Persephone Descending

Chapter 6: Victory

"As he, defeated, dying, On whose forbidden ear/The distant strains of triumph/Burst agonized and clear!"--Emily Dickenson

"Hermione, I have something to tell you."

Hermione looked up from the table where she was looking at a map of King's Cross. Information had been received of a suspected Death Eater raid, and deep inside Hermione was a horrifying, chilling certainty that it was a trap. The feeling had started that morning, when she'd woken up and prepared herself breakfast, and the thought of I shall never do this here again had slammed into her. She'd put her coffee cup down and had to take several deep, calming breaths. The strange feeling had persisted all morning, and closing the door behind her as she stepped into the hallway had rung with a definite finality that seemed to echo in the quiet hall of the building.

Of course, it did not help that she was still shaking from her latest dream, where she had stood over Harry's body and stared down at him, spread out under a Death Eater's cloak while the Dark Lord laughed in pleasure....

She turned her attention now to Remus, who stood next to the table looking down at her. There was a strange, sad expression in his eyes she did not quite care for. Unbidden came the memory of the last time he'd brought her bad news, and her hand tightened on the quill with which she was taking notes. As if this raid will require my notes, as if there will be an exam afterwards.

"What's up, Remus?" she asked, a quiet sadness in her voice she no longer tried to hide. Certainly he remembered as well the last time he had faced her with that expression.

"It's ... Hermione, I've been told--" He paused, and closed his eyes briefly, sighing.

"Just tell me, Remus," she said, rubbing her eyes and wishing for nothing more than a few hours of sleep I suspect I'll be sleeping soon enough. It was a testament to how exhausted she was that this seemed almost a relief, as at least in death she would be rested.

"We've heard from some of our contacts, and ... well, I'm sorry Hermione, but it seems that your parent's house--someone's burned it down." Remus shook his head. "We've no idea why, as we're fairly certain the Death Eaters are aware that neither you, nor your parents, have not lived there for some time. We felt it best to tell you, as it seems like a warning."

"You--you're certain, then, it was the Death Eaters?" Her voice caught in her throat as she struggled to breathe. The dream from the night before swirled in her memory, she saw the flames licking at the room in which she was trapped with the body of her dearest friend. She closed her eyes, and it seemed she could hear the Dark Lord's laughter in her head.

"Yes," Remus said quietly. "They set the Dark Mark in the sky above your house, Hermione." He watched her, silent, not offering to touch her but remaining close by in case the urge should strike her.

"I see," she said, horrified. That is too much of a coincidence, she thought, sickened. I should have admitted weeks ago that this was happening, that the Dark Lord was visiting me in my dreams. Now, my house is destroyed, the last refuge of peace I could have had. She thought of her bedroom, the typical girl's bedroom with the canopy bed and the music boxes, the awards she'd brought home from Hogwarts, the collection of pictures. She imagined them blackened and destroyed, lying in ruins. Her teddy bear, an ancient thing she'd not thought of in years, with its white fur would have been burned beyond recognition, a charred and ruined toy with only the glassy eyes left.

"My house," she whispered it reverently, like a prayer.

"It's going to be all right, Hermione," Remus said softly, reaching a hand out softly to lay it on her shoulder, the touch tentative.

"No, no it isn't!" She stood up from the table, her chair dragging across the tile of the floor. "Everything I've loved in my entire life is gone. My parents are so far away, and I know I'll never see them again. Hogwarts has fallen to the Dark Lord and might as well have been wiped off the face of the earth, and Ron is dead. Everything's gone, Remus, what's the use anymore?" She buried her face in her hands, shaking but unable to cry. Her mind would not stop with the image of the charred teddy bear. Strange when she had not thought of it in years.

"Hermione," Remus murmured and surprised her by pulling her into his arms. He felt warm and strong, and she wrapped her arms around him, desperate to be held, desperate to be comforted. "Shh, now. It's just a house, and no one died. In times of war, that is good news."

She laughed harshly, although she did not pull out of his embrace. "I suppose so," she said, voice bitter. "And I guess it doesn't even matter, anyway."

He tipped her chin up to stare into her eyes, his own concerned. "Why do you say that?"

"I'm going to die, Remus. Soon." Her voice was matter-of-fact, although fear dripped into her stomach, feeling like ice sliding through her.

"No, Hermione, you're not," he said, hugging her fiercely. "You're a clever girl and you'll be just fine. You'll come through this War unscathed, and you'll love again and be happy. I know you will."

She pulled away from him, incredulous, and stared into his serious face. "You mean that," she breathed, "you really do. You've lost your best friends, Remus, and I'm losing mine! How can you tell me I'm going to remain unscathed by the War? It's already destroyed me. I'm just waiting now."

She turned from him, unable to bear the concern and the sadness in his face. "Waiting for what?" he asked her, and the question was a surprise.

She grabbed her cloak and walked toward the door, looking at him only as she went to leave the room. "Waiting to die, Remus. I'm leaving on this mission, and I'm not coming back. Don't ask me how I know this, I just do. There's nothing anyone can do about it, and I'm almost relieved."

She smiled at him, at the horrified look on his face and the understanding underneath that yes, there was always the chance she would never come back, that she would fall as so many of her friends had fallen. "You were the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we ever had," she said, as she cocked her head thoughtfully. "I remember how awful that boggart was and how it was McGonagall telling me I'd failed everything. It was so hard then to laugh at my own failure. I suppose failure is what I'm going to face, and maybe this time, I'll be able to laugh at it." She pulled the door behind her, leaving him alone in the room, and went to meet whatever fate had in store for her.

*****

As it turns out, it was and was not a trap, after all.

The intelligence they had received had not lied. There was indeed a planned Death Eater raid in King's Cross, although the Order's small force arrived after the Dark Mark had been sent up into the sky. The families that lay dead in the small houses were just the first course; a select group of Order members was to have been the dessert. The Death Eaters would have known their enemies would be coming, but they had deadly business to attend to before they met their foes on the field of battle.

Lucius Malfoy had never been one to miss opportunities. If they could eliminate enemies of the Dark Lord and torture and kill blood traitors at the same time, then so much the better. After decimating the population of the town and terrifying those left alive, the Death Eaters waited in an impressively frightening line to engage the enemy, robed and hooded and masked. There were many Dark Marks shining in the moonless sky, glowing green and triumphant over the houses to mark their kills. The Marks had begun to linger through the nighttime hours and even into the early morning light, a sure sign of Voldemort's growing powers as they used to fade several hours before dawn. The sight of those sinister Marks shimmering in the air with a line of Death Eaters standing silently on the wet grass below would have chilled anyone's blood.

Hermione was no exception.

It was one of those moments, she thought oddly, where time seemed to stand still and everything appeared bright and sharp, like a Muggle picture. Perhaps this was what happened when you arrived at the moment where it all ended--she would have to ask Ron when she saw him. Are the images of the Quidditch Pitch and the towers of Hogwarts the last thing you remember seeing?

"So," a cold voice drawled, and Hermione recognized Lucius Malfoy's voice from one of the taller men in the line of Death Eaters. "Dumbledore's finest. Not so fine, after all, are you? Why, if you'd arrived earlier, you might have stopped us. Such a shame. As it is, you're surrounded." He gestured with his wand, and there was a rustle behind them. Although Hermione didn't bother to look, she was sure that more Death Eaters now surrounded them. She'd known the situation was hopeless when they'd left the Order headquarters.

There was that breathless moment of waiting that preceded any battle, and then it began.

She fought hard, as her body had been trained to do, and her mind shut down as she fell to the ground, straining to stupefy as many Death Eaters as she could before one of them finally managed to kill her. It was all she had left. She wished she knew which one of them killed Ron, because it would have been sweet indeed to repay the only true debt of vengeance she really owed. She wouldn't hesitate to use the Killing Curse on that nameless man who had robbed her of her lover.

"We can stop this," Malfoy shouted over the din, though Hermione couldn't see him. It was obvious they had scouted this location for several weeks and knew exactly where to hide and what enchantments to use to provide adequate cover. "Tell us where Potter is, and we'll leave you alone."

None of the Order even bothered to answer; this was not the first time such an ultimatum had been provided on the field of battle.

"Then kill them all," Malfoy said coldly at their silence and laughed. "Or suffer the Dark Lord's wrath. He has decreed there shall be no survivors."

Hermione felt the certainty of it settle in her bones. They were outmatched, outnumbered, and it would be a significant victory for Voldemort's forces. They should have listened to me. If we had used the same techniques the Dark Lord uses to get information from his prisoners, then we would have known this was a trap. The Dark Lord must know where Harry was; if he didn't want survivors, it meant he had no need for information. For you, Harry, and for Ron, I'll try my hardest to kill Lucius Malfoy, so help me Merlin, before I die. Just as I said we should have done before he escaped Azkaban. She threw herself into the fray certain she would die before she ever got to Malfoy, but curiously, while around her the Order members fells silently, not a curse touched her.

Malfoy was standing back, arms crossed, as the Death Eaters killed those she had arrived with. She saw him and thought perhaps he was laughing. Her blood boiled, and she struggled to reach him. She was so intent upon her goal, she did not hear the voice that spoke a spell silently in the darkness beside her. It was not a spell she would have recognized; and it was her undoing.

She was engulfed suddenly in a haze of dark, heavy fog. It began to fall around her, cold and heavy, as if she had jumped into a lake at night and was sinking beneath the waves. The sounds of the battle were dying off--the screams, the shouts, all of it gone--and it was so quiet, she wondered idly if she might be dead, if someone's Killing Curse had hit her unaware and she was wandering through the murky veil between the worlds. Surely my body would not hurt so much in death?

"Miss Granger," she heard a voice drawl, and could barely make out the figure of a man standing a few feet away from her. The figure was tall--draped in a black cloak and hooded--but other than that, she could not see his face. The voice, however, gave his identity away easily.

Malfoy.

"We should have killed you," she snarled, surprised by the anger in her voice. Trembling, she pointed her wand, hand shaking as she fought to keep it level with the figure in the shadows.

He laughed. "Kill me, then, girl. If you have the talent--I have to say this might be one of those areas your knowledge will not help you. I do not believe they award NEWTs in the use of the Killing Curse. I'd have certainly received one, if they did...but you?" He laughed insultingly. "Mudbloods aren't capable. You just don't have the talent."
She shook all over, the anger pouring through her, trying to force the words. She'd incapacitated people before, but she had never stared a person down and cast the Killing Curse on them. The Order's philosophy had been to stun, to stupefy--to incapacitate. Their enemy usually operated differently. Her arm ached from holding her wand out pointed towards him, but she could not make herself voice the words.

"It must be so horrifying," Malfoy continued, laughter thick in his voice, obviously enjoying himself at her expense. "To know you'll fall here because you're not smart or clever enough to kill me. I'm certain you should have had me killed me in Azkaban. I waited for it, you know, but it never happened. Imagine my surprise to learn your Order was too virtuous to enact a simple assassination! Quite surprising, really. I'm terribly sorry about your house, by the way. I must say I enjoyed seeing your bedroom, though, Miss Granger. Such a lovely little room, with all your little Muggle toys. I can hardly believe you had a teddy bear--who would have thought it?" The figure shook his head. "I suppose you'll be disappointed to hear it was not I who killed your lover, of course, although I am sorry to have missed that particular pleasure. That would have made it easier to kill me, wouldn't it?"

Her voice cracked, it sounded like it was dragged out of her soul, but she couldn't quite manage to say the words past, "Ava--" She choked on them, tears running down her face.

"Before I kill you and send you to see your lover, Miss Granger, are you certain there is nothing else I can do that will help you attempt your pathetic use of the Killing Curse? I did not kill your lover, that is true, but I have just today located your parents, isn't that splendid? Too bad your secret keeper has such a resistance to pain. Shall I tell them how you failed to kill their murderer when I burn them alive?"
"Avada Kedavra!"

The sound was ripped from her soul, and the flash of green sparked for a moment, and the figure fell at her feet. Hermione dropped her arm, muscles spasming, and stood panting as she stared at the lifeless figure on the ground in front of her. The fog began to clear, and she started to shiver. It was silent. If she had indeed killed Malfoy, perhaps the other Death Eaters had fled. Hermione felt curiously empty, and was unable to move even when two strong arms grasped her from behind.

"I was beginning to wonder what I'd have to say to get you to curse me," a voice said in her ear, unmistakable and cold.

She gasped. It wasn't possible, he couldn't still be alive! But it was Malfoy, the voice was his alone and he was too tall to be Draco, who resembled him greatly but had not his height.

As the fog cleared, she struggled against him until she saw who it was she had killed, saw who it was that lie dead at her feet.

The blank, empty eyes of Remus Lupin stared up at her, and Hermione screamed.

She barely felt it when Malfoy wrapped his fingers around her wrist and lifted her arm, murmuring "Mosmorde". The green light appeared again the sky, a horrible mirror image of the first, over the body of her fallen friend, cast with her very own wand.

"The Dark Lord will be pleased to know his plan worked," he said to someone standing next to him, and stepped back into the shadows. "He was most eager to see if that particular enchantment would be successful. I daresay it was." Malfoy turned to her. "The Dark Lord said to tell you that when you want to find him to cast the Dark Mark into the sky, and he shall have you brought to him. Your wand has cast the spell--you heard the words. Even a Mudblood should be able to achieve it, especially one of your vaunted intelligence.

Never, Hermione thought, but she did not say it out loud.

Malfoy and the nameless other man Apparated away, leaving Hermione alone in the quiet King's Cross neighborhood, staring at the horrible sight of a dozen or so Dark Marks that burned in the sky, but seeing only the one that shone brightly over the body of her dead friend.