Chapter Twenty-One

In the end, it took Ron almost ten seconds to work up the courage to cast the spell. It was known as the Shock Spell - working the same way as a defibrillator - and, if not aimed properly... Ron stopped thinking about it. Instead, he focused his aim straight at Harry's heart and fired the spell, making the raven-haired wizard's body convulse from the impact.

But nothing else happened.

"Again," Hermione shouted. "More power. Do it again!"

So Ron did, throwing every ounce of his magic into the spell.

Harry's body convulsed again, before settling down. Hermione's fingers flew to his pulse point, feeling for any sign of life. This was not supposed to be happening. It should have been easier for his body to adjust.

Unless his magic was being rejected, like an organ that wasn't compatible, and his body was shutting down.

Maybe the magic was leading him to Darkness, and Harry's Light was fighting it.

Perhaps the Ritual hadn't actually worked, and she'd actually ended up killing him.

All these things were running through Hermione's mind, right until the moment she felt the lightest pulse under her fingers. "Thank heavens," she murmured under her breath. She kept her fingers in place, feeling the pulse pick up a strong, steady rhythm.

A moment later, Harry Potter took in a sharp breath and his eyes flew open. "Wha - "

"Harry!" Ron was the first to react, dropping down onto his knees and sobbing uncontrollably. For a moment, he'd been forced to imagine a life that didn't have Harry or Bill, and he just couldn't handle it. He wouldn't be able to handle it.

Luna wrapped her arms around Ron, trying to soothe him, while Hermione turned her attention to the wizard who was causing all this trauma. She had half a mind to slap him for worrying her so much, but she was so relieved to see his emerald eyes that she too couldn't hold back her own tears.

"What happened?" Harry asked groggily, trying to sit up.

"Stay down."

All eyes turned towards Hannah, who was looking paler than ever. She had her wand drawn, and it was pointed straight at Harry. If Hermione weren't so exhausted, she might have rolled her eyes at just how absurd this entire thing was. Couldn't the green-eyed wizard just catch a break? Couldn't they all?

"Nobody move," Hannah said nervously, her eyes darting about. "Seriously. Nobody move."

Nobody moved.

"I'm sorry," she said shakily. "I thought I could do it... I wanted to, for my mother, but I can't. I can't." She wiped furiously at her leaking tears with her free hand. "I have to go. I can't be here. I have to go. I won't - I can't - " she sobbed. "Obliviate me if you have to."

There was silence for a long moment, before Harry broke the silence. "Okay."

All eyes snapped towards him.

Gingerly, Harry sat up, his eyes meeting hers. "I told all of you that you weren't obligated to stay," he said calmly. "This is only the beginning, and I assured you that your decision wouldn't be held against you. I'm not going to take it back now." He took a breath. "By all means, Hannah, you are free to leave. I do sincerely hope that by leaving us; you are not intending to join those who intend to fight against us?"

She bit her trembling bottom lip, before she shook her head. "I just want to go home."

Harry nodded once, turning to look at Hermione, who was just gaping at him. He resisted the urge to close her mouth for her. "Would you do it, Hermione?" he asked quietly, jerking her into action.

She immediately stood up and retrieved her wand, which had flown somewhere in all the excitement. She wasn't sure how she felt about all of this, but she was willing to go with Harry on this one. If he, the man who had suffered all he had, could find it in himself to understand whatever Hannah was feeling, then who was she to doubt him?

Hermione lifted a coaster from the small pile in the centre of the coffee table, and quickly created a Portkey, before levitating it towards Hannah. She might be trying to understand, but that didn't mean that she forgave. Hannah drew her wand on Harry; Hermione would never forget. It was almost comical that the first two people to bail on their collective fight were from Hufflepuff. The Sorting Hat definitely had some explaining to do.

Without another word, Hermione focused her mind, and then opened her mouth: "Oblivi - "

"Stop!" Ron shouted, cutting her off as he practically leaped to his feet. "You can't use that spell! You can't!" His arms were flailing; he was clearly still in a right state after witnessing Harry's ordeal. It looked like something had snapped within him, his eyes feral and his body tense. "What are you thinking? Did you learn nothing from Bill?" he yelled. "Stop! Just stop! I won't lose you too!"

George put a hand on Ron's shoulder, which was all it took to break the younger Weasley. Ron dropped to his knees in utter defeat, and Harry scrambled towards him with the intention of trying to calm him.

Ron's head snapped up when he noticed Harry's approach, and there was something new in his eyes; something harsh. "This is all your fault!" he cried. "Bill is dead! Victoire has no father! We keep going like this and Hermione's going to be next to die! We're all going to die, because you couldn't just stay away! Why couldn't you have just stayed away?" His voice was tired, defeated. "Why couldn't you have just stayed dead?"

The silence that followed was deafening.

Harry didn't react, though several people did gasp.

Ron jumped to his feet, stumbling in his hurry. "This is all your fault!" he spat at Harry, before he looked around the room. "We all bloody know it!" And then he bolted, leaving the room in charged silence.

Hermione blinked rapidly, trying desperately to keep her tears at bay. The second they started, she was sure that they wouldn't stop. And plus, she thought that there'd been more than enough nervous breakdowns for one day.

"Do it, Hermione," Harry said through his clenched jaw. She knew he was trying to keep a handle on his emotions, and on his magic. It would be disastrous if he was the one to lose control. Especially in such an enclosed space, surrounded by their closest friends.

Without questioning him, she turned back to Hannah, who looked even paler before, if that was even possible. She barely gave it any thought this time around, as she cast the Obliviation Spell, and then activated the Portkey. Hannah didn't deserve the opportunity to say goodbye to the very people she was choosing to abandon.

She disappeared right before their eyes, and Hermione decided that that was the last time she would worry about Hannah Abbott. She had her boys to take care of. When Hermione turned back to Harry, he was gone. Her frown was enough to prompt an answer from Cho.

"It looked like he went that way," she said, pointing in the direction that led to the downstairs portion of the house that Harry had spent the last few days in. She could only guess why he chose that way to go, and she was mentally preparing herself for whatever she was going to have to deal with when she finally found him.

"Luna," Hermione said; "will you - "

"On it," was the automatic reply, and then she shot off in search of her fiance.

Hermione took a moment to catch her breath. Then, to the group, she said: "I think we've all had a rather eventful day," she said tiredly. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm going to call it a night. I sincerely hope you'll all still be here in the morning." She didn't wait for a response as she stalked out of the room in search of Harry.

As soon as she reached the steps leading downstairs, she stopped to catch her breath. Or just start breathing normally again. If she were being particularly honest, she didn't think that she'd breathed easy since this entire thing started. No. Since Harry disappeared.

It was even before then.

After the effects of the day, she couldn't imagine a day when she would be able to breathe properly.

Well, for starters, she could locate Harry. That would definitely help. As much anxiety as the wizard gave her; just being able to see him, and to touch him, was more than enough to calm her down until she could function again.

It didn't take her all that long to find him once she really went looking. He was in the little den that they'd commandeered earlier in the day, sitting hunched over in an armchair, his face in his hands.

Hermione moved to kneel in front of him, her slender fingers automatically prying his hands away from his face. She needed to see him; she needed to see his perfect eyes. She was definitely not prepared for what she found.

Harry looked devastated when his gaze eventually settled on hers. "He's right," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "He is so right, Hermione."

She shuffled forward until she was kneeling right between his legs, her elbows resting on the tops of his thighs. "So what if he is?" she asked, refusing to allow him to play the blame-game. This wasn't the time for a pity party. "If it's your fault, then it's my fault as well."

He blinked in confusion.

"He's hurting, Harry," she said. "People say things they don't mean when they're hurting. I get that he's probably thought it before, but there's a difference between thinking and saying. Today was hard, and lashing out is how he's dealing with it. That reflects nothing on you, do I make myself clear?"

All he could really do was stare at her in fascination. She was so close to him, lifting him up while simultaneously keeping him grounded.

Hermione put her hands on either side of his face. "This world would be a terrible, awful place if you were dead," she said quietly. "I don't - I don't even want to think about a life where you're not around. Please don't make me." She held his gaze for a moment more, before she started to lean in.

Harry backed away slightly. "Uh, Hermione, what are you doing?"

"I'm going to kiss you," she replied easily.

"But you said, after," he reminded her, his mind sufficiently distracted from his previous thoughts. "Is this because of what happened in the living room? Because I won't have you kissing me just because you're scared you won't get the chance to."

She narrowed her eyes. "Oh, you give yourself too much credit, Mr Potter."

He couldn't help his grin, as he settled his forehead against hers. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he was content to sit there and listen to her breathing. His eyes closed after a moment, and the two of them remained in that position for Merlin-only-knew how long.

It was Hermione who broke the silence. "Would you die for me, Harry Potter?" she asked in a whisper.

Harry opened his eyes and leaned back slightly to look at her properly. He took hold of both her hands and squeezed them gently. "I already did," he replied.

She nodded thoughtfully. That was the wrong question to ask this man, and she ought to have known it. "Then, answer me this: would you live for me?"

He hesitated.

"You don't expect to survive this, do you?" she asked quietly, knowingly. "Is that why you won't kiss me? Because I would think it would be a reason to."

In a movement so quick, Hermione didn't even see it coming; Harry had her held flush against him, their chests colliding and his face dangerously close to hers. His breath was tickling her nose, and she could feel its effects on her body right down to her toes. He didn't do anything, and he didn't say a word more.

"You're not going to kiss me, are you?" she asked, her voice stuttering.

"No," he breathed. "Because, if I do; I don't think I'll be able to stop."

Not that Hermione would complain; she still knew that he was right. Knowing that she could kiss him would be terribly distracting, and they had too much to accomplish without throwing their growing feelings and a physical outlet to deal with them into the mix.

"But believe me when I tell you that I want to," he said breathily, his hold on her tightening slightly. "Desperately."

Hermione risked a peck to his cheek, allowing her lips to linger.

Harry sighed contently, before he loosened his death grip on her. He desperately wanted to lean back and pull her into his lap, just so he could hold her close and try to forget everything that happened today.

He had to know that Hermione wouldn't let him.

She pulled back until she could see his face clearly. She was tempted to back away entirely, but his gentle hold on her upper arms kept her in place. "How are you feeling?" she asked seriously. "Any dizziness? Are you lightheaded? Headaches? How's the magic?"

He couldn't help his smile at how Hermione she sometimes was. "I feel grounded," he said after a moment. "I think the worst is over. It doesn't feel as erratic, inside." He felt foolish saying it that way, but he just knew that she would understand. "It's time to start using it."

She shook her head. "Tomorrow."

"I was going to say that."

"Sure you were."

They fell into silence, both of them decidedly not talking about Ron again. There was always tomorrow to sort through all of that. After a few minutes, which produced five yawns - three for her, and two for him - Hermione stood up, using her palms on his legs for leverage. Once she was upright and steady, she held out her hand for him.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked, slipping his hand into hers with little to no hesitation.

"I'm taking you to bed, Mr Potter."

Harry couldn't help the shiver that shot straight down his spine, and he spied her smug smile when she felt it. She was going to play dirty, was she? He definitely wasn't complaining. If, for just a moment, he could allow her to forget what their lives now were, then he would do it in a heartbeat.

He allowed her to help him to his feet, and then proceeded to follow her through the house towards the master suite, their hands remaining connected. They said nothing as they walked, the silence comforting. There was no need to talk now.

Everything else could wait for tomorrow.

The next few days were quiet, each and every person working at the tasks they'd been set. While Dean and Seamus led the group training, Hermione worked with Harry on his own, in the downstairs area that he'd commandeered. He just didn't feel comfortable in the main house. Despite what Hermione assured him; he couldn't help thinking that Ron was right.

It was all his fault.

It also turned out that Harry wasn't completely hopeless, as they'd initially feared. Once his magic settled, and his body dealt with the influx of excess magic - Hermione still wasn't sure where it came from, though she had her theories - Harry was officially good to go.

They started with simple spells first, but his ability to perform magic grew exponentially. Before long, Hermione's aid was moot, though he made sure to let her know that he would always want her around. He made sure to emphasise the word 'Always,' just to see her blush.

While all forms of training were underway, Luna was planning her media attack. As far as the Wizarding World was concerned, Harry Potter was still missing, and nothing was amiss with the lives they'd all come to live following the end of the Second Wizarding War.

Come Sunday morning, that would change. Every house in the Wizarding World would soon know just what the Order did to their beloved Saviour, Harry James Potter. The blonde witch was hoping that the frenzy of the articles would be enough of a distraction to allow Harry's Army to visit the Muggles in peace.

Nobody was holding his or her breath. Peace was a foreign word, these days, and nothing would ever be that easy.

Angelina and Alicia took charge of recruitment. They were both well-liked in school and respected in their respective jobs, that it made sense for them to be the ones to reach out to all possible Harry Sympathisers. They sent out hundreds of letters, requesting their attendance at a informal meeting to be held in Godric's Hollow on Sunday evening. Come hell or high water, there would be a meeting, and decisions would be made.

George and Ron were the ones to scope out Godric's Hollow, and it was decided that the aftermath of the initial conflict with the Order was the most suitable place. By then, everyone would know, and sides would have to be chosen.

Every time he thought about it, it made Harry's insides churn. Whatever was happening was going to happen, despite how much he didn't want it to. He wouldn't go so far to say that he was nervous; it was just that there was a lot relying on his ability to make the Muggle contingent see reason. Without that, there would be a full-blown war among three different sides, and people would die. He was sure of it, and he was willing to do whatever was necessary to ensure that nobody else was robbed of his or her life.

When Harry said he would do anything necessary, he meant it, and Hermione knew just what that entailed, though she couldn't bring herself to bring it up to him.

She did, however, have no qualms about questioning him about other things late on the Saturday night before their plans were set into motion. They'd had a full day of strategic planning, working on possible battle formations and distinctly avoiding the fact that Ron and Harry had yet to say words to each other since Ron had wished Harry dead. How does one even begin such a conversation?

"Are you sure you'll be all right to Apparate tomorrow?" Hermione asked him, as they adopted their usual position on his large bed. They were lying on their sides, facing each other. They were close enough to be sharing a pillow, but the only parts of their bodies that were touching were the linked fingers of one of each of their hands.

"I handled it fine today," he assured her softly, his eyes dropping closed.

"And you can hold up the Disillusionment Charm, right?"

He sighed. "Hermione. It's going to be fine."

"You don't know that," she countered. "How can you even say that? Are you some kind of Seer now, and you just never told anyone?"

His eyes opened, and he looked at her expectantly. "Are you finished?"

"This isn't funny, Harry," she said, huffing slightly. "Anything and everything could go wrong tomorrow, and you and your first lieutenant can barely look at each other. Excuse me if that doesn't exactly instil confidence in this operation you have planned."

With his free hand, Harry gently cupped her cheek, his fingers brushing over her soft skin. It was enough to silence her. "I gave you the option of coming with us tomorrow," he reminded her. "Are you regretting your decision to stay here?"

"No," she said automatically. "I think I'd be a wreck if I went with."

"It's going to be fine," he tried to assure her again. "We'll deal with whatever happens when it happens."

"What about you and Ron?"

Harry removed his hand from her cheek, and made a fist under his chin, visibly searching for the right words. "This is how Ron and I work," he tried to explain. "Right now, our feelings don't matter, Hermione. Tomorrow, we have a job to do, and I sure as hell am not going to let whatever's going on with me and Ron to get in the way of that. Tomorrow, we'll forget it all and do what we have to." He couldn't be sure if those words were enough, but he didn't think he could say anything more about it.

He suspected that there would be a moment between him and Ron, when all of this would just fall away, and they would go back to - to what? What did they even have before all this running? Ron hated him for leaving the way he did; maybe he even hated him for whatever role he might have played in the end of Ron and Hermione's relationship.

No. Harry had to stop blaming himself for everything. Hermione would skin him alive if she knew this was what was plaguing him. No matter what happened with their upcoming plans, he was going to do better. Well, he was going to try.

He really didn't have to be told twice that it was a lot easier said than done.