The Last Time

(Note on this chapter: Again, St. Mungo's is not as it is described in OotP, as this was originally written prior to it's release and I needed this layout for the events of this chapter.)

Chapter 28

Ron's smile vanished. "We have to talk?"

"Yeah," said Harry, picking at a loose thread on the front of his robes. He pulled it free with a tiny snap and let it fall to the floor, staring after it.

"Oh...er...well...." said Ron, turning red. "I can explain."

"Huh?" said Harry, looking at Hermione with a puzzled expression. "Explain what?"

Hermione shrugged, equally confused.

"What are you...." Ron began, and then frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"What are you talking about?" Harry countered.

"You go first," said Ron.

"No, you go," said Harry, looking pale.

Are we on the nursery school playground or what? thought Hermione irritably. She had been dreadfully nervous a few minutes ago, and still was, but now she was very curious as to what Ron wanted to talk to them about, and she was ready to get everything out in the open.

"Somebody just say something!" she said, with a slight trace of hysteria in her voice.

"Are you okay, Hermione?" asked Ron. "You've been so...quiet today, and it's not even because you've got your nose in a book."

"I'm fine!" she snapped. "And I don't always have my nose in a book, you know."

"I know that. I was just kidding," said Ron, forehead wrinkled in confusion.

Harry had a similar look on his face. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"YES!" she said, slamming her hand down on the arm of her chair that her palm stung.

Both boys flinched at her outburst.

"Okay, then," said Ron, looking at Hermione as if she were about to hurl something large and heavy at his head. "I'll go. The thing is...I'm coming back to Hogwarts tomorrow."

At first Hermione wondered why this was such a big revelation - then realized he didn't know they knew. He hadn't actually told them.

"We knew that," said Harry. "Ginny told us."

"Oh," said Ron, turning red. "But I didn't tell...oh...I guess Mum did."

"Why didn't you tell us?" asked Hermione.

"I was going to tell you, but I didn't know...I mean, I didn't want you to make a fuss or anything."

"Ron, we wouldn't make a fuss over you - we'd help you, if you wanted, of course - but we wouldn't make a fuss," said Hermione.

Harry nodded. "You'd hate that."

"Yeah," said Ron. "I would. I know you wouldn't fuss, it's just...hell, I guess I sort of wanted to just sneak back in or something. Like I was just gone for the holiday and coming back like everyone else. Bit stupid, really."

"No," said Harry. "Not stupid. You don't want to make a scene."

"Right. No scenes." He looked at Harry for a minute, and then said, "Well, I should have told you, and Ginny, anyway. Sorry."

"It's okay," said Harry and Hermione together.

Ron looked relieved now that he'd said what he wanted to say. "I guess that's what you wanted to talk about, right? Why I didn't tell you I was coming back?"

There was a very heavy silence.

"That's right, isn't it?" asked Ron, looking from Harry to Hermione and back to Harry again. "No, that's not it...there's something else."

"No..." said Harry slowly. "This isn't about that. It's about me and Hermione."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, about that..." he began, but Hermione cut him off with a wave of her hand.

If we start something based on a lie, it won't work. Even if we mean well, it won't work.

"I'm going to say something, okay, Ron? And I don't want you to get mad, or interrupt, or yell at me, or anything else till I'm done. If you want to yell at me then, that's okay, but just wait till I'm finished."

"Hermione?" Harry asked, but she waved him off too.

"You don't interrupt either, okay? Please? Just listen." She looked at Ron. "Can you do that? Just hear me out?"

Ron looked bewildered, but nodded. "Okay."

"And one more thing. I'm going to tell you the absolute, honest truth; as in, if I had a bottle of Veritaserum here I'd drink the whole thing and tell you the same. If you don't believe I'm telling the truth, then there's no point in me telling you."

"The truth," said Ron, whose expression had gone from bewildered to rather nervous.

"The truth," she repeated.

"The truth," added Harry, looking as nervous as Ron.

"All right." She took a deep breath. "The night after the Auror Trials."

Ron made a small noise, but didn't interrupt.

"Do you want me to tell it?" asked Harry.

"No - be quiet." Harry looked a little hurt, but as she figured they were all going to look really hurt and feel even worse in a few minutes, she kept talking, telling Ron about the night of the Auror Trials, Harry's nightmare, and how she ended up sleeping in the same bed with him.

Hermione didn't look at Harry or Ron as she spoke, but focused on the scuffed surface of the table so intently that the pattern of scratches in the wood practically etched itself into her eyeballs. She felt odd telling Ron about Harry's dream, but she didn't want Harry to have to tell it. He'd barely managed to tell it the first time. Ron made a sort of choked noise at that point, but he didn't interrupt, and she was grateful; if either of them had spoken up she would have lost her nerve completely.

Finally she looked up at Ron, right in his eyes, as if she could somehow make him understand just by looking at him. "And that's all it was, I swear, Ron. There was absolutely nothing else going on. Not a thing."

Ron chewed on his bottom lip for a minute, then said, "Can I interrupt now?"

"No, not yet," said Hermione, looking back down at the table. "There's more."

"More?"

"Yes, more. Here's where I really need you not to interrupt. See...." God, how do I say this? "The thing is...I mean...."

Ron looked very uncomfortable. "Hermione, just say it."

"I'm trying to, I told you not to interrupt!" she snapped.

"I'm sorry, I'm just trying to help you say whatever it is you need to say!"

"Well you interrupting doesn't - " Her words died in her throat as she caught a glimpse of Harry out of the corner of her eye.

Harry had gone a sickly, clammy shade of greenish-grey. His eyes were closed, and he was gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles were turning white. Something told her he didn't look sick because of what they needed to tell Ron, and the nervous feeling in her stomach was suddenly replaced by cold fear.

Ron had noticed it too. "Harry? You alright, mate?" The irritation had vanished from his voice, replaced with worry and concern.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, taking his hand. "What's wrong?"

He didn't answer, but wrenched his hand from hers and gripped his forehead with both hands, breathing heavily.

"Oh, fuck," Ron breathed, wheeling around the table and stopping beside Harry. "It's Voldemort, isn't it?"

Hermione barely had time to register the fact that Ron had finally managed to say Voldemort's name without stumbling over it when Harry dropped his hands and stared at them.

"He's going to do something," Harry whispered. "He's going to attack, somewhere...Death Eaters...." He grimaced and bent double as another pain hit him in the head.

"Where, Harry? What's he doing?" asked Hermione, trying to shove away the panic rising in her chest and failing completely.

Harry shook his head. "Don't know...."

"Get him back to Hogwarts," said Ron. "Back to Dumbledore."

Hermione dug in the pocket of her robes for the Portkey, and her hands shook so badly that she dropped it as soon as she'd got it out of her pocket. She dove under the table to retrieve it, but in her panic only ended up knocking it away and sending it sliding across the room and under the bed.

Ron whipped out his wand. "Accio Portkey!" he said - but nothing happened. "What the hell?" he said, looking confused.

"It must be stuck," said Hermione, crawling under the bed. Sure enough, the Portkey had somehow gotten wedged tightly between the bed and the wall, and with a bit of wiggling and a sharp tug she managed to free it. "Got it," she said, scrambling to her feet.

Harry was still slumped over in his chair, holding his head. Hermione took his arm, pulled him to his feet, and steered him towards the door.

"You can't just use the Portkey here?" Ron asked.

"No," she said impatiently, throwing Harry's arm over her shoulders and putting her arm around his waist, as he looked like he might fall over at any minute. "There are anti-Apparition and anti-Portkey wards all over the building - you can't just have people going in and out all over the place, you know. You have to go to the main lobby or the emergency room to get in or out."

"How d'you know so much about this place? Been reading St. Mungo's - A History or something?"

Hermione let out a small laugh in spite of the panic that threatened to choke her. "No, there's no such thing and you know it." She opened the door and propped it open with her foot, getting a tighter grip on Harry.

"I wish I could help, but I'd just slow you down," Ron said. "Get going."

"If something happens...."

"It won't. Now get Harry out of here," he said firmly. "I'll be there tomorrow."

She nodded at Ron and steered Harry out of the room.

Harry walked like he was drunk; he could barely put one foot in front of the other. One hand clutched his head, and the other gripped Hermione's shoulder like he would drown if he let go.

"Come on, Harry, we don't have much farther," she said, walking as fast as she could without actually dragging him.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't be sorry, just walk."

Once or twice they were almost stopped by hospital personnel who looked at Harry very suspiciously, but they managed to avoid them.

"The last time...my scar...hurt like this...."

"Hush, Harry, don't talk," she said picking up the pace. "We're almost there." They weren't far from the lobby entrance.

Harry shook his head and stopped. He let go of Hermione and leaned heavily against the wall. "No, Hermione...Voldemort...Third Task...."

"You mean the last time your scar hurt this bad was when you were with Voldemort?" Hermione gasped. "D'you think...does that mean...."

There was a high, cold laugh from the direction of the lobby, just around the corner.

Hermione instantly recognised it, though she'd only heard it once in her life - in Harry's memories.

Now she was hearing it for real.

"He's here," said Harry, looking very green.

They were trapped; they knew no other way out of the hospital, and even if they did, Harry was in no shape to run.

"He's in the lobby," she said. "We just have to get far enough to use the Portkey, and we can get out of here."

"No - you're not coming. Go back upstairs, or find another way out, or something, but do not come with me."

"I'm not leaving you, Harry."

"Dammit, Hermione, you're not going to end up like Cedric!" Harry hissed. "Get out of here!"

She knew what he was thinking - kill the spare - the words that had haunted him ever since the Third Task; but she couldn't leave him to go in there alone.

"I'm not leaving," she repeated. "You're not going in there alone."

Harry didn't answer, but took out his wand and started towards the lobby.

Hermione took out her own wand, though she didn't see the point, since she was just Hermione Granger, and that evil laugh echoing through the hall ahead belonged to Lord Voldemort, or Tom Riddle, or He Who Must Not Be Named, or You Know Who, and what in the world could she do against him? If anyone would be doing anything, it would be Harry...everyone had known for a long time that Harry Potter was the only person who could defeat Voldemort...but he was still having trouble standing up straight from the pain in his scar. She had to force her feet to move in the direction of the spine-chilling voice up ahead, knowing that Voldemort was there, waiting for them in the only place they would be able to escape.

There was a flash of green light, a loud thunk, and a terrified scream from the hallway ahead, and just before Hermione and Harry went through the archway leading into the lobby they saw exactly what had happened.

The lobby was full of Death Eaters in hooded black robes and stark white masks, standing in a semicircle near the fountain. There was a young man on the floor, face slack and unseeing, obviously a victim of the Killing Curse. Nearby was another Death Eater with his arm around the neck of a very pretty, very pregnant woman, who was apparently the wife of the dead man on the floor, screaming and crying and twisting frantically to escape from the Death Eater's grip. Several mediwitches were being held at wandpoint in the corner by another group of Death Eaters.

In the middle of it all stood Voldemort.

He was even more terrible looking than he had been in Harry's memories - hideous, skull like face, blood-red eyes, flat, reptilian nose.

If she had seen him in a Muggle horror movie, she would have laughed at the ridiculousness of the special effects, but this...man...was no computer generated creation.

He was real - and he made her blood run cold.

"Harry Potter," he said, turning in their direction, with the slightest trace of a smile. "My information was indeed...correct."

With a huge effort, Harry stood up very straight. Hermione could see the beads of sweat that had popped out on his face from the strain of ignoring the pain in his head, the determined set of his jaw....

And something else, something that scared her more than the sight of the skeletal-looking madman before them - that hard, empty look in his bright green eyes that she'd only seen once before.

"Voldemort."

Just a few more steps and we'll be clear of the wards... Hermione clutched the small Portkey tightly in her hand, hoping no one could see it.

The pregnant woman moaned and sagged in the Death Eater's arms.

"Don't move, Harry, or the woman dies," said Voldemort. "Wouldn't that be tragic? Just as she's about to bring another life into the world...." He waved his wand and Harry's and Hermione's wands flew from their hands to Voldemort's. "Much better, I think."

"You wouldn't!" shouted Hermione, before she could stop herself. He must not know about the Portkey, or he would have taken it too...but we can't use it standing here, still in the anti-Portkey wards...even if we could, he'll kill that woman!

Voldemort stepped closer to them, holding his wand lightly with his long, bony white fingers. "Oh, Harry - your little Mudblood girlfriend doesn't know me very well, does she? Yes, I most certainly would kill her. Do you not believe me?" He nodded and the Death Eater let the woman go as Voldemort pointed his wand at her and said, "Crucio."

The woman fell to the floor, screaming in a way Hermione had never heard before and never wanted to hear again. She didn't to watch, but found she couldn't tear her eyes away from her; and when she instinctively stepped forward to help her, a pair of black robed arms grabbed her and dragged her off to the side, holding her so tightly she couldn't move.

Death Eater hands.

They had grabbed Harry as well; he didn't fight them, but stared at the woman writhing on the floor.

"Stop it!" Harry yelled, looking sick. "She's got nothing to do with this!"

Voldemort acted as if Harry had said nothing.

"Please!" said Harry furiously.

"Since you ask so nicely." He lifted his wand casually, as if he were bored of the amusement of the woman's screams; the curse ended, leaving the woman in a sobbing heap on the floor, moaning and clutching her hands protectively over her swollen belly.

"How noble of you," Voldemort continued, "to want to ease the suffering of another. To want to bear the suffering of another...Crucio!"

Hermione stared in horror, silent tears running down her face as Harry fell to the floor screaming - she'd felt sick enough watching a stranger suffer it - but to see Harry under the curse was agonizing. The look on his face was a thousand times worse than anything she'd ever seen or imagined, and she had to look away, though nothing would block out the sound of his anguished screams.

Please God let make him stop, make him leave Harry alone....

Finally, Voldemort lifted his wand and smiled.

"What...do you...want?" Harry asked, panting, trying to get up off the floor and not succeeding.

Voldemort threw back his head and laughed. "You, of course, Harry...what else would I be here for?"

Hermione realized that the Death Eaters had dragged both her and Harry well into the lobby, and they were now clear of the wards.

It might just work....

What about that poor woman? If you run, he'll kill her, he'll kill her and her poor baby...it won't get a chance to live....

She clutched the Portkey tightly in her sweaty hand.

He's going to kill her regardless - he already killed her husband. He'll kill her no matter what, and you and Harry as well.

Do it.

Hermione said a hasty, silent prayer for the woman on the floor, pleading forgiveness for what she was about to do.

Voldemort was circling Harry now, taunting him, knowing full well Harry couldn't do anything while wandless and reeling from Cruciatus.

She had to time this just right....

Not yet....

Almost....

Now!

Hermione rammed her elbow back into the Death Eater's chest and stomped hard on his foot - he let out a muffled yell and let go of her - she kicked him in the knees, sending him flying into his comrades behind him -

She ran towards Harry, but something - a Death Eater, probably - tripped her and she went sprawling to the floor, flat on her stomach.

It was slick, polished marble, and she slid across it until she was just within arms' reach of Harry...she took a firm hold of Harry's ankle and pressed the button on the Portkey, feeling the familiar jerk behind her navel even as she heard the furious screams of Voldemort ringing in her ears.