Hermione's Horcrux

They snuck away, knowing that there was no time to lose, and they would never be able to leave Ginny behind if she knew where they were going. They few through the chamber, silent and somber, until they reached the massive moldering snake. As they tore the fangs from its jaw, it occurred to Ron that he should warn Hermione about the possibility of visions.

"See, the locket was sort of like a Dementor, or a Boggart. It talked."

Hermione asked a lot of questions at once, which Ron steadfastly deflected.

"I can't tell you about it, it was personal. But you probably won't see anything, anyways. We had to open the locket to kill it. You can just stab the cup. I wanted to warn you, just in case."

"I can just stab the cup?" asked Hermione, surprised.

"Well, yeah. Figured you'd want to have a go. Harry and I have both done one, seems fitting you should too."

Hermione nodded nervously. When they had gathered enough fangs, she set the cup on the ground and steeled herself. She raised her arm, ready to stab, and then suddenly dropped it.

"Do you think I should stab for the center of the cup? Or maybe the little badger? Maybe I should turn it upside-down and aim at the bottom? I wish I understood the process of making Horcruxes better, because..."

Ron interrupted her. "I don't fancy spending the whole battle here. Stop theorizing and just do it. I'm sure it'll be fine."

She frowned at him, but seemed to see his point. Preparing again, she took a deep breath and raised her arm high. This time she did it, stabbing at the cup with all her might. But to Ron's horror, at the last moment, she balked, and hit the cup with only the edge of the fang. It clattered to the floor uselessly. Hermione apologized and scrambled to the ground, grabbing for her dropped fang. As Ron watched, the badger on the cup coiled itself into a snake. When Hermione saw it, she froze, terrified.

"Hermione Granger, I can see into the depths of your pathetic Mudblood soul. You are not strong enough to defeat me, and in your failure you will be abandoned."

"Hermione, don't listen! Stab it, quick!"

But Hermione only stared, transfixed. And, as Ron knew they would, ghostly figures emerged from the center of the cup. He saw himself and Harry, cold and terrifying. They sneered at her.

"You must have known this moment would come, when we would cast the Mudblood from us."

"It's lying! Hermione! That's not us, stab the cup!"

"Oh, you have been useful to us. Done our work for us; served well." Phantom-Ron looked at Hermione, his eyes full of contempt. "You are such a pleasant house-elf."

Hermione yelped and shook her head. Phantom Harry looked down at her. "But your usefulness to us is at an end. You are beneath us; you belong to no world and no one."

Hermione began to sob as more figures emerged from the cup. Familiar Hogwarts teachers and students swarmed around her, chanting. "You will never be one of us, never ever belong. You will always be what you were on your first day at of school: a pathetic, ugly little girl desperate for praise she knows she can never deserve."

Ron yelled her name louder, and tried to step in to her vision, but the phantoms hid him. His phantom-self emerged from the circling mass, inches from Hermione's face. "And yet you think yourself worthy of us, of me? You imagine that I yearn for you, that I love you. You even suppose that we have a future together." The phantom laughed, his face hard and cruel. "I could never desire you; never look at you as equal, let alone as mate. Can you imagine I would burden my children with your nagging temperament, your mundane abilities, or your foul blood?"

"Bollocks!" yelled the real Ron, shaking with rage. Hermione seemed to see him again for the first time. Relieved, he reached out to her. "It's me, I'm real. It's shite, all of it! Stab it, Hermione!"

Hermione stared at him, wide-eyed and dazed. With an abrupt shake of her head, she seemed to come to herself. Suddenly fierce, she stabbed the cup with such force that it crumpled. As the figures disappeared, she collapsed, head in her hands.

Ron dropped down beside her and gathered her up in his arms. He was trying hard to figure out what to say. "Hermione, you know we would never..."

Hermione shook her head, trying to stop her sniffling. She looked totally exhausted. "It's just... so embarrassing," she hiccupped. "You don't have to try to..."

Ron gave her a firm squeeze. "Ok, we don't have to talk about it. But so y'know, all of that stuff Horcrux-me said about you? Everything it said -- all of it -- it's exactly the opposite."

Hermione hiccupped again, and smiled nervously up at him. He gently brushed her curly hair out of her face.

"Anytime I call you mundane, it's not me. Also, I'm not really fussed about my future offspring." She giggled. Impulsively, he kissed her forehead. "And anyway, they should be so lucky."

Hermione blushed, and buried her head in Ron's chest. He stroked her hair. "Don't worry, 'Mione. It's not nearly as embarrassing as the rubbish the locket had me seeing."

Hermione's head snapped up. "What did you see?"

Ron's ears turned a predictable bright red. "It's personal."

"And mine wasn't?"

Ron sighed. "But it's not really the moment to get into my effed-up psyche, is it? There's a war going on."

Hermione snorted. "How convenient."

Ron smiled. "Not especially, actually. Tell you what: I promise to tell you about it after, Ok? After this is all over, the two of us'll have a nice cuppa and chat about our deepest fears."

Hermione pulled away and stood, then offered him a hand up. "Fine. As long as you don't go getting yourself killed just to avoid talking about your feelings."

Ron snapped his fingers. "Drat. You're too clever for me, Hermione. Now I'm stuck surviving."