It Was Never Supposed to Be Easy

I kept my eyes on the pale madman, staring at my friend the hero.

If I could just…

I let my eyes drift lower, past my shaking knees, all the way to the floor. The tapestry at my feet was covered in dust and rubble, but I could just make out the glint of hope underneath it.

Harry was taunting Voldemort again, dancing around him, a smile as wide as the sun pasted on his face. Voldemort swirled with Harry, his feet releasing dust, while his robes drifted behind him.

In the corner, Ginny twitched. Her hand dragged across the floor, her eyes fluttered, once, twice. She was alive. She was alive, but for how long? I desperately wanted to see if Ron was coming around too, but at the angle I stood, I couldn’t see him, and I didn’t dare move to look.

The piece of silver glinted under the thin layer of dust.

I glanced at Ginny; she was watching me, her eyes wide. She had seen it; she knew what I was planning.

“No.” she mouthed silently.

I shook my head, putting a finger to my lips.

“No.” she mouthed again, this time struggling to rise. Her face twisted with pain and she fell to the floor. The two men still firing rapidly at each other noticed nothing. I shook my head at Ginny again, motioning for her to lie still.

Then I began to slowly kneel, keeping my eyes on the dueling wizards. My fingers scraped the floor, and I dragged them across the floor, inching closer and closer to the prize.

Suddenly, it was Harry whose eyes I was staring into. He took in my crouched figure, and then his eyes dropped, just for a second, to the floor and my fingers.

His eyes widened.

He nodded.

Voldemort, the poor brute, noticed none of this, too busy swirling around the room, his eyes on Harry’s wand.

Ginny’s bruised face moved from me to Harry and then back to my hand, now gripping the only bit of hope we had.

Hope at such a terrible price.

Harry began to laugh, rocking back and forth on his heels, clutching his stomach.

“Have you run mad, Potter?” gloated Voldemort.

Harry giggled and pulled a round bottle from around his neck.

“I know something you don’t Tom.”

“You know nothing.” Whispered Voldemort, his eyes glued to the bottle. The apprehension filled the air, I began to slowly stand.

Ginny was crawling to me, her eyes wide, and her mouth moving frantically. She was gesturing to the boy behind me. Ron, poor Ron. I might never know what could’ve happened.

She reached me, fingers grasping mine, prying the only chance we had away from me.

“Ginny! Let go!” I moaned, yanking at the silver knife still grasped in my hand.

“No, Hermione. You can’t do this.”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do!”

“Hermione…you don’t understand.” She moaned. “Harry will die.”

A sob ripped through me, I yanked away, trying to make her let go. “Don’t you think I know that?”

“You don’t understand!”

Suddenly, Harry was screaming at me, “Now, Hermione, NOW!”

Voldemort turned and I looked up in time to see Harry uncork the bottle, and suddenly, time stood still.

I watched as Harry threw back the bottle, the clear liquid disappearing down his throat, his eyes widening at the certain cold.

“No!” screamed Voldemort.

I stood slowly, time still drifting around us, beside me, Ginny stood as tall as her love.

Harry’s eyes drifted. They fell on me, then on Ron’s still form, and then finally on Ginny.
Voldemort laughed, “I’ve won Potter. I’ve won!”

Harry buckled, his knees failing, then his thin hips following, his arms dragging after his torso. Until he was kneeling, his eyes stood still on Ginny.

She gave a great gasp.

Harry’s mouth opened and he uttered a single word, and at the word my heart broke. Ginny screamed, her scream twisting with Voldemort’s triumphant laugh.

Harry’s eyes closed.

His head fell to the floor.

And then, in the slick moment of shock, I let go of the knife, and then I was standing alone, Ginny sprinting to Harry or Voldemort, I wasn’t sure.