A/N: this fic exists thanks to Miss RSS, who gave me the prompt months ago and who's been helping me with it since then and, now, is beta reading it for me. I hope you like this one and, please, tell me what you think of it.

et in arcadia ego

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When Hermione found that little spell hidden in between the complicated illustrations of the book, she couldn't believe how happy she was. Happier than she had been in days – no, months – and it was as if she could actually see a little spark of hope in the middle of the darkness they were living in for what seemed years. When she showed it to Harry, she saw her friend's face lighten up and a small smile appear on his lips. He, too, was desperate for it all to end as soon as possible.

Not that they didn't know how to destroy horcruxes. She had made her research and found out a few ways, which included basilisk venom and the Fiendfyre. But she knew very well that the Fiendfyre was not to be used thanks to it lethality and that no basilisk in the world would be willing to bite a horcrux for them. They could use the sword of Gryffindor… The sword that was inside Bellatrix Lestrange's vault in Gringotts. Yes, they had a few ways to destroy a horcrux but all of them were out of reach, so, when that unknown spell that appeared in the middle of the book – hidden in the form of runes and symbols between the illustrations that The Secrets of the Darkest Arts had in its pages, like it was common to happen in books about dark magic, a way to stop the reader from obtaining the full knowledge unless he really worked hard to find it. Usually, those hidden information's were about ways to end curses and spells, a way to hide from the world how to finish a dark magic -, Hermione couldn't even believe that she had let it pass under her nose like that.

It was not an easy spell, though. It involved runes and symbols she thought she might have seen in books about alchemy and really old magic, but she was Hermione Granger and, as Hagrid once said, there was no spell she could not perform. At least until now. But, no, he was right: she was a good witch that had an amazing spell work. She would be able to perform it.

And, yes, Hermione did perform the spell. She wrote down all the runes and symbols on the dirt, put the locket where it should be, asked Harry to stay near in case she needed help, concentrated as much as she could and said the words she was supposed to say, making the right wand movements. It was all perfect. So perfect it would be an outrage if that whole ritual didn't work.

But it worked.

It worked very well.

Maybe even too well… But that might have been because she must have misunderstood what that book had said about "finishing a horcrux" because, by the time it all ended, after a strong blast of energy erupted from the locket, sending Harry and her flying backwards, and the dust settled down, what she expected to see was a destroyed horcrux, a locket with its metal structure twisted and burnt, bleeding some kind of dark ink, the way Harry had described the event of him destroying the diary of Tom Riddle. She expected a broken horcrux, an empty shell of what, one day, had held part of Lord Voldemort's soul and not the pale body of a young man that was in front of them once they managed to get up and approach the site of where the ritual had been performed.

The first lungful of air was what brought him to conscience. It hurt and felt as if his lungs had just been expanded for the first time, filling up with the cold air that burned its way down his throat and into his chest. He could hear his ragged breath and the sound of it was mixed with a soft, rustling sound from somewhere around him. Opening his eyes in an attempt to see what was making such noise, everything he gained in response was loud whimper from himself as he felt an intense burn in his eyes once the light hit them.

There was a voice on the background. He couldn't make out what it was saying but he could identify it as a male voice… And, then, a female one, too. His hands were trembling – no, his whole body was trembling – and when he made to stretch them out to feel the surface where he was lying, he found it was difficult to move, as if his muscles had unlearned how to contract and obey his commands. It was just when panic start to build inside him that a small hand landed on his shoulder, turning him over until he was lying on his back. He screamed – or at least tried to but the only thing that came out of his mouth was a strangled cry – as the patch of skin where it had touched burned.

"Oh God," said the female voice and he was rather relieved to see that he was finally able to understand the words. "Oh my God…"

"Hermione, what happened?" He turned his head in the other voice's direction. "This… This is not right… Hermione…"

"I know, I know!" The small hands touched his face, gently, and turned his head. The burning feeling was there again and he lowered his chin in a failed attempt to escape form the touch. "Stop it! Look at me!"

"Careful, he's-"

"He's unarmed, Harry. Look at me."

His eyes opened once again and he narrowed them until the pain from the brightness stopped but he still couldn't see anything but different shades of black and white, all blurred above him.

"My bag, Harry, get my bag! Search for a sleeping potion!" The male voice whispered something and he could see the strangers' movement, or at least the blur of their movements. "Open your mouth." He did open his mouth but wanting to ask why the hell would she want him to do so. The girl misinterpreted his action when his voice didn't come out sounding more than a whimper and, before he could react, two of her fingers were inside his mouth, holding onto his lower teeth and pulling his jaw down. A cold liquid was poured into his mouth and, instinctively, he swallowed it right before the stranger released his jaw.

Blinking, he felt the liquid gliding down his throat and into his stomach. The strangers fell into silence and he knew they were staring at him. A few moments later, the feeling of something crawling its way back up his throat made him cough, feeling the liquid she had just made him drink spill out from his mouth.

"What the hell-?!"

"Oh, Merlin's beard." Something finally seemed to get in focus on his vision. It was the tip of what seemed to be a stick, pointed right into his face. "Quiesco."

And, with that whisper, he didn't hear or see anything else.