“ NO! ” Lucius roared, his protective instincts obviously warring with his cold indifferent mask. He cleared his throat before adding. “Surely we can do this without resorting to such… methods.”

Panic pulsed inside Hermione’s chest. They had to get out of here, Harry had to give Lucius the prophecy. But then Harry was jeering at Bellatrix over the Dark Lord, taunting her until a jet of red light whizzed past Hermione’s left ear shattering the orbs behind her.

An unearthly mist rose around them from the prophecies – strange figures appearing, their voices mixing in a haunting cacophony of future promises.

“DO NOT ATTACK THEM!” Lucius roared, his grey eyes burning silver in his anger of Hermione almost being hit. “We need the prophecy, Bella.”

Harry instructed them to smash the shelves around them to provide an escape. Hermione threw her beloved diffindo curse wherever she could, trying to create cover, but always kept an eye on Harry in the hopes she could possibly get the prophecy from him. If she could convince him to give it to her for safe keeping, she was sure Lucius would be able to orchestrate it to look like he had stunned her and taken it from her person.

They ran from room to room fighting with the Death Eaters. She focused merely on surviving as curse after curse flew past her. At this point she felt it would be lucky if they all made it out alive seeing as she saw some jets of green light fly past them. She had to get to Lucius, she had to get the prophecy to the Dark Lord.

Separated from Ron, Ginny, and Luna, Hermione, Harry, and Neville tore through the Department of Mysteries trying to find a safe place to hide. Finally, they ran into a small, cluttered office and Harry pulled Hermione down behind a large desk by the sleeve of her jumper. She started to open her mouth to tell Harry to give her the prophecy, but he cut her off.

“The Order is coming,” Harry said quickly. “We just have to hold on until they and Dumbledore arrive.”

Hermione wheezed, a stitch forming in her side.

“How?” she panted; her mouth felt dry as she tried to swallow. “How do you know, Harry?”

Harry pulled out one of the DA’s galleons from his back pocket.

“I gave one of these to Lupin when you first made them – he’d been curious about your protean charm. When we were flying here, I charmed it to tell him where we were and that Sirius was in trouble.”

If it was possible, more anxiety coursed through her veins but she tried to turn her face into an expression of relief. When Dumbeldore and the Order got there there would be no chance of getting the prophecy from Harry.

“Thank Godric,” she said, squeezing his arm. “That was brilliant of you, Harry.”

Harry smiled widely at her praise, and looked up to see what was taking Neville so long with the door locking charm.

“Sorry Harry, I never got the hang of thi-AHH!” Neville cried as the door flew open, ricocheting back into a set of filing cabinets sending parchment cascading around him.

Two Death Eaters sprinted into the room, curses flying in every direction. Behind her books flew off their shelves, some exploding into plumes of parchment and dust. Hermione’s arms instinctively covered her head as another curse blew apart a chair in another corner of the room. She could feel splinters digging into her skin, pricks of blood blooming on her arms.

“THEY’RE IN HERE, BELLATRIX!” The larger one yelled. “THEY’RE IN –”

“ Silenco!” Hermione cried, certain the last thing they needed was to be cornered by the insane witch.

“ Petrificus totalis !” Harry yelled, pointing his wand at the smaller of the Death Eaters whose limbs locked together and fell over sideways.

“Great job, Harry!” Hermione beamed.

But before another stunning or petrificus spell could be cast upon the larger man, he waved his arm in an elaborate arc – a strange purple flame appearing and passing right through Hermione’s chest.

“Oh…” she gasped softly in surprise.

Her body went white-hot, then ice cold within seconds before pain radiated outwards from the center of her heart. It felt as though thousands of pieces of glass were running through her bloodstream, tearing her from the inside out. As her heart beat wildly, the pain quickened. Her knees gave out and she fell as she clutched her chest as if she could claw the curse from her skin.

Harry was screaming her name, but she couldn’t hear it. Couldn’t hear the clamor of spells or the sound of the large unmasked Death Eater hitting the floor as he was petrified.

She was gasping, her lungs burned in a strange contrast to coldness that sank beneath the surface of her skin. Her eyes wheeled in the dim overhead light, trying to find something to ground her – something to hold on to. Tears trickled out of the corners of her eyes but she found that blinking was just too painful.

It was too painful to breathe.

Too painful to think.

Her library was on fire.

Parchment and pages burning, turning into ash behind her mental walls.

And even though she tried to calm her mind, all that circled the drain of her mind was: Draco, Draco, Draco. She would die without ever seeing him again, she would die…

She was dying.

Harry’s face swam into view alongside Neville’s. She could, through the pain, feel the press of fingertips at her throat, the hum of words.

“That’s a pulse, I think,” Neville said. “She’s alive, Harry.”

But then they were gone and she was alone.

Like she always had been.

Alone in her room while her parents worked.

Alone at school in the library, behind the bed hangings of her four poster.

Alone at the Burrow, even surrounded by the Weasleys.

The only place she had ever not felt alone had been with Draco… But he wasn’t here right now. It was just her and this unending torture.

The pain ebbed and flowed like the ocean tide. Rising in great waves of agony to retreat again. She wondered why it was taking so long – why she couldn’t just die. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed as she lay amidst the mess of books and papers on the floor when someone finally came into the room.

Lucius’ hood had fallen back during the battle and his long hair gleamed in the dim lamplight. She saw him survey the room for a moment before his eyes landed on her.

“ Hermione! ” he cried, dropping to his knees beside her and pulling the skull mask from his face. “What happened, tell me who did this to you.”

She lifted a shaking hand from the floor, choking back a scream as she pointed a finger at the petrified Death Eater on the ground. Lucius’ glare turned murderous.

“He’ll pay for what he’s done,” he promised. “I need to get you out of here, get you to St. Mungos.”

He started pushing up her sleeve, reaching for her bracelet to activate the portus charm.

She jerked her head, taking shallow breaths as she forced through her teeth:

“Dumble – dore – come – now – get – OUT!” She practically screamed the last word as pain tore through her.

Bile began to fill the back of her throat and her eyes widened in fear alongside Lucius’ as she choked. Gently, he rolled her onto her side and waved his wand to clear her airway.

“Then we will both leave,” he said quickly, starting to scoop her from the ground.

“No – stay – you – go,” she gritted out again, having to take long breaks between each word.

It would be far too suspicious if she was missing alongside Lucius. She had to trust that the Order would find her, regardless of the fact that she was in a back office completely out of sight.

Lucius seemed to be of the same mindset as he gently pulled her into his arms and carried her from the small, cluttered office. Each step, each jostle, made black spots bloom in her vision. Finally they came to an open area, easily seen by those who would be coming through, and he laid her down.

“I’ll be taking Dolohov to be dealt with by the Dark Lord,” Lucius said quietly to her. “Once you are taken to St. Mungos, Narcissa and I will be there. I love you, darling. I’ll see you soon.”

The last sensation she felt was Lucius’ lips brushing her forehead before darkness swallowed her whole.