Hermione Granger and the Beginning of the End

I don't know where to begin
I don't know how to get out there to see you
But baby there's something about you that
I can hold on to
I'm going to hold on to that

"Something about You"--Five for Fighting

**

Hermione stood at the entrance of the Hogwarts hospital wing, completely unaware that the swinging door kept lightly bumping into her back. Her right hand was clapped over her mouth while the left lightly rested against her heaving stomach. She wished that she could drop to her knees, but there just wasn't the time. It was only a few minutes before eight o'clock, which meant that a Death Eater attack was due in almost ten hours. She didn't have time to fall apart--she had to find Harry or a teacher so she could tell them the truth about what had really happened two weeks ago. But when she had finally arrived at Hogwarts her feet had taken her straight here, because she couldn't bear another second without seeing his face.

She had navigated herself through the Malfoy Manor, Grantham, and Hogsmeade with no trouble at all. However it was when she had set foot on the Hogwarts grounds that she started having trouble. Hogwarts must have been closed for those two weeks, not only to repair any damage, but to also increase security. She had to overstep a few magical hurdles with some difficulty, considering that she had to leave the manor without her wand. Hermione sighed at the reminder of the loss of her wand. That was going to make things a bit difficult if she planned on surviving through the night.

Fortunately, she had been captured in her Hogwarts uniform, so when she hadn't known the new password of the Front Doors, she had been able to convince them to open for her due to the uniform, authentic Head Girl badge, and undisputed knowledge of Hogwarts thanks to her years of copiously reading Hogwarts: A History. She had decided to avoid people at first, since she didn't want to have to deal with explaining to loads of students just why a student who had died two weeks ago was running around the castle. So after hiding from edgy, curious students, Hermione finally made it up to the hospital wing to check on Ron.

She hadn't planned on almost having a nervous breakdown the moment she ran in, but then again, she had been expecting to find him wasting away in a lethargic, pale stupor, or moaning and twitching in some delirious state. She had prepared herself to see him completely and utterly in someone else's power, and although the thought frightened her more than she could ever imagine, she had steeled herself for it. She was ready to sit by his side and coax, beg, scold, shout, kiss, cajole, persuade or in short, do anything humanly possible to bring Ron home.

She hadn't, however, been prepared for him to be gone.

There was absolutely nobody in the hospital wing.

There was evidence that someone had been in there. The blanket on the second bed from the door was rumpled and pulled as though someone had recently been sleeping in it, and the pillow was dented as though a head had been resting atop it only moments before. But other than that, there was absolutely nothing--not even Madame Pomfrey was around, and Hermione had only seen the aging nurse out of the infirmary only once or twice. She knew that Ron could have recovered, and in his frustration and impatience, had left the hospital wing to find his family and friends, but as desperately as she wanted that to happen, Hermione had a sick feeling in her stomach that that wasn't the case. If Ron was awake and back to normal, she would be able to sense him, and as much as she fought and tried to find him, he was completely absent from her plane of thought. He was lost in the mind of Voldemort once again, and if he was no longer unconscious, that could only mean one thing. However, it was so awful and absurd that Hermione wouldn't even allow herself to think it.

No, Hermione reminded herself firmly as she dropped her hand from her face, her fingers curling into tight fists. Ron would never turn to evil. Ron would never let himself succumb to hatred, even if it was hatred as powerful as Voldemort's. He could fumble and fall momentarily because he was human, but in the end, when it really mattered, Ron would be there--Ron would always be there for her and Harry. She just had to find him so that he could be back now rather than much, much later.

Hands still tightly clenched, Hermione spun around on her heel and marched back into the corridor. She didn't know where exactly she should go next, but as much as she hated to admit it, there wasn't time to think. She just had to act and pray that her education, instincts, and friendship with Ron and Harry had trained her well enough to get through this. She raced to the nearest stairwell to search the Gryffindor tower for Harry or Ginny. However, as she rounded one of the first turns up the spiral stairs, she almost collided straight into a very shocked and surprised Ernie Macmillian and Hannah Abbott.

"Aren't you dead?!" Ernie exploded as Hannah just gawked openly while grabbing Ernie's arm. Both had turned at least five shades paler in a mere three seconds.

"Do I look dead?" Hermione retorted impatiently. She rolled her eyes, but allowed both Ernie and Hannah to pinch her arms to make sure that she was indeed a corporal human being. She was about to make up an excuse and make a hasty exit, but Hermione couldn't help being distracted by the badges on the two Hufflepuffs' robes. "You two are the new Head Girl and Boy?"

"Yeah." Hannah, if possible, looked even more frightened. "But I didn't want it, I swear! And they would have given it to Ron if he weren't--I mean--I-" She broke off embarrassedly as Ernie just vigorously shook his head at her, while Hermione kept her face impassive. Dwelling about Ron's plight wasn't going to get him back any faster. "Are you coming to the meeting?" Hannah asked weakly, hoping a drastic change of subject would distract Hermione enough.

"There's a prefect meeting?" Hermione glanced down at her watch again and realized that she didn't have a second more to spare on this staircase. "I'll see you there--I have to find Harry first. Go ahead and start without me." She didn't know exactly why on earth she would be wasting her time in a pointless meeting with the prefects, but once again, she was just going on instincts, and something was telling her that she should be there--but not without seeing Harry first.

Without waiting a response, Hermione sidestepped the two dumbfounded prefects and hurtled the rest of the way up the stairs. After making a quick left, her luck swiftly changed for the better when she spotted his back striding away from her toward the portrait hole. Hermione stopped dead in her tracks and just stared at his slightly worn robes and the back of his head, covered with unkempt black hair. A smile broke across her face just at the sight of it--goodness, it was so good to see him. It took a long moment for her to settle her ragged breathing, but there was no hope of her heart quieting. It seemed that her heart had been racing a mile a minute ever since she had awoken at the Malfoys.

"Harry!"

Her voice was much higher-pitched than usual due to the anxiety, but from the way Harry froze in mid-step, Hermione knew he had recognized it nevertheless. He didn't turn, however, probably too overcome to look at her just yet. Hermione couldn't imagine how she would feel if she thought Ron or Harry was dead and then they just popped up in the hallway. The thought made her a bit sick to think about, so to distract herself from it, Hermione broke out into a run so that she could throw her arms around Harry and hug him as fiercely as she had when she had first seen him after being un-Petrified in second-year.

However, she never got the chance. She had to dig her heels backward and almost screech to a halt to avoid getting punctured in the larynx by Harry's wand. Her stomach twisted and sank when she realized that he was staring at her with all of the hardness and rage that he exuded whenever he faced off to a Death Eater: he didn't believe that it was really her.

She opened her mouth to try to persuade him, but Harry just shook his head vigorously, his wand shaking, but the tip never strayed from her throat. "No, no, don't," he insisted furiously. Hermione sighed before instinctively holding her hands in the air in a surrendering gesture so that Harry would have no need to feel threatened by her. A swatch of unbelievably frizzy hair had fallen annoyingly over her eye with the movement, so Hermione risked tucking the stray strand behind her ear while biting her lip in sympathetic worry--Harry had to be so confused right now. Harry blinked a few times at the undeniably Hermione-like gestures, but he still hardened his voice and poked the wand closer to her. "You're not her."

"Harry, I know this is a bit of a shock," Hermione said in a very placating voice. "But you have to believe me--it is me. Malfoy faked my death just like they did with all of the girls so you wouldn't come looking for me. He gave me the Draught of Living Death so that everyone would think I was dead and actually find my body and everything, and after the funeral, they took me to the manor."

Her breath caught as she realized the implausibility of her explanation, but Harry knew better than anyone that insane things happened in the magical world all of the time. Believe me, she begged silently as she just looked steadily at Harry. If he were Ron, he would have known already that this was indeed her, but Harry wasn't as trusting as Ron--nor was he blessed with the power of empathy. It was going to take a bit of convincing to get Harry back on her side.

Harry blinked again before staring at her as though trying to scrutinize her for some flaw or idiosyncrasy that gave her away as an imposter. However, even when he couldn't find one, he still wasn't persuaded. "You're sick," he muttered furiously, but Hermione caught the underlying desperate grief lurking beneath his defiant words and gestures. "Trying to make me believe--" Harry's voice broke and Hermione's heart twisted when she realized with a jolt that he was about to cry. Instinctively, she moved to try to soothe him, but another sharp jab of his wand stopped her. Harry sniffed hard once before ensuring that his voice was steady and deadly controlled. "Hand over your wand," Harry ordered with an outstretched hand.

"I don't have it." Hermione's voice was now noticeably strained and her stomach was writhing more than ever. She had to convince him--if she couldn't even get Harry to believe her, how on earth was anyone else expected to believe that she was somehow miraculously back from the dead. "They destroyed it when I got to the manor." She looked at him pleadingly. "Harry, you have to believe me--"

Harry apparently didn't believe her, however, as his outstretched hand was now on her shoulder, spinning her around and forcing her to stand with her hands against the wall so he could see them, keep a wand on her, and search her pockets at the same time. "How'd you get in here, anyway?" Harry demanded. "Which secret passage did you use? Or did you fly? Apparate?"

"Honestly, Harry, when on Earth are you going to remember that you can't Apparate on Hogwarts grounds?" Hermione snapped automatically with another roll of her eyes.

Harry had been patting one of her robe pockets, and his hand hesitated. Hermione felt Harry's eyes on her side of her face again. "That was pretty good," he admitted begrudgingly before straightening up and taking an even closer look at her. "Really good," he added. His wand lowered only a millimeter, but Hermione's heart still leaped a little with a fresh burst of hope. "Say something," Harry ordered with a threatening flourish of his wand. "Say something else Hermione-like."

"Hogwarts: A History," Hermione said immediately. Harry's lip started to twitch upward and the familiar gesture reminded Hermione of a way she could further prove herself. She moved her head slightly toward him. "You know, you work so hard to hide how you feel from everyone, Harry, but it's really quite easy to tell once you get to know you. Your lips tug like that whenever you're trying to hide a smile, you know--and your left cheek will twitch if you're really angry about something, and when you're upset, you clench your jaw like you did when you first saw me."

Harry was appearing much less suspicious, so Hermione risked moving her hands off of the wall to look him dead on. "I know you, Harry--I don't pretend that I know you better than anyone, but I do know you quite well." She bit her lip for a moment once again. "And I thought you knew me fairly well too." She swallowed hard. "So do you know me, Harry?"

Harry's hands were trembling even more than ever, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he tried to get a hold on himself and decide whether he really did believe her. Hermione took a step forward and Harry didn't protest, much to her relief, although she knew she probably still had a way to go before completely convincing him that she was telling the truth.

"The night Ron broke up with you," Harry finally got out. "He asked me to come find you, so I did." The wand wavered, moving up and down before finally lowering completely, although Hermione knew that it would be up and in her face in a mere second if necessary. "What did I say to you?"

Hermione smiled in bittersweet remembrance. Harry had helped her get through one of the most difficult nights of her life. He was testing her, and as always, she was about to pass this test with the highest marks possible.

"You just looked at me when you first got to the top of the Astronomy Tower," Hermione recalled. "I was still curled up in a ball crying, and I could tell that you had no idea what to do at first. But then you sat down next to me and just let me cry on your shoulder for ages. When I finally began to calm down, you said that Ron was your best friend and all, but he was still one of the biggest gits you had ever met.

"And then you said that sometimes gits do stupid things, or say things they don't mean, but the great thing about being best friends with a git is that no matter how big of an idiot they are, they'll always be brave enough to recognize when they're acting like an idiot and set things right. You said that Ron may be the biggest git on the planet for throwing away what we had, but if you were certain about one thing in life, it was that Ron and I would somehow find our way back to each other. You said that even a git like Malfoy would never throw away love like ours, because with that sort of love, we're the strongest we'll ever be."

Harry almost looked embarrassed to hear the heartfelt words he had used to soothe her a year and a half ago, but he also knew it was the best way to prove if this really was Hermione. Hermione had been the only one who had heard him speak so frankly on the subject of love, and he had never told anyone what she had said to him afterward. "And what did you say next?"

Hermione raised her chin slightly. "I told you something that I had always wanted to tell you." Her melancholic smile grew even wider. "I told you that sometimes I really wished that your mum and dad could see you, because no parents could be prouder to see how fantastic you are, and you really deserved to have someone that proud of you." Now it was her turn to start blinking rapidly. "And I should have told you that you do have someone that proud of you."

Harry didn't say a word--all he did was abruptly seize her, and for the first time, initiated a real, long, fierce hug between the two best friends. She could feel him actually trembling against her, but who could really blame him--Harry Potter had to live with people leaving and dying on him all the time, but never had he experienced the joy of having one of the many people who had died come back. He was so used to loss and grief and despair that when that anguish was abruptly changed to a miracle, he could barely hold himself together. Hermione hugged Harry a little closer to her. It just wasn't fair that Harry had to deal with all of this, and now she had to tell him more tidings of misery and sorrow--but not just yet. Right now, she was just going to stand there hugging her best friend for dear life and pretending that everything was all right.

**

"I don't get it--I just don't get it," Harry muttered as he raked his hand through the hair that was already standing up on end from the repetition of the habit. "Where would he go?"

Hermione just shrugged as she dropped tiredly down onto one of the vacant hospital beds. She had started to tell Harry everything that had happened to her over the past few weeks, but all she had gotten out was an explanation of why Ron had collapsed, and that Ginny was now in immediate danger, and Harry had sprung into action. She and Harry had first gone to make sure that Ginny was safe in the prefect meeting. Fortunately, she was. Hermione had been about to go into the meeting, but then Harry had mentioned that he wanted to see for himself that Ron was gone, so she had decided to go with him on the off-chance that Ron had gone to the loo or something.

"My guess is he's looking for you," Hermione answered eventually. "That was Voldemort's plan--to have him lure you to wherever Voldemort was." She couldn't help shuddering when a shockingly vivid memory of those glowing red eyes simmering with hatred popped to the forefront of her mind. Harry glanced over at her with a concerned sigh. None of his friends had had to square off with the real Voldemort before, and he had rather hoped to spare all of the people he cared about from that terror.

"Do you need to stay here?" Harry asked. He pointed to the cut on her forehead. "That looks really bad."

"I'm fine," Hermione reassured him for the third time. "It's nothing compared to what you've gotten while playing Quidditch." She leaned forward and peeked into Madame Pomfrey's office with a thoughtful frown, and got up off of the bed.

"What?" Harry asked edgily.

Hermione tucked her hair distractedly behind her ear as she strode toward the door. Her voice was rather distant and faraway as it always was when she was thinking hard about something. "I just think it's a bit funny that we've been in here for over a minute and Madame Pomfrey hasn't come out--" Hermione cut her explanation short as she stepped into the nurse's office. "Oh no," she breathed.

"What?" Harry repeated forcefully as he joined her in the doorway. He blanched slightly before carefully pushing Hermione back and kneeling down next to Madame Pomfrey. She was sprawled out on the floor with closed eyes, a slack face, and a pale complexion. Hermione bit her lip as Harry examined the elderly nurse. It really appeared as though Madame Pomfrey was dead.

Harry pulled out his wand and glanced up at Hermione. "She'll be all right," he assured. "Just Stunned." He nodded toward the door. "You'd better get back in there if you don't want to be stuck in here all night."

Hermione nodded as she backed into the hospital wing. Even if Madame Pomfrey was injured herself, she would never allow a hurt student to leave her infirmary without proper treatment. Besides, it probably wouldn't help Madame Pomfrey's recovery if she opened her eyes to find a student she had declared dead standing over her. Hermione glanced down at her watch: eight and half hours until sunrise. And Hermione wasn't very sure she wanted to hear who had Stunned Madame Pomfrey--if Ron was lost in Voldemort or possessed or whatever, he might have been the one to have hurt the nurse. She had to find him as soon as she could, but she also had to do so many other things. She let out a sigh. There was just so much to do, and there just didn't seem to be enough time to save the world, save Ron, save Ginny, save the Muggle girls, and save Hogwarts. Damn it, she wanted to save them all, but how?

With her arms folded over her chest, Hermione paced a few worried steps, lost in thought, trying to think of one of her brilliant plans to save the day. She didn't have very much time to think, since only a few seconds later, the door to the hospital swung open and Severus Snape strode in. Hermione instinctively reached for her nonexistent wand as she backed toward Pomfrey's office. "Harry!"

Even though she knew that Harry was unbelievably quick and heroic, she was still amazed how quickly Harry was back by her side with his wand ready. His tense shoulders however relaxed when he spotted Snape's sour face. "Hermione, it's just Snape," Harry began, but Hermione was already vigorously shaking her head.

"Harry, he's the one Lucius told to kill Ginny! He's a Death Eater!"

She had expected Harry to fly into a rage and finally succumb to the urge he had for seven years to punch Snape across his pasty pale face, or kick him on the back of his bloated head covered in black greasy hair. However, Harry only mirrored her earlier shaking of her head. "No, he's spying again, Hermione."

Hermione knew that she should argue the point with Harry, but there was just something about his confident tone and self-assured manner that prompted Hermione to only ask a tentative, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Harry replied reassuringly. "Voldemort may not believe him anymore, but Lucius does. He's been looking into the Malfoys ever since we broke in to keep an eye on the Muggle girls--" Harry's explanation came to an abrupt halt when he and Hermione both noticed that Snape was limping and cradling his left arm against his chest. "Professor?"

"They know everything, Potter." Snape spoke through gritted teeth as his breath came out in very controlled, painful gasps through his nose. He almost fell down on the bed Hermione had been seated on earlier. "I didn't tell them, but they know. They know about the Weasley girl, they know about the wandless magic, they know it all."

Harry's fists were clenched as he stuck his head into Madame Pomfrey's office to call to the nurse to inform her that she had a patient. He then strode across the room to stand before his most hated teacher. Snape haltingly allowed Harry to cautiously roll up the sleeve of his injured arm. Hermione's hand returned over her dropped jaw as she saw the ugly, purple-red, shiny burn that covered Snape's entire forearm. Her stomach turned over not only at the second-degree burn, but at the realization of why they must have burned him there. They had seared off his Dark Mark.

"They know everything," Snape admitted darkly. Hermione had never seen Snape look so apologetic, and the fact that he was so sorry for something he had done to Harry was quite startling.

Harry still hadn't spoken since Snape had made his confession. He silently stepped aside to let Madame Pomfrey tend to her patient and began to pace. Hermione watched her friend thoughtfully, wondering if he believed that Snape wasn't the one that told them about Harry's every move. She didn't understand why he wouldn't. She had confessed that she had been the one to let it slip about Ginny, and after a few more moments of reflection, she was starting to figure out for herself just how Voldemort had found out about the wandless magic. Lucius Malfoy had brought Tom Riddle back, and of course, Voldemort had found out about it. However, instead of eliminating the threat Riddle posed, he decided to use it for his advantage. He had allowed Malfoy to keep Riddle locked up in his house so that he was a sitting duck, especially after he had almost killed Ginny. Voldemort knew that Harry would eventually go after Riddle, and when he didn't move as fast as Voldemort had anticipated, Voldemort had kidnapped Lupin and kept him at the Malfoy Manor. Lupin had been the bait, just like Sirius had been at the Department of Mysteries, and the thought made Hermione even sicker to her stomach. Voldemort had let Harry go after Riddle, in the hopes that he could critically analyze Harry's technique. Perhaps there had been some sort of recording spells or charms similar to a Muggle video camera, if that was even necessary--the fact that Harry had been able to perform magic in that cell spoke volumes about to the extent of his magical ability.

"Did you get it done?" Harry finally asked with his back to Snape. He was at one of the windows, staring out onto the grounds with a mixture of fondness, possessiveness, and trepidation.

"Yes," Snape hissed as Madame Pomfrey dabbed and cleaned at the wound. "The Malfoy Manor can now be infiltrated."

"Send the team out yet?"

Hermione looked back and forth between her professor and her friend. She couldn't believe how differently these two were acting around each other--they were treating each other like equals or comrades, not to mention that Snape was freely giving information about the Order, and Harry was barking around questions as though he was in charge.

"They have been deployed."

"You're getting those girls out?!" Hermione interjected with hopeful surprise. Harry smiled bemusedly at her exuberance, but Snape only gave her one of his surly nods before grimacing down at his swelling arm. Madame Pomfrey, however, dropped her wand and gaped openly at the girl she had just noticed for the first time.

"Aren't you dead?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. This was going to get old really fast.

"You were there to help the team break into the manor, weren't you?" Hermione asked without bothering to answer the nurse. It seemed perfectly obvious to her that she was alive. "You had to hide when Voldemort came, but when he left, that's when you found me."

"Yes." Snape was staring at her like she was the one who couldn't realize the perfectly obvious. Madame Pomfrey finally retrieved her wand from the floor and stuck it in her pocket, and she began to wrap yards of gauze around Snape's sticky burn.

"So if the team does succeed and the initiation is ruined," Harry interrupted, "do you think they'll abort the plan?"

Hermione peered curiously at Harry, and after carefully reading his face for a moment discerned that he did indeed know about the Death Eater's plan to attack Hogwarts after the massive initiation. Snape considered for a long moment. "No."

Harry let out a long breath. "Thought so," he muttered as he once again looked out at the grounds of the only home he had ever known. Hermione watched Harry carefully, not really surprised that he knew about the Death Eaters' plan to attack, since Snape had been spying for ages and most likely had passed along that information. "Right," Harry said suddenly as he twirled his wand deftly and barreled toward the door. "I'll just get Dumbledore and we'll be on our way."

"Dumbledore?" Hermione repeated in utter shock, feeling as though the floor had dropped away from her. "Isn't he dead?"

Snape smirked wryly. "Yes, well, don't believe everything you read in the papers."

Hermione ignored her professor and the irony of the reversal of her situation as her feet were instinctively following Harry out of the hospital wing and into the corridor. "Where do you think you're going?"

Harry stopped, turned around, and stared directly into Hermione's wide frightened eyes. "It's time." His wand was out and tapping rapidly against the side of his leg as he stood, jaw clenched and head high. "This is it. It ends now."

Hermione could only just look at her best friend for several precious seconds, not precisely certain of what she felt as Harry's flat voice echoed in her mind. It was such a wide smattering of emotions: fear, regret, hope, and nausea, just to name a few. Hermione was also quite astonished to note that despite how logical it was that this had to happen, she was surprised by Harry's words. She didn't know why--it didn't make any sense that she hadn't seen this day coming. Everything in Harry's life thus far had been building up to this day. Ever since his mum and dad had been killed, for seventeen years, Harry and Voldemort had been permanently locked together as mortal enemies--whose fates' rested in each other's hands. It had been divined years ago by a dingbat of a professor that the world's entire future depended on one meeting, one moment, one duel, one death. It was Harry or Voldemort who would end up lying dead on the ground. Hermione Granger was not a girl to tempt fate. Nevertheless, she would like nothing more than to forbid Harry to leave the grounds and instead remain here where he was still safe for the time being. She knew that this day had to come eventually, but now that the fateful moment had come, Hermione wished she could just nick a Time Turner and keep moving Harry farther and farther back in time, away from this night. It could very well be his last night on this earth. All she wanted to do was just stop time from progressing even further, because she was so unbelievably terrified about what the future held for her and everyone she cared about.

But she couldn't and wouldn't do that. She wouldn't run away from destiny, as awful as it may be. She had always met whatever life held for her head-on. As much as it sickened her, that was what she was going to do now. "I'm coming with you," she whispered determinedly as she tossed her hair back and straightened herself to her full height of five feet, six inches.

"No," Harry refused as the muscle in his cheek twitched. "You need to stay--"

"And you need help!" Hermione interjected stubbornly.

"No," Harry repeated even more fiercely. He strode forward to quickly close the distance between them and steered her toward the nearest window. "They need your help--Hogwarts needs your help." His hand remained on her shoulder for a moment, and his fingers grew almost painfully tight. "They're coming, Hermione, and lucky for you, you didn't see what it was like to have Death Eaters creeping all over the school. This is our school, Hermione, this is our home, and I will not let them come in here again!" His arm had been pointing toward the window, and Harry hastily lowered it, trying to hide the fact that he was noticeably trembling. "You're Head Girl, Hermione. People listen to you. You can lead them. Hopefully, it won't come to that if I head him off in time, but if it does--" Harry hesitated as he tried to think of what to say, while Hermione shuddered at what Harry was implying. He wanted her to be prepared in case he was unable to help ward off the Death Eaters--if he were dead. "You have to take over. You have to help them save Hogwarts, because no matter what, Hermione, we can't let Hogwarts fall!"

His chest was heaving with his impassioned plea, and Hermione let out a long breath. She had thought that she loved her school a great deal, but her affection for Hogwarts now appeared to be petty and shallow compared to Harry's deep devotion to the home he had never had and had always dreamed of.

"Harry, I know Hogwarts needs me, but so do you," Hermione replied in an astoundingly steady voice. "I stayed behind when you went into the Forest after Pettigrew, I stayed behind when you and Ron broke into the Malfoys, and I stayed behind when you went to stop Professor Lupin, but I will not stay back for this!" Hermione mimicked Harry's earlier movement by waving her arm toward the window. "You're right, Harry, this is it! This is the end! Tonight will probably determine the entire fate of this war, and I plan on being right there with you!"

The steady but passionate tone of her voice wavered and broke, and Hermione almost lost it completely before pulling it back together. "And then there's Ron." Harry closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them, Hermione could tell that he was thinking hard about something, but she only continued to try to convince him to let her come along. "Ron needs me, Harry. Voldemort has Ron." All the love she had ever felt for that prat shone vividly through in the simple but fierce way she uttered his name. Her calm front vanished completely, and Hermione sniffed and blinked rapidly before speaking again. "Did you honestly think that I would just sit here when I could do something to save him?"

Hermione now knew how annoyed Ron must become whenever she became so lost in thought that she was no longer coherent, because Harry just flat out didn't say anything. He just thought for a moment and only began to speak aloud when Hermione's annoyed sigh penetrated his whirlwind of thoughts. "Did I ever tell you that Voldemort possessed me once?" Harry said absently.

When Hermione spoke, her voice was only full of curious astonishment and devoid of earlier irritation. "No."

"At the Department of Mysteries," Harry elaborated pensively. "He wanted Dumbledore to kill me, so he sort of popped into my head, so that if Dumbledore killed me, Voldemort would die too. He knew that Dumbledore would never kill me because of the prophesy and all, but then I got him out on my own. Without even realizing it--just like that." Harry snapped his fingers. "He was gone."

"How?" Hermione pressed intently, heart thudding with hope. Perhaps whatever Harry had done could help Ron get out of Voldemort's control--after all, it was almost like Voldemort was possessing Ron.

For some reason that became clear a few moments later, Harry had to swallow very hard and his chest hitched up in tension for a second before he spoke. "I was wishing for Dumbledore to just kill me, because having Voldemort in me hurt so bad. And I hurt so bad, because--" Harry cut himself off, because even two years later, it still hit him quite painfully under his ribs whenever he thought about Sirius falling through the veil. "--I thought that Dumbledore should just kill me so that I could see Sirius again."

Hermione's eyes went very round and wide. "Oh, Harry," she breathed with utter sympathy. She hated how awfully Harry was still affected by Sirius' death even today and wished once again that there were a spell in existence that could bring Sirius back for even a moment. She believed that just one more second with Sirius would make Harry feel infinitely more at peace with his passing.

"Dumbledore said later that it hadn't mattered that I couldn't close my mind to Voldemort--all that mattered in the end was my heart," Harry continued with increasing fervor. "He said that it was my heart that saved me."

As usual, Hermione was a step ahead of Harry, and her voice shook with the same expectant excitement. "And we know that Ron feels with his heart more than any of us."

"I got Ron out of it for a couple minutes right after he collapsed," Harry revealed. "I just used an Enervate charm while concentrating on him--why he was my best mate, and stuff like that. I tried it every day after he went under again, but it never worked."

"Probably because he fell deeper into the spell," Hermione hypothesized quietly, still thinking about what Harry had told her about his heart saving him. "Your love for Ron was powerful enough before, partly because you care for Ron very much, and partly because you're innately an extremely talented wizard. Once the spell affected him further, though, it wasn't enough, because Voldemort wasn't possessing you..."

"So Ron's heart is the only thing to save him?" Harry interrupted her train of pensive thoughts.

"Yes," Hermione said honestly without a moment's hesitation. After sensing firsthand Ron's devotion and commitment to those he cared about, she knew in a second that the magnitude of that pure love was powerful enough to vanquish any demon, fight any enemy, defeat any sorcerer, and conquer any world. There was an infinitely deep well of potential in that boy, and Hermione had known it all along because she had always known how much Ron loved. Ron thought, felt, spoke, and did every single thing from his heart, and in some ways that made him the most powerful wizard in the world.

Harry looked down at the floor and swore quietly and vehemently. "You have to come."

He said it so softly that Hermione wasn't certain she had heard him correctly. "What?"

"You have to come," Harry repeated reluctantly as he straightened up and glanced at her. "If Ron really is possessed by Voldemort, you are going to be the only thing that will reach him. You're the only one who knows Ron's heart completely." He gestured toward her head. "I reckon that's why they were so paranoid about making sure you two didn't have some empathic connection, because they knew that you could break Voldemort's hold, and that would ruin his whole plan."

"I don't know why they had to use Ron to get you to come," Hermione wondered aloud. "I mean, once you knew Hogwarts was going to be attacked, anyone who knows you would realize that you would do anything to stop that."

"It's not about actually killing me," Harry explained in the flat voice he used when talking about Voldemort. "It's about him knowing me and knowing how much it would kill me to see my best mate lead me straight to Voldemort." His wand tapped nervously against his leg. "It's about the torture of betrayal, and he's counting on the fact that it'll throw me so completely off that I'll barely be able to fight. They took away almost everyone I really care about, and then just for the fun of it, they engineered one of them to come back--only to lead me to my own death." Harry just shook his head for a moment as he seethed with hatred for the man who had been toying with him for almost his entire life. "It's another one of the sick games he plays--he played with Sirius, he played with Remus, he played with you, and now he's playing the biggest game of all with Ron. He took everyone he thought I cared about away from me so that I thought I had lost everyone, and just when I was ready to go mad from it, they spring Ron back on me only to have him--he's sick," Harry interrupted himself savagely with a flicker of the bitter animosity Hermione had seen when he had battled Tom Riddle last February. "And then he knows that even if Ron does stab me in the back, I'd still do anything to save him even if it means getting myself killed."

"He's using your love against you," Hermione summarized quietly. "He can't understand or feel love himself so he's terrified of it--he's trying to use your love against you instead of battling it with love of his own."

"Exactly," Harry said despondently. In that moment, he looked more lost and frightened and older than Hermione had ever seen him before.

"It won't work," Hermione continued in the same reassuring, gentle voice. "Love can never be used against you, Harry, remember that." Harry nodded absently, and Hermione didn't think that he was very comforted by her words, so she just pressed on, trying to think of something to encourage him before they headed off for wherever they were going. "Besides, you didn't lose everyone you cared about, Harry--they could never do that, because you care for so many people. In fact, I think that's part of the reason that it has to be you to save us all." She paused meaningfully, wondering if she should push this sensitive topic. "And then there's Ginny."

"Yeah, Ginny." Harry said as though he had just remembered her existence, although he wasn't fooling Hermione a single bit. She didn't think Ginny was ever far from Harry's mind. He ran his fingers anxiously through his hair and let out a long breath. "So how are we going to do this?"

Hermione blinked at the abrupt change of subject. "You mean how are we going to get wherever we're going?"

"Yeah," Harry replied edgily, his brow furrowed as another disturbing thought occurred to him. "I mean, their plan has to be to let Ron lead me to them, but the last thing Ron is going to want to do is be near you right now. They've got to know that you're gone, so Voldemort is going to make sure to keep Ron away from you. He knows you're the only one to get Ron back. They won't let him make a move if you're with me."

Surprisingly, Hermione didn't actually mind not going along with Harry. There were some loose ends to tend to. "Fine," Hermione agreed with a quick glance at her watch. There were less than eight hours until sunrise. "We'll just split up--there's something I have to do, anyway. My guess is that Ron will find you, so all you have to do is wait--"

"Can he do that?" Harry interjected with a doubtful crease of his forehead.

Hermione nodded seriously. "I'm not the only one he cares about, Harry. It's different with me, but he still can--if he needs to--if he wants to--" She sighed slightly. "And they'll make him want to," she added quietly.

"Right," Harry said while raking his hand anxiously through his hair. "But how are you going to get there? I don't like the idea of you going alone."

"Harry," Hermione said firmly with a roll of her eyes. "You're going alone, aren't you?"

Harry studied her for a moment before nodding very slowly. If she had learned to let him run off into danger without putting up too much of a fight, he could do the same. Besides, he really did need her help if he wanted to get Ron back. "Actually, Dumbledore may go with me," he added absently as he tried to figure out the best way to get to the site he had somehow always known would be where the final battle would take place. Hermione wanted to ask about how and why they faked Dumbledore's death, but there wasn't the time for a thorough rendition of what had happened the night Malfoy had given her that potion. She would just have to wait until tomorrow--if there was a tomorrow.

It was during that frightening thought that Hermione's cleverness finally rushed back to her, and a viable solution presented itself. "The Galleon with the Protean Charm on it," Hermione reminded him. "Do you think if you took it with you, you'd have time to charm it?"

"Yeah," Harry said instantly with great relief. "Yeah, I could do it. I did it loads of times for D.A. All I have to do is use the location instead of the time and day." His voice and posture grew much more confident and self-assured as he become more and more relieved that he had a plan for at least a small portion of his fateful mission. "So you get yours--can you manage to get off the grounds and Apparate over or conjure a Portkey or something?" Hermione just raised his eyebrows to remind him that this was the incomparable Hermione Granger he was speaking to, and a small smile flashed momentarily across his face. "Right. So just go there when you're done with whatever you need to do." Hermione could sense that Harry wanted to ask what exactly she was planning to do, but like her, he knew there just wasn't the time to demand thorough explanations. "When you get there, just stay down and keep out of the way. You should be able to sneak around pretty easily, since they won't be expecting you and they'll be watching me the whole time. Find Ron and get yourselves out. Do not wait for me." Hermione nodded, although she had no intention of leaving Harry behind. By his sigh, Hermione had a feeling that Harry knew her true intentions as well.

He decided not to press the issue, however. With only a trace of the little boy awkwardness he had displayed in his youth, Harry cleared his throat slightly before plunging ahead with the very serious and personal thoughts he wanted to share with his best friend. "If I don't see you--"

"You will," Hermione interjected fiercely. She wouldn't be able to do what needed to be done if she heard Harry say aloud that he could very well die within the next few hours.

Harry pressed his lips together and nodded slightly. "But if--I want you to know--and tell Ron this too--that you and he are the reasons why I've come as far as I have." Hermione smiled almost shyly. It wasn't often that Harry talked like this. "And if I get through this, it's really because of you two and what you two taught me."

"What did we teach you?" Hermione couldn't help wondering.

"Everything," Harry said simply. "How to live, how to be a friend, how to have a friend, how to care..." He paused, and although he was looking at Hermione, he was seeing a different girl that he wished he had the time and courage to talk to. "How to love." The trademark green eyes came back to normal, and when he glanced at Hermione again, he was looking at her, not Ginny. "You and Ron taught me just how strong love can be and how to express it, and about the different kinds of love--and which ones are more powerful than the others."

Something about what Harry had just said made the very productive wheels in Hermione's head start to turn. However, the cogs of her razor-sharp mind had yet to produce the correct response, so she just spoke the first thing she could think of while still pondering over Harry's last words. "I don't think Ron and I are the only ones who taught you that, Harry."

"You two taught it to me the best," he insisted stubbornly. "And yeah, she did teach--" He stopped short and shook his head in half-wonder, half-confusion. "But there's still so much to learn from her."

Hermione smiled thinly. "Looks like you'll be needing to come back and continue your education in the field."

Harry couldn't help laughing despite their desperate situation. "Yeah."

Hermione glanced at her watch again and winced. There was so little time. "You'd better go."

"Yeah," Harry repeated, looking as though he either wanted to get out of here and punch Voldemort in the face, or run into the nearest loo and throw up. But all that happened was that Hermione threw her arms around her best friend in the world and hugged him as if it was her last hour on earth, because--well, it very well could be.

She smiled into his shoulder as it suddenly became clear to her what she should say to give him a proper farewell. "Harry--you're a great wizard, you know."

From the way his breath came out in a humorous burst, Hermione knew that Harry understood. "I'm not as good as you."

"Me--Books and cleverness--"

"You're not," Harry interrupted firmly. "You're so much more than that."

Hermione didn't know it was possible to smile fondly and sob at the same time, but after his words, she learned that it really was. Harry Potter really had grown up over these past seven years.

"Harry." Hermione stepped back from him so that she could say the rest of the words she had told him in first-year. These were the words that she hoped he really heeded. "Just be careful."

"I will," Harry promised, but both he and Hermione knew that if it came down to the wire, that if someone else's life hung in the balance, he was going to be anything but careful. He was going to risk it all, and may end up having to sacrifice it all as well. There was nothing Hermione could do about it.

Even though she had accepted her best friend's preordained fate, it still made her more than a little sick to her stomach. She let out a sigh as Harry turned to go, but he paused in mid-pivot. "And tell her what I told you," he added almost under his breath. He didn't go into specifics about who precisely he was referring to or what he wished Hermione to tell this person, but she understood in the way that only a best friend could. She nodded absently, the wheels in her head whirling at an even faster rate as she tried to figure out just what Harry's plan was, and if Ginny Weasley had anything to do with it. But before she could say anything, he was squaring his shoulders in the way he had in the chamber with Riddle. There was an almost palpable flicker as the entire mood of the corridor changed when the aura of power mounted around him. "I'll be fine," he insisted so firmly and fiercely that despite the fact that a psychotic Dark wizard was lusting after Harry and sending countless of minions out to kill innocent people whose only crime was loving and caring for Harry, she believed him. "I'll see you soon," he promised

"Right." Hermione wanted to add some other encouraging, parting comment for Harry to take with him as he went into the battle of his life, but he was already striding determinedly down the hall, wand in hand and robes billowing out behind him. Although she knew that she should be setting off to take care of what needed to be done before she joined Harry, she couldn't help just watching her friend go. It was amazing how tangibly Harry's magical energy and strength radiated out of him in moments like this. In her mind's eye, even until this day, she had always pictured Harry in her head as the rumpled, untidy boy on the train swallowed up in clothing almost two sizes too large for him. However, now Hermione knew once and for all that the little boy she had met on the train was gone. All that remained was a strong, powerful, talented man who, despite all of the horrors in his life, had grown to be one of the kindest people she had ever met. Hermione knew that she was so incredibly lucky to have that sort of person as her friend. Now if he would just stay alive so that she could continue to be blessed with one of the last few good, decent, wonderful people left in a world plagued with Voldemorts and Malfoys.

Tucking some hair behind her ear, Hermione stared until Harry had disappeared down the hallway, still pondering over the Harry-Ginny relationship dilemma. Logically, she would assume that Harry had pushed Ginny away either because he couldn't commit to anyone or anything, or because he didn't want Ginny to be at risk by publicly admitting that he had rather deep feelings for her. But something niggling at the back of her mind was telling her that there was something more to this--and that voice in the back of her head, as annoying as it was, was rarely incorrect in matters such as these...

And like a rampaging graphorn, it hit her smack on the side of the head. With the realization, her jaw dropped and her eyes grew to the size of Fizzing Whizbees.

"Harry," she whispered in stunned and horrified disbelief at the huge mistake that Harry had just made. "No."

**

"...there's some sort of emergency, but I can't tell you anything more until Sprout or McGonagall or someone gets here..." Ernie Macmillan had a rather forced and strained quality to his voice, revealing that the anxious prefects' frenzy of rapid-fire questions was starting to get to him. It became quite evident that he had repeated this logical statement over and over again, but no one was getting the message. "We just have to wait--"

He stopped as his replacement Head Girl Hannah Abbott nudged him to attract his attention to the woman standing at the door with a troubled but determined expression on her pale face. Ernie breathed a sigh of relief. He never thought he would actually be relieved to hand over the reins of power, but now he gave up his position freely and gladly. "Hermione, do you know what's going on?"

Hermione couldn't have answered if she wanted to, due to the surge of whispers and gasps that her arrival at the prefect meeting had instigated. All of the prefects whirled around in their seats and just stared in blatant shock at the girl who appeared to have come back from the grave. There was only one person wasn't too stunned to move. Ginny Weasley bolted from her perch on a nearby bench and fiercely hugged the sister she never had.

Although Ginny wasn't incapable of movement, her speech had been effectively impaired due to her extreme surprise. "You--but--it--when--how--how?"

"Later," Hermione promised as she stepped back from Ginny and strode to the front of the room. The prefects' jaws were finally beginning to close, and Hermione waited until she had everyone's attention before taking a deep breath and plunging ahead.

"I just spoke to Professor McGonagall," she informed them. She had gone straight to her favorite professor seconds after Harry left to find Dumbledore, and it had taken more than a bit of their precious time to convince her professors that she wasn't dead and that Death Eaters were due to arrive by sunrise. After making a very important detour, Hermione had headed to the prefect meeting to tell her fellow students the cold, hard, horrible truth.

"The Death Eaters are coming back."

More gasps echoed throughout the prefect meeting room, but this time the gasps were chock full of intense fear and dread rather than plain and simple shock. Hermione was rather surprised that she could keep her voice so calm and reassuring as she relayed such horrendous news, but somehow she managed to carry on. "They'll be here at sunrise." She gestured to the few but noticeable empty seats that were typically occupied by Slytherins. "In case you didn't realize, some students, instead of coming back to school, decided to join up with the Death Eaters."

Hermione paused meaningfully. She noticed that Pansy Parkinson let out a disappointed sigh as she glanced at the chair usually occupied by Malfoy before slouching further in her chair, wearing her trademark stuck-up expression. "Harry and Professor Dumbledore have left to try to head them off, and several other teachers have other matters to attend to, so most of the staff has left. They're going to try to be back here in time, but--"

"So they just left us?!" a frightened fifth-year Ravenclaw prefect interjected.

"No, Sonja," Hermione replied with only a trace of the frustration that had been boiling inside of her for almost two days now. "They didn't leave us--they went to save others. They're trying to stop the attack from even happening. Besides, half of the faculty is still here to help protect us." She managed to smile reassuringly. "Believe me, Hogwarts is not going to fall to the Death Eaters."

If anyone was remotely reassured by Hermione's words, it certainly didn't show on their pale, worried faces. Hermione opened her mouth to speak again, but someone's voice was already echoing through the room in false assurance. "So it's to the Great Hall then?" Ernie inquired as he clapped his pudgy hands to round up the prefects.

Hermione shook her head. "No, Ernie, we're not going to hide like last time." She straightened up slightly and gazed steadily at her classmates. "We're going to fight."

It was several moments before the stunned students could make a sound after that absurd statement, and when they finally could, all most of them could manage was a half-snort, half-laugh of disbelief. "You're mad," Anthony Goldstein finally got out. "We're going to take on the Death Eaters?"

"Why not?" Hermione countered defensively. "That's what education is all about, isn't it--learning spells and charms, and then applying them to real life? What better time to put everything we've learned at Hogwarts to good use than to save our school?"

A swarm of doubtful faces gaped openly at her, and Hermione's voice grew sharper as she tried with everything she had to convince them that she was right. "Don't you see that they'll never expect it? They'll never expect students to help in the battle. They'll never see you coming." She hesitated briefly as her heart squeezed for a moment. "It's like chess--the best chess players are the ones that have their opponents so focused on the knight that's directly threatening their king, that you never see the bishop waiting in the wings until it's too late. The element of surprise is one of the strongest weapons you can have. It's all about good strategy."

Ron taught me that, Hermione added in her head as her heart gave another desperate twitch. She wished with all of her heart that Ron could be here right now, because in all honesty, he should be the one making this speech. Ron was the strategist, Ron was the fire, and Ron was the passion that could inspire hundreds of terrified students to toss their fears aside and fight for their lives and their school. Ron could do all of these things with a level of skill that Hermione had never possessed, but as he wasn't here, she was just going to have to call on everything she knew about that boy and pray that it was enough to ignite a spark of rebellion and hope in all of the students.

"Hogwarts is our home," Hermione emphasized firmly, bringing to mind Harry's earnest eyes as he stressed a similar point to her less than an hour ago. "We're all here because we want to learn everything we can about magic--we wouldn't be here if we didn't want the best education there is." She pointed out the nearby window. "And they want to take that away from us. They want to take away our right to learn. Are we honestly going to allow those foul people to take that away from us?"

It was a rhetorical question, so Hermione only paused for a moment to catch a quick, ragged breath before launching herself again into her rant. "It doesn't matter if we're Muggle-born or pureblood. It doesn't matter if we're a Slytherin or a Gryffindor. What matters is that all of us are here for the same reasons, and someone is threatening that, so who bloody cares that we're too young or that we'll have to cooperate with people from different houses? What really matters is that our school is in trouble and we need to do everything we can to stop it!"

Her voice cracked with fervor and she had to swallow a few times. Her mouth had become dry from talking so fiercely. She watched the worriedly blank faces in front of her, wondering if she needed to keep up with the encouraging speech. She really didn't have much more time to devote to getting the students ready to defend the castle. She needed to leave as soon as possible, so it was with immense relief that a sixth-year Slytherin spoke up. "What do you want us to do?"

Hermione didn't think it would be professional or prudent to slide to her knees and kiss the his feet, but with his words, all of the other prefects either straightened up, nodded their heads, or took out their wands. These leaders of the school were finally ready to lead their fellow students through what could possibly be the most important battle of their lives.

But they wouldn't be fighting alone or without guidance. "Get your students together," Hermione commanded. "Explain what happened and then tell them exactly what he tells you to do." She beckoned to the somewhat short boy who had slipped unobtrusively into the back of the room. "Come on up here, Neville."

"Longbottom?" Pansy Parkinson couldn't help screeching as the slightly chubby Gryffindor hesitantly joined Hermione at the front of the room. "What's he doing here?"

"He's going to lead you," Hermione said calmly. She raised her voice to drown out the whispers and mutters that her announcement had instigated. She hoped that Neville's rosy, embarrassed blush wouldn't compromise the authority she was about to bestow upon him. "Neville's the only one of you that's ever faced off to a Death Eater." She shot Neville a reassuring, trusting smile. "Not only has he helped save my life, he's saved Harry's life too." The murmurs were still growing, but now with a surprised and admiring pitch. "His parents were two of the best fighters in the first war, and if fate had twisted another way, it would have been Neville, not Harry, who had a lightning bolt scar on his forehead and the fate of the world on his shoulders." Only Ginny understood Hermione's meaning by that statement, but Hermione knew there was no time to explain the prophesy. Besides, it really didn't matter. "Neville is the one," she said slowly and firmly. "There is no one else I would rather trust my school to."

Neville looked as though he was about to melt to the floor in embarrassed pride at her praise and the open admiration of his fellow students. Most of them were staring at him with a newfound sense of respect. Still, self-doubt continued to pervade Neville's thoughts, and he leaned forward so that only Hermione could hear him. "Hermione, I dunno..." Neville muttered under his breath.

"You're a true Gryffindor," Hermione reminded him sincerely. "You proved it in first-year, remember?"

"Yeah, but none of them were here for that--"

"So prove it again," Hermione interrupted forcefully. She patted her friend fondly on the arm before returning her attention to the other prefects. "Trust him," she pleaded. "If you listen to him, you'll survive."

She glanced at her watch and knew that she could waste no more time in this room so quickly jumped to her conclusion. "We all have a hero inside of us," she said quietly. "Harry isn't the only one. We can all be heroes. All of us have that chance, but most people end up throwing it away because they're too scared to believe in themselves." She cocked her eyebrows. "So don't throw it away. In fifty years from now, when your grandchildren ask you where you were the night Voldemort fell, what do you want to say? Do you want to tell them how you fought with all of your heart and soul for what you believe in? Or do you want to say that you holed up in some safe haven and didn't do a thing to make a difference?

"If some of your students don't want to help, that's fine--we can't afford to have anyone out there who isn't willing to put everything they have into this. But I've watched you become strong leaders, and I think if they see you behind Neville, they'll follow. Be the leaders you were meant to be and then you'll all be heroes."

Hermione had so much more she wished she could convey to her fellow students, but there just wasn't any more bloody time. Sighing partly in annoyance and partly to loosen the tight knot that had coiled up in her entire chest, she nodded to the prefects. "Good luck," she said in a voice suddenly tight with tension. Her hand lingered on Neville's arm. "I know you can do this, Neville," she said quietly.

"You're not staying?" Padma Patil suddenly realized. "You're running away?"

The Ravenclaw recoiled slightly when Hermione whirled around on the girl, eyes blazing with the mere suggestion that she was going to flee from the situation after everything she had been through. "I'm going with Harry," Hermione explained flatly after mentally counting to five to prevent herself from making some curt remark. Her eyes then shot over to Ginny, who was still completely taken aback by Hermione's resurrection. "Ginny, can I talk to you?"

Ginny nodded and hastened for the hallway. Hermione followed after lingering a moment or two to hear Neville's abruptly strong, commanding tone of voice as he explained what he thought they should do next. Hermione had never heard that sort of power and leadership out of Neville Longbottom, who was widely known as the bumbling fool who had a penchant for melting cauldrons in Potions. He may not be the best at wand movement or charm work, but he could lead regardless of whatever the students at Hogwarts thought. Of course, why would anyone think otherwise? No one had ever given poor Neville a chance to prove himself. No one believed he could do it, so he had therefore become accustomed to the idea that he couldn't. But Hermione had seen something in him that night at the Department of Mysteries, and from everything she had pieced together from her friends' accounts, Neville had been in the thick of battle right along with Harry. His bravery, however, had been overshadowed by the grief of Sirius' death and others' heroism, but not this time. There was no one else. Neville was about to get his chance to shine and lead all on his own. And although a logical, practical person would have believed that this was a horrible idea, Hermione knew in her heart that it was the right thing to do. And after falling in love with Ron Weasley, she always listened to her heart no matter what logic told her.

Now it was time to speak from her heart once again. Hermione turned to her friend as she emerged from the prefect meeting, and before Ginny could say a word, Hermione was already rambling again:

"Ginny, you have to just listen to me for a minute--we're running out of time." Hermione instinctively glanced at her watch again. There were only seven hours to go. "Harry lied to you, Ginny, although I think a part of you already knows that. He lied when he said he couldn't say he loved you, because he does, Ginny--he truly and honestly does. The thing is--"

Hermione broke off for a moment to try to concisely formulate her thoughts and to give Ginny a minute to absorb what she had just told her. Gathering from her utterly pale and blank yet unsurprised face, Ginny was not terribly taken aback by Hermione's announcement. It still had to hurt quite a bit to know for certain that she had been lied to, though, so Hermione paused for another precious few seconds before forging ahead.

"The thing is, Ginny, that he's trying to use it. He knows from his mum that love is the only possible way that he's going to stop Voldemort. So what he reckoned was that he needed to hold on to that love he had for you, because it was the strongest sort of love that he has. He was afraid to express it to you, because he thought he would lose it and wouldn't be able to fight with it. He thought it was best to bottle it up inside of him and let it explode out in one huge, powerful burst when he finally faced off to Voldemort."

Now Ginny was starting to look quite taken aback. "But, Ginny, he's wrong," Hermione continued desperately. "You can't hide love. He thinks you can, because he's watched Ron and I hide how we really felt for each other for ages, and he's seen both of us explode from time to time from the love we had raging inside of us. He saw all of that intensity and thought it would be the strongest weapon.

"But you and I both know it's not." Hermione stared at her friend pleadingly. Ginny was avoiding her eyes, probably battling the years of pain Harry caused her and the love she had carried for him since the moment she laid eyes on him. "The real thing is the strongest. True love is the only way to go, not unrequited love. It's true, shared, mutual love--loving someone unconditionally and wanting nothing more than to spend the rest of your life with them, and that feeling you get in your chest when you realize that the person you love above all others feels the exact same way toward you--"

Hermione's heart instinctively swelled at the random flash of Ron's eyes in her mind. Almost as though to back up her thoughts, a hot surge of power and magic rushed through her veins. For a few moments, Hermione was ready to face Voldemort. "That's it, Ginny. That's what can beat him." Ginny's brown eyes were rather bright as she blinked with agreement. "You know that, and I know that, and Ron knows that, but the problem is that Harry doesn't. Harry's never felt that, because yes, he knows that you have loved him, or still do, but it's just not--it's not the same as saying I love you and having him say it back straight away." Her hand was now resting against her chest, reveling in the vibration of her love for Ron that was drumming away beneath her fingertips. "That's the strongest magic there is."

"Of course it is!" Ginny finally exclaimed as she clenched her fists and continued to blink rapidly. "I've always known that--" She sputtered incoherently in fury, frustration, and fear for several seconds before rounding back on her friend. "And so have you, so why didn't you tell him this before he left?"

"Because he can't hear it from me," Hermione explained quietly. Ginny looked sharply at her friend, knowing precisely whom it was that Hermione was insinuating. "That's why no one else ever told him either. He won't believe it unless he experiences it for himself." Ginny suddenly found it necessary to stride away from Hermione, one hand gripping her head for dear life. "He has to hear it from you, Ginny. It's all up to you."

Ginny's back was to Hermione, and Hermione anxiously wondered if Ginny was about to refuse to her plea to come with her to wherever Harry had gone. Harry had broken her heart on more than one occasion, and most girls would have insisted on remaining behind, especially since there were so many other things Ginny could be helping with. Hermione herself hadn't been able to forgive Ron straightaway after he had finally come to her with the truth. Granted, if the situation was as desperate as this one, she would have pushed past those hurt feelings. But Harry had rejected Ginny over and over again, and now Hermione had just told her that she had to yet again put her heart and life on the line by telling Harry in front of Voldemort and his minions that she loved him more than anything in the world. It was frightening enough to fall in love in the first place. Now Ginny had to cope with knowing that her love for Harry could very well save the world, and if she didn't love him enough or say the right thing, she could end the world as well. Could she forgive and push past her fears and doubts to open her heart to Harry so that he could use it along with his own to defeat Voldemort? Was it even possible to conceive that a seventeen-year-old girl had the courage and fortitude to do it?

Ginny's shoulders were rigid with confusion, and both hands were now ensnarled in frustration in her hair. She breathed deeply for a few moments, but Hermione couldn't see her friend's face. Her hands finally dropped down from her head, and Ginny turned to meet Hermione's eyes. Ginny's eyes were no longer teary. Rather, a determinedly fierce expression glowed within them. And Hermione Granger knew that tonight, despite all odds and doubts, she and Ginny were going to prove that it was indeed possible for a petite sixth-year and a bushy-haired Head Girl to help save the world.