Anything It Takes

“Now today, we shall be transfiguring fern fronds into silk handkerchiefs. It takes a delicate touch, so pay attention, please.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged weary glances. Ron put his elbows on his desk and his fists into his cheeks. It was going to be another boring class.

It had been a year and a half since their errant trip to the Department of Mysteries; a year and a half since Sirius Black’s death, and since Harry had learned of the prophecy. The war had quickly turned overt after Voldemort’s presence had been announced publicly, and a number of pitched battles had thrown the entire wizarding world on its end. In the summer following the incident, Harry had been attacked near his Aunt and Uncle’s house, in full view of dozens of muggles. Several members of the Order had immediately arrived, and Harry had again found himself fighting wand-to-wand with several Death Eaters. Dumbledore’s arrival heralded the greatest shock when he killed the Death Eater Antonin Doholov, apparently losing control of his omnipresent calm.

After the attack, Harry had immediately sought out his two closest friends and told them the prophecy, feeling they had the right to know what they were in for if they chose to stand by him. But being told the prophecy had merely strengthened Ron and Hermione’s resolve, and the three friends had dedicated their sixth year at Hogwart’s to practicing magic – anything and everything they thought would help them in the fight against Voldemort. Harry, Ron and Hermione spent the entire year excelling exponentially, and by the end of the year the three were easily the most potent wizards and witch in the school, the only exception being Dumbledore.

Hermione, of course, had been the quickest to pick up new spells, and had surprised all three of them by discovering a talent for split-second decisions; while in contrast to her usual strengths, she found herself incredibly prodigious at choosing the most timely curses and hexes, and proved to be the best student in the school at dueling.

The three had far outstripped the teachings of the Seventh-year NEWT classes; hence their boredom in Professor McGonagall’s NEWT Transfiguration lessons. It was a mark of how far beyond the class they were that even Hermione, who was the most dedicated student at Hogwarts, was not even bothering to take notes, and wore an expression similar to Ron’s. Harry found his attention wandering to the window, through which he gazed at the goals on the Quidditch pitch, imagining himself and Ron at their next match.

Harry was therefore the first to notice the dark gray – almost black, really – owl which came winging to the window. It was cold outside, and Harry surreptitiously whispered a charm; the window opened just as the owl reached it and flew quickly in, landing on Professor McGonagall’s desk. “What on earth…?” McGonagall muttered in annoyance, and quickly extracted the letter the owl presented her.

Harry showed a bit more alertness at this development, his curiosity being piqued. Everyone watched McGonagall, hoping she would give away a clue as to what would be important enough to interrupt a class.

Professor McGonagall opened the letter as the owl soared away, her expression betraying her irritation. But as she quickly scanned the letter her eyes went suddenly round, and her face completely white. She glanced hurriedly over the class, and it seemed to Harry as though her eyes had rested on Hermione before returning to the letter.

McGonagall quickly stuffed the letter in her pocket. Her hands were clearly shaking, and seeing the stoic, unflappable Professor McGonagall in such a state was enough to startle the entire class. She looked up and swallowed; “Class is dismissed,” she croaked. “Everyone is to go to the Great Hall for dinner immediately.”

Everyone sat quite still, staring in shock. There was still almost an hour left to the class! “Well, didn’t you all hear me?” she snapped. “Class is dismissed!”

As the students roused themselves and began gathering their belongings, Professor McGonagall’s eyes fell on Harry, Ron and Hermione. “Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley. Do not leave yet.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged agitated looks as they waited for the rest of the puzzled class to file out. Finally the door shut, and unsure what to do, the three students walked slowly to the front of the room, where Professor McGonagall was standing with her back to them. “Er…Professor?” Harry said tentatively.

Professor McGonagall turned, and her eyes were bright with tears. Her gaze settled on Hermione, and she shook her head. “Miss Granger…Oh, Hermione, how I hate to be the one…”

Harry’s blood went cold. Professor McGonagall’s words were scary enough; but in six and a half years he had never heard her call Hermione, or any student, by their first name. Professor McGonagall stepped forward, apparently oblivious to Harry and Ron. She pulled out the rumpled note and indicated it. “There- there has been an attack. The letter came to me, since you are in Gryffindor, and I must be the one to tell you. The attack was in Coventry. Hermione, your- your parents have been killed.”

“Wh-wh-what?” Hermione stammered. Her eyes darted from the letter to Professor McGonagall’s face. “No…no, it- it-”

“They- the attackers left the Dark Mark behind,” Professor McGonagall said sorrowfully, tears of pity escaping her eyes.. “There is no question who…”

“No!” Hermione whispered. Her face crumpled and she snatched at the letter, trying to make sense of what she’d been told, wringing the parchment in her hands. Her shoulders began to shake with sobs. “No, no, please NO!”

Harry and Ron reached for Hermione together as she collapsed to the floor, falling to her knees and clutching at Harry’s robes. She was howling incoherently, and Harry and Ron gathered her up and held her tightly, their own sobs echoing their dearest friend’s.

*****

Hermione cried herself sick, and Professor McGonagall insisted she go to the hospital wing. Ron picked Hermione up and carried her all the way, Harry right beside them, and when they arrived Harry and Ron installed themselves beside Hermione’s bed and refused to be moved.

Harry knew from Hermione’s descriptions of her life at home, and having seen them together a number of times, that Hermione had been extremely close with her parents. In fact, before Hogwarts, Hermione had been mostly friendless, and her parents were the only people in her life. Even Harry, who’d been orphaned when he was one, couldn’t begin to imagine the loss Hermione had experienced.

Madam Pomfrey gave Hermione a draught to help her sleep. Finally her breathing slowed, and Harry met Ron’s red-rimmed eyes with his own. “”What do we do, Ron?” he whispered.

Ron shrugged helplessly. “I dunno. I don’t think we can do anything except be here when she wakes up.”

Harry caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and his wand was out and pointed at the door before he could blink; Ron’s was a second behind his. But it was Dumbledore’s face poking through the door, and his eyes ignored the wands and settled on Hermione. His face went cold and hard for a moment, but when he met Harry’s eyes he only looked beaten and old. Harry indicated silently that he and Ron would deal as best they could. Dumbledore had the good grace not to say anything; he simply nodded at them and shut the door. Harry hoped Dumbledore was going to find out what had happened; since the trio had joined the Order of the Phoenix, they’d been privy to all the intelligence the Order was getting from Snape and Draco Malfoy, and nothing had indicated any plans like this.

Harry settled back in his chair and watched Hermione with a heavy heart. Her brow was creased in her sleep, and he suspected that he wasn’t the only one who’d have nightmares for the next several months, or years. More tears trickled from his eyes. Harry’s worst fear had come true; Voldemort had struck at him through the people he loved, and Hermione had paid the highest price for being his friend. “I’m so sorry, Hermione,” he whispered, so softly that Ron didn’t hear.

*****

Draco Malfoy paced his room. He knew he should be playing the part of gloating evil wizard that night, but he couldn’t bring himself to, even though he knew he was under scrutiny. The fact was, even though he didn’t like Granger, he did respect her, her intelligence, her talent, and her dedication. He had lost his own father in a recent battle; and even though they hadn’t been close, and he’d felt his father was insane for supporting Voldemort, the pang of loss had still been there. He couldn’t even imagine what it was like for Granger.

Draco’s senses were heightened by nerves, and made him jump at every little sound or flicker of light. So he was especially surprised that he didn’t hear anything until a voice said “Expelliarmus!”

Draco’s wand flew out of his robes, and he spun around. “I was wondering if you’d show up here,” he muttered, his tight voice betraying his fear. “How did you get in? There’s a common room full of Slytherins out there who’d gladly see you dead.”

Granger ignored Draco’s question and sealed the door behind her, and cast a Silencing Charm on the room. “You knew,” she said softly. “I know you did. You knew and you didn’t tell us.”

Granger’s expression was the most frightening thing Draco had ever seen; the certainty, the resignation, and the empty, hopeless eyes. “The Dark Lord would have known I’ve been feeding Dumbledore information,” he said, watching Granger’s wand like a hawk. “He was testing me; if it’d been stopped, I’d be dead now.”

Granger’s face contorted with rage. “You’re dead anyhow, Malfoy.” She suddenly made a quick slashing motion with her wand and snapped out “Lacerus!”

Draco yelped as a biting line was traced across his chest, tearing his robes open. He felt the sting as his flesh was pierced, and when he looked down he saw blood dripping down his torso from a deep slash. He swallowed hard. “Going to t-torture me, Granger?” he muttered, cursing himself for stammering. “You r-really have it in you?”

“Maybe it’s all I have,” Granger whispered. “If pain is all I can feel…maybe it’s all I can cause. Maybe I’ve lost-”

Draco lunged for Granger’s wand, but she was too quick for him. She growled out “Bombarda!” and Draco was thrown against the wall, where he slammed the back of his head and fell to his knees, seeing stars.

When his vision cleared he looked up into Granger’s face. “How long will you last, Malfoy?” Granger snarled; her eyes were flaming. “How long until you tell me who did it-” She blasted Draco’s gut, leaving a welt- “…and how they found my p-parents-” she scorched Draco’s cheek- “…and most importantly, where-” cut- “they-” bludgeon- “are!” burn. “How long?” She pointed her wand again, and her eyes went dead. “Crucio.”

*****

“Harry! Harry, wake up!”

“Mph…keep it down, Ron, you’ll wake-” Harry slit his eyes open, and suddenly he was on his feet. “Hermione! Where is she?”

“I don’t know!” Ron replied, clearly anguished. “When I woke up she was gone!”

A commotion in the outer hall made them both whip around and stare at the door. “Hermione!” Ron yelped, and they ran for the door, drawing their wands as they went. But before they got there the doors flew open, and the party that entered made them pull up short.

Madam Pomfrey was in the lead, her face blanched and drawn. Dumbledore followed her, levitating someone in front of him. And when Ron and Harry got a look they yelped in shock; it was Draco Malfoy, and he was a bloody, bruised and tortured husk. “Professor! Professor, what happened?” Ron blurted out, following them to the bed where they were laying down Malfoy.

“I don’t know, Ron,” Dumbledore said, his calm shell cracking again, as Madam Pomfrey hurried out to get her medicines. “Mr. Malfoy was found like this.” His gaze rested on the other bed and his eyes widened. “Where is Hermione?”

“She was gone when we woke!” Harry blurted out. He stared at Malfoy, and suddenly a horrible fear struck him. “Did- did Hermione do this?”

“What?” Ron blurted. “That’s just-” Ron stopped, and his gaze rested on Malfoy. Then he turned to look at the bed where Hermione had been. When he turned back, the look he gave Malfoy was horrible. “He knew,” Ron muttered furiously. “He knew it was coming!” He grabbed Malfoy by the front of his robes; ignoring the blood all over his hands, he shook Malfoy, who flopped limply like a doll. “How could you do that?”

Ron!” Dumbledore said, using his wand to separate Ron from Malfoy. “You have no reason to think-”

“Quiet!” Harry snapped. He leaned down and moved his ear over Malfoy’s lips. He was right, Malfoy was trying to say something. By listening carefully, Harry could hear Malfoy, just barely. “W-would’ve…blown…c-c-cover…” Malfoy whispered.

Harry reeled back; his vision misted over red with hatred. “You- you-” Harry lunged at Malfoy. “WE TRUSTED YOU!” he roared, his hands closing on Malfoy’s neck. “HOW COULD YOU LET THEM DO THAT TO HER?”

It took everything Dumbledore had to keep Harry and Ron from killing Malfoy; his magic was barely enough to stop them. Dumbledore finally got the upper hand, if only because Harry and Ron were so enraged they couldn’t focus, and deposited them outside the hospital and sealed the door. Harry glared at the door, severely tempted to burn it down.

“Harry, Hermione’s going to try to find the ones that did it!” Ron said frantically. “She’s gonna go after them, I just know it!”

“We have to stop her,” Harry said quickly, his rage forgotten. “We have to, we can’t let her…Ron, we can’t let her kill them!”

Ron’s face darkened. “Why the bloody hell not? If she can, then she should!”

“NO!” Harry shouted. “Death, and k-killing…Ron, it’ll change her- Hermione wouldn’t be Hermione afterwards! She wouldn’t be the same person! I can’t l-lose that, we would lose her!”

“Yeah,” Ron answered finally, nodding slightly; his face was pale. “Yeah, you’re right. Bloody hell, Harry, what do we do?”

“She’s got to have gone to her room,” Harry said, turning and running towards Gryffindor, Ron right behind. “We’ll- I don’t know, we have to talk to her!”

They burst through the portrait, startling several Gryffindors in the common room, and headed straight for the stairs. The girls’ staircase was designed to keep boys out, but Harry and Ron utilized the levitation charm they’d learned years ago, levitating themselves up the stairs until they reached the Seventh-year girls’ room. Harry opened the door and they floated in, where they both hit the ground, panting with exertion. But they forgot their exhaustion when they looked around.

The beds and carpets had been shoved back, creating a great deal of open floor space. There was a circle of symbols chalked onto the floor, with candles placed around it, and what looked like a small, charred pile of ash in the center. And off to the side, lying unmoving on the ground, was Parvati Patil. Harry and Ron hurried over, and when they turned Parvati over they were relieved to find her breathing. Harry pointed his wand and said “Enervate!”

Parvati’s eyes fluttered open, and she blinked confusedly. “H-Harry? Ron? What…?”

“Parvati, what happened? Did Hermione do this?” Harry asked quickly.

“Oh- yes!” Parvati gasped. They helped her to her feet. “She came in and started shoving things around with her wand, and when I tried to stop her she Stupified me!” Parvati gazed at the chalked runes on the ground, “Is that what she did?” she asked.

Harry noticed a book on one of the beds with the diagrams of the runes on the open page. He snatched it up and read frantically. “It looks like some kind of transportation spell,” he muttered.

“See, I told you!” Ron said desperately. “Come on, how’s it work?”

“Can- can I help?” Parvati said, disrupting Harry’s train of thought.” Come on, Hermione’s my friend too! If she-”

“Friend?” Ron snapped suddenly. “When were you ever her friend? She told us, how you and Lavender pick on her, tease her! For six and a half years! You think you’re her friends?” He raised his wand and pointed it at Parvati. Before she could move Ron growled “Stupefy!” and he’d turned back to Harry before Parvati had hit the ground. “Come on, Harry, we have to get to Hermione! You’re better at these things than me! Just tell me what to do!”

“Okay,” Harry said, and studied the book, and the slightly different runes on the floor, while Ron shifted around in agitation. “Okay, Hermione’s spell used the link between her parents and their killers. She must’ve had something of theirs, hair or something; the spell took her right to the people that killed her parents!”

Ron went completely white. “Can we use it too?”

“Well, we need hair or something too,” Harry said, “but there’s- damn, there’s an emotional aspect to the spell.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“It only worked because Hermione loved her parents,” Harry explained in panic. “And we didn’t know them well enough, so the link won’t work!”

“So change the spell,” Ron responded instantly. “Change it to link to Hermione instead of her parents or their killers.”

Harry hesitated for half a second. There was no doubt in his mind how he felt about Hermione. “Let’s reset the circle,” he said.

Under Harry’s direction, he and Ron redrew the chalk runes, altering them for the difference of searching directly for someone instead of their murderers. Their desperation gave them focus, and they worked seamlessly together, being both quick and efficient. Ron ran into the adjacent bathroom and pulled some of Hermione’s hair out of her hairbrush. It seemed to take forever, but after just a few minutes they were finished. “Be ready,” Harry warned Ron as he prepared to cast the spell. “The spell’s not the way it was created. It’ll probably be at least uncomfortable, and probably painful.”

“Anything’s worth it to save ‘mione,” Ron whispered, and held out a few of her hairs, preparing to burn them. “Do it.”

*****


Harry and Ron collapsed onto the floor. Ron clutched his head and moaned, but he got the better deal; since Harry had cast the altered spell it hit him harder, and he retched. Ignoring the discomfort, Harry and Ron pulled themselves to their feet and looked around.

They were in a room of a dilapidated building. The windows were all busted or boarded over, and the floor and walls were filthy and strewn with debris. Harry and Ron cautiously poked their heads out the door, and saw a corridor with several other doors, all open, and a door at one end that clearly led outside. There was a staircase leading up at the other end of the corridor.

It was dark, so both boys muttered “Lumos!” and their wands gave them some illumination. They checked all the rooms but found nothing, so they turned towards the stairs. They began climbing cautiously, trying to ignore the sweat running down their backs and appearing on their foreheads.

When they were halfway up the stairs a flicker of light from above made them freeze; but the flicker of light was punctuated by a piercing scream of pain. “Hermione!” Ron gasped, and pounded up the stairs, Harry right behind him. They reached the top and headed straight for the door ahead, from which the light – and the screams – were emanating. Ron slammed into the door with his shoulder and burst it open, rolling with his wand pointed, and Harry flew in behind him, also ready. But the two boys stopped and stared in horror at what they saw.

Two Death Eaters were curled in crumpled balls in one corner of the room, breathing, but clearly badly hurt and unconscious. A third was on the floor in the middle of the room, and he was writhing in agony beneath Hermione’s wand.

Hermione’s head snapped around when the door burst open, and her wand released the Death Eater, who lay gasping, barely able to breathe. That was the Cruciatus Curse, Harry realized numbly. That’s a life sentence in Azkaban.

“Harry? Ron?” Hermione gasped, apparently unable to comprehend how they’d gotten there. “Get out of here!” she shrieked, and as she turned Harry finally got to see her eyes. And what he saw was worse than anything he’d ever seen.

Hermione’s eyes were crazed; there was almost no sanity in them. For one awful moment, Harry actually believed that they were too late.

“ ‘mione,” Ron blurted out, “don’t do it, you can’t kill them!”

“THEY KILLED MY PARENTS!” Hermione screamed. Her eyes were streaming tears, but she didn’t even notice. She pointed her wand, which was shaking, at the Death Eater on the floor near her, who seemed to have passed out. “This one did it! HE TORTURED THEM! HE TOLD ME!” She spun back to the Death Eater. “Cruc-”

“NO!” Harry shouted. “You’re not like that, Hermione! You aren’t a killer, you’re a good person, the best!”

“SHUT UP!” Hermione roared, and Harry and Ron both took a step back. They had seen Hermione angry, furious, enraged, but this was beyond anything they could have known. This was anger and grief, hatred and desolation, balancing on the edge of true madness. Hermione pointed her wand at Harry and Ron, and they recoiled. “GET OUT!” she bellowed. “AVARITE!”

Harry and Ron were pushed by unseen hands toward the door. They both fought, with everything they had, but they were helpless. Hermione had been the best of them, and with her sorrow and rage fueling her powers she was unstoppable. “Hermione!” Harry shouted desperately, willing to do anything. “Hermione, please, let me do it!”

Harry and Ron collapsed onto the floor, panting; the force pushing them had disappeared. They looked up and saw surprise warring with the fury in Hermione’s expression. “Let you do it?” she repeated.

“Let me kill them,” Harry begged. “I couldn’t bear if it was you, it won’t make a difference for me, please, let me-”

“Won’t make a difference?” Hermione snarled. “Killing them?” Even Ron was staring at Harry like he was the one teetering on the edge on insanity. “Harry, just get-”

“I’ve already done it, ‘mione!” Harry blurted out. “I’ve already killed! I’ve got blood on my hands already, what difference will a few more make?”

“You- you-” there was something there in Hermione’s eyes, finally; something bordering on sane, something that Harry and Ron could pull her back to. “How-”

“When I was attacked this summer, I killed Doholov,” Harry explained quickly. “Dumbledore took the blame but I did it! I slammed him into a wall over and over until he was broken everywhere and then I killed him! And I’d do it again, because-” Harry swallowed, not bothering to fight his own tears. “Because he almost took you away from me; he almost killed you in the Department of Mysteries. You and Ron…you’re my world, my life. I killed Doholov because he almost took you, and if you kill these three then they’ll have taken you away just as surely! I’d rather spend the rest of my life in Azkaban than lose you for real!”

Hermione shook her head, horror registering on her features. “Let me, Hermione,” Ron said quietly, “if you won’t let Harry. Please. If you step over that line, you won’t be the Hermione me and Harry love, and if that Hermione d-dies…I j-just won’t be able to go on.”

Hermione’s eyes darted from Ron to Harry and back. Finally she looked more sane; not undamaged, but not ready to give up everything. “Hermione, let us spare you this,” Harry begged softly. “We need you whole and with us. There’s no price we won’t pay for you.”

Hermione let loose a keening wail. She collapsed to the floor, but Harry and Ron caught her, lowering her gently. “Th-they took my mum and dad!” Hermione howled from her raw throat. “My mum and dad are g-GONE...” Harry and Ron clutched her between them as her whole body was racked with sobs, and the boys cried with relief that Hermione hadn’t given in and crossed that line.

*****

Harry and Ron Obliviated the Death Eaters so they wouldn’t remember Hermione’s finding them, and snapped their wands. Harry managed to Apparate to the Ministry with their trussed bodies. He dumped the still unconscious men on the floor in the lobby and set off an alarm so someone would find them immediately, and then Apparated away.

Getting back to Hogwarts was a challenge; Hermione was still incoherent and unable to help. Finally Ron created a Portkey, after he and Harry decided that the potential trouble it would cause with the Ministry was nothing compared to what had already happened.

Harry, Ron and Hermione landed in the hospital wing and staggered. Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey had been in her office talking, and the noise when Harry and Ron collided with a bed brought them rushing out. “Harry! Ron! Hermione!” Dumbledore exclaimed, looking completely shocked and quite scared. “What happened? Where were you?”

Harry and Ron walked Hermione towards a private hospital room. “Later,” Ron mumbled, concentrating on Hermione. “We’ll tell you later.”

“We can help, at least-” Dumbledore began, pulling out his wand.

“No you can’t!” Harry snapped. He left Ron to help the exhausted Hermione to bed, and stopped Dumbledore at the threshold. “You can’t help. Hermione is ours, and we’re hers. We will help each other. We don’t need or want any other help!”

Harry shut the door in the startled Dumbledore’s face and pulled his wand out again. He waved it and chanted briefly, and a warm golden haze filled the room. When he was finished, he turned to see Hermione settled in the bed; she’d been completely drained, and had fallen asleep almost immediately. Ron raised his eyebrows at Harry from his seat beside the bed. “What was that?” he whispered.

“The Fidelius Charm,” Harry whispered back, sitting gingerly across from Ron; the strain of what they’d been doing was catching up to his body. “No one can find this room now except the three of us. And I’m not telling anyone where it is, not even Dumbledore.”

Ron nodded, his eyes narrowing. “You really are a good Secret Keeper.”

Harry caught the double meaning. “What good would it have done to tell you about Doholov?” he muttered dully. “If anyone else knew I’d be in Azkaban. I can’t fight Voldemort from there.”

Ron’s gaze shifted to Hermione. “She’d be sent to Azkaban, if we told what actually happened.”

“We don’t tell,” Harry whispered firmly. “Not ever.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” Ron whispered. Their eyes met, and there was an understanding that could only come from the closeness they’d shared for more than six years, as friends, confidants, and brothers in everything but birth.

After removing their outer robes so they were more comfortable in only pants and t-shirts, Harry and Ron sat silently for over an hour, casting Reviving Charms on each other to stay awake. Ron was deep in thought the whole time, and finally he stood up. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered, and slipped out the door.

Harry waited, watching Hermione sleep, and a few minutes later Ron returned. “What did you do?” Harry asked.

“I Obliviated Malfoy,” Ron whispered as he sat back down. “All he’ll remember is pain, but he won’t remember Hermione at all, just like we did with the Death Eaters. That way no one can prove it was her.”

Harry stared, thinking hard; finally he nodded. “Dumbledore will see right through it,” he whispered, “but he won’t say anything.”

“Mm-” Their eyes snapped back to Hermione. Her brow was creased again, and droplets of sweat beaded on her forehead. She muttered in her sleep. “Nn-no…” Ron was biting his lip. “Mm-mum…”

Harry’s heart leapt to his throat. “Oh no,” he whispered. He and Ron moved to sit on the bed, and gritted their teeth, unsure of what to do, as Hermione became more and more agitated. Hoping their presence would help, Ron ran trembling fingers over Hermione’s brow, and Harry rubbed her shoulder lightly. “ ‘mione,” Harry said softly.

“NnnN…” Hermione groaned, and her head thrashed to one side; there were tears on her cheeks. “Nno..no, nooOO!” Hermione sat bolt upright and her eyes flew open. Her whole body shivered as she looked around. “H-Harry? R-Ron?”

“We’re here, Hermione,” Ron said, his voice shaking.

“Oh- oh, nooo,” Hermione wailed, and began to sob again, brokenly. She fell back on the bed and curled into a fetal position, facing Ron.

Without a word, Harry and Ron lay down with Hermione. She clutched at both of them, and they held her as tightly as they could, and whispered comfort, trying to warm her with bodies and words.

“P-p-please,” Hermione managed to blubber through her tears, “I-I n-need…I need…”

“What, Hermione?” Harry asked quietly. “Tell us; if it’s in our power-” he stopped in shock as Hermione’s hand moved across the front of his pants; Ron’s expression made it clear where her other hand was. With startling deftness, Hermione’s trembling hands unbuttoned and unzipped Harry’s and Ron’s pants, and she slipped her hands inside their boxers and ran touches along their cocks. “H-Hermione…?”

Despite the situation, Hermione’s nimble hands were quickly effective. Once the boys were hard she brought her hand out of Harry’s pants and tugged her skirt up. Harry and Ron gasped when she shoved her panties down. “Hermione,” Ron whispered, “You-you can’t mean-”

“Please, Ron,” Hermione begged hoarsely, her pleading eyes ripping at his heart. “I d-don’t c-care if it h-hurts. Be with me…b-be in me…please don’t l-leave me…”

Harry and Ron finally understood. Ron swallowed. “A-all right, ‘mione,” he answered in a tiny, terrified voice. “If it’s what you n-need…”

“Here,” Harry said quickly, and pulled out his wand. Harry wasn’t a virgin, although he suspected both Ron and Hermione were. He was the Boy Who Lived, after all. He’d been propositioned any number of times, and hadn’t said no when he was sure the offer would remain discreet; so he’d learned a few things. He pointed his wand between Hermione’s legs and muttered “Dermilubricus,” and Hermione gasped in surprise as the Lubrication Charm took effect.

Ron’s expression thanked Harry silently, but his focus was quickly pulled back to Hermione, who lifted her leg and pulled Ron to her, guiding his cock to her entrance. Ron shifted his hips and pushed into her sharply, and Hermione cried out in pain as her hymen was broken. She grabbed at Ron’s chest and whimpered slightly; more tears ran down her cheeks, but Harry and Ron could see her clinging to them, welcoming the distraction that pain brought.

When Ron was all the way inside Hermione she half-turned and grasped Harry again, making him grunt in surprise. “Please, Harry…”

“But-” Harry was baffled for a few seconds, but when he realized what Hermione was asking he blanched white. “I can’t, Hermione, it’ll hurt you too much!”

“I don’t care!” Hermione wailed, clutching at Harry desperately. “P-please… you’re all I have left…”

Tears burned Harry’s eyes; unable to speak around the lump in his throat, he simply nodded, and allowed Hermione to guide his cock to the opening of her anus. Harry choked out the Lubrication Charm again, and pushed in; he and Ron sobbed at the look of pain on Hermione’s face, but she pulled Harry forward relentlessly until he was all the way inside.

Harry and Ron moved slowly, trying to minimize Hermione’s pain, and Hermione tugged and clawed at Harry and Ron, as though trying to pull their skins apart and crush them into one being. There was nothing even vaguely sexual in what they were doing; the act wasn’t borne out of attraction or desire, or even love, but from need, simple, desperate and raw. At one point, Hermione whispered, so quietly they almost didn’t hear, “Please don’t leave me…you’re the only f-family I have…”

Harry and Ron both cried and held Hermione tighter. “We’ll always be here for you, Hermione,” Harry murmured in her ear, realizing even as he said it that it was a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep.

“We’ll do anything for you, ‘mione,” Ron said, kissing Hermione’s forehead. “Anything and everything to have you whole.”

Hermione came with a mewling howl. She contracted around Harry’s and Ron’s cocks and startled both boys into coming inside her. Her body un-tensed and she flopped boneless against her pillows, panting. She embraced Harry and Ron fiercely before finally drifting off. Just before sleep captured her, Hermione whispered three more words; “Stay with me.”

Harry and Ron watched Hermione silently for several long minutes. Even in sleep, she still held them tightly. Finally they met each other’s eyes. “What do we do now?” Ron asked.

“We stay with her,” Harry answered softly. “We stay, and we give her anything she needs.”

Ron looked down to where their bodies were still tangled together; Hermione’s blood and his and Harry’s seed were staining the bed. “No one’s going to understand this,” he whispered nervously.

“So what?” Harry whispered back angrily. “They’re already scared of us, Ron!”

“Scared?”

“Yeah.” Harry glanced back towards the door. “Even Dumbledore is scared of us. Did you see how he tried to take control of us as soon as we got back? He’s scared of how strong we are.”

Ron nodded, slowly. “He barely stopped us from killing Malfoy…”

“And with Hermione, he couldn’t stop us. She’s the most talented of us magically; together the three of us would be…powerful. I think- I think that’s why Voldemort ordered Hermione’s parents killed…because he thought it would drive us apart. Somehow he realized that together, the three of us are more than a match for him.”

Ron nodded again, his face darkening. “I say…I say, as soon as Hermione’s up to it, we go after him.”

Harry nodded his agreement. “We can take him. Together, the three of us are so powerful that even people like Dumbledore are terrified. They probably think we’re not- mature enough to handle so much power.”

“So they want to separate us?” Ron’s voice was tight with anger. “Not bloody likely!” He looked back at Hermione. “Hermione’s not going to get through this anytime soon, is she.” It was a statement more than a question, but Harry nodded. “If it was just her parents, then maybe, but after what she did…after what she almost did…” Ron looked up at Harry again. “Harry, I say we make a pact. Right now, we swear we’ll do anything to keep together, and to keep- to keep sane. I already know I’ll do anything for you two, so let’s make it real. We do anything. If that means hunting down V-Voldemort, and every single Death Eater, and killing them all with our bare hands, so you and ‘mione can sleep without nightmares, we do it. If it means going against Dumbledore, or the Ministry, we do it. If we alienate all our friends, and people start thinking we’re crazy and dangerous, we still do it. So we can be together.” He offered his hand to Harry. “What do you say?”

“I say I would do all that already,” Harry said quietly, and he took Ron’s hand. “For you, Ron, and for Hermione. For us. Anything it takes.”