Hermione Granger could not leave England, not when she saw Ron fall, not when Lord Voldemort killed Harry, not when all hope was lost, not when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley left for Romania with Charlie when they thought all their children and Harry and Hermione had perished. Not when she found a distressed Ginny who begged her to leave with her too, and not when the Muggleborn hunting began.

No, she would never be able to leave when the last thread connecting her to her lost life was here, not when Harry's words hung over her. As she looked in the mirror of her small apartment, she saw the last sacrifices she had made for him. Gone were her frizzy brown hair and familiar features. They had been replaced with a petite face and short straight blond hair. She stared into the face of a stranger. Only her brown eyes, which she had kept to always remember what she had lost, remained. They too, however, could not have remained completely untainted. No longer were they sparkling with a thirst for knowledge. Now, they relayed no emotion, only the evidence of a long hard life, which she, at 19 years old, should not have acquired yet.

Some days, the unfamiliar face made Harry's last request almost intolerable. But to the day she died, Hermione Granger would always be loyal to her best friend, even if he was no longer with her. She put on a shawl around her head and headed out of the small hidden and untraceable apartment, she knew she would survive until it was safe for him to come back and finish what they started.

-

"I have to do this, Hermione," the raven haired boy said, his green eyes looking out into the distance. They were in the Rom of Requirements and it had changed into an imitation of the exterior of Hogwarts, for that was where Ron had been killed. When he looked at her, his eyes were still far away, as if he were looking at a different time, a happier one, where none of this was happening. "You understand that, don't you? You understand why I have to do this?"

She sighed, and took his hand in hers and squeezed it with all her might not only to try to hold him to her forever, but also to tell him she'd be with him always. When he squeezed her's back, she knew he understood what she wanted to tell him.

"Ron's gone, Mione," his eyes glassed over as he thought of his fallen best friend. "I have to do this for him and for you. I have to save you. I can't let the same thing happen to you."

"There has to be another way," her tone alone showing her desperation. "We can figure something out together, Harry. This doesn't have to be over yet."

"It is, Hermione. At least for me, it is. You – you don't understand."

"I do, Harry," she admitted finally. It had taken seeing Ron die to finally make her realize that some things were more important than her peace of mind. She couldn't protect either of them forever, and in some things, all her intelligence wouldn't matter. For the fate of the world, so Ron's death wouldn't be in vain, Harry had to do all he could to end this. "I wish there was another way, but I do. You have to go alone. You have to face him."

"I'll fail," he said quietly. "I'll let him kill me, just so there can be a victor and this damned war can stop."

"Harry, promise me," she turned to face him, her brown eyes blazing. "You can't just let him win. You have to fight. You have to give yourself a chance."

"Hermione, if I die, the last Horcrux will be gone and he will be able to be killed by someone who knows that," he said. His meaning was beginning to dawn on her.

"No."

"Hermione, listen, this is the only way," he said hurriedly, his eyes tightening. "I don't want to think of you facing him, I can't. I can't imagine you putting yourself in that kind of danger, but this is the only way. If I die then you can get close enough, Mione. You can finish this."

"I won't do it," she said, shaking her head and snatching her hand back. "I won't let you do this. I could understand if you were going to fight him, but Harry, what you're talking about, it's suicide. You understand that, don't you? You're giving in to certain death."

"What other choice is there, Hermione?" he cried, throwing his hands up in desperation. "Please, tell me if you have another plan, because this seems like the only option to me. I can't stand knowing that if I don't, if I selfishly hide away, I'll be putting you in even more danger."

"You'd be sending me to my death," she said quietly, her voice trembling. "If I go against Voldemort, I'll be killed too."

"No you won't," he said, reassuring himself more than her. "They don't call you the brightest witch of our age for no reason. If anyone can do this, you can. I wouldn't trust anyone but you for this."

"It's supposed to be you, Harry! It's supposed to be you that kills him. That's what the prophecy says, the one with the power to vanquish the dark lord approaches. You, Harry! You have the power, not me."

"Maybe we interpreted it wrong, Hermione. No, listen!" he said as she opened her mouth to retort. "Maybe the power isn't actually killing him, maybe it's the power to enable him to be killed and to empower the person who does it."

"You're grasping at straws, Harry Potter," she folded her arms and glared at him. Still, she could see his reasoning, and it was starting to make sense. Not the empowering her part, but the enabling it part at least. That was when she remembered something she had read in the library ages ago.

"You have a plan," he grinned, reading her expression.

"Harry, what if – well I'm not positive it will work but maybe – maybe I can bring you back," she said, trying to remember where she had read it.

"What?" he said, his expression clearly telling her he was wondering if she had lost it. "You're mental, Hermione. You can't bring back the dead or they would have brought back Dumbledore and my parents. Dumbledore said it himself, no spell can raise the dead."

"No charm is supposed to make one immortal either," she said, waving him off as she began pacing the room, "and yet Voldemort has accomplished it."

He began to understand. "You're talking about really dark magic, Hermione, aren't you? I don't know… that sounds dangerous."

"More dangerous than letting me face Voldemort myself?" she countered. 'Listen, Harry, I think I could actually pull it off. It's a potion I came across when I was in the restricted section back when we had to make the polyjuice potion."

"And you remember it?" he asked, smirking at her. "Merlin, Hermione, maybe Ron was right, you really are off your rocker."

She rolled her eyes but allowed a smile. Even in the face of peril, he made fun of her. It was nice to know some things didn't change. "It's hard to forget it when the book howled at me."

"Hermione, if this potion works, we could bring back Ron," he realized. "And my parents, and Sirius, and Lupin, and Tonks, and Fred and Dumbledore! Blimey, Hermione, we could bring them all back."

"No we can't, Harry."

"Why not?" he asked, his green eyes blazing.

"Because it only brings back people who have unfinished business," she said. "And people who knew about it. There's a spell we have to cast before you die. Oh, I wish we could go to the library right now."

"Why can't we?" he asked, taking her hand. "Or rather, why can't we bring it to us?" He led her out of the room, and closed the door. "Walk back and forth and think of a library with only the book you need."

She nodded and practically ran back and forth. With Harry's allotted hour, they didn't have much time left. A library door appeared and they both burst in. The bookshelves were bare, but they saw a lone book on the table in the center of the room. "Hermione your brain power is amazing. I couldn't concentrate."

She smiled and then opened the book, quickly looking for the spell. "Here it is," she said, looking it over. She pulled out her wand and pointed it at him. "Magicus extractum livium."

A bright light erupted from within Harry's chest and flew out into Hermione's wand. She grinned at him. "I'll be able to do it."

He smiled and took her into his arms, holding her tight against him. "No matter what, stay safe and live, Hermione, live for me. Don't let them win." She felt his lips graze the top of her head. "And when you think it's safe, then cast the spell to bring me back. But not before Hermione. Don't put yourself in danger because of me."

"Harry," she laughed into his chest as she tried to pull him even closer to her. "I've been doing that for seven years now."

"Let's not make it 8, alright?" he laughed too. He pulled away and his green eyes held hers for a long moment. "Survive, Hermione. Whatever happens, whatever you have to do, survive. Promise me, Mione. Promise me you'll do whatever it takes to stay alive."

His words rang with a weight that she knew would hang over her. Still, this was Harry, her best friend. She would do anything for him without a second's thought. Even now, staring into his eyes, she did not hesitate to say, "I promise."