When All Seems Lost

A/N: Written as part of Chocolate Box 2017 for Sheeana, wanting Hermione or Ron's perspective in the moment during Deathly Hallows when they thought Harry was dead.

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Much of the last year has been long stretches of inaction (almost boredom but for the constant overlay of perpetual fear), that's occasionally been interrupted by frantic bouts of chaos. Since their discovery at Gringotts, it feels like they've been caught up in a massive whirlwind bigger than any preceding it, one which is showing no sign of abating. Which perhaps is only to be expected as they come down to the last steps before the inevitable conclusion of their quest, one way or the other. Their quest that their enemy now knows about and moves to counter.

The constant reports of the dead and missing over the radio that had been their only source of news for so long had been devastating but in a fatiguing and distant way, one that had left them all feeling stretched thin and hopeless. Seeing the aftermath of the first round of the battle that had followed their arrival to Hogwarts is also devastating, but the sting of it is sharp and brutal in a whole new way. The battle itself is harrowing, but seeing the aftermath laid out with her own eyes in still and pale rows in the Great Hall is so much worse. Each new face of a friend, of mere acquaintances she passed in the halls just enough to recognize – then coming to Fred with the whole rest of the Weasley family, bar Ron who is at her side, gathered around him in a circle, pale and broken in their grief. It feels like the world stands still, their palpable devastation somehow making everything that unbearable degree more real. All she can do is be there for Ron and secretly, ashamedly, think of her parents safe out of even Voldemort's long reach in Australia.

Even amid the grief that feels all-encompassing in that moment, Hermione isn't quite sure how they manage to lose track of Harry. Worse, how they don't even realize when exactly it is they lose track of Harry. She'd thought he was with them until Ron had turned from her to talk to his sister, and she'd looked to find Harry missing from the spot she'd expected him to occupy just over her shoulder. At first she thinks he may have gone somewhere to avoid the Weasley's grief, blaming himself for Fred's death, as he has a tendency to do for so many things.

As she becomes aware enough of her wider surroundings to look around, she realizes many people are moving in and out of the Hall in a constant stream to bring in more of the fallen, and thinks he may have join them. Or perhaps he's only gone somewhere else to be alone in his own grief, as she hadn't missed seeing the bodies of Lupin and Tonks laid out nearby. He'll be back, wherever he's gone. They've taken care of the horcrux that had been hidden here at Hogwarts, and now they have one more left. No question it's likely to be the hardest of all, and the price they've already paid is unquestionably steep, but at least in some ways the last one will also be the most straightforward.

So Hermione waits and exchanges quiet words with Ron as the minutes to Voldemort's deadline tick slowly and inexorably away. Even as the inevitable resumption of the battle approaches and Harry fails to appear, neither one of them wants to voice what she can see in Ron's eyes that they both fear. The possibility Harry had gone to the forest without them, hoping to spare at least some lives and trusting that the two of them would manage to destroy the last of the horcruxes in Voldemort's jubilation at his victory. Surely he wouldn't. It would gain them nothing, only serve for Harry to throw his life away. Voldemort's word could not be trusted, and Harry knew that more than any of them. Still, their short reprieve draws to a close, and Harry does not appear.

When they hear Voldemort's words echoing through the battered castle, Hermione turns her horrified eyes to meet Ron's, neither one of them quite willing to believe it, despite their fears. It's a lie, or a trick, it has to be. Please let it be a lie, she thinks hard, wishing that believing alone could make it true. As they join all of those living and mobile who move towards the entrance to the castle, she grips Ron's hand so hard she loses feeling in her own, but he makes no complaint, gripping back just as hard. Even before they come to the open space of the doorway, though, McGonagall's broken cry of denial drops her heart to her feet.

Despite knowing that it's coming, seeing Harry lying there, discarded on the ground in front of the gloating maniac, she can't stop herself from crying out in denial and pain. Nor can Ron beside her, who is standing so close and still holding on so hard she can feel the broken sob that shudders through him but doesn't make a sound. So many of those around her can't hold back either, producing a united vocalization of despair. She hates that they're giving the evil wizard the satisfaction, but how can they not? It's Harry.

Harry who was one of the two first and best friends she'd ever made, or could ever hope to make. Harry who always thought she was brilliant. Harry who never would apply himself to his schoolwork without prodding, but had an amazing ability at magic and could make leaps of logic to rival her own when it really counted. Harry who had tried to teach them all to protect themselves, and always tried to protect them himself when he could, even when it wasn't the smart thing to do – maybe especially then. Harry who loved her like a sister, and was the best friend she didn't know how Ron would live without, despite the silly boy-fights they sometimes had. Harry, who, through everything they've faced, remained the boy who lived. Why, of all the amazing things that made up her friend, did that have to be the one he allowed to become a lie?

Somehow her broken heart still manages to swell with pride for Ron when he speaks out against Voldemort's gloating words – and jump in fear when Neville breaks through the crowd, rushing the Death Eaters in a doomed charge. She can't watch and she can't look away. She doesn't want to see yet another friend die, but what choice is there for any of them but to fight? It's hard, so hard, but she gathers her resolve together and stands up straighter again despite how broken and despairing she feels. A world where Voldemort wins isn't a world worth living in and Harry, damn him, had left them a job to do. If they can finish the snake, someone can finish the wizard himself, even if it's not one of them. Even if it's not today. It's worth dying for, if that's what it takes.