Narcissa had left immediately for the Black family vault at Gringotts, but not before Hermione got a look at the wound carved into her arm – now appearing a few days old rather than bloody and angry.

MUDBLOOD.

Hermione knew it was stupid to be so shocked by it, knew that in comparison to the Dark Mark below it, it was nothing. But it didn’t stop her from sobbing against Narcissa’s shoulder as she held her, swaying gently back and forth while Draco stroked her hair.

When they’d finally parted, Narcissa had shot Harry a glare that clearly stated he was to be on his best behavior, before giving the other two boys a similar look. To her husband, she’d merely kissed him as they murmured something softly before she swept from the room in a swirl of emerald green robes.

Lucius had been the next to act, transfiguring Bellatrix’s body into a bone before picking it up. He’d explained that she had been expected at the Black Estate and it would not be difficult to plant her body somewhere that her death could be explained. Pansy had created quite a bit of havoc in the process of breaking Luna out.

Eventually, Draco had insisted on taking Hermione up to her bedchamber to sleep. She’d argued, insisting she was fine, but when Theo chimed in that her body needed time to rest and heal, she knew the battle had been lost.

Harry trailed behind them as Draco carried her, while Theo continued to check her vitals. He’d grown quiet since Narcissa left, his eyes never leaving Draco and Hermione. When they finally entered her bedroom, he hesitated in the doorway.

“This is your room?” he asked quietly, his eyes going to the bookshelf against one wall that Lucius had placed for her a few summers ago – bursting with the different books they’d read together.

There, curled up on the center of the bed, was a purring Crookshanks who immediately stood at their approach, while Theo pulled down the bedcovers.

“Yes,” Hermione answered, wincing as Draco deposited her as gently as he could on the bed.

Draco sat beside her, rubbing her hands firmly in his own, having obviously decided to ignore Harry for the time being.

“How long?”

“Since third year,” Hermione answered.

“Godric, Hermione!” Harry suddenly yelled.

“Oi!” Theo called over him, stalking menacingly towards the door. “You lower your fucking tone, Potter.”

“She lied to me!” Harry said, matching his tone. “I have a right to be angry!”

“Yeah, well I have a right to curse you six ways to Solstice but you see me holding my temper, don’t you?” Theo snapped, tightening his hand on his wand. “Harry fucking Potter, so wrapped up in his own prophecy he can’t open his eyes to the people closest to him that are hurting. Can’t see that your best mate is a fucking predator . Can’t see that the witch you should have been protecting had to fall into the arms of Slytherins for company and comfort.”

Harry stared at Theo as if he’d slapped him.

“You chose the Weasel, every fucking time,” Theo spat. “Ignored her, only valued her when she had something to offer you or needed to get you out of a tight spot. Your idea of friendship is a joke , Potter. So sit the fuck down before I make you.”

Theo turned his back on Harry. As he strode back to Hermione’s bed, he pointed to the stool beside her vanity. Harry followed, lowering himself on shaky legs and propping his elbows on the shiny table, pressing his face into his hands.

Draco’s thumb rubbed beneath her courtship bracelet while Theo siphoned the excess blood from her forearm.

“How did Narcissa’s blood heal her?” Harry asked suddenly, watching Theo work.

Theo and Draco exchanged a long look before Draco gave an imperceptible nod, turning to stroke Hermione’s cheeks and stare into her eyes, murmuring soft words of comfort to her.

“You see the bracelet on her wrist?” Theo asked, obviously trying to control his tone.

Harry nodded.

“I’ve… never noticed it before.”

Both Slytherin boys rolled their eyes.

“Yeah, well, it’s a courtship bracelet. Drake here gave it to our girl during fourth year, I think.” Draco gave a small nod while continuing to stroke Hermione’s face, trying to lull her to sleep. “It marks her as a member of House Malfoy for all intents and purposes.”

“Why does that matter?” Harry tried to keep the petulance out of his voice but failed.

“Because my Aunt’s blade held a blood curse,” Draco said in a soft voice as he watched Hermione finally begin to drift. “The blade cannot curse members of her family – extended or immediate. Because our bond isn’t sealed, the bracelet merely contained the curse – it’s imbued with protective magic. Without it, the wound would never heal and would continue to torture her. But it required my mother’s blood to reverse it. Once her blood entered the wound, the curse would have recognized the familial bond and dissipated.”

There was a long moment of silence as Draco brushed a curl off of Hermione’s cheek and Theotucked the covers tighter around her small body.

“You really love her… don’t you?” Harry said in a weak voice.

“More than air,” Draco replied just as softly. “More than magic. More than anything .”

“She saved us in a time when no one else would have even looked our way,” Theo said with an affectionate glance towards the witch in question. “Healed us, helped us, protected us. We don’t take that lightly, Potter.”

Silence descended around them as Hermione slept. Each boy lost in their own thoughts until it became like a third party observer in the room.

Theo wondered if he could do anything more to help her.

Draco wondered if he could have done anything to prevent it.

Harry wondered if he even knew Hermione at all.

…

By the time Narcissa and Lucius returned, Hermione had rested for a few hours before being forced by an irate Fimsy to wash and change into some fresh clothes in her closet. Harry had also been offered the opportunity to clean up and get some clothes that hadn’t been scourgified within an inch of their life.

The four of them were in the sun room where, in their younger years, Narcissa had taught them occlumency. Theo and Draco were trying to convince Hermione to take small bites of food while Harry still looked on in bewilderment at the dynamic between the three. It was clear from the easy way they teased each other, that there was a bond here stronger than the one Harry had held with her. Hermione occasionally caught his eye and frowned, wondering if he was a knut away from having a mental breakdown.

The sword of Gryffindor was leaning against Harry’s chair, gleaming softly in the light of the candles. Every now and then Harry reached for it, touching the handle as if to reassure himself it was still there.

Narcissa burst into the room, followed closely by Lucius, her blue eyes bright as she placed the golden cup in front of Harry.

For a moment no one spoke, just merely stared at the cup faintly shimmering.

“Do you think…” Theo said softly.

Harry nodded, swallowing loudly.

“Then uh, shall we…” Theo mimed a stabbing motion with additional sound effects.

Hermione let out a shaky laugh.

“Perhaps not in here, Theo,” she said, turning to Lucius with an expectant look.

“The grounds should suffice,” Lucius said, his eyes moving between all of them. “Mr. Potter, if you’d like – I can accompany you?”

Harry seemed unsure as to whether or not that was a good idea, but still rose from his seat. When Hermione made to stand as well, he turned.

“No… Stay…” Harry said, not meeting her eyes.

“Harry…” she began to protest. “I’m with you – I’ve been by your side this whole time.”

“And you were almost killed , Hermione. You remember what happened the last time we tried to destroy one of these things. You need to rest.” But it was clear in Harry’s expression it was more than that, more than his worry for her. Some of the trust he’d had in her had been irrevocably broken.

Without another word Harry strode through the French doors, waiting a few paces away on the other side for Lucius who gave Hermione an empathetic look before following after.

“Prat,” Draco cursed.

“ Draco ,” Narcissa admonished.

“Sorry mother.”

Theo turned to Hermione, nudging another piece of toast in her direction.

“Now, what’s next?” he asked in a casual voice, as if they were discussing a revision plan.

Hermione sighed, rubbing her eyes to stave off the moisture wanting to leak through. She knew Harry felt betrayed by the secrets she’d kept, but watching his reaction with this made her realize that once he knew the truth, their friendship would be over – regardless of if they won the war.

“Dumbledore said He created seven horcruxes,” she said after a moment. “Harry said that Dumbledore had already destroyed two, then we destroyed the locket, now the cup.” She counted them off on her fingers. “One will reside inside of him, so that leaves two more for us to find.”

Narcissa sat slowly into an empty chair, her eyes distant.

“Explain to me again about the horcruxes,” Draco said, reaching over to clasp Hermione’s hand.

“He used powerfully magical items – items he felt were not only significant in his life, but to the magical world. The first horcrux Dumbledore destroyed was a diary that opened the chamber of secrets, the second a ring that belonged to his uncle, the the third a locket that had belonged to Salazar Slytherin who he’s descended from, the cup…”

Her eyes widened.

“Was Helga Hufflepuff’s,” Narcissa finished for her. “It seems as though the Dark Lord is choosing – at least in part – items that belonged to the founders of Hogwarts.”

Theo gave a noise of assent.

“They’re created through killing,” Theo said to Draco who still looked confused. “When you kill, a small piece of your soul breaks apart. With time and remorse if nothing is done the pieces will rejoin, but if you are out of your sodding mind and thirsty for immortality you can use a spell to attach that piece of your soul to an object. That way, should you be fatally harmed, you cannot die.”

Draco let out a low whistle, his face twisted with disgust.

“So he just randomly killed people to create them?”

Hermione shook her head.

“According to Harry they were significant murders – the murder of his muggle father, for example. I believe he also killed the woman who had possession of the cup who was a descendant of Helga Hufflepuff. From the way Dumbledore made it sound, the night he went to kill Harry he was planning on using that death to create his final horcrux.”

“But the spell backfired, yeah?” Draco said. “It didn’t work. He was destroyed.”

“His body was destroyed, mate,” Theo corrected him. “Not his soul.”

Hermione’s mind started to work furiously. There was something there that nagged at her brain, a missing piece of the puzzle.

Harry and Lucius came back into the room then, clothes sodden and dripping with water, but clutching the sword and mangled cup.

As Hermione stared at Harry, his black fringe plastered back from his face, she stared at the scar on his forehead and everything clicked together in her mind.

Harry was the final horcrux.