Harry grasped her wrist and firmly pulled her hands off him. “Hermione — I told you this morning, today is the day. This is how it's supposed to be. Neither can live, neither will survive. This is how it was always supposed to be.”
“No, it's not. We can keep fighting. We'll pull out—”
He stared at her, his face serious. “People died today, Hermione. They've been dying for years, fighting for me, protecting me, coming here so I could get into Hogwarts. My whole life — people have died trying to protect me. I can't let anyone else die for me — not when I know I have the power to stop all of this. This war can't go longer. It has to end. This — is what I'm supposed to do.”
He looked down at the ground, and the resolution in his expression fractured somewhat. “You'll take care of Ginny, won't you? And tell her — tell her she'll be what I'm thinking of — to the very end.”
He started to move past her, but Hermione grabbed him again. Her throat closed, as though her desperation was strangling her.
“Harry — Harry — Ginny is pregnant.”
Harry froze as though she'd petrified him. Then he turned and stared at her, his expression uncomprehending.
Hermione gave a small sob. Her heart was beating so hard it felt as though it were being bruised inside her chest. “She realised she was pregnant in February, and she asked me to hide it because she was afraid it would be too much for you to be worrying about. But she's pregnant. It's a boy. He's due in October. So you — you can't die — because you have to meet your son. Please, please, come with me—” Her voice broke.
Harry shook his head slowly. “Don't — don't do this to me, Hermione. Don't say something like that to try to stop me.”
There were cold tears escaping the corners of her eyes, and her voice shook with intensity. “I'm not lying to you, Harry. I swear on my magic. She's almost six months pregnant. Ever since she learned the gender, she's called him James.”
Harry paled and made a pained sound in the back of his throat.
Hermione's face twisted as she tried not to cry. She gripped him more tightly. “Please — Harry. Let's go find Alastor and have everyone pull back.”
Harry started shaking. She could see him wavering.
“Please, Harry.”
The noise, the screaming outside was growing louder. She heard Ron yell again. Harry twitched and looked towards the tent opening.
He dropped his head down for a moment, and he drew a sharp breath.
“Promise me you'll take care of them for me.”
Hermione felt something inside her shrivel and die. Her hands dropped away, falling limp at her sides. Harry's fingers darted out; he caught her right hand and gripped it.
His eyes were desperate. “Promise me, Hermione. Promise me.”
“I promise.” The words felt as though they were torn out of her heart and dragged up her throat. They fell like blood from her lips. “I'll always take care of them, as long as I live.”
His grip on her hand tightened, and his body slumped with relief. Then he let go and stepped back “Thank you. Thank you for everything you did for me.”
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his Invisibility Cloak, and disappeared.
Hermione stood dazedly staring at the spot he'd vanished from. She hardly felt able to think. It was as though her entire life had dropped out from under her feet.
She forced herself to move and stumbled to the entrance of the tent.
“Hermione, where's Harry?” Ron stared past her into the empty tent.
“Gone—,” her voice was broken, rasping. She gripped the canvas of the tent until her knuckles showed white. “I'm sorry. I tried to stop him. He put on his cloak and disappeared.”
“What did you—? Fuck. Never mind. Get out of here, there's more Death Eaters than we thought they had.” Ron was looking wildly around at the battle that was closing in on them. “I'll find Harry. You get out of here.”
Before Hermione could say anything, Ron and Fred had run off towards the castle.
Hermione stood in the opening of the tent, watching, as though she were trapped in a nightmare on the edge of a battlefield.
There were spells flying in every direction. The air was thick with the smell of smoke, spent curses, blood, and burning flesh. A cacophony of screams and the shouted incantations. The Death Eater reinforcements were coming from Hogsmeade, a huge force sweeping up and hemming the Resistance against the walls of Hogwarts.
A witch thirty feet away from Hermione was hit by a purple curse and fell. As she struck the ground, her head turned towards Hermione, face slack, eyes blank. Hermione's hand twitched. She recognized the woman. She'd healed her, saved her life, a little more than a month ago, after the battle in Surrey.
The Death Eater who'd killed the witch turned to move on, his face was unmasked. As Hermione caught sight of his features, the blood in her veins ran cold.
She recognised him.
She had seen him before. He'd been captured, months earlier, during one of the Order's prison rescues. He was one of the innumerable Death Eaters she'd prepped for stasis and administered the Draught of Living Death to. He'd been handed over to Bill and Fleur to be placed in the Order's prison.
Her eyes swept across the battlefield again: five years of prisoners, removed from stasis and sent into battle. That was why there were more Death Eaters than the Order had expected.
How had they found the prison? They should never have been able to find it. The Order had specifically created it with the purpose of ensuring that even if the war was lost, the prison still wouldn't be compromised.
There was an explosion so violent the ground shook. Dozens of Resistance fighters were flung back by a growing, writhing inferno of flames. The air grew thick and putrid and sulfuric as an enormous burning serpent slithered across the field, forcing the Resistance further back.
Voldemort stood beside it, flanked by a group of masked and unmasked Death Eaters, his snake Nagini draped across his shoulders.
“Harry Potter, come and face me.”
Voldemort's voice was high and cold, like the edge of a blade dragged along the spine. It was amplified, so Hermione could hear the sibilant edge of his pronunciation as though he were at her shoulder, speaking directly into her ear.
“Give yourself up, or I will punish every man, woman, and child foolish enough to follow and protect you.”
Harry did not appear or step forward.
Hermione had never seen Voldemort in person before. She's heard countless descriptions, but it was the first time she'd ever seen him.
He was thin and horrifyingly pale; his eyes red as blood and almost glowing.
Dozens of fighters suddenly rushed forward to attack. Voldemort flicked his wand, and they were thrown back violently. The group of Death Eaters behind him moved forward, but Voldemort stilled them with a gesture.
“Your beloved Chosen One has brought you here and abandoned you,” Voldemort said.
The Resistance kept re-advancing and being forced back. Alastor was among them. He was fighting savagely, flanked by Remus and Tonks. Minerva was dueling alongside them; she'd left her orphans in order to help Harry infiltrate Hogwarts and find the horcrux. Many of the DA members were in each renewed charge. Parvati. Seamus. Angelina kept fighting forward despite her limp. Neville too. He dodged several spells until he managed to get noticeably close to Voldemort.
After several attacks by the Resistance Voldemort seemed to grow bored of waiting for Harry. He flung most of the Resistance back but caught Neville in a body-bind and stepped closer, studying Neville's face.
“Rushing forward without a wand in your hand. The Resistance is a disease in the magical world. Nagini, enjoy this one.”
He extended his arm, and Nagini used it to slither down from his shoulders and drop to the ground. Voldemort turned and directed his fiendfyre serpent to advance on the Resistance.