'Obliviate…'

Tears dripped down Hermione Granger's face as she whispered goodbye to her parents for the final time. Shaking her head, she gritted her teeth and wiped them away hurriedly; after all, they were in a war, and some things were necessary. She spent not a moment longer than she needed to in the house she once called home, collecting her things briskly and striding out of the front door, blinking back the glistening tears that were again forming. Her traitorous hand shook whilst turning the doorknob, and she muttered to herself harshly, needing to keep her fearless attitude alive – needing to stay in one piece.

Taking one final looking back, and desperately trying to memorise her childhood home, she took the giant's leap forward that was her first step into the street. From there she didn't look back.

~~~/~~~

It was only when she'd arrived in the dark streets of London that she took out her beaded bag and rummaged through. Discretely, she pulled out a small bug-like broach, and pinned it to her jacket. It was in fact, a small device invented by Fred and George Weasley, designed to send out a small magical pulse alerting the order to her whereabouts. They had distributed them once it was clear that with the placement of protective barriers around most order safe houses, many of the less magically advanced would have a hard time simply finding their safe spots first time, let alone getting in. Hermione, chagrined though she was at having to accept one, did so on the terms that she had not actually travelled in person to many of the places the order had shown her, and thus lacked the sufficient knowledge to simply apparate or walk to the Weasley's burrow. With the device in place, and the order alerted earlier in the morning, she would simply have to sit and wait.

Pulling her jacket closer around her, she shivered and looked for a small café to slip into quietly. Her gaze darted back and forth and she wondered whether or not she should've cloaked her appearance. Then she snorted. "As if Voldemort's going to be hiding in the streets of muggle London at this time." She whispered to reassure herself.

Finding a small muggle café, (which, although seedy, was good enough,) she ordered a tea and sat in wait, wishing that she could've stayed with her parents until the last moment. Everything about her reminded her of them, no matter how frail or ridiculous the connection was. Even her tea, brown and murky, reminded her of her mother's particular tastes and high standards, and her father's almost playful need to buy hot chocolate instead.

She raised her head slightly as a group of teens, most likely drunk, came in laughing. A wistful look filled her eyes, as she thought about what could've been. If there were no war, no magic. She felt a drop of moisture on her cheek again, and straightened again. 'Come one now, you can't keep doing this. How do you expect to be of any help to the boys when you're crying and wishing your life away?'

Deciding she'd better get moving before her thoughts dwelt any further, she got up to leave, leaving a few coins on the table and stepping out into the street.

There she froze.

Standing before her was not Tonks, or Kingsley, or even one of the Weasleys. Gritting her teeth madly and cocking her head to the side in the street ahead of her stood Bellatrix Lestrange, in all of her full wizarding glory.

Hermione ducked back into the shop, her heart already hammering in her ears. How had they found her? Her eyes flicked to the broach, and she quickly threw it under an adjoining table. Peering up above the seat she had ducked under she spied the woman twirling around in frustration, and calling to a few others, not death eaters, that accompanied her.

Hermione backed up slowly, trying to keep a cool head. It was possible that their appearance was a mere coincidence, and that they weren't searching for her. Perhaps she could still slip out unnoticed, along with the youths behind her.

A flash of violet at the corner expelled any such thoughts from her mind.

"Come out come out wherever you are!" Madame Lestrange sang in her mocking tones. "Or I'll keep playing with the mudpeople!"

Her inner lion roared as Hermione realised that those people out there were being tortured by the death eaters and without thinking she stood up. Fortunately for her, her thoughts then broke through the reason with her as she realised she'd be hopelessly outnumbered. Wrestling with herself, she debated going ahead anyway, but knew that Bellatrix would simply kill her on the spot and return to her fun. She rubbed her arms, agitated, and trying to think of a way to get the better of the woman. If only she could hold out long enough for some help to arrive.

Her eyes sought out any weapons, shields or tools that might help her. That was when her eyes landed on the stairs. A plan began to formulate quickly, one stupid enough to rival one of Harry's; but even so it was her only option. She cast a quick locking spell on the door to the café and hurried up the stairs quickly, stopping only briefly to lock the group inside the building. Once she was at the top, already heaving for breath, she slammed into the door and burst onto the flat balcony. No yet high enough, she turned to the nearest wall and began scaling that too, praying that Bellatrix would play with her victims before they were killed. The screams both assured her and tormented her.

Her arms shouted in protest as she began hauling herself up, and Hermione took a moment to wish she'd spent more time perfecting her fitness over the holiday, not crouched inside researching. But finally she managed to scramble haphazardly onto the tiled roof of the building, and duck behind the chimney. From here, she executed her plan, hoping and praying that this wouldn't be the death of her.

A laughing Bellatrix Lestrange stood smiling over the small man, who was by now quivering with fear. "Kiss my boots." She commanded, sounding imperious and dangerous. He looked at her boots, and back to her. "HURRY!" She screamed, prompting him to jump. She drew out her wand, ready to find another, more obedient plaything, and up on the roof Hermione aimed her wand.

"Avada-"

"Expelliarmus!" The spell hit direct, and sent the woman's wand flying into the air.

"Potter!" One of them yelled, and Bellatrix snapped.

"Fool! That was a woman!" She retrieved her wand and looked around steadily. "Where did it come from?" A death eater pointed in her direction. "In that alley!"

Scarcely believing her luck, Hermione watched from above as they charged down the alley beside her, and aimed another curse, this time wordlessly. 'Stupefy!'

As their teammate dropped to the ground the rest of the death eaters scattered, finding various covers. "You!" Bellatrix hissed, pointing her finger. "Where did it come from?" She sounded livid.

Scrunching her eyes shut briefly, Hermione ducked back in front of the chimney and shot a curse at the dark witch, hoping to eliminate her early. Unfortunately for her, a split second before being hit Bellatrix twisted and locked gazes with the girl as the spell zoomed past her and into the nearest henchman. A sadistic smile crept onto her lips. "Hello little girl."

The young girl couldn't contain the small whimper that escaped her lips. 'Stay focused.'

She remembered vividly Remus's words in one of the few training sessions they'd been afforded, and tried to embody the self-confidence Harry emitted in these situations. "Hello."

"Won't you come down and play?" Hermione turned on the spot at these words, but found herself unable to apparate. Standing on the roof, she now seemed quite stranded, and backed away from the edge.

At that moment Bellatrix greatly resembled a satisfied cat, sure in the knowledge that she had her prey within reach. A twist of dark magic was all it took to bring her to the top, face to face with Hermione. A flash of recognition flew through her eyes, and her grin became even darker. "Hello, Mudblood."

Hermione didn't wait, she simply pushed. Down Bellatrix tumbled over the edge, saving herself at the last minute and recovering enough to snarl at her young foe. "How dare you!"

Hermione knew she had run out of time. She turned, and ran for it across the tiles, trying to keep at full speed and not stumble. Dark clouds swirled around her as she swiftly changed direction again and again, jumping over gaps and heading for flatter ground. Whenever she heard the tell-tale whizz of a spell, she either jumped or ducked, hoping that she could avoid being hit long enough to get out of the anti-apparation zone.

Unfortunately for her, it was at that moment that Bellatrix managed to overtake her, appearing in a flash before her. Surprised, Hermione cried out and lost her footing, falling and landing on the ground not far below, in a waste disposal bin.

She hissed, and felt a new throbbing pain go up her leg, resonating from her ankle. Bellatrix's bubbling laughter echoed above her, and before she knew it she was being dragged by her hair into the alley. Breathing heavily, and crying due to the pain, she was deposited in a heap at Bellatrix's feet. A sharp kick to her nose brought her back to her senses, and Bellatrix grabbed her hair, forcing her to stare up into her face.

"I think the dark Lord wold be very interested to know that we have a mudblood brave enough to say his name don't you Greyback?" A low grunt sounded just behind her ears and Hermione flinched in terror.

"N-no!" She managed to mutter through the pain, and the evil woman stooped low to mock her.

"You think we care what you think? BE QUIET!" A sharp smack to the face left Hermione reeling. She couldn't ever remember being in this much pain, and not even her fifth year compared.

Bellatrix twirled and shrieked at her accomplices to meet her at Lestrange Manor, and Hermione panicked. 'Keep her here!' Despite all of her instincts screaming at her not to, she mustered all of her courage and prayed for help to come soon. "I don't think you'd listen. But I do think that you are a fool and a freak of nature." She rasped, feeling her captor's hands go limp as they too registered her words.

Screwing up her face, Hermione prepared herself for the screams, but heard only a simple sentence from the woman, who sounded completely normal. "Is that so?" Bellatrix examined her like one might examine a bug. "Crucio." Though spoken simply, the words had every bit of malice and hatred Bellatrix could muster behind it, and she watched in delight as the girl writhed and twitched on the floor.

Her screams filled the alley and echoed around. Each nerve was on fire, before being bathed in ice. Time was meaningless, she could've been there a few moments, or hours, but when it ended finally she was left shivering on the floor. "Ready for another taste mudblood?" Bellatrix crowed, raising her wand.

"Madame Lestrange!" Someone shouted, and out of the corner of her eyes Hermione saw a flurry of white smoke.

"Hermione!" Tonks yelled, swivelling to see her. A green blast of light was sent her way.

"You!" Bellatrix howled, clearly delighted at the prospect of another kill. "You!" Another curse was sent at Tonks, swiftly blocked by Lupin, who nodded to her and engaged a nearby assailant in battle.

Aware she should help; Hermione grabbed her wand and shakily got to her feet, stumbling all the while. Her leg shook uncontrollably, and she fell onto the harsh concrete again. Feeling the frustration boiling up inside her, Hermione remembered an incantation she had previously read about in a book, designed to briefly delay the after effects of the cruciatus. The consequences were harsh, but between that and death she really had no choice. 'Dilatio.'

The effect was immediate. Though she was aware of the pain, each movement came freely. She could once again stand, and using the opportunity of surprise she took out a few casters, nodding to members of the order she recognised, and made her way to Remus.

"Remus!" She yelled, already feeling the pain returning. "Remus!" He was at her side in an instance, yelling at the company to retreat and simultaneously duelling a hooded figure. The last thing Hermione noticed before she twisted away was Bellatrix Lestrange's snarl as she leapt towards them, alarmed Hermione lifted her wand and spoke the first spell that came to her lips. 'Obliviate.'

~~~/~~~

"Hermione!" Her limbs were shaking. "HERMIONE!" She blinked, and saw a figure, but couldn't concentrate long enough to identify them. "Molly, she's not responding…"

Molly… The name seemed familiar. All at once arms closed around her, and she felt movement. Curling in on herself in an attempt to protect her head from the massive headache now forming, she felt herself being deposited on a soft surface. But even the soft sensation of wool was like hooks being dragged across her skin, and she found herself biting her lips to keep from screaming. The stale metallic taste of her own blood reached her lips and she coughed feebly.

"Mum…Mum!" A familiar voice once again reached her ears, and this time Hermione managed to recognise it as Ron's. She stretched an arm out in the direction of the sound, mumbling his name; and was grateful when she felt it being gripped in return.

Feeling safe and secure for the first time that day, Hermione held his hand in a death grip. Even when a fever began to build and she started to feel sleepy, Hermione kept a firm hold on his hand, all the while listening to the soothing words he seemed to conjure out of the blue. It was most unlike her usual Ronald.

Finally the other voice spoke again, telling her that soon the effects would worsen, but that also meant the pain would end after. Hermione soured, her brow sweating, and shook her head.

"I don't want…"

"Shh… You've been so brave up until now." She heard the voice whisper again, and Ron squeezed her hand comfortingly. A soft caress wiped the sweat from her brow and Hermione felt herself tearing up again, reminded most strongly of her mother.

'All for nothing…'

All for her to die at the first hurdle. The hand smoothed her forehead again, and she grimaced as the blinding pain travelled and spread to behind her eyes, and she lost all coherent thought.

~~~/~~~

"Ron?" The light blinded her when she opened her eyes, and immediately a flurry of movement surrounded her. Hermione panicked and tried to get up, but was pushed firmly back down by a familiar hand.

"Now Hermione dear, you don't want to move too much, Poppy said it's likely you'll be far too sore for any of that…" Ignoring the advice, Hermione sat up, and repeated her question. "Ronnie's still here, he's asleep." Molly replied, fussing about her, and pushing her back down again. "But he's more worried about you, and the best thing you can do is rest now."

Hermione's heart warmed considerably at the implied meaning, and allowed Molly to mother hen until she was satisfied. It was only when Ron started to wake up that she manoeuvred Molly into leaving the room, and sat waiting for him to get his bearings.

She watched silently as he stretched his gangly limbs and blinked rapidly, all the while thinking how adorable it was really. She watched in silent amusement as he registered her state.

"Hermione, you're awake!"

"I am aware of that Ron." She replied smiling, her eyes drifting toward his hand, thinking back t when he had held it so tenderly before. He followed the movement and blushed, turning redder than his hair. Hermione continued to watch him fidget, only pausing to move slightly and wince at the pain. Ron zeroed in on the discomfort at once. "How are you?"

"Sore, very sore." She replied sadly. "You?"

"Worried." The word came instantly, and Hermione couldn't help but beam at his caring tone. "What happened to you Hermione?"

She thought back to earlier memories, and flinched. "Bellatrix. It was my fault really." She explained, hunching at the painful memories.

"No. I'm sure it wasn't." Ron replied with conviction. Her eyes started to water and tears began rolling down her face at his tone, as she realised he was the only who could possibly make her feel better now.

Ronald's ears tinged pink and he looked lost. "What's the matter?"

She gave a bark of laughter and looked sad. Her reply was in a tiny voice, smaller than she'd ever used around him, and she tried to project the sincerity of her request. "I just need a hug."

His reaction was comical, he sighed in relief at being told what to do, and opened his arms to her, holding her closely, securely. But it was his next words that showed the complete understanding he finally had of her, that assured Hermione's love for him. "You don't have to tell me about it until you're ready."

And though it took her quite some time, until the day before she went to collect Harry Potter in fact, she did. She poured it all out to him, entrusted him with her human heart and told him to keep it safe. She explained all of her fears, about her parents, death eaters, the future, and Harry.

She spoke of her suddenly uncertain future, her need to make a difference in the world, and her desire to do good. It was certainly fulfilling to explain, to have another soul to talk to, someone she didn't have to be strong around. Ron was more than she'd hoped for in a confidant, and when she asked him not to tell Harry, in case he blamed himself, he agreed without hesitation. But the best thing about him was simply that he listened.

And Hermione realised that the overwhelming factor about Ron, the thing that made her choose him – that would always make her choose him – was that the only time she truly felt safe and sound was in his arms.