AN: My sincerest apologies for the elapsed time without an update. I was wholly uninspired and then there were university protests, exams, I went on holiday and I had MAJOR laptop issues. I put the rest of the story into this chapter. I'm sorry if it doesn't live up to expectations.

Chapter Fourteen

To Harry, it seemed that the initial battle lasted a lifetime. Only it didn't. One moment, they were entering the Room of Requirement, and the next, Voldemort's voice was booming all around the Castle. So many were dead. Too many.

Harry felt defeated, guilty, responsible. It was all his fault. All of it. His prophecy should not have caused so many deaths. So many. Harry had walked the halls as the survivors counted the dead. He had seen the Weasley clan cry over the lifeless body of their fallen son and brother. He had watched as Lupin and Tonks were laid side by side, and he had seen Colin Creevy, cold and motionless.

It felt too real; too true, and yet it was happening. The death toll was rising, and it would continue to rise so long as he was alive. It was that simple, really. And now, he supposed, inevitable.

In the midst of the mourning, Harry was able to slip out of the Great Hall and disappear to Dumbledore's office. Even though the great wizard hadn't accommodated it in almost a year; Harry would probably always consider it to be Dumbledore's. There was something he had to do. Something he supposed was very important.

Why else would Snape leave a tear drop in his final moments?

Harry was about to find out as he did the now all too familiar deed, searching for answers in the memories of those men already casualties of the ongoing war.
It was something out of a dream when he eventually emerged, gasping for air as if had actually been holding his breath. Snape had loved his mother.

And hated his father.

But he had loved his mother, and that was enough of a revelation for Harry. Professor Snape had been trying to save him all along, working at Dumbledore's bidding. A double agent, of the sorts. Or triple.

Most importantly, Professor Snape had killed Dumbledore to ensure that Draco wouldn't have to. At Dumbledore's request.

Everything, at Dumbledore's request.

Dumbledore.

All this time, Harry had been a chess piece in his master plan to defeat yet another dark wizard. Harry just hadn't realised that there were so many pieces in play. So many pieces were to be sacrificed. Dumbledore had been one. Snape too. Now it was Harry's turn.

That had been the unspoken plan all along. For a moment, the anger Harry felt overwhelmed him. His entire life, he'd spent trying desperately to stay alive, just to walk to his death at a specific moment. He felt used and discardable. The major event - the death of his parents - that made him the Boy Who Lived was all so he could become the Boy Who Died.

Because that was what he was. Just a boy. He'd had to deal with so much in such a short life and now he was being asked to make the ultimate sacrifice: give up his life.

Well, no.

The ultimate sacrifice had nothing to do with his life. If the fact that his heart was still beating was the difference between defeating Voldemort and an entire Wizarding World of Darkness, he would walk into the Forbidden Forest and never look back. But it wasn't about that. It was about Hermione.

Harry dropped down onto a step in Dumbledore's office. It was cold beneath him, and strangely reassuring. Because now he had to die. It was that simple. The Horcrux that was within him had to be destroyed beyond repair, and only Voldemort could be the one to do it. He had to be. Harry wouldn't have it any other way.

Harry buried his face in his hands, feeling the seat, blood and grime from the battle on his skin. The battle that would surely end when he surrendered.

His mind drifted back to Hermione. He'd made an almost promise to her to try his best to stay alive and now he was about to accept his death. Well, from the moment he stepped into the halls of Hogwarts, he'd had to accept death. This was it. The end.

And he was alone.

Sure, Ron and Hermione were somewhere in the castle, dealing with the aftermath of the initial fight, but the truth really was that Harry was alone. He'd been alone for as long as he could remember and it was only fitting that he die alone.

The decision was made. It hadn't even been a decision. It was a truth Harry needed to accept. It was no longer something he just spoke about, or dropped into conversation. It was here. It was happening.

When Harry left Dumbledore's office, he was no longer angry. Something about walking out of his old Headmaster's space calmed him. The anger dissipated into thin air, leaving his mind clear. It was no use dwelling on how they had got here; just that they had.

Finally, Harry's life would amount to something. It wasn't what he had chosen but then he didn't ask to become the Chosen One.

He walked slowly, but assuredly. He felt calm knowing exactly what he had to do. For the first time during the entire Horcrux hunt, he felt sure. And he wasn't even scared of what had to be done.

What he was afraid of was Hermione. He was mad at himself for doing this to her. He was mad at both of them for doing this to each other. Because, in the back of his mind, he knew that she knew. She had always known, he was sure of it. The same way he kind of also had known. And yet they had done it. The unthinkable. They'd fallen in love and now this was the endgame that hurt his heart. It was the deep kind of love, the kind that left marks on you, whether it lasted or not. It was the type you never got over, or even attempted to forget. It was the type of love for which you died. It was the type of love for which you ran head first into battle. It was the type of love Harry and Hermione shared.

As he walked, he couldn't stop thinking about the fact that he was going to leave her behind. This was it. He would never see her again. He would never hear her laugh or see her smile or breathe her in or touch her skin or kiss her lips.

But she would be alive, and that was all he could have ever asked for. The fact that she survived would have made everything he had ever done worth it. Even die.

Harry reached the top of the main staircase of the Hogwarts' Castle and stopped to take it all in. So many had died. So much had been destroyed.

All to avoid the inevitable: his death.

All for nothing.

The hairs on the back of Hermione's neck stood on end at the sound of footsteps behind where she and Ron were sitting on the main steps of the crumbling Hogwarts' Castle.
She would know those footsteps anywhere and her heart skipped a beat when she recognised them. She practically jumped to her feet to face Harry, noticing the blank look on his face. She could tell he was fighting off all emotion. He'd made a decision and he didn't want to show her exactly what that was.

Ron got to his feet as well, breathing out a pained sigh of relief. He had already lost one brother. "There you are," he said, his voice unable to hide the fact that he had been crying. "Thought you went to the Forbidden Forest for a minute."

Harry pressed his lips together. He'd never intended on lying but he desperately wanted to.

Hermione finally read it on his face. "You're headed there now, aren't you?"

Harry didn't respond.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, her heart starting to beat a mile a minute. No. No.

Ron frowned, stepping in front of him, blocking his route further down the stairs. "No ways, mate."

Harry was determined. It was written all over his face. "There's no other way," he said coldly, stepping to the side to try to continue his way down the stairs.

It was Hermione's voice that halted him mid-step. "Harry?" she croaked, the tears having already claimed her.

He'd hoped he could have walked to his death without having to look at her and admit that we couldn't keep his promise. But that was always going to be a stupid thought. He wouldn't have been able to do it without hearing her say that it was okay. He needed her to give him permission to die.

"But why?" Ron asked, cutting into the silence between Harry and Hermione. "We'll fight. We can win."

"But how many more people have to die, Ron?" Harry asked, more curiously than anything. He sounded defeated, accepting and it sucked the fight right out of all of them.

"We'll keep fighting," Ron still said, though weaker.

Harry swallowed. "I know why I'm the only one who can hear the Horcruxes," he explained, his eyes remaining on Ron. "I think I've always known." He looked at Hermione. "And so have you."

That was the moment she started to cry. "I hoped it wasn't true," she admitted. "I searched every known book to find a way to save you. I needed to save you. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be."

Both boys finally understood her certain desperation during the hunt. She'd barely slept for a year, and it was all to save him. He had to know it would have been about him.

"But it is," Harry said sadly, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I have to go. Now."

Ron was about to say something more to convince his friend there was another way, but he couldn't. Instead, the Golden Trio stood in charged silence, staring at one another the same way they had all those months ago, when they decided to embark on the treacherous hunt in the first place. Slowly, each of them came to accept what was going to happen. Harry Potter was going to walk out of the Castle doors and never return.

After a moment more, Harry stepped forward and embraced his best friend. Ron squeezed tight, a sob threatening in his throat.

"Please forgive me for all of this one day," Harry whispered. "You definitely should have picked a different compartment on that first Hogwarts Express."

Ron let out a light laugh as he released his friend. "You're properly the worst," he said, stealing Hermione's famous line for Harry.

Harry dropped his voice. "Speaking of."

Ron just nodded. "I will. I promise."

In that moment, an understanding passed between the boys. The men.

Harry wasn't asking Ron to look out for Hermione. No. Hermione Granger was fierce enough to look out for herself. Harry just needed to know that Ron would make sure she would be okay; that she would move on and be happy; that she wouldn't end up like Snape. He didn't want her to have hate in her heart, and Ron understood that.

When Harry finally turned to Hermione, she was already looking at him.

"You promised," she said, her voice soft and emotionless. She wasn't even angry, which was worse.

"I know."

"You promised you wouldn't leave without me," she said. "That night at the Burrow; you promised."

Harry had no words for that. He thought she would refer to the other promise. Gosh, he'd even forgotten that he'd made two. Or more. He couldn't be sure. Had it even been a promise? Did it even matter? He still felt like he was failing her.

"I'll go with you, Harry," she said strongly, determinedly. "'Til the very end."

Oh how he wished he could take her with him. Hold her hand while he faced the end. It would have been easy to say yes; to die with her the way his parents had. But that wasn't in the script for him. Hermione should never have been a piece on the chessboard in the first place. Her only penance was falling in love with him.

"No, Hermione," Harry said. He looked at Ron, and told him something with his eyes.

Ron quietly moved to stand behind Hermione.

"I have to go alone," Harry continued. "Once I'm d-, once I'm gone, all that's left is the snake. Kill the snake and kill Voldemort. He'll be just a man then. As he was always meant to be."

Hermione said nothing.

"Tell me it's okay," Harry said. "Tell me I can go, Hermione."

Still, nothing.

"You have to say it."

When no response came, Harry stepped towards her. He wanted to hold her, but he could tell that she wouldn't let him. He leaned in and kissed her forehead, even as she stepped back and into Ron.

"I love you," he whispered. He nodded once, breathed her in and then he turned and started his descent. He had made it to the bottom of the steps when he first heard the struggle.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled. "Harry! No. We'll find another way. You don't have to do this! You don't have to be the hero. Harry! Ron, let me go. Let me go. I have to go with him." She started to sob, and Harry had to use all his willpower to keep walking. "He needs me," Hermione continued, sounding like she was beating at Ron as he held her in place. "I need him. He has to stay. He has to live! I need him! Let me go."

Her sobs were the last thing Harry heard as he put more and more distance between him and his two favourite people in the world.

The walk didn't take very long, mainly because Harry wasn't heading towards something, but rather away from something. So much death. It was all around him; it had followed him from the moment he was born.

Which was probably why he wasn't the least surprised that he was welcomed by all those he had lost: his parents, Cedric, Sirius, Mad Eye, Hedwig, Lupin, Tonks, Fred, Colin and Dobby. But no Dumbledore.

And no Snape.

Harry found he was all right with that.

"Will you stay with me?" Harry found himself asking, aware that he sounded like a little boy.

"'Til the very end."

For the longest time, Ron was convinced that Hermione didn't even blink. Once she had stopped fighting against him, she had gone limp and silent. Ron set her down on the steps and sat beside her, waiting for her to say something, anything.

Hermione brought her knees up to her chest and clutched at them, as if she was desperately trying to hold herself together. Anything not to fall apart. Even though he was gone, Harry still needed her. She did not speak, her eyes wide and red in colour. She was pale, the shock she felt written all over her face. It didn't feel real.

She'd failed him.

They'd failed each other.

Even after the talk they had had, Hermione felt cheated. She thought she would be prepared for the goodbye, but she couldn't have predicted how raw she felt. She hadn't even told him that she loved him. She hadn't even told him that it was okay; that she would find a way to forgive him. She'd done exactly what she desperately didn't want to do: beg him to stay.

Ron and Hermione sat for what felt like decades, waiting. Just waiting. Hermione thought that she would feel the moment that Harry would cease to exist; she was convinced they were so inexplicably linked. They'd spent years learning all they could about each other; so much so that their friends commonly teased them that they were one person.

So, if Harry died, so would she.

Enough time passed for her to believe that Harry had met his end and the tears flowed without warning. If someone were to ask her why she was crying, she probably wouldn't say it was because she wouldn't see him again. It was something else; something so profound she didn't think she would be able to explain it if she tried.

Harry Potter was already famous for being the Boy Who Lived, and now he would go down in the History books as the boy who walked to his death.

She would have rather had him alive and be a nobody. She would have been content to fall in love with a nobody, if he were anything like Harry.

Hermione allowed herself to dwell in her morbid thoughts right until Neville appeared at the bottom of the steps. At that point, she had come to accept what had to happen. Whether it had already happened or was still to happen; Hermione Granger and her intellect understood that there was no other way.

"Someone's coming," Neville said to both Ron and Hermione; not mentioning that he found it strange that Harry wasn't with them. It didn't occur to him that Harry would have gone into the Forest. He wouldn't leave them to fight Voldemort on their own, would he?

Ron helped Hermione to her feet, even though he was sure she didn't need it. The look on her face told him that she was determined to see the through right to the very end.

There were no reservations now.

"Voldemort's come to gloat," she said, her voice void of all emotion. "He thinks he's won." The walked down the steps to meet up with the rest of the Hogwarts survivors. as a group, the proceeded out of the Castle doors to meet the enemy.

"He'll be his most vulnerable, now that he's ki…" Ron whispered to her, stopping quite abruptly.

"Now that he's killed another Horcrux," Hermione said, as if it was just a fact. Which it was. If she could consider Harry as a Horcrux, then she was convinced she could get through the rest of the battle. All they had to do was defeat Voldemort, make sure every death counted for something; and then she could mourn her loss; the world's loss.

"Harry Potter is dead!" Voldemort's sickening voice rang out. He even did a little dance in his excitement. "Harry Potter is dead."

"No!"

Nobody was quite sure who said it, but everyone was thinking it. No. It couldn't be. Harry couldn't be dead. And yet, they could all see him, still, unmoving. Harry Potter was dead.

Hermione's knees almost buckled at the sight of Harry's limp body in Hagrid's arms. Her heart was beating extra fast, and she was certain she would have passed out if Ron wasn't holding her up. She could see Molly begin to cry, joined shortly after by Ginny. Nobody else mattered in that moment.

Luna risked a look in Hermione's direction and, from the sight of her friend's stricken face, she determined that it had to be true. Harry was dead.

Voldemort continued addressing those around him, his own army waiting for his next move. Now that Potter was gone, what was in store for them? True to form, Voldemort continued to trash Harry's name. Then he proceeded to the reason he had them all assembled: he invited those apposing him to join him.

And what followed would never be forgotten. As was prophesied, the darkest Lord to live was indeed vanquished by a power he knew not. Voldemort was steadfast to forget that, even though Harry lost so many who loved him, he was still loved. Deeply. Unconditionally.

And, as it had proven many times before, love was strongest of all.

As expected, the Burrow was unusually subdued. There were no dishes being cleaned or feet running across the floorboards and there was no motherly singing or sibling banter heard through the walls.

It was quiet. And Harry hated it.

Even three weeks after the battle had ended at Hogwarts, Harry couldn't get the picture of Fred Weasley's dead body out of his head. It made him doubt the nightmares would ever end.

He found himself in the main living room, alone, with his head buried in a book. If someone were to ask him what he was reading, he wouldn't be able to answer. He was merely staring at the typed words, feigning interest.

It was Hermione's arrival that made him look up. She looked unsure of herself as she stood in front of him, biting her bottom lip in anticipation of whatever she wanted to say.

Harry waited, drinking in the sight of his beautiful girlfriend. It was always a relief to him whenever his eyes settled on her. She was alive. And so was he. It was some kind of miracle. Somehow, Harry had managed to survive death twice. Well, no, far more times than that.

"Hi," Hermione eventually said, looking a bit unsure. The truth was that she wasn't sure how to act around him. Every time she saw him, her heart skipped beats at the fact that he was alive. Because, for several horrific moments, she had believed her Harry was dead. It wasn't something from where she could just come back.

"Hey," he replied softly.

"Do you want to take a walk?"

Harry responded by closing his book and rising to his feet. They eventually fell into step beside each other as they exited the house and strolled under the bright sunshine in silence.

It wasn't until they were substantially far from the Burrow that Hermione started to speak.

"There are things that I have to tell you, Harry," she said seriously, coming to a stop. "Important things about what I want from the rest of my life now that the war is over."

"Okay."

"It will probably be a lot to deal with at first, and of course I will understand if it's not what you want, but I need you to hear me out."

"Okay."

"And I need you to listen without interrupting."

Harry was about to say 'okay' again, but he stopped himself. He made a move to zip his lips, which made her smile.

"What am I ever going to do with you?"

"I've told you many times before, Miss Granger; you could always make me a kept man."

"Oh, I intend to."

Harry grinned. And then he stopped. The moment was over. "Okay, these things you want to tell me."

"So impatient."

"Well, I'm trying really hard not to freak out. I don't even know why I'm more afraid of what you're about to say than I was of facing Voldemort."

"Well, that's because you've never been afraid of facing death. You greet it as an old friend."

Harry swallowed. "Isn't that just the saddest thing you've ever heard?"

"It's surprising, isn't it? Some of my saddest moments, and my happiest, are all to do with you." She shook her head slightly. "I have to admit that you've made for a very exciting life, Harry Potter. But I would really appreciate it if you didn't put us in life-threatening situations anymore."

"I'll try my very best."

She was quiet for a while. Then: "Maybe we should find somewhere to sit."

If that wasn't warning enough for Harry, he didn't know what was. How much of this conversation wasn't he going to like?

They eventually settled under a tree, leaning their backs against the hard trunk. The sound of the flowing water faded into the background, as Harry awaited a conversation he was certain he wouldn't forget.

It took Hermione another minute to start speaking. "Remember: no interruptions," she reminded him.

He just nodded.

"I want to go to Australia," she admitted. "I have to. I need to find my parents, Harry. I don't know what it will be like to see them again, or if I'll even be able to retrieve their memories but it's something I have to do. I would, of course, like to leave as soon as possible, to spend as much time with them before the school year starts up again.

"Which brings me to the second thing I want: I want to return to Hogwarts and complete my last year. I want to write my N.E.W.T.S. and graduate and have all the options open to me. It's probably so stupid, but I think it's important that we finish. I've spent so many years studying endlessly, working towards those final exams and it would be such a waste not to take them.

"And plus, how am I expected to work in Magical Law without them? Which is the third thing I want. I want to work in magic, Harry. But I don't want to live in it."

He frowned, clearly not understanding what she was trying to say.

"I've grown up as a Muggle, using muggle items and doing Muggle things, and I'm convinced I haven't turned out half bad. I don't want to be so reliant on magic that I know nothing of the Muggle world. I don't want to be ashamed of where I've come from. Being Muggleborn has made me stronger and more assimilated with both worlds. It's what I want for myself and, possibly, my children one day. So I'd like to work in magic, but be able to come home, set my wand aside, reach for the remote and turn the television on.

"I'm fully aware that these things might not be what you want, and I fully accept whatever compromise we may or may not have to come to, but I just wanted you to know what I wanted. Which, incidentally, includes you in all of it."

Harry didn't say anything for a long time. It was gnawing at Hermione. She was biting on her bottom lip so hard that it was turning worryingly white.

"Okay," Harry eventually said.

Hermione frowned. "Okay?"

He nodded. "Okay."

"What does that even mean?" she asked quickly.

"I want what you want," he said softly, meaningfully.

She shook her head. "No. That's not what you're supposed to say. I want you tell me what you want."

"I just did."

"No, Harry," she said, barely keeping the frustration from her tone. "You're alive. You now get to live this glorious life that I've always wanted for you. You get to fulfill your goals and dreams and grow to be the best person you could ever be. You get to want things and achieve them. So tell me what you want, seriously, and don't just tell me what you think I want to hear."

That was a tall order. The truth really was that Harry hadn't spent that long thinking about the future beyond Voldemort. It just hadn't occurred to him that he would survive. And now that he had, he had to think hard about what he wanted.

Hermione waited again in silence, watching his face so intently that she was convinced her gaze would eventually burn into his skin.

When Harry did finally start to speak, his voice was calm and steady. "What I want is you. That's about as simple as it gets for me. I do want you to go to Australia, Hermione. I was going to suggest it, at some point. I know what it's like to lose your parents, unwillingly, so I can only imagine how hard that was for you. I wouldn't want to impose on your trip, but if you want me with you, I will come." Harry thought of the Elder Wand kept hidden in the back of his trunk. The only reason he had kept it was for this precise reason. He knew that Hermione would have done anything to bring his parents back, and he would do the same. He just hoped they would be able to forgive her. And, he wished, him as well. "Of course we would have to be back before school starts. As fun as it would probably be to never go back to where we lost so many; it really would be a waste. Why limit ourselves when we could achieve so much? And plus, who else is going to drive Professor McGonagall crazy? Not that I think Ron would want to return. But then again, he might want to be near Luna, what with that whole thing blossoming and all."

Hermione pressed her lips together, stopping herself from commenting on her excitement for both Ron and Luna.

"Living as a Muggle doesn't sound so bad to me," Harry continued. "It's what I know, and you already know how important I think the safety in magic is. I wouldn't want to shield our children from it, but teach it to them in a way that makes them appreciate it."

Hermione's heart nearly exploded at his use of pronoun. Our children.

"So, really, I do want what you want. Realise this, Hermione Granger, none of my supposed goals and dreams mean anything without you. I want to live these days with you. Everything I am is wrapped up in you and how you see me. I'm only as great as the person I am in your eyes. So you better believe that I want what you want, because I want you."

It took a great deal to render Hermione Granger speechless, but Harry Potter had just about managed it. His words had been the truth. She was his family through and through. It might have taken him a long time to see her for the wonderful, beautiful, perfect human being she was, but he was just glad that he had. Nothing would change that now.

They were together. He was hers through and through, and he wanted nothing less than to keep her happy for the rest of her days.

"Well," Harry prompted; "say something then."

Silence still followed as she fought to keep a hold of herself.

"Hermione?" he queried, starting to feel self-conscious. "Please say something."

"Do you really mean what you said?"

"Every word."

"I love you," she said quickly, rather excitedly.

He laughed lightly. "I love you too."

She leaned in to him. "I should warn you, Harry, that by agreeing to all of this, you have to know that you're practically agreeing to the rest of your life."

He was sure he hadn't heard more precious words in his entire life. "I'm well aware of that," he mumbled, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "Well, I'm pretty sure that I was the one who first told you that I'll always go with you."

She glared at him.

He gave her his trademark smirk. "What was it you said again, huh? Something along the lines of -"

She shut him up by kissing him. "'Til the very end."

AN: Thank you for all your patience. There may or may not be a third part. I've yet to decide. Thanks again.