December 24, 1997
Harry watched as Hermione cleared her plate, eating every last bite of the fried egg sandwich that he had made her. He was sure that she had finally gained back all the weight that she had lost from that first month on the run when Ron was injured. He knew that she had been giving himself and Ron all the food but he hadn't called her on it yet. Likely, he probably wouldn't. There was no point in it now since they had plenty of food. They had replenished their supply just last week and had more than enough to last them another month through.
Hermione looked up and caught him looking at her, smiling softly at him. She reached out and caught his fingers in hers, squeezing them softly. Harry knew that she was trying to comfort him, lend him her support, and he appreciated it. They were traveling to Godric's Hollow today and he was likely going to see his parents graves. He briefly wondered if their cottage was still standing before dismissing that thought instantly. After Voldemort blowing it apart, surely there was nothing left standing.
"It's going to be fine, Harry. We'll get to see their graves, I'm sure they're there," she told him quietly. Harry stood and went behind her so he could rest his hands on her shoulders, kneading the muscles there, enjoying the way she went limp in his arms. He chuckled softly before bending down to press a kiss against the scar on her neck, enjoying the way it caused her to shiver in delight.
"Come on, kitten, let's get ready to go. I don't want to go too late in the day. The more shoppers there are out and about, the more we'll blend in," Hermione sighed and nodded, going to her feet.
Harry followed her to the room that housed their bed and started to change, pulling on a hardy pair of trousers and a jumper. He transfigured his trainers into a pair of boots that would pass as muggle since that's what they were trying to pass as. Hermione was charming her clothing to pass as a muggle pant suit with a pea coat. Harry thought that she looked quite lovely as a muggle. He pulled on his coat and made sure that his wand was stuffed in its sheath on his arm. The weight there was comforting.
Hermione had slung her beaded bag around her neck and hid it inside her coat even though they were leaving the tent and their wards up. He wasn't sure why she was taking it but he supposed that if one of them was injured and needed potions right away, it would be prudent to have them on hand. They stepped out of the tent together, hand in hand. It was Christmas Eve and even though they didn't have any gifts for each other, they had plans to spend it together that night in front of a fire before their tent. Harry planned for it to be rather romantic.
Together, hand in hand, they stepped out past the blood ward that Harry had created just the day before. The pair had been doing recon work for the last week on Godric's Hollow, not wanting to venture too far into the town blindly. As far as they could tell, it was inhabited mostly with muggles these days; there were still a few wizards and witches, or what they assumed were wizards and witches. There were several shops and a muggle church; a small school and a park took up one end of the small town. All in all, Harry could see his parents being happy in a place such as Godric's Hollow if they had lived.
Harry nudged Hermione and she rolled her eyes at him. He had been making her take them through apparition most of the time; he was trying to gain her confidence back. It had suffered greatly since she had splinched Ron after fleeing Grimmauld Place. He still wondered what would have happened if they had just stayed and killed Travers at Order Headquarters; one lone Death Eater versus the three of them would have been very good odds in their favor. However, Hermione had done what she could to keep them safe and he never questioned it in her presence. The last thing he wanted her to think was that he thought she had done the wrong thing. She would only further blame herself.
Hermione turned on the spot, taking Harry with her, appearing at the very edge of Godric's Hollow. Since they were half hidden within the tree line, Hermione turned to Harry and pulled her wand, arching a brow his way. Harry chuckled at her and gave her a nod. He could feel his facial features altering under the command of her wand and while it grated just a just a tiny bit on his dominant nature, he dismissed it easily.
After she put her wand away, Harry raised his in turn. He hated to change her features, Hermione was perfect as she was, but it was necessary so they weren't easily identified. He turned her chocolate curls into blond waves that no longer reached her waist but her shoulders. Her brown eyes turned sky blue and her generous curves turned more athletic. Overall, even though she was still beautiful, this new version of Hermione didn't have shite on the original. Harry didn't even bother to imagine what he looked like since it really didn't matter; as long as Hermione deemed him safe to go out in public, that was good enough for him.
Hand in hand, the pair strolled into Godric's Hollow. Since they were posing as muggles that were shopping for the holidays, the stopped frequently and window shopped. Hermione made sure to coo and point at everything that most women would find attractive; Harry would chuckle accordingly and run his hand up and down her back in a show that he was listening and promising her that he would see to her wishes.
It took almost an hour to make their way through all the shops towards the center of town. Harry had never made it even close to this far into town and when he had seen what resided there, he almost lost his breakfast. A statue that stood almost as tall as Hagrid rose from the ground in the middle of the center, stone depicting not only a man with unruly hair and glasses, but a shapely woman with beautiful features holding a baby in her arms. There was clearly a lightning bolt scar on his forehead and Harry couldn't help but to reach up and make sure that Hermione had glamoured it away as well. The last thing he needed was to be recognized because of his scar. However, he found it gone. He should have known that Hermione would think of everything like she always did. Hermione wound her hand into his and leaned into his side, a show of support that he appreciated.
"It's quite ostentatious, isn't it?" Hermione asked. Harry snorted softly.
"You could say that," he replied.
However, he hadn't yet caught sight of the house off in the distance. It was larger than what he would call a cottage but not quite a house. There was a gate that guarded it as well as a hedge and if things had been different, it would have a quaint place to reside. This was marred, though, but the enormous hole blown in the side of the upstairs wall. Harry knew instinctively that this was the house that his parents had died in.
His feet carried him in that direction without thought and he could feel Hermione hurrying alongside him. Harry glanced back quickly to make sure that she was alright and he saw worry for him in her gaze. They continued until they stood together in front of the gate, only to find a plaque there. On it, Harry found a brief history of what had happened in his family home. People through the last sixteen years had signed it and left supporting messages for Harry himself, telling him how much they supported and believed in him. He could feel Hermione getting indignant on his behalf next to him. He looked over and wrapped an arm around her waist and smiled gently at her.
"I think it's brilliant. Even though I was abandoned in the muggle world, the people in this world hadn't completely forgotten about me. This is the proof," he told her. Her gaze softened and the tension left her body. She picked up his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm.
"Do you want to go inside?" Hermione asked. Harry drew a deep breath and considered her question. Did he want to go inside and see just where his parents had been murdered? Did he think that he could handle it? Was it something that he really wanted to see, even if he wasn't hunting for horcruxes and fighting for his life? He supposed that at this point he really didn't have the luxury of saying no. Anywhere that Dumbledore could have hid the Sword of Gryffindor was somewhere that they needed to search.
"We can't really afford not to. Dumbledore may have hid the Sword in there," Harry said. Hermione tugged his arm to make him look at her.
"I can go search if you'd like. You can guard from out here. I don't want you to face this if you aren't ready," Harry growled at her and jerked her close to him, causing her to squeak softly.
"You aren't going anywhere without me, kitten. Not a bloody chance," he commanded. Hermione rolled her eyes but just smacked his chest lightly.
"Language, Harry," she scolded him. It was so innately Hermione that Harry had to chuckle.
Together, wands drawn, they entered through the gate and crept into the cottage through the front door. Harry thought that it was strange that it wasn't locked in any way. Maybe it opened for him since he was a Potter; he couldn't be sure. They could see where the living room was in disarray, evidence that this was where his father had been killed when he had told his mother to run with their child. Harry felt tears pricking his eyes as he scanned the room and found forgotten plushy toys, clearly his own. There were even blankets strewn on the floor, moldering away now after almost seventeen years of laying there, lost and forgotten.
Hermione was sniffling next to him, quietly so she wouldn't disturb him in his own grief. She was searching as best she could, clearly not wanting to move anything and anger him. Harry made sure search for the both of them, showing her that he wasn't going to get angry with her for moving something and altering it from how it had been that fateful night. What astounded him was when he shoved the chesterfield out away from the wall to look behind it and he saw a wand laying there on the floor, long lost and forgotten. He reached down and plucked it from the floor and his fingers felt a familiar warmth that he had only ever felt from his invisibility cloak, which could only mean one thing.
This was his father's wand.
"'Mi, I just found my father's wand," he told her, holding reverently in his hands. She came to his side and just looked at it, smiling softly. She hugged him around the waist and watched him as he stared at it.
"I'm happy for you. A piece of him that you'll always be able to hold in your hand is a treasure indeed," she told him in a tone that showed how serious she was. Harry didn't comment, just pocketed the precious wand and started up the stairs.
He knew that this was going to be the worst part of searching this house. Not only had his mother sacrificed herself for him in the room upstairs, Voldemort had cast a killing curse at him while he stood there helpless in his crib over his mother's dead body. He received his scar in that room while Voldemort's soul had been torn from this world, sending him back into the unknown. Seeing his mother's final resting spot wasn't something he was too keen to see.
Hermione's hand was in his as they entered the upstairs room. Harry could clearly see the crib that had been his, more plushy toys stowed inside it. A mobile hung above it, dragons, unicorns, and hippogriffs dangling from strings that surely danced and sang him to sleep when he had been small. The hole is the wall allowed the biting wind in and it was lifting Hermione's curls like a gentle hand. All he could do for at least a minute was stare. His mind wondered just where his mother had fallen, what had his reaction been, what had Sirius done when he had come in and seen not only his mother dead on the floor, her red hair fanned out around her, but his father dead on the floor, his glasses so much like his own, skewed sideways on his face? His mind was racing with questions, questions he was sure that he needed the answers to. Hermione laid a soft hand on his chest and spoke even softer.
"You may never get the answesr you want, Harry. You can only remind yourself that your parents died as they chose in the end," she explained. He shoved her hand off him and he knew that his eyes were flashing. Harry saw a flash of fear in her eyes but that didn't stop the anger that he felt at her words. His voice was hard and even though he knew it was unreasonable, he couldn't help how much her words hurt him.
"How dare you say that? They didn't choose to die, they would have rather lived! That arsehole psychopath murdered them and took that choice away from them," Harry could feel his chest heaving as he glared at her. Her eyes were wet but her tears refused to fall. However, nobody could ever say that Hermione wasn't brave because she pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin even if it was almost comical because of how absurdly tiny she was in comparison to him.
"Maybe he didn't give your father a choice, no. However, do you really think your father would have chose to just leave and let your mum die in his place? No, from what everyone has told us about him, he was an honorable man that cared for his family. He would have chose to die for his family. You yourself told me that you could hear what happened at the end when the dementors got close. You said that You-Know-Who gave your mum a choice, told her to get out of the way and he would spare her life. She might not have wanted to die in the war but at that moment, she made the choice to die. She chose her death so she could protect you. Protect you she did. Better than anyone could have. Don't yell at me and try to intimidate me with how big you are just because you're upset. Just because you're upset doesn't give you the right to be a prick, Harry Potter. I'm trying to be what you need right now but you're making it very hard," she ranted at him. Harry suddenly felt terrible at his words to her. She was right, of course. He was just being emotional and churlish, not to mention a complete arsehole. He bowed his head for a moment before opening his arms to her. She went to him immediately, resting her head on his chest. His lips found her ear, pressing a soft kiss to the shell before whispering softly.
"I"m sorry, kitten. You're right, they did make the choice. Just looking at it now, it all seems like such a waste," he stated. Hermione nuzzled his chest, almost like she was rubbing her scent all over his robes.
"That's not true. They didn't waste their lives because you lived. Their legacy carried on and that means the world," she whispered. Harry sighed and combed his hand through her straight hair, missing her curls.
"Come on, let's get this done. We have plans for the evening, remember?" he reminded her. Hermione laughed lightly and pulled away.
Harry made sure to look at everything in a clinical way as they searched the rest of the house. He hated to do that but they didn't have the time to go through everything the way he wanted to. Maybe after the war was over he could come back and see if there was anything left that was worth saving. Surely, Dumbledore had warded it against looters.
The pair left the house to find that they were getting hungry, showing that it was probably time for lunch. They didn't dare take a meal at the one inn in town; while they were sure that their disguises were well-placed, there was no need to take chances. There had been no Sword of Gryffindor and he had felt no foreboding that he usually felt around the a horcrux. Currently, the locket was hanging around his neck; Hermione had tried to get him to take it off but he had refused since she was taking the beaded bag with them. It hadn't seemed safe to do both. Now that he considered it, maybe that was part of the reason for his reaction to Hermione's words. Maybe he would need to start taking more time off from wearing it like she suggested.
They started to head for the opposite end of town than they had arrived at. Harry tucked her arm in his and pulled her close, hoping that she really did forgive him for his burst of attitude. They were getting close to the edge of town when Harry realized that they were walking in front of the cemetery, probably the one that housed his parents graves. He turned to Hermione to see what she thought and was met with a soft smile and a nod.
They entered together, and strolled through the stones, reading the names and wondering just how the people there had lived and died. Many of the names they passed were names that Harry and Hermione both knew: Abbott, Bones, McMillans, Longbottoms, Flint, Prewett, Dumbledore, even Weasley. Hermione had stopped to study an ancient grave that was labeled Peverell but he couldn't remember ever hearing the name. He didn't comment on it but after a few minutes, pulled her away, eager to find the graves of his parents.
Tucked away in a corner so they wouldn't be bothered were his parents graves. Harry was pleased to see that they had a double headstone and he wondered briefly who had chosen it. He knew that Sirius was already in Azkaban by the time that they were buried so he hoped that Remus was the one to choose it. It would have been more fitting if he had chosen it rather than Dumbledore or even Professor McGonagall.
Harry stood there as stoically as he could, trying to ignore the swell of emotions that roared inside him. Tears were pricking his eyes and his throat felt like it was closed off. Sobs were threatening to burst out of him and he wasn't sure that he would be able to stop them if they started. The weight of his burden drove him to his knees and he buried his face in his hands, trying unsuccessfully to stem the tears that were already streaming down his face.
Hermione was on the ground next to him only a second later, her arms around him and pulling him into her warm embrace. He briefly recalled seeing her pull her wand and hoped that it was a silencing spell that she cast because there was no holding back the sobs that had been released. He pressed his face into her breasts, trying to hide his weakness and he was grateful when she let him; her fingers wound through his long hair, holding his head in place, while the other hand rubbed comforting circles on his back. Her soothing sounds were almost silent in the wake of his sobs.
Harry wasn't sure how long Hermione held him or what state his face was in when he finally gathered the courage to quit hiding in the cover of her breasts. Hermione helped brush his hair off his forehead and tried to help with the tears on his cheeks but he swatted her hands away with a good natured chuckle. Hermione gave him a soft look before pulling her wand again and waving it at the graves, a Christmas wreath full of red roses appearing before it. Honestly, it was beautiful and something that Harry would never have thought to do.
Harry climbed to his feet, feeling light-hearted and less-burdened since he had purged all the heavy and dark feelings inside him. He held out a feeling for Hermione, helping her to her feet as well. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, hoping it conveyed how thankful he was that she had been there for him during that time. It definitely wasn't something that he wouldn't have wanted to go through alone.
They approached the exit of the cemetery and saw an old woman watching them, a woman that looked much older than the average muggle. Her skin looked papery thin and like it was barely hanging on her bones. She looked rather unhealthy and grey but she was beckoning them forward. Harry was leery but Hermione tugged on his arm even as he was trying to shuffle her behind him.
"Harry, that's Bathilda Bagshot. She was next door neighbors with Dumbledore while he grew up," she told him excitedly. He glanced down at her, trying to figure out what she was trying to tell him. She whispered to him so the older woman wouldn't hear.
"She might have the Sword. I'm not sure why else she would be wanting us to follow her," she confided.
Harry nodded his understanding and decided to take a leap of faith. He was still wary of the old woman; something just didn't feel quite right. However, Hermione was right. If there was even the slightest chance that the old woman had the Sword, they needed to take the chance and go with her. Besides, aside from himself, Hermione was fierce and he would never want to face her in battle in a thousand years. Not when something or someone she loved was in danger.
Harry took her hand in his and reluctantly follows the old woman. They didn't speak, none of them wanting to draw attention to the fact that they were indeed going with this woman. If Voldemort was having the village watched, they didn't want him to have his Death Eaters attack this old woman. They walked around the block and followed her into a small house that stank to high hell like rotting flesh and piss. Hermione had a look of distaste on her face and he could tell she was resisting the urge to cover her face with her shirt. Harry tried to block it out as best he could. He finally spoke now that they were out of the view of prying eyes.
"What do you want? Do you have something for me from Dumbledore?" he asked. The woman just stared at him for a moment but finally answered.
"Wait here, I'll be back."
Harry turned to see that Hermione was looked at the woman with a look of confusion but was quickly redirected by a book on the table. She crept closer and Harry followed only to cringe when he saw the title.
The Life and Lies and Albus Dumbledore by Rita Skeeter
Harry shuddered but Hermione did something that he never would have expected. She picked it up and quickly put it in her beaded bag, sending him a look that told him he better not say a single word about her thievery. Harry held up his hands and wandered off just a few steps to study the photos on the mantle while he waited for Bathilda to return; there were photos from when she was younger, clearly with her husband and with young children. There was a photo that had who he was certain was Dumbledore and a young man that Harry was certain he had seen before, though he was having a hard time placing him.
"Hermione, have you seen this man before?" he called to her, making her come look. She came to his side and studied the photo and finally shook her head. Harry studied it and the memory of this man niggled at his mind until finally, he remembered where he had seen it.
"I know where I've seen him. Remember in Grimmauld Place after we had been there a few days and I had that vision of Gregorovitch being tortured? He told You-Know-Who that someone had stolen the wand? That's the boy in my vision," he informed her. Hermione chewed her lip for a few moments before releasing it and shaking her head just a little.
"We'll deal with it back at the tent. Until then, let's get what she wants to give us and get out of here. This is starting to give me the creeps," she begged. Harry nodded his agreement.
Just seconds later, Bathilda returned and beckoned for Harry to follow her. Harry held out his hand for Hermione and the pair started to follow. Bathilda shook her head at Hermione and Harry was surprised to see his girlfriend cower back from the older woman. He stepped forward to say something at the same moment that Bathilda Bagshot's body exploded, splitting in two, and the same snake from Harry's vision in fifth year erupted from the remains and lunged for Hermione.
Hermione, the love of his life, scrambled back with a short scream, and lost her footing, falling to her arse. Harry, seeing that the snake was going to be upon her in just a second, did the only thing he could do to save the one person that he loved more than life itself. He leapt in front of her and felt the taste of Nagini's fangs in his thigh, the bite deep and venom stinging as it started to sing through his blood.
Hermione screamed and there was spellfire but Harry could feel himself fading fast; Nagini's venom was lethal. He felt his eyes drifting closed and he hoped against all things magical that when he died that Hermione had enough good sense to abandon the wizarding world and head for America where she could start anew and hopefully find happiness with someone who would someday deserve her.
Merlin knew he never would. He wished that he had told her he loved her one last time before he had died.
-O-
Hermione was filled with horror. She had froze and fallen to land on her arse and Harry had jumped in front of Nagini to take the bite that had been meant for her. Now, he was likely lying there dying while she was sitting there trying to figure out what to do. She hated to break it to that fucking snake, she wasn't going to let Harry die on her watch and there was no way in blue fucking hell that she was going to let that snake have either one of them.
Hermione lurched to her feet and reached for her wand, only to remember Harry telling her that Nagini was pretty much immune to spells. Regardless, she cast a stunning spell that bounced off the snake into somewhere in the house and realized that she needed something more. She cast her gaze around the room for something that would be helpful and settled on perhaps the best thing that she could imagine would help both herself and Harry. She grabbed the letter opener off the same table she had taken the book from and jumped on the head of the snake that was advancing on the still form of Harry. She plunged the blade into the bony head of the snake and pulled it downward, dragging it a full eight inches down it's body before the thrashing threw her off.
Hermione ran to Harry, doing her best to try to put his shoulder over her own so she could pull him to safety. However, with his recent growth spurt, it just wasn't possible. Hermione knew that she was going to have to apparate the both of them out and that it was going to have to be fast. The snake was connected to Voldemort, Harry was fairly certain that it was a horcrux, and it was a fair bet that she had already alerted him to their presence in Godric's Hollow.
Nagini refocused her attention on them now that she had realized that her injury wasn't life threatening and Hermione was forced to focus her wand of her again. She cast a blasting curse but it seemed to have no effect. She changed methods and cast one at the window, blowing it out. The snake seemed to understand what was happening and threw her considerable weight at Hermione, throwing her into the wall behind her. There was a sickening crunch in her rib cage but there was no time to dwell on it now.
Hermione hurried to her feet and started to Harry again, conjuring the largest rat she could. It gave chase to Nagini, who did show a reasonable amount of fear when being chased by a predator. Hermione took that time to drag Harry to the window so she could levitate him out of it. There was no easy way around it; she could feel the anti-apparition wards around the home and they were stupid for having entered the home so stupidly.
Just as she lifted her wand to levitate him, hoping that she could levitate him out without giving him injury, the rat let out a scream that signified it's death. Hermione knew that she needed to move now or not at all. However, she never got the chance. Nagini struck at her, not hitting her with her fang, but with her head, hitting her hard enough in her pelvis that she was sure that it had cracked something. This in turn, knocked her into Harry and out of the window, tumbling over and around each other, until Hermione landed on the ground and Harry landed with a sickening crunch on top of her.
Hermione could only lay there and concentrate on her breathing for the first minute. Falling from a window a full story off the ground was nothing to laugh about. After she had gathered her wits, she sat up painfully only to realize that Harry was now convulsing. She didn't bother to wait for Nagini or any of the others that might arrive with Voldemort; she reached out and grasped Harry's wrist and pulled him into side-along apparition.
Hermione and Harry arrived just outside of their wards and Hermione struggled to her feet, despite the pain that wracked her figure. She grabbed Harry's wrist and pulled him through the blood ward and as soon as he was past, dropped him there. She went to her knees, despite the fact that her pelvis was screaming in protest, along with her ribs. Her ankle really didn't feel all that healthy either.
Her wand waved around Harry and was casting a diagnostic on him; he was still seizing but she wasn't sure why. Nothing on the diagnostic showed anything more than minor cuts and bruises. Suddenly, she smelled burning flesh and saw just a tiny wisp of smoke coming from his chest and it instantly made sense. Hermione ripped his robes away from his chest and realized that the horcrux had burned itself to his chest. As sickened as it made her, she needed to leave it in order to dig through her beaded bad to find the bezoar that she knew that she needed to save his life, hoping that she wasn't too late already.
After summoning the bezoar, she shoved it down Harry's throat unceremoniously and made sure that he swallowed it. The cold of the snow had already seeped into her pants and boots, causing her to quake in cold. The next order of business was the horcrux that had melded itself to his chest; she examined it closely and realized that it had already become one with his skin. As much as she hated to do it, it was best that he was passed out as he was for this act. Hermione put her wand to the side of the horcrux and used it as knife, slicing the skin between the horcrux and his chest.
She pulled the horcrux from his neck and stuffed it down deep into her beaded bag and then turned to trying to stem the massive bleeding. She pulled a vial of potion from her bag and poured it on his chest and the bleeding slowed to a trickle. She pressed a clean compress to it and held it there for several minutes before checking it. When she saw that it had slowed, she brought out the tape and taped the bandage there.
With a exhausted wave of her wand, Hermione levitated her boyfriend, the love of her life to the bed that they shared. She was in pain but knew that she couldn't heal anything that was wrong with her. It would have to wait until Harry woke up and was capable of using his wand. In fact, she hadn't seen his wand. She reached into his sleeve and took the spring-loaded holder and detached it so she could take his wand from it, only to learn that somewhere along the way, his wand had been broken. She wasn't sure if it was from Nagini or her spells, but the fact remained that it was broken all the same and Harry was going to be extremely angry. Deep down inside her, Hermione coiled up in fear at his anticipated anger.
However, she wasn't going to face it that night. She laid the two pieces of his wand on their night stand and crawled into bed with him, hoping that he would wake soon so he could heal her. Her rib injuries made it hard to breathe, her ankle made it hard to walk, and her pelvis made it hard to do anything comfortably. She was sure that she should probably eat something before she fell asleep but the thought didn't interest her. All she wanted to do was feel Harry close and make sure that he continued to breathe next to her for the next twenty four hours next to her.
Hermione crawled into bed and crawled under the duvel, snuggling into Harry's side. Even though he wasn't capable of wrapping his arms around her, she wrapped his arms around her and tried to pretend that it was really him in the end. Even though she hurt all over, she snuggled into him and prayed to Merlin that he would be alright.
She loved him and that was all that mattered. He had to be alright because if he wasn't, she wouldn't accept otherwise. Hadn't life dealt her enough shit to make an exception when it came to Harry Potter?
A/N- No smut in this chapter and I can only apologize. However, this had to happen for plot sake. I hope you all enjoyed it regardless. Next chapter will be more original. More smut too. Anyways, let me know what you think. Reviews are like chocolate and whiskey shots.
Next chapter, Christmas day and Harry wakes up.