Inell's Fanfiction Archive

It seems as if every moment of Hermione’s life has been lived to prepare for this moment. It’s a foolish thing to think, she knows, but she looks at Harry and Ron across the flames of their small fire and knows it’s true. This is why she was given the gift of magic, why she has always had an interest in obscure subjects, and why she was brought into their lives and they into hers. Her strange interests have saved them repeatedly, as they have saved her, and the symbiotic nature of the relationship is clear.

Divination and the like are subjects she finds contemptuous, at best. There is no logic, no concrete evidence to support theories and predictions, and she doesn’t trust anything that isn’t tangible when it comes to such matters. However, the last nine months have proven to her that there might possibly be something to the theory of fate. She spends a lot of time thinking back over the past seven years, remembering that day she first got her Hogwarts letter and then the train ride where she met Neville and so many other things that seemed so insignificant at the time but have proven far more important as the years have passed by.

There is a hint of egotism in the belief that her purpose in life thus far has been to help Harry with this fight, to be at his side during this war, and to provide him with the support and knowledge he needs to win. Hermione doesn’t consider it arrogance to know, in her heart, that this is how it was meant to be because she can’t imagine any other life. The idea of not being important, of not having a part to play in Harry’s struggle, of not being significant in this war isn’t even something she can fathom.

It’s nearly over. The last horcrux has finally been destroyed. There is a vivid scar, testament to its destruction, on Ron’s jaw, and it seems to glow in the firelight. They are tired, so very tired, and weary from the search that has led them all over Britain and into parts of Europe. Harry’s scar has been throbbing mercilessly for months and his lack of sleep is evident in the dark circles beneath his eyes. He only sleeps when they hold him and he can relax long enough in the security of their embrace to rest.

She sees articles in the Daily Prophet and has lost count of the death toll. They try to remain distant from the war so they don’t lose sight of their goal, but it’s difficult when they catch a glimpse of a familiar name or business. She cries at night when it’s too dark for Ron and Harry to see. They need her to remain strong and she is strong for them. In the darkness when they are sleeping, she allows herself to be weak, to mourn those who have given their lives fighting for their convictions.

Things are becoming increasingly tense as the time draws near. She is worried for them, far more worried than she has ever been, but she can’t lose her focus because it’s too dangerous to be driven by emotion in these circumstances. She has to remain logical and cool, prepared to kill or to die to keep Harry and Ron safe, and to know that each breath could be her last and not have any regrets about that knowledge.

In her case, there isn’t much conflict in this decision. Her parents are safe. She’s not seen them in over a year but she knows they are hidden in America and have no idea the danger she faces daily. Ron, however, is torn between supporting Harry and seeking revenge for the death of his father and Percy. George is injured, too, according to a report in the paper, but they can’t risk the danger of communicating with the Weasleys to find out more information. It’s frustrating them all, to be cut off from people.

It’s necessary, though, and that knowledge has kept them on task. It will be over within a day. Hermione looks at the sky and wonders if she’ll ever see the moon again or if her life will be taken tomorrow when they face Voldemort. She has known since the battle at the Department of Mysteries that she might die at any time. The curse she experienced at the hands of Antonin Dolohov ensured that she would never think things would be easy, or without risk.

Death is a constant risk due to her friendship with Harry as well as her intelligence and bloodline. She came to terms with that realization years ago and now looks at death as a necessary part of life. She doesn't fear it; there is no place for fear when fighting, she has learned, so she locks away her fears into a corner of her mind once her wand is in hand and it’s time to fight.

Harry is going to succeed, though. For once in her life, Hermione is being optimistic instead of realistic. He will defeat Voldemort, she believes in her heart, though she does not know at what cost. She refuses to believe that he or Ron will die yet she accepts the idea of her own death as a possibility. Both Harry and Ron are resigned to the idea they all might die before this is over, but they plan to take Voldemort with them if it comes to that. She can’t believe the last years have been wasted and pointless so she has to believe that Harry will win. The idea that they’ve been through all this, that Harry has suffered so much, for no reason is too disheartening to even consider.

They will stand together tomorrow and face Voldemort. It seems somewhat anticlimactic, in a way, as there is no epic battle, and it will, hopefully, be a small attack with the three of them against him and his closest guards. Their plan, one they think will actually be successful, is to catch him unaware. However, they have written letters to their loved ones. They’ll owl them to Neville in the morning, to keep for them just in case they don’t make it, with strict instructions for them to be sent out upon their death. Of course, if they fail all hope will be lost so, really, they can’t fail. It’s just not a possibility.

She’s as ready as she can be for whatever they might face. Many years ago she read spells from a book she was never supposed to see, learning them in the glow of a lumos and she knows that the magic, darker than most they face, is still there in her mind. It’s ready to be used if necessary, at her disposal should she feel the need, and she’s aware that using it may require a sacrifice. She’s ready to make that trade if necessary just as she is prepared to step in front of Ron or Harry to save them.

Harry finally stands up and sighs as he looks at the sky, possibly enjoying his own last look at the moon. Ron douses the fire and it becomes dark far too suddenly. Hermione pulls her jumper closer around her to keep out the early spring chill as she gets to her feet. They don’t speak, no longer really needing words to communicate amongst the three of them, and the silence is comforting.

Ron lies down first, taking up the most room on their pile of blankets. She is next, settling against him and opening her arms for Harry, who joins them and moves close, shaking slightly beneath her palms as she hugs him. She wants to stroke his hair and tell him that it’s okay, that it will all be okay, but the silence and the feel of their arms is enough to tell him that now.

She doesn’t know what tomorrow holds, how things will end, and who will survive. Hermione only knows that they will do their best, that they will bravely fight for each other, for what they believe, and that they will be stronger together. In the end, that’s all that really matters.

This is how it’s meant to be.

The End