damned. He fell back and hit the floor with a thud. Hermione advanced on him, then stamped brutally on his head ... three, four, five times. Malfoy whimpered in pain and stretched out vainly for his lost wand ... but Hermione kicked out hard at his wrist. She heard it break with a satisfying crack. Malfoy rolled over and cradled his injured arm ... and Hermione loomed over him a moment ... before stomping repeatedly on the shattered limb as hard as she could.
Anger was her master now ... she saw only red ... had eyes only for destruction. She looked over at Sally, her arm severed and bleeding out next to that astonishing lake of blood. She had to get back to her ... just in case. And as much as she would have liked to tortured Malfoy a little longer, Hermione had this duel won. The clock was against her ... and Enola's words rang in her mind again.
"Like Harry says - don't toy with your prey. When the fight is done ... finish it quickly."
Hermione looked down with pitiless eyes, then rolled Malfoy and his broken body flat with her boot. She felt nothing as she stared down at his blood-mangled face ... not a shred of regret over the violent assault she had visited upon him.
Then she raised her wand again ... prepared to take life for the first time ... then suddenly she was struck with a better idea.
"First a lesson in brutality from Ron," Hermione taunted. "Now for something more artistic that Harry taught me ... I think you'll like it."
She cast the Immobulus Charm. Malfoy was held fast, and Hermione braced his throat with her knee a moment to place the tip of her wand right between his eyes ... then slowly, painfully, she began to slice.
Malfoy hissed and spat at her, but he could make no impression of any kind, stuck motionless as he was by the potency of Hermione's magic. Thirty seconds of agony later, and Hermione stepped back to admire her handiwork.
"There! A nice, deep, lightening-shaped cut ... just like Harry has!" Hermione spat. "And, just so your Boss knows who gave it to you, just so he knows who you failed to beat ... again ... I've signed our initials over your eyes ... well, they aren't my initials yet ... but they will be. True, my P is a little wonky, but I think Tom'll get the gist.
"Ron never told me, but how many times is a Death Eater allowed to fail Voldemort, before you cease to be useful to him, Draco? You should have been spliced with a pussy-cat, not a dragon, you know ... at least then you'd have gotten nine chances to fuck up before he ran out of patience with you for good."
"Too scared to finish me, Mudblood?" Malfoy hissed. "Too much of a coward for that, are you? Too scared to kill?"
"On the contrary, I've done far more than just kill you, Draco ... far more than beat you ... I've hurt you," Hermione whispered dangerously. "And I wish to go on hurting you. You'll make good practice for when I finally get my wand on Ron ... and you'll have to live with the knowledge that you're only my warm-up for a Weasley. Well, so long as Voldemort doesn't end your worthless life for me."
"Sally!"
There was a rush of air, the hearty moan of a mother seeing her child viciously wounded, and Hermione span around to look at them both. Rhian had appeared and flopped down at Sally's motionless side. Hermione flicked a lazy Knock-out Hex at Malfoy, whose head bounced as it hit the stone floor, then Hermione rushed back to Sally and clutched at her body ... and felt a weak pulse refusing to give up. But the elf was so cold. Ragged breaths left her tiny lungs and Hermione knew that time was short. She Summoned the severed arm to her, hoping they might find a way to reattach it later.
But the older elf was senseless before her grief.
"She dead! She dead! Mys beautiful Sally bes killed!"
"Rhian! Calm yourself!" said Hermione, firmly. "She's not dead ... there's still time to save her!"
"She ... not dead?" Rhian cried, hopefully.
"No, but she's badly hurt," said Hermione. "You need to get her back to the palace right away. Do it quickly."
"But why she even here?" Rhian whimpered. "She just a baby elf. No place for a baby in fighting!"
"She came to look after me," Hermione squeaked, guiltily. "She took a curse for me ... she was so brave. But she needs your help now. Get her home ... take her straight to Enola ... she'll know what to do."
"Yes! Yes, Lady Longbottom will fix my Sally! Then I spank her for being so foolish when she wake up!"
Hermione chuckled. "Just get her out of here."
"What about yous?"
"I still have to work to do," said Hermione.
Hermione jumped up, kissed Rhian on the head and darted along the corridor, fishing around in Draco Malfoy's pockets as the two elves disappeared from the scene. She found the key to the cell and jammed it into the lock, before yanking the door open in a frenzy.
"Be quiet everyone!" Hermione screamed over the din that had greeted her entry. "I could tell you that you're all safe, but that would be a lie. I come with help, but we still have to fight our way out. Anyone not up for that might as well stay behind."
"The chance to fight is all we've asked for!" cried a random voice with considerable, angry passion.
Hermione smirked. "Good, then follow me. If you find any weapons on the way, pick them up. This will not be pretty. Where is Luna? Luna Lovegood ... I know you're in here somewhere."
A thin, ragged woman was pushed forwards from the back of the room ... and Hermione gasped in horror at the sight of her old friend. She had sunken eyes, bruises everywhere, her bones were visible through her wispy, naked skin ... and they'd shaved off all her hair. In fact ... they'd shaved off everyone's hair. For some reason, that image struck Hermione harder than any of it.
"You stay with me, okay?" Hermione whispered to Luna, taking off her battledress and throwing it over Luna's fragile shoulders. She didn't have the energy to respond ... Hermione wasn't even sure Luna knew who she was.
And then they were moving like a great wave. Someone swiped Draco Malfoy's wand from the floor, two others picked up the ones left by the Death Eater guards that Sally had taken care of earlier, and they hurried back through the maze of corridors towards the surface. They met no-one on the way, and everything was eerily silent ... too silent for Hermione's liking. They made their way, unchallenged, right back to the hole Neville had made earlier, and back out into the warm sunshine ...
Then Hermione halted and lost her breath ... for what looked like Voldemort's entire army was ranged against them in the vast prison courtyard.
It was a horribly breathtaking sight ... one that Hermione couldn't manage to blink clear from her vision. She glanced around for her support fighters ... Patrick O'Brien and Sir David Pincott were resting against the prison block wall, literally burned out from their fiery exertions ... Owain and Neville were casting healing runes into each other, while Frank and Myfanwy tended to an unconscious Angharad, who had a nasty burn across her face and chest, her own battledress torn open and smouldering from vicious spell damage.
And Hermione was hit with a shock of fear ... they had lost ... there was nowhere left to run.
They couldn't possibly get out of this. They were hemmed in with nowhere to go. And there were hundreds of wizards and witches ... maybe a thousand ... marching down on them, firing dummy spells and roaring with a deafening blood-lust fury. The din was horrifying. It was the end ... somehow, Hermione knew it ... knew it as certainly as she could tell night from day.
She didn't think death would look like this, or that it would feel so callous. Even in the worst of her times with Ron, she'd never honestly pictured the moment of her final demise. If she had, she was reasonably sure she wouldn't have felt as bitter about it as she did now. The last time she was in this camp, she might have welcomed death ... but now she railed against it, screamed internally for a way to keep her rampant heart beating for just another sunrise. It pumped harder as a response, rushing loud in her ears, as if trying to show it still had more to give, now her life had finally started going again.
Hermione was so unbelievably angry at the situation, at the universe, at herself ... that she actually laughed in her fury. She thought of all the things that she wouldn't get to do ... all the wrongs that she'd failed to right in her life. She'd only just begun to get her revenge on Malfoy for a life of tormenting, but she wouldn't get to face Ron. It was a bitter pill to concede victory to him.
And that, invariably, led Hermione to think of Harry.
She'd never see him again! Hermione screeched like a banshee at the heart-breaking thought, and hot tears stung her cheeks. She thought of all the time she'd lost with him ... all the kisses and love they could have shared ... if only they'd just opened up to each fully after that flight on Buckbeak.
For that was when it had truly come alive for her. She could have told Harry how she felt about him then ... or at any of the other million moments that came later. But there was always a later ... another time, another vague point in the future, when Hermione would finally find the courage to lay her heart open before her first and truest love ... there was always a tomorrow. Only now ... even that concept was about to be cruelly snatched away from her.
And what a beautiful tomorrow it had promised to be!
But Hermione found that she was still mindlessly miserable at the past ... wild with the despair that she'd never known when it all really started for Harry ... when he'd first felt that spark of passion ignite for her. Her heart ached with the knowledge that he'd never be able to tell her that story, as they cuddled up in bed together, while reading other stories to their firstborn baby ...
And that was another thing she'd never get to do ... be the mother to Harry's children, or enjoy the making of them with him. It was so fucking annoying! How dare the universe do this to her?! After all it had put her through already! She looked out across the courtyard, at the amassed faces there ... and wondered which one of the bastards would cast the spell that would take all these wonderful things away from her. She decided she would come back ... haunt them fuck out of them as the worst poltergeist ever ... drive them insane. It wasn't much as revenges went, but it was all she had.
But who would it be?"
Then she saw a hated face, locked gazes with a cold, lifeless set of eyes. Black eyes, like a doll's eyes. And black hair ... long, ruler-straight, framing the skin of a face so pale that it was as if the entire spectrum of colour had been pulled from her very world. She glowered at Hermione with dark sarcasm, as if she'd been waiting for an age to be noticed by her, as she stalked ever closer. And, as that spark of recognition bloomed between them, she pointed directly at Hermione with a malicious grin ... her meaning undoubtedly clear ...
Ginny ... Hermione was being chosen for murder by Ginevra fucking Weasley ... and the madness of the understanding drove her over the edge.
"Not in this life, you rancid little slut!"
Hermione wasn't done yet, there was still some fight left. Pulling her battledress back from Luna, she darted forwards, wand held aloft, and sent an angry curse arrowing across the courtyard ... but it merely collided with an intensely powerful defence ward, created by the magical fusion of all the combined Death Eaters, who were only fifty feet away now. Heads turned to look at Hermione in the ensuing moment of silence ... before they all laughed tauntingly at her. Then they began to sprint forwards, raising their wands, choosing their first curses. Hermione sighed and took a deep, rattling breath as she watched them race ever closer.
This was it ... this was the moment ... the point when everything would stop.
Hermione looked up to the sky and blinked away her last tears. "I love you, Harry ... and I'm sorry for everything. I love you."
And the sky erupted in response ...
***
The Death Eaters had suddenly stopped running ... and everything had fallen silent.
They skidded to a halt, where they were held frozen by the utter decimation of the atmosphere all around them. It forced them backwards, despite any resistance they tried to throw up against it. The air had turned thick, almost gelatinous ... the Death Eaters seemed unable to advance through it.
And it was angry . Cold, unbridled fury rang and sparkled on the whipping breeze, pinging out in mini flashes of lightening that jumped out from the swirling gusts at random moments. Thunder crackled powerfully above them, booming out in palpable waves from heavy, dark clouds that had surged overhead. The drumming thunder was forceful enough to knock entire rows of the Death Eaters from their feet ... and the rest looked frantically around, panicked and unsure about what was happening.
And Hermione and her injured comrades could only watch on from afar ... and wonder why they were seemingly immune to this unexpected tantrum from Mother Nature herself.
Then there was a blinding flash of Apparition, then another, and another. Then another ... there were dozens, scores of them. Hermione blinked and tried to keep count of each one, but it was a futile effort. There were just so many! They yielded witches and wizards battle-robed in the black and gold colours of The Knights of St David, each one wielding a wand and fresh, aggressive magic. The air was so dense with potential energy that it felt like being in the war path of an onrushing, angry hurricane. And suddenly there were as many wizards on one side of the Death Eaters' shield wall as there were behind it. Hermione's heart surged with such burning hope that she felt as though she'd drunk an entire vat of phoenix tears in one go. The armies faced off for a pregnant moment, then one of the newcomers lowered his hood and marched forward purposefully ... and Hermione dropped her wand in surprise.
For it was the meek Prince Pwyll of Dyfed, and he looked furious ... like a Pagan Prince of old. And there was another Prince was next to him, and two more lined up close by to him. And hundreds of their subjects marched forwards with them in formation, as though they were a standing army on exercise, driving the Death Eaters further back still. All the Princes were wielding shining silver sceptres and the combined power streaming from them made Hermione's skin tickle as it passed over her. It was they who were controlling the sky ... for at that moment, Pwyll raised his sceptre and the storm clouds dissipated like a harmless Spring Mist. Hermione just stared as she watched them go ... in fact, everyone did. It had all gone very quiet, like the world was holding a baited breath ... excited to see what would happen next.
Then, the Princes of Wales stopped and slammed their sceptres hard into the soil, sending a crackle of energy along the ground as though drawing a literal battle line.
It was the signal for a final flash of Apparition ... right there at the centre of the stand off.
And Hermione's heart swooped with fierce, unmitigated joy as she saw who it yielded.
"HARRY!"
They were saved!
Hermione knew it as surely as she'd known anything in her entire life! Harry was standing, legs astride, battle-posed. Excalibur shimmered and pulsed in his hand. The power radiating from Harry swept off him like an electric storm front. Someone fired a spell ... but Harry simply let it hit him. He didn't move ... the spell might as well have been a grain of sand for all the impact it had on him. He pulled Excalibur back, then slashed the mighty sword through the air in front of him ...
And opened up a gaping chasm in the earth between the two armies, easily thirty feet deep.
Some of the Death Eaters on the edge fell into the ravine as it opened up beneath their feet. Harry raised his sword again, the Princes took up flanking positions and raised their sceptres. And together they cast a Shield Wall of their own, one so dense they were able to push it forwards and knock the Death Eaters back away from the injured Inner Circle.
The counter-spells fired by the Death Eaters were useless. They didn't even make the barest of impressions. And still Harry advanced, his Acolytes moving with him, right to the sheer wall of the crack Harry had made in the ground. Hermione recovered her wand and raced to his side, pushing her own magic into the barrier they had created. Harry turned to her.
"Are you okay?" he asked breathlessly, his gorgeous eye scanning every inch of her.
His concern was immense and Hermione was broken by the understanding ... Harry had done all this for her! He had taken control of nature itself ... just to make sure she was kept safe! If a human being could have melted from love, it would have happened to Hermione Granger right then.
"I'm fine," Hermione beamed, finally remembering that she needed to breathe to stay alive. Then she became playful. "You're late! Neville might need a butterfly stitch on his lip, you know! Maybe a plaster on his scuffed knee!"
Harry belly laughed at that ... the most beautiful sound Hermione knew. "Look, we aren't here to fight today. I just want to show old Tom what I can bring to this party. This is my birthright, Hermione. Not the Sword ... but all that it stands for. We came for Luna, but I see you have her ... now this becomes personal.
"That building, on the left ... that's your old house, isn't it? Cassie gave you a gift, I believe. Finish this, my Queen."
Hermione grinned and sprinted over to the manor house. She reached deep into the pockets of her trusty battledress ... then hurled the little ball-bearings at the front door she had always hated calling her own ...
And the entire house exploded right in front of her.
Shards of jagged brick and stone were flung high into the air, all falling on the Death Eater's side of the Shield Wall, making them scatter and flee in panic. Hermione watched them break rank to avoid the debris, and felt their Shield Wall collapse along with the dissolution of their discipline. Then the previously imprisoned witches and wizards came streaming up behind her, angrily hurling broken pieces of the house at their former captors, for they had no wands to take up against them.
"Hermione! Over here!"
Neville was calling to her. He was cradling the haunted form of Luna, who he had covered in his own battlerobe, in his protective embrace. Hermione had never seen him looking so relieved, and she suddenly remembered his dire warning from earlier ... he would have killed Luna if he'd had to, but holding her alive, safe in his arms, was like winning every lottery ever hosted ... on the same day!
"What's this?" asked Hermione, moving to a vortex of light that Neville had conjured.
"Communal Apparition portal," Neville explained, as Frank and Myfanwy carried Angharad through it. "Emergency escape route. Come on, get Luna out of here. We'll handle the rest now. You did brilliantly, by the way ... my Queen."
"I'm not leaving Harry," said Hermione fiercely, blushing as Neville bowed to her.
"Harry will be right behind you ... as always."
And he was. Turning her bodily to him, before kissing her so passionately that Hermione forgot what day it was.
"Take Luna back to the palace ... there's someone there waiting to see her."
"Who?" asked Hermione.
"The girl we rescued from Glastonbury," Harry explained. "Her name is Celesca ... and she's Luna's daughter."
Hermione took one, wide-eyed look at Harry, kissed him deeply, told him not to be long ... then pulled Luna through the vortex to safety.