Work Text:
She heard their voices first, frantic quiet whispers echoing through the main hallway as they reached the bottom of the grand staircase. She had only a few moments to arrange her facial expression into some semblance of calm before they noticed her presence.
“Harri!” Hermione reached her first, anxiety bleeding into her voice as she rushed up with stairs two at a time, Ron not too far behind. The bushy haired witch grasped her arm tightly, bruised knuckles white and trembling, as if try to reassure herself of her presence. “Where have you been?!”
As if he could read the puzzlement in her eyes – after all, they’d been with her when she collected Snape’s memories – Ron elaborated, his voice quiet, “We thought you’d gone off to the forest.”
So they knew…? Harri let the calm façade fall away, replacing it with the grim and weary feeling of acceptance that had settled over her like a shroud the moment she stepped away from the Headmaster’s pensieve. “I’m going there now,” she affirmed. Reaching out, she grasped Hermione’s hand, gently prying her fingers away before continuing her descent down the ruined staircase.
“What?!” Ron gaped a moment, then lumbered down the stairs after her to block her path. “You can’t! You can’t give in to him! Not after everything!”
Harri paused, recalling a circle of familiar redheads, their faces awash in grief. She closed her eyes, her breath hitching as she struggled to maintain her composure. She couldn’t…
“Harri…” She looked up again to find Hermione standing before her, face dirty and pale, her dark brown eyes wide with pain and trepidation… and resignation…? “What did you see…?” she murmured. “What is it you know…?”
…born as the seventh month dies…
The words from the pensieved memories still echoed in her brain, and the chill that had been momentarily chased away by her meeting with Neville settled deep in her bones once more. She resisted the urge to touch her lips. What would he say when he learned what happened…?
“Harri…?”
She glanced up at the faces of her two oldest friends, her heart aching at the emotions visible in their gazes. Hermione’s especially; she knew that the other witch had pretty much figured it out. Still… “There’s a reason why I’m a Parseltongue…” she murmured quietly. “A reason why I have this scar…” She brought a hand up to her head, her fingers ghosting over the raised lightning-bolt shaped mark over her brow. “I used to always wonder why it always caused me pain… why I could feel what He felt… There’s a reason why I could hear them… the Horcruxes…” She met their gazes once more, her gaze sad but resolute. “I know why now… And I think you do, too…”
Ron was shaking his head slowly, his expression a myriad mixture of pain, understanding, and disbelief. Hermione’s face was pale, but in her gaze Harri knew that her suspicions had been correct.
Sucking in a breath, Hermione took a step forward, reaching out to her with shaking hands. “You don’t have to go alone…” she whispered. “We’ll go with you--!”
Harri stepped back, shaking her head. “You can’t…”
“Like hell we can’t!” Ron exclaimed angrily. “Why should you have to face this alone? Harri—!”
“Nagini’s still out there, Ron,” she cut in, her gaze entreating, begging him to understand. “She’s the last one. If you kill her, that’s it; it’ll just be him.”
“But you…”
“Ron,” she called softly. “It’s like that time before, remember?” He blinked at her in confusion. “Only this time you’re the Bishop and I’m the Knight…”
She watched as they both recalled that fateful chess match their first year at Hogwart’s. Ron had played a masterful game, making a play that had allowed her the opportunity to keep moving forward. Six years seemed like such a long time ago…
Suddenly there were arms around her, squeezing her tightly. Harri looked down to see Hermione holding onto her as if she feared she might vanish before her eyes. Her shoulders shook, and the brunette could feel her shoulder growing damp. Feeling helpless, she gazed up at Ron to see his eyes shining with wetness as well. She felt her own eyes tearing up in response. “Ron…”
The tall redhead quickly closed the distance between, wrapping his arms around both of them. “You’re such a prat…!” he muttered thickly.
A wet laugh escaped her as she managed to wind an arm around both of them. “I know, I know, I’m sorry…” She sucked in a breath, gripping them both like a lifeline. “Promise me you’ll look after everyone…”
“Harri…” Hermione sobbed.
“Please promise!” she insisted, pulling away. She couldn’t linger anymore. They were running out of time! “You have to make sure everyone stay’s safe… I can’t…”
“We will, mate…” Ron murmured softly. When her gaze met his, he dragged a sleeve over his eyes quickly before meeting hers resolutely. “We will…”
Hermione let out another sob, tears running freely down her face. Ron’s chin wavered, but he nodded to her as he pulled the bushy haired witch into the crook of his arm.
Knowing that he understood who specifically she meant by ‘everyone’, Harri nodded her head gratefully. “I love you both,” she said. Giving them one last look, she turned on her heel and made her way down the stairs. She could hear Hermione give another soft cry, followed by Ron’s soft murmured attempts at consolation, but she didn’t look back.
It was time to end this. Once and for all.
…for neither can live while the other survives…