It's Now or Never

After your picture fades and darkness has turned to gray, watching through windows I'm wondering if you're okay, and you say go slow I fall behind, the drum beats out of time...

The same high laugh. The same flash of green light. The same burning pain in the old scar on his forehead. The same dream.

Harry sat up in bed and yelled in shock. Cold sweat made his pajama shirt cling to his back and he shivered, panting slightly. He looked around the dark dormitory; it seemed no one had heard him yell because his friends were all still sound asleep. Their dreams were peaceful. Harry's luminous, red, alarm clock read 5:30.

"No use going back to sleep," he thought. "Everyone will be up in about an hour anyway." But that was just an excuse. The real reason he didn't want to go back to bed was because he didn't like sleep. Sleep had become a sort of Hell on Earth for Harry ever since his fourth year. In your sleep, your worst fears could be turned into reality. His dreams were haunted by a skeletal figure with red eyes and slit like nostrils. And he always woke up with the pain in his scar. Once awake, Harry didn't dare go back to sleep. He was too scared he'd have to face that blinding flash again.

Harry hadn't been the same since the end of his fourth year at Hogwarts. Ron had noticed, but he hadn't said anything. He once brought up the subject with Hermione, but she scolded him, telling Ron, once again, what Harry had been through. Ron shut up after that, but he liked the old Harry better. This new Harry was secretive and sometimes moody, and with this new Harry there were no more midnight escapades. Hermione had called Harry's condition permanent P.M.S.

Ron hated this new Harry. At times he was so frustrated with his friend that he wanted to smack him upside the head and scream at him. But he kept his anger inside of him, and it boiled and mounted like a geyser ready to shoot water hundreds of feet into the air. Ron knew he needed to be patient with Harry, but he just couldn't. He wanted his friend back.

Harry was aware that he had changed, but he didn't now how to go back to being the old Harry. As far as he was concerned, he was only being cautious. And sometimes, when the old Harry came back and he felt like sneaking into the kitchen in the middle of the night, he would actually make it to the portrait hole before turning around again. That was the old Harry. He believed that life wouldn't ever be the same once Voldemort had returned, so why should he try and pretend in would?

Harry pulled off his pajamas and dressed in the black pants, white collared shirt and gray sweater that made up part of the Hogwarts uniform. After tying his gold and scarlet striped tie, he grabbed the robe part his uniform; black with the Gryffindor insignia sewn on the left side, and slowly walked down the stairs to sit by the fire in the common room. He sat by the crackling fire, listening to the popping wood and flipping through the pages of the photo album Hagrid had given him for Christmas 5 years ago. He liked this album a lot because it was full of pictures of his parents. How long ago that Christmas seemed, yet how fast his years at Hogwarts had gone by. He was in his 6^th year now, almost one of the oldest in the school and, although he and Ron hadn't been made prefects ("thank God" Ron had said), Hermione had been, and she was well on her way to becoming Head Girl next year. He remembered when he first met Hermione; just a little girl with overly large front teeth and a mane of bushy hair. Sitting there, warm by the fire, he was particularly glad Hermione had become his friend. He'd been thinking about Hermione a lot lately, and he didn't know why.

As Harry thought, he watched the sun rise higher in the sky painting it pink, then orange, and finally a light blue. He was just turning back to the album when he felt the presence of someone behind him. He turned around, slamming the book closed. It was Ron. He was standing next to Harry tying his tie.

"Hey, Harry. You're up early."

"Yeah, I couldn't sleep," Harry shrugged.

Ron almost said 'again' but caught himself just in time. He knew Harry didn't sleep well. He could tell because there were always bags under his eyes and sometimes Harry's yells woke him up too. "Wanna go down to breakfast?"

"Yea, sure." Harry stood up and shrugged on his robe. "But shouldn't we wait for Hermione?" He asked.

"She's not feeling well," Ron explained avoiding Harry's eyes.

Harry looked at him. "How do you know?" The trace of a grin was playing with the corners of Harry's mouth as he watched his friend struggle with what he was about to say.

"I...er...you see...er...I was spying on Lavender and I heard Hermione say she wasn't feeling good," he said at last. His face reddened, and he continued to stare at his toes.

"Ron! You're a regular Peeping Tom!" Harry laughed.

"Let's go down to breakfast," Ron said. Harry followed Ron down the stairs still laughing at his friend. He only stopped laughing when Ron elbowed him hard in the ribs as they approached the Entrance Hall.

That night, Harry sat alone (unless you count a sleeping Ron sprawled on the couch waiting for Harry) in the common room, pouring through book after book trying to find the answers to his complicated Defense Against the Dark Arts homework. He had forgotten his book in the classroom, which was locked now, so he had snuck into the library and borrowed as many books as he could carry about Defense Against the Dark Arts. The problem was, the answer didn't seem to be in any of those books. It was about eleven o'clock at night, and a late-running Quidditch practice had put Harry in this undesirable predicament.

He looked up as he heard a noise on the stairs. Hermione was coming down the stairs in her bathrobe and slippers.

"Hey, Harry! Quidditch practice getting in the way of homework again?"

"No, I would have been done if I hadn't left my DADA book in the classroom." Hermione came over and sat across from him at the table.

"How're you feeling, Hermione?" he asked.

"Better. I think it was the 24-hour virus. But how'd you know I was sick?"

"Oh, well, we noticed you weren't in class today so we asked Parvati where you were." That was a reasonable answer. Parvati had become their friend, sort of a back-up Hermione, last year when Hermione and Parvati got together over the summer to work on a Potions project. "Hermione, do you think you can hand me that book by your elbow over there? Thanks." Hermione picked up the book but it slipped out her hand and fell to the floor. Both Harry and Hermione reached down to get it and bumped their heads together.

"Ow!"

"Ouch!"

"Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. Here." Hermione handed him the book and watched him flipped through the pages. Harry looked up, finger pointing to the beginning of a paragraph so he wouldn't lose his place. "You look like you're enjoying yourself, watching me trying to find the answer. Could you just tell me?"

"Harry, you'll never learn anything if you-

"Hermione! It's one question!"

"No, Harry." She looked at the book, reading it upside down. "Beside, the answer's right on that page." She grabbed a book and playfully hit him over the head with it. "Use your eyes." She walked over to the couch and picked up Ron's arm, grabbing Crookshanks' catnip that was lying beneath it. "Crookshanks won't let me sleep," she explained. " 'Night, Harry."

"Good night, Hermione."

*********

(two weeks later)

"Hey, Ron? Have you seen Hermione? I thought maybe she was in the library but she's been gone since Herbology! Did she tell you she was going anywhere?" Harry asked Ron as they walked down the corridor for supper at the Great Hall.

"No, I didn't even notice she was gone until you said something. I still won't forgive her for the stupid pudding incident. I prefer to ignore her."

"Ron, that was last week! And it was funny!"

"Shut up, Harry."

"Seriously, though. She's been missing since around lunch time. Do you think we should tell someone? It's not like Hermione to miss a whole afternoon of classes. What if something happened to her? You don't think she's sick again do you?"

They sat down on the long bench at the Gryffindor table. "I dunno," said Ron as he piled mashed potatoes on his plate. "Maybe we should, although it's been really quiet without her here to nag us about our exams next week."

"Ron! Be serious!"

"Okay, okay. Yeah, let's tell McGonagall. Maybe she knows if Hermione went some place for extra research. But we should check the grounds and the rest of the castle. I'll go find Parvati and..." He looked around the Great Hall and saw that Harry was already at the doors. "Hey! Harry! Wait up! I didn't get to finish my mashed potatoes!" Ron raced across the entrance hall just in time to see Draco Malfoy walk in the Great Hall. "Oh, it's you," snarled Ron.

"Yes, it's me, Weasel. Potty's already out in the Entrance Hall. I think he's looking for his girlfriend. She probably ran away from him. Although I couldn't see why she wouldn't. I wouldn't want to go out with someone who has a great big ugly scar across their forehead."

"Hermione's not his girlfriend, Malfoy!" said Ron, clenching and unclenching his fists."

"Speaking of Scarhead..." Malfoy nodded toward the door where Harry was running into the Great Hall.

"Ron, come on. What's taking you so long?" he said, ignoring Malfoy.

"I had a little pest control problem," said Ron.

"What was that, Weasel?" asked Draco. "I'd watch it if I were you. I don't think your dear mudblood-loving family could afford the hospital bill if I were to tell Crabbe and Goyle to deal with you."

Ron lunged at Malfoy, fists at the ready. Harry grabbed the back of Ron's robes and pulled him into the entrance hall.

"Shut it, Malfoy!" he yelled as he tried to control Ron's flailing fists. He had heard what Ron had said about himself and Hermione, and it bothered him for some strange reason. He was about to tell Ron he was wrong, but then he realized that he and Hermione weren't boyfriend and girlfriend.

They walked around the castle, both interior and exterior, and then went looking for Professor McGonagall. They found her in her office talking to Professor Dumbledore.

"I personally think that it's a great idea, but you'll have to talk it over with the rest of the teachers. Some might not be too keen on having an actual dragon here on the grounds for a demonstration...can I help you two?" she asked as Harry and Ron poked their heads in the door.

"Professor," began Ron. "It's Hermione. We can't find her anywhere and she's been missing since Herbology. We've checked the grounds twice and Parvati checked all of the girls' bathrooms. She wasn't anywhere in the rest of the castle either."

"Weasley, I think you're overreacting. Hermione is probably somewhere. You've most likely just missed her."

"Professor, we-

"I'll go and have a look around," interrupted Dumbledore.

"And what if you can't find her?" asked Harry exasperated.

There was a worried pause from McGonagall, then, "I'm sure she's somewhere, Potter."

"I suggest you go back to Gryffindor Tower and let me know if Hermione returns there," Dumbledore said as he got up off his chair.

As Ron and Harry walked back up through the castle, Harry didn't voice his opinion on what he thought could have happened to Hermione. It seemed crazy, and he felt foolish jumping to conclusion like this but somehow, in the very pit of his stomach, he felt as though Dark Magic was behind this all. Maybe even Voldemort himself.

They reached the common room and were about to throw themselves into the squashy armchairs when a scream made them jump almost out of their skin.

"It's coming form the Girls' Dormitory!" shouted Harry. Because they were the only students in the common room, they rushed up the stairs and threw open the door.

Parvati was standing next to a bed, hands over her mouth, and floating above the bed was a livid, green skull with a snake protruding out of its mouth; the Dark Mark.

"Parvati!" yelled Ron running over and prying her hands from her mouth. "Tell us what happened!"

"The-the Dark Mark! It's over Her-Hermione's bed!" She backed against the wall, pale with fear.

"We see that, Parvati," said Harry softly, trying to remain calm even though it felt like his stomach was being gnawed at. "Can you tell us what happened? Please, Parvati. It's extremely important that you do. We need to tell Dumbledore."

"I just walked in here to get my book because I-I wanted to sh-show Lavender the chapter we needed to summarize for-for Defense Against the Dark Arts. I walked in here and-and..." she pointed to the dark mark which was still as bright as ever although it was beginning to shrink.

"Dumbledore," said Harry. "We need to get Dumbledore."

"Right," said Ron. All three of them hurtled out of the dormitory and out of the portrait hole. Ron ran right into Professor Dumbledore who was obviously coming to tell them if he found Hermione.

"Professor!" gasped Ron who was being helped to his feet by Harry. "Parvati, Harry and I saw... saw the Dark Mark. Over Hermione's bed. I think Hermione is in more danger than we thought."

The usual twinkle left Dumbledore's blue eyes and his face became grave and aged looking.

"Show me," he said. He followed them into the dormitory, and then dropped on all fours by Hermione's bed, looking for clues.

A minute later he emerged, holding a wand in his hand. "This was under the bed. Does it look like Hermione's?" he showed it to Ron who shrugged his shoulders.

"To be honest, Professor Dumbledore, I never really paid much attention to what her wand looked like. Harry, can you tell?"

Dumbledore handed the wand to Harry. He brought up to eye level to study it. There was something vaguely familiar about that wand, but it wasn't Hermione's. All of a sudden a shooting pain arrowed across his scar. He dropped the wand in shock and clapped a hand to his forehead.

"Harry?" said Parvati, Ron and Dumbledore simultaneously.

"My scar," he explained as he backed away from the wand and into the wall. The pain was ebbing away as he got farther from the wand. He looked at Dumbledore.

"Professor, what is the wand made from?" he asked rubbing his forehead.

Dumbledore bent down and picked up the wand from where Harry had dropped it. He brought it to the tip of his crooked nose and studied it.

"Yew," he said at last. "About thirteen-and-a-half inches."

It felt as though Harry's heart had stopped.

"Is something wrong, Harry?" asked Professor Dumbledore.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir, that's...that's Voldemort's wand," he choked out.

Ron and Parvati both gasped out of fear and the fact that Harry had said the name allowed.

"Are you sure, Harry?" asked Dumbledore giving him a piercing look.

"Yeah," said Harry breathlessly. "Mr. Ollivander told me what his wand was when I bought mine in my first year. When he told me that my wand and his..." he didn't really want to say that his wand brothered Voldemort's in front of Ron and Parvati. He knew Dumbledore knew already, and he was hoping he'd get the picture. Dumbledore understood and nodded.

Yeah, but aren't there...aren't there lots of wands that could be the same length and wood?" asked Ron sounding as though he wanted to doubt what Harry was saying. He didn't want to believe that it was Voldemort's wand. "How do we know what's inside?"

"Ron, I know that wand," said Harry firmly. He wanted to say 'yes I could be mistaken. Maybe it's somebody else's wand.' But he knew it was Voldemort's. There was no way he could forget that wand after focusing all of his strength on it two years ago as he tried to move those beads of light toward Voldemort...

Ron gulped audibly and Parvati sank onto the nearest bed looking white as a ghost.

"This is far worse than I could have imagined it to be," muttered Dumbledore. "Ron and Parvati, stay here in the common room. I'll have Professor McGonagall send every student back to their common rooms where the heads of the houses will address their students. Harry, I would like you to come with me please." Harry gave one last look at Ron and followed Dumbledore out the door.

Ten minutes later, Harry stood in Dumbledore's office waiting for him to return. He felt suffocated as fear squeezed his heart and lungs. Hermione was in trouble! What if he never saw his friend again?

Dumbledore entered the office just then and sat behind his desk. Harry felt small and see-through as Dumbledore gave him one of his trademark searches with his eyes.

"Harry, do sit down."

Reluctantly, Harry sat down in one of the chairs facing Dumbledore. He wanted to stand because he felt more real knowing his legs were supporting him. That was something solid and provable that he could believe without question.

"Harry," said Dumbledore again. "I think that Voldemort is setting a trap. A trap for you. He has kidnapped Miss Granger as bait so you will come walking into his hands hoping to save her. I know that's what you're thinking now, am I right?"

Harry, deciding he better be truthful, nodded his head in acknowledgement.

"I must ask you, however, make the right choices. Think about what Hermione would want you to do. Just think it through, Harry."

"Sir," said Harry. "Why was Voldemort's wand in the dormitory?"

Dumbledore smiled grimly. "I think, that in his haste to get away, he accidentally grabbed the wrong wand, meaning he has Hermione's. That is both good and bad. The good news is Hermione's wand won't work as well for him as it does for her."

Harry noticed Dumbledore didn't say the bad news. Frankly, he didn't really want to know. They sat in silence for a while, Dumbledore looking Harry over until he said,

"Harry, these are hard times for us all, but we've gotten through them before," he eyed Harry's scar, "and we'll do it again. Now, I suggest you go back to the common room. I have no doubt Mr. Weasley will want a word by word reenactment of our conversation here." He smiled and stood up to see Harry to the door.

Harry said goodbye and slowly walked out of the office. As he walked alone back to Gryffindor Tower, he wondered to himself the purpose of the meeting he just had. Was Dumbledore trying to tell him something? He hoped, remembering Dumbledore's word about how they could get through again, that he wasn't expecting Harry to pull off something like what happened 15 years ago back in Godric's Hollow. He didn't even know how he'd done that for God's sake.

When he got to Gryffindor Tower, Ron, Ginny and Pavarti were the only ones left in the common room.

"Everyone was too upset to do anything. They all went up to their dorms," Parvati explained. "The first year girls were positively in tears even though they didn't know Hermione very well. They said they looked up to her because she was practically Head Girl, and she had saved them once when they had a run in with Filch."

"What was that all about, Harry? What did Dumbledore want?" Ron asked. His freckles stood out darkly against his pale face, his eyes were wide and his lips were white too, giving him the appearance of a ghost with spiky red hair (he had begun spiking it with gel last year).

Harry relayed to story to Ron and Parvati. He finished with, "It sounds like he was telling me to not go after Hermione."

"Well, he didn't say that, did he?" asked Ron, some of the color coming back to his cheeks as his mischievous streak took hold.

"Ron!" Harry sighed exasperatedly. "You've got some nerve to joke at a time-

"No, Harry! I'm serious. He told you to think it over! Think about what Hermione would have wanted! Maybe he wants you to go!"

Harry gave him a skeptical look but Ron ignored it and continued.

"And I bet the bad thing about Voldemort having Hermione's wand is that he can now duel properly with you! Dumbledore wants you to go, Harry."

Harry stared at Ron. Ron was talking about this as if he was saying Dumbledore wanted Harry to go the supermarket and pick up a carton of milk. Scenes from the last time Harry had come face to face with Voldemort in his forth year kept flashing before his eyes. Cedric dead. His scar burning. The potion as it turned a violent white color, nearly blinding him. The sickening thud of Wormtail's hand as it hit the bottom of the cauldron. Voldemort, rising up like some sort of grotesque scarecrow from the cauldron, deathly thin. His parents, or the shadow of his parents, coming out of Voldemort's wand. He knew he couldn't go through that again. He just couldn't.

"I can't, Ron!" he said at last. He stood up ashamed that he had said it out loud, and started walking toward the portrait hole. Ron grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. Anger was coursing in his eyes, his brow was furrowed in angry disbelief.

"This isn't the Harry I knew," he said quietly. "The Harry I new wouldn't give a damn about his own personal safety for a friend. You're just going to walk away and leave Hermione to die?! I can't believe that, Harry. I don't want to believe that! It's now or never. What happened to the old Harry? The one I used to know? What happened to him? Huh? What happened to him?" Ron shook Harry hard and then turned and walked away, shaking his head. "If you're not going to save Hermione, I will."

Harry had never felt as bad as he did right now in his life. Ron was right. He had changed into a different Harry. One he particularly didn't like right now either. Suddenly, a feeling of warmth began to grow in the pit of his stomach. It was composed of everything good he had ever felt before: a phoenix song, his parents, winning Quidditch and the Interhouse Championship, becoming a wizard, meeting Ron and Hermione.

"Ron and Hermione!" he thought. "Has it really been six years?" He remembered meeting Ron on the train to Hogwarts and how they had met Hermione and thought she was an annoying little know-it-all (well Ron sometimes still thought that but, whatever) until they had saved her from the troll. Was he really going to give up on six years of friendship? Was he going to let Hermione down? Was he going to let her die?

"Ron?"

Ron turned around. He was already half-way up the stairs. Harry gripped his wand and squeezed it tightly.

"Let's do this. Together."

Ron smiled and Ginny squealed with delight. Parvati looked happy although she still had tears coursing down her cheeks. She stood up and sniffed.

"Now, what do you think we should bring?" she asked quietly.

Ron and Harry looked up sharply. "What do you mean, 'we'!" asked Ron.

"Well," said Parvati wiping the tears off of her pale cheek with a sleeve, "I'm Hermione's friend too aren't I? I want to come with you!"

Ron looked skeptical but before he could say anything Harry cut in. "You know what you're getting into, right? This is Voldemort, not some school bully." Parvati winced at the sound of the name but nodded her head. "You know you may not come out of this alive," Harry warned talking to both Ron and Parvati this time.

Parvati nodded again, biting her lower lip. Ron inclined his head a little as though he'd rather not think about that.

"Right little ray of sunshine aren't you?" he muttered to Harry.

"Let's go then," Harry said. He wanted to get started right away. He hoped with all his heart that nothing had happened to Hermione. He missed her, and something told him it wasn't because he needed help on his potions homework.

"Harry, how are we going to find You-Know-Who? I mean, I don't think he would leave anything behind for us to follow. He's not a prat," Parvati reasoned.

"Yea, but he wants me to follow him. If this really is a trap for me I think he'd make sure to leave some sort of clue behind."

"If this is a trap then why are we going?"

"Because we just can't let Hermione die! Besides, he doesn't know that we know it's a trap so it's really not a trap anymore."

Ron and Parvati looked at each other, puzzled, but Harry understood what he was saying, so he turned around and headed out of the portrait hole. Ron and Parvati followed him outside and to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. They searched the ground intently for any sign that Voldemort had been there with Hermione. Suddenly Parvati gasped and pulled her head out of a bush.

"Look!" she stuck her hand into the bush and pulled out a scuffed, black, dress shoe. "I think it's Hermione's!" she said.

Harry took it out of her hand and studied it. "Yea, that's hers," he confirmed. He gave it back to Parvati but fingered the laces in his fingers trying to figure out what to do now. He chewed on his lower lip and watched as Ron began to rub the scuffs off of the toe of the shoe. Suddenly he felt the semi-familiar jerk behind his stomach, and lurched sideways as Ron jumped into his shoulder in surprise. There was a swirl of color, and the three of them collapsed on the dusty ground.

"It was a portkey," moaned Parvati as she rubbed her head. "A portkey!"

"I think we realized that, Parvati," snapped Ron. He stood up and pulled Harry to his feet. "Where are we?" he asked.

Harry took a good look around. And then it hit him. With a horrible jolt he realized they were in the very graveyard where he had witnessed Voldemort's rebirth. He shuddered involuntarily.

"I dunno," he lied. "But something tells me we should go check out that house on the hill over there." He pointed to a house in the distance. As he passed Tom Riddle's grave he closed his eyes and tried to pretend he was anywhere but there.

They walked for about ten minutes until they found themselves at the foot of the hill. The house was rundown; the windows were boarded up and ivy crept up the sides of the house, sprawled like veins. The grass looked as though it hadn't been taken care of in two years. Actually, you couldn't really call it grass anymore; it was more like a jungle of waist high weeds.

They waded through the growth and unlocked the door with a simple "Alohamora" spell. The stone hallway was covered in a thick layer of dust. The ceiling creaked above their heads and Parvati gasped and grabbed Ron's arm with her fingernails.

"OW! Parvati! Get off me!" He complained.

"Sorry."

"I'm going to check upstairs. You guys stay down here and if I call for you, come up. Yell to me if anything happens down here or if someone's coming," Harry said quietly.

He set off up the steps, taking care to be very quiet. When he reached the top, he pulled out his wand from his pocket. He paused for a minute, wondering if what he was doing was really the right thing. The solid wood of his wand seemed to give him strength, and he squeezed it, feeling the worn fibers under his fingertips. A door at the end of the hall stood slightly ajar. He tiptoed over to it, and taking a deep breath, jumped inside, wand at the ready. There was no Wormtail, no Voldemort, nor any sign that they had been there at all for that matter except for the fact that a roaring fire was crackling away in the fireplace. There was a chair in the middle of the room, and tied to it was-

"Hermione!" Harry gasped. Her hair was coming out of the braid she had worn it in, and she was missing the shoe on her right foot. Her face was scratched and smeared with dirt, and her hands were tied together behind the chair. Her feet were bound, and there was a piece of duct tape over her mouth. Her eyes got wide when she saw Harry, and she began shaking her head frantically.

Harry rushed over to her, and pulled the tape off of her mouth. "Hermione! What happened?"

"No! Harry, get out of here! It's a trap!" she screamed.

He ignored her and began to untie her feet. All of sudden the room went cold despite the glowing fire. Harry's scar burst with pain, and he whirled around. Voldemort was standing in the doorway.

"I knew you would come, Harry Potter. The quickest way to bring a person down is through their heart. You attack the person or thing which means the most to your enemy, and they're as good as dead." Voldemort smiled maliciously. His long fingers caressed his wand.

"Crucio!" He pointed the wand at Hermione who screamed and convulsed.

Harry felt a wave of fury rise up in his chest and pointed his wand at Voldemort. Voldemort sensed he was in danger and cast a spell at Harry that sent him hurtling backward into the wall next to the fireplace. Voldemort advanced on him, wand pointed at Harry's heart.

"Guess what, Harry," He leered, "You get to see your dear parents again. Evil will always prevail, Harry. You lose."

Harry closed his eyes, waiting for the rush of death to come and swoop down upon him. He tried to picture the happiest moment of his life, so he could die happy. He screwed up his eyes and pictured his friends and Sirius Black and waited. But the spell never came. He opened his eyes again and saw that Voldemort was struggling with his wand which had begun to steam. Harry remembered, as though from another life, that Voldemort had grabbed Hermione's wand in his haste. He fought back a laugh.

Suddenly, Ron came bolting into the room and let out a war cry as he jumped on top of Voldemort. Voldemort yelled and flailed his arms, collapsing to the floor completely taken by surprise. He quickly overcame the shock of having a 16-year-old wizard attack him from behind and blew Ron away with the same spell he had cast on Harry. Ron hit the wall and crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

The delay was all Harry needed. He leapt up and shouted the first spell that came into his head.

"Expelliarmus!" Voldemort's, or rather Hermione's, wand soared through the air and clattered to the ground next to Ron. Voldemort cursed and was thrown backward by the force of the spell, his head heading for the orange flames of the fire. He yelled hoarsely as he realized the momentum and speed of his body made the collision with the flames inevitable.

Harry watched, completely frozen, as Voldemort shot one last glare his way. And then flesh met flame. There was a horrible hissing, bubbling noise matched only by Voldemort's shrieks of agony and the smell of burning skin. Harry turned away and felt his lunch rise up into his throat. He fought to keep it down and, at the same time, tried to ignore the gurgling noises coming from the fireplace behind him. He had killed Lord Voldemort. Harry knew he should feel proud and at the very least relieved, but all he felt was remorse. He was a murderer. But did that matter when the person you killed had been an evil lord trying to take over the world?

When he thought he cold manage his lunch again, he walked over to Hermione. Her chair had been facing the other way so, although she had heard everything, had not seen it. Harry untied her feet and then her hands; neither of them said anything. She stood up, massaging her wrist where the rope had been cutting into them.

"Harry- she began.

"I killed him," he said monotonously.

"Oh, Harry!" she gasped, "You did a great thing. You're famous. Again!"

"Hermione! I'm...I'm a murderer!" he stared at her, green eyes open wide in shock.

"Harry, you prat! You've just defeated the most dangerous dark wizard there ever was and all you feel is guilt?!" she said exasperatedly.

Harry just stared at his hands. "I...I didn't want to...I mean...I thought about killing him. I really did. But when it comes down to the wire, don't you think everyone deserves to live, no matter who they are? I'm a murderer. I took someone's life!"

"Come on," she said awkwardly. "We have to get Ron conscious."

"I'll take care of Ron. You go downstairs, I think Parvati is there."

Hermione nodded and left.

Harry knelt down beside Ron and poked him. "Ron! Ron!" He shook him roughly. "Come on, Ron!" When three more minutes of shaking and prodding didn't revive Ron, Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He checked Ron's pulse; there was none. "Why me?" he asked himself. He leaned over and gave Ron CPR. Ron coughed and his eyes fluttered open. Harry helped him sit up. He took one look around and nodded at Harry.

"Good job, Harry," was all he said. He got up, and the two boys walked out of the room and down the stairs. "Hey, Harry?"

"Yea?"

"Did you just give me CPR?"

"Er...yes."

"Don't do that again," Ron said wiping his mouth.

"Don't worry," joked Harry. "I won't. It wasn't exactly my idea of fun." They met the girls downstairs and Harry told Ron and Parvati to go on ahead. He said there was something he wanted to do. Ron raised his eyebrows but obliged, and Harry was left alone with Hermione.

"Hermione, are you okay?"

"Yea, Harry, I'm fine. Really."

"I was really worried about you, you know..."

"Thanks for coming, Harry. You saved my life. I'd probably be dead if you, Ron and Parvati hadn't come here to rescue me."

"Are you sure you're okay because..."

"Harry..." Hermione leaned in and gently pressed her soft lips against his. He could feel her warm breath against his face and opened his mouth to accept the kiss. Her mouth was warm and moist and her hands wrapped themselves around his neck. She ran her fingers through his untidy hair. He placed his arms around her middle and pulled her gently towards him. Her small body was warm and comforting against his, and he liked the way it just seemed to fit right into his grasp, like they were made for each other; a perfect mold. Hermione tenderly broke the kiss and laid her head on Harry's chest, closing her eyes and breathing in time with him. Suddenly, Harry didn't feel like the new Harry anymore. He didn't feel like the old one either. But for once, he was okay with that.

If you're lost you can look, and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you I'll be waiting
Time after time