Harry Potter and the Battle of Hogwarts

[seek_to_end]

A pregnant hush lay over the grounds of Hogwarts, the eerie quiet of early, dark morning when all good children and creatures should be fast asleep. But no one slept that night. Students, teachers, Order members, Death Eaters, house-elves and creatures of the forest alike moved with silent, purposeful tread, some in fear and some in anticipation

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[honestlyrubbish]

It was just a dream, right?

The thought echoed in Hermione's mind time and time again, even as Voldemort proclaimed Harry dead, even as she glanced up at Hagrid's expression and felt her stomach plummet- he wasn't a good actor, he wasn't a good liar, the devastation on his face could only be because he believed every word of Voldemort's, nothing more than that. Harry couldn't have been dead, too many people had promised that they knew what happened in the future. That the war ended in triumph. Gradually, Voldemort's words, booming as they were, faded into an indistinct buzz around Hermione's ears, leaving only those four words repeating, over and over: Harry Potter is dead.

Hermione was sure that she screamed. Her throat felt raw, though her ears heard none of it. Shaking, she felt Ron's presence nearby, knew that he was there, that he hadn't left her for even a minute since they'd found each other in Hogwarts and wouldn't again by choice. But it felt very much like the entire world was suddenly distant, that a bubble was drawn around her, stretching to the tips of her fingers, and that while there, she could see the rest of life pass by in a flash.

Maybe we should just stay here, Harry. Grow old.

She'd stopped. The tears streaming down her face tickled as they dried. This wouldn't have been the way Harry wanted her to react, and it was that knowledge alone that pushed her forward, her wand held out and pointed directly at Voldemort, hair swept behind her.

Kneel before him?

"Never," she yelled.