“Severus…” Hermione said softly, shaking the snow out of her hair. “Do you know where the sword of Gryffindor is?”

Her old potions master – at her request via her journal – had apparated to a small clearing close by their campsite in the Forest of Dean. They were no closer to destroying the first horcrux than they were to finding the next one. It had only been a day or so since their harrowing escape from Godric’s Hollow, barely slipping through the grasp of Voldemort. Only yesterday morning had they realized that the sword of Gryffindor had been imbued with Basilisk venom and Hermione had rushed to speak to Severus as soon as possible.

As Snape was currently headmaster of Hogwarts, he was the only chance they had at finding the sword.

Snape was not looking at her, but rather at the snow falling thickly from the sky. It was quiet, almost peaceful in the forest. The thick blanket of white around them insulated the sound, softening the noises around them except for the quiet rushing of the flakes. The trees had long ago lost their leaves but were still beautifully covered in frost and snow, some of the limbs bowing under the heavy weight of winter.

“I do,” he said in his usual drawl. “Why do you require it?”

Hermione sighed.

“I can’t tell you…” she said softly.

Though she had asked Theo for any knowledge he might have about horcruxes, she’d never told him that they were actually hunting them. It was too much of a risk now to impart the secret to Snape, no matter how much she trusted him.

Some days it felt like Hermione was moving in slow motion, unsure how to best help the Order in their pursuit of eliminating Voldemort. She had not been summoned by Him since their conversation about the hallows and knew through Draco that he was leaving the country for even longer periods of time. In his absence, however, his followers ran wild – attacking groups of muggles and muggleborns alike while the Ministry did the same, albeit with more paperwork involved.

“But Dumbledore gave Harry a job and it has to do with defeating Vo–”

“ Do not say his name,” Snape hissed, clapping a hand over her mouth. “The name is tabooed; the moment you speak it aloud Death Eaters or snatchers will find your location.”

Her eyes widened in shock and she nodded as he slowly drew his hand away.

“As a matter of interest… Dumbledore has already told me to supply Potter with the sword.”

“He has?” she asked in surprise, gaping at him.

“His portrait is exceedingly chatty,” Snape deadpanned.

Hermione laughed, brushing more snow from her face while Snape gifted her the smallest of grins.

“Will you help us, then?”

Snape’s black eyes looked at her for a long moment, before resting on the frozen lake behind her.

“Yes, I will help you.”

…

That night as she’d been reading over The Tales of Beedle the Bard for what felt like the hundredth time, she saw Harry slowly rise from his place at the edge of the tent.

As if in a daze, he wandered out of the protective wards and into the night. Throwing her book to the side, she ran after him, following a bright blue glow emanating through the trees.

The snow had stopped falling a few hours ago and the moon reflected off the white ground, lighting the forest around them. Ahead, she finally caught sight of the doe patronus that toed its way through the trees and circled the lake.

“Harry?” she called. “Harry, what is it?”

“I think… I think it’s my mum,” Harry said softly, watching enraptured as the doe stepped to the middle of the pool, then disappeared.

Hermione looked around and saw the distinct figure of Severus sliding back into the shadows.

“What do you think she was showing us?” Hermione asked, already having a sneaking suspicion.

They stepped to the edge of the lake and inside, gleaming against the light of the moon, lay the sword of Gryffindor. The shiny goblin forged blade looked sharp and deadly, even from this distance. Both of them gasped in surprise while Harry immediately started pulling off his clothes.

“Harry, Harry, wait!” she cried, grabbing him by the shoulders before he could go any further. “Take off the horcrux, give it to me.”

Harry smiled at her, his teeth already chattering in the freezing winter air. She cast a quick warming charm on him while he handed her the locket that she shoved deep within her jeans pocket.

“Deep breaths, your body may go into shock when you first jump in,” Hermione said. “It’s not too deep, go down and come straight back up – okay?”

Harry nodded, stepping to the edge of the pool.

“Diffindo,” Harry incanted, waving Hermione’s wand in a circular pattern over the ice to break it before jumping in.

It was deep enough that he was fully submerged as his feet hit the bottom. Reaching blindly in the dark water, Hermione saw his hand close over the hilt of the sword before he pushed himself back to the surface, but in his haste to grab the sword he’d moved away from the hole he created for himself.

She watched him pressing against the ice frantically.

“ Shit, ” she cursed, grabbing up her wand. “Diffindo!”

The ice around him cracked enough for Harry to push his head through the surface. She continued to break the ice until he made it back to the bank of the small lake. Hermione rushed forward to help him, pulling him from the freezing water and immediately casting the strongest warming charm she could as he clutched the sword to his chest.

“You were brilliant,” she said, now casting a drying charm. “Absolutely brilliant, Harry.”

Harry lay against the snow covered bank for a long moment, panting heavily while Hermione gathered up his clothes and cast a warming charm on them as well.

“We… we need to destroy it… now.”

She nodded as she handed him his clothes, taking the sword while he dressed. It was odd, though she was able to hold the sword, it felt as though she was not supposed to.

Not worthy, a small voice whispered inside her head.

“It has to be you, Harry,” she said as he pulled himself to his feet. “You’re the one who retrieved the sword – you are the one who is worthy of it.”

Harry sighed, accepting the sword from her after sliding his glasses back on his face.

“Okay, I can do this…” he said softly, as if just to himself.

Hermione removed the horcrux from her pocket, placing it upon a flat trunk of a long-ago fallen tree and stepped back.

“I’ll need to… open it, yeah?” Harry asked, his green eyes looking at hers.

She nodded.

Harry appeared to steel himself, gripping the sword tightly in both of his hands. It glinted in the night, the stones casting a faint ruby shimmer onto the snow. She couldn’t help but shudder at the image, remembering all too well the crimson irises of Voldemort.

There was a soft hissing sound that emanated from Harry that made Hermione’s skin crawl. She had, of course, heard Harry occasionally whispering Parseltongue in his sleep but it was nothing compared to him fully awake and speaking it with intention.

A small click cut through the quiet night as the locket opened. But something felt… wrong. Her magic fluttered, as if trying to pull her away and the pendant she never removed from around her neck warmed.

“Harry…” Hermione said slowly as he stepped forward, raising the sword over his head.

But before he could swing it down upon the locket, dark smoke exploded from it, knocking them both backwards.

“ I have seen your soul, Harry Potter… and it is mine,” Voldemort’s voice hissed through the billowing darkness. “ Unwanted… Unloved… Always alone. Always in the dark. Even now you feel it, don’t you? You wonder if you truly know your companion.”

“Harry! Don’t listen to it!” Hermione cried, scrambling to her feet.

Harry sat, wide eyed, as an unearthly shape crawled from the locket. Hermione’s throat constricted at the sight of her – she knew it was her – in her Death Eater robes appeared. After a moment the terrifying version of herself removed her mask, smiling viciously at Harry.

“ You trusted me, didn’t you?” The false Hermione cackled. “ Trusted me above all others, even when Dumbledore told you not to. Look at me, Harry Potter. Look at what you have forced me to become.”

Harry screamed, rising to his feet in one fluid motion and swinging the sword high above his head. Hermione’s breath caught, thinking for a moment that he meant to swing it down upon her until she heard the sharp cry emanate from the horcrux, and the dark clouds began to dissipate.

Harry knelt beside the destroyed pendant, panting. His eyes trained on the ground only inches from Hermione.

“Harry…” Hermione started, reaching for him.

To her surprise, he took her hand.

“It was trying to survive, Mione. It was saying whatever it could to get me to not kill it,” Harry said breathlessly before his eyes connected with hers. “I trust you.”

Guilt squirmed its way through her chest as tears pricked her eyes. She did not deserve his trust – not after everything she had done. There was some part of her that knew one day he would find out the truth and one day it would all be over.

You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t.