"How do we forgive ourselves for

all of the things we did not become?"

— Doc Luben

Some say the world will end in fire, a fire so pure that it scorches everything that once was, reducing it into ash. The reckoning. To Hermione, it had sounded symbolic, poetic even. Fire to cleanse the soul — the bringer of light. And destruction. It was only now she truly knew what it felt like to burn, to be on the other side where there was no escaping the flames. And pain.

"Hermione?"

Hermione gasped, hurriedly wiping away the evidence of her tears before lifting her head. Upon doing so, she met a set of green eyes behind circular rimmed glasses held together by tape.

"Did you need something, Harry?" Hermione averted her gaze from his piercing stare, choosing to watch the giant squid in the distance splashing the tips of its tentacles along the surface of the black lake. It was a fall day, the trees shedding their marigold and auburn leaves, some floating across the lake's surface gently just like the self-rowing boats that brought them to this very shore not many weeks ago.

"I — I heard the comment Snape made about you in class about being not good enough no matter how much you tried — "

Hermione screwed her eyes shut, refusing to let herself break in front of him. She had tried to be friends with him, but he and Ron were stuck together, sometimes wary of her whenever she'd tried to help. These past few weeks in particular had been too much. She missed her parents. She was embarrassed to admit it, not because she didn't love her parents — she did. It was because she was ashamed that even here at Hogwarts she was an outsider. She had thought that finally she would be somewhere she belonged, somewhere people understood because all her life she had felt so alone, even though her parents had tried. She thought by coming here, she would find people like her. But again, she was different. She was quick to realize that having muggle parents was not common. She had read every book available about magical beings. Muggleborn. It had just been an inky black word in an old leather book with yellowing pages. But the way it sounded from the lips of the other wizards and witches, young and old, held an underlying taste of displeasure. No, she knew, deep in her blood, again she did not belong.

"I'm still not sure why you're here, Harry," Hermione murmured once he stopped babbling, running her fingers absently over her feathered quill.

When he didn't respond, Hermione only got a brief glance of his pinched face before he sat himself next to her.

"Look, I know how you're feeling — I didn't know about magic either until coming here. Even having both magical parents I'm... an outsider. When I walk through the halls I hear the whispers. We're not like them." She blinked at Harry, who gave her a lopsided smile. "I know things haven't been easy but we can figure it out. Together."

Hermione frowned. "What about Ron?"

Harry's face split into a grin. "He'll go with it, don't worry."

As if being summoned, the red-headed Weasley stumbled from the trees, tripping on his oversized robes. His hair was tousled, so bright, she almost didn't distinguish the leaves stuck in his hair.

"Harry! Where've you been, mate?" he said, dusting his hair as he approached.

"Just hanging with Hermione and sharing our hatred for Snape."

"Agh! Tell me about it!" Ron huffed, surprising Hermione when he sat to her other side. "It's a real pain you know having to avoid the hallways when he walks with his robes billowing in the wind like a real villain —"

Hermione giggled.

"Ahem."

She gave Harry a curious look when he nudged her as Ron continued his rant. She glanced down where Harry's eyes pointed, finding an unopened chocolate frog. At Harry's encouraging look, she took the box and offered it to Ron.

"Oh! I have a spare chocolate frog if you want it, Ron."

Ron's eyes lit up and without hesitation snatched the chocolate from her hand and immediately opened it and stuffed it in his mouth before the frog could even lift its head.

A garbled "Thanks, Mione," came out of his full mouth. "I can call you that right? Mione?" he said upon finally swallowing the sweet, grinning with his teeth stained with chocolate only making her laugh harder along with Harry.

Perhaps she wouldn't be completely alone.

Memories swirled in and out of her mind, slipping through the cracks as she waded in some unknown. She could not see but she could feel. And slowly, she was aware; aware of a faint trickle, the rustle of chains. She groaned softly, barely able to crack her eyes open.

" — Bellatrix said to prepare her. I'll let Alekto know the rounds are switching — "

Hermione cracked open one eye only to shut it tightly once more when a searing pain invaded her senses. The ground seemed to tilt from where she hung. Her body trembled in shock, her breathing rattled. She cataloged her injuries; a broken ankle, dislocated finger, and gashes everywhere. Probably internal bleeding as well.

Her mind felt foggy — she didn't remember, she didn't remember how she got here, how long she had been there, and what they had done to her. Flashes of screaming, pain, and silver masks flitted in and out of her vision. Wild hair, cackling, a knife dragging across her face. She had never felt so beaten, so weak, so helpless. They hadn't even bothered to suppress her magic.

Hermione managed to force both her eyes open. The cell was dark except for a single torch light. From her place, she barely made out the forms of the two Fury sisters in the dim cellar light. Tisiphone and Maegara.

"Go. I'll watch the prisoner." Maegara left the cell, barely giving Hermione a glance from where she knelt, her arms spread eagled and chained to the ceiling, leaving her hanging limply.

"You know," Tisiphone said as she leaned against the wall, an impassive look on her face as she watched Hermione, "if you give up the locations of the safehouses, it makes everything easier. For all of us. Even you."

Hermione huffed, wincing as the small movement pulled at her shoulder. "And what? Have more people slaughtered? That isn't worth one life."

Tisiphone chuckled, dark eyes gleaming in the torch light as she walked over and crouched before Hermione so that they were eye-level. "How about the lives of the future generations of wizards and witches to come? Shall they keep hiding in the shadows as more of those muggles claim more of the world? Perhaps it is your Order that is causing the suffering of more magical families."

Hermione fought to stay awake. "I'm sorry about your parents..."

Tisiphone's face shut as she straightened to full height. "Sorry is not enough to bring them back or eradicate the hate for our kind."

"And so the solution is to fight hate with hate?" Hermione gritted out. "I will never condone what the muggles had done. And your cause got something right — we have power. We were born with it. But that doesn't give us the right to abuse it. We can do better. An eye for an eye will only make the entire world blind, after all."

Before Tisiphone could respond, the cell door opened. Even if Hermione did not look, she could feel the presence of the very witch that haunted her nightmares. Her power was malignant, crawling in like inky shadows. The room seemed to crackle with untamed lighting. Powerful, chaotic, cruel.

"The little mudblood is awake I see," Bellatrix crooned, her pale face coming into view. She pouted before grinning widely. Hermione shuddered and looked away. "What to do with you, little bird?"

Hermione focused on the pair of heeled dragonhide boots as the blunt edge of a crooked black wand dug itself into the wound on her chest. Hermione gritted her teeth but a whimper escaped.

"Let's have more fun." A sharp nailed finger dragged itself across her face as the wand remained pierced into her flesh. Hermione screamed in agony when Bellatrix slit her sharp fingernail into the barely healed wound on her face that she didn't remember receiving.

"No one's coming for you," she crooned, releasing her. "Crucio!"

She should have been used to it by now, and should have been able to prepare herself. But the cruciatus always felt like the first time she had received it on the floor of Malfoy manor, the same white-hot pain that seared through every nerve and fiber of her body. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. She could not fight. No one was coming, no one was coming. She let the darkness consume her.

"Not very talkative now are you," Bellatrix's voice rang out. Hermione's body twitched violently against the chains that held her full weight. "But no worries, I know there is no point getting information from you. But we can still have a little fun, can't we?" Bellatrix's palm met her face sharply. Hermione gasped, her vision going blank for a second. Blood pooled from the corners of her mouth and trickled down her chin to the damp floor. "Tisiphone?"

Hermione's eyes widened as the witch shifted into her animagus form — a large snake, scales gleaming like cut amethyst. Hermione struggled as the snake approached, hissing at her direction.

"Tisiphone's venom, though not fatal, causes paralytic nightmares, pulling on your deepest and darkest memories." Hermione's nails dug into her palms as she tried to remain calm when Tisiphone wrapped her massive scaly body around her. Her heart hammered in her chest and she groaned when the snake body twisted like a vice around her, cracking her already broken ribs. She tried to scream but nothing came out.

"What haunts your dreams, mudblood?" Bellatrix grinned. "What dark things have you done for this war?" Hermione looked into Tisiphone's snake eyes, yellow and slitted. For a moment she let her occlumency walls down. And she begged.

Hermione thought she saw Tisiphone hesitate but that was before sharp fangs pierced into the flesh of her neck. Suddenly all that was light vanished into an internal darkness as she plunged into a chasm, tendrils of darkness pulling her into an abyss she knew too well.

"Hermione, love, could you pass the popcorn?"

Hermione passed the bowl across her father, both her parents too engrossed in the latest science documentary they were watching to notice the pain in her face. Usually, she too would be engrossed. It was movie night, a tradition they had every Friday during the summer. Just like they always did. But it was likely to be the last.

"— really dear, surely the experiment overlooks —"

"— hush. Hermione, what do you think of the use of... oh where are you going?" her mother asked, pausing the film. Both her parents blinked up at her, the tv light glinting off her father's round spectacles.

"I'm just going to grab a jumper. It's quite chilly." Hermione forced a smile at her parents, who relaxed at her assurance.

"Don't be too long!" Her father yelled as he resumed the film, turning back to the screen as Hermione walked behind them. Her eyes stung as she ran up the stairs. When the door shut, her body felt on autopilot as she finished packing the final things she needed.

She had to leave. The war was about to break out. She ran the spell through her head again and again, just like she had been practicing. Guilt bubbled up inside of her.

Hermione had not told them about the war, but she knew they knew something dark was stirring. She could see it in the worried set of their faces whenever she did magic or frantic look on their faces when she stayed out a little too late on her walks around the neighborhood. She heard it in the whispering and her mother crying late at night when they thought she was asleep, the way her father held her tighter than usual, and the fearful looks they shared over the dinner table when she was unable to take another bite of her dinner. That, and her mother's nightmares, the sobs she could hear from the other side of their bedroom door. She could no longer hold off doing what she needed to do as Voldemort grew stronger.

"It's the only way," she whispered to herself as she put on the invisibility cloak Moody had lent her and slung her beaded bag over her shoulder. Her mind felt numb as she made her way down the stairs that she had first learned how to walk down. She could not look at the photographs of her and parents over the years, their smiling and proud faces. She couldn't.

Memories — they were dangerous things. They reminded you of things that were, of fleeting moments that you could never truly keep. No matter how hard you tried to relive it, you would never get close enough to touch it. They faded over time like photographs until all you could do was mourn the ghost of a life that was long lost.

When she reached the foot of the stairs she paused, giving herself this one moment to watch the silhouettes of her parents, her mother's head on her father's shoulder as his arms tightened around her. Hermione took a step forward, positioning herself behind them and raised her wand with shaking fingers.

I love you, she mouthed as more and more tears fell down her face.

"Obliviate."

She held the spell, making her way in front of them. She concentrated on their memories as she continued uttering the variation of the spell, using legilimency to detangle the memory of her existence from their minds. When she looked into their minds, something shattered inside of her upon seeing herself from their eyes — the memories of when she took her first steps, woke up with tangled hair and a bucked-toothed smile on her first day of school, when she showed her first signs of magic and waved at them from the Hogwarts Express. Each and every memory was warm, so full of love it shocked her. All of that now gone, forgotten.

Hermione stood before them now, back in their living room, their eyes glazed and unseeing as they remained in a trance. It was done.

They blinked, and something twisted inside of her upon seeing the relaxed and almost... relieved expressions on their faces. They looked much younger without the tension in their bodies, in their countenance. Her parents looked at each other and smiled.

A cruel part of her, a selfish part had wanted to see them sad or at least confused, that somehow, even if she had erased the memory of her very existence in their minds, she was somehow still in their heart — that maybe even if they could not put a name to her face, they felt deep in their bones they had once had a daughter that they loved. But there was no denying the truth before her very eyes — they were happier and unburdened without her.

The next few moments felt like she was a ghost as she watched her parents spring on to the idea of moving to Australia she had planted in their minds. She watched as they packed their bags, booked tickets, excitedly chattering about their new life.

"Everything all set?" her father asked in the doorway. Hermione watched from her place by the wall across the doorway from where her parents stood.

She held her breath when her mother frowned and turned around. Hermione swore she was looking straight at her.

"I can't help but feel I'm forgetting something," her mother said slowly. Hermione bit down on her fist as her mother continued to look right through her, fighting the urge to run into her parent's arms and tell them to remember her. That she was sorry and she would figure it out. She would protect them.

"I think we got everything dear," her father murmured. Her mother blinked and smiled, shoulders relaxing before giving one last look and turning towards her father. They both stepped through the doorway, leaving her alone in the empty house.

"No..." she rasped. It was better this way. They were happier. Safe.

"— take this..." Before Hermione could make out her senses, she felt a cool vial to her lips then a sour liquid going down her throat. Vaguely she felt herself being lowered to the floor, the tension in her limbs releasing. "Let's see what this world of no hate you are fighting for will look like, Hermione Granger."

Hermione blinked, only catching Tisiphone leaving with her back turned towards her.

"Thank you..." she croaked, her vision blurring.

"I'm taking my sisters away from this war. We'll see you on the other side if you make it out."

Hermione exhaled, feeling the antidote slowly go through her body, the darkness surrounding her mind receding a bit. She surrendered to another memory, this time raw, unformed, as if if she touched it, it would slip away and break into a thousand pieces she could never recover. Slowly an image of a child with white blond hair and silver eyes appeared.

"Ready or not, here I come!" Hermione grinned as she scanned the library, pretending to search for the little boy. "Oh where could he be..."

A little bump under the throw blankets shook and giggled.

"Where could Scorpius be! Oh no, I can't find him!"

Suddenly, Scoropius threw the blanket off with impatience, his blond hair sticking in every direction.

"Mini, I'm here!"

"Scorpius? Where are you! I can't see you!" Hermione bit her lip as she pretended not to see the him

"Mini! It's me! I'm here!" Scorpius went down the sofa, tugging at her sleeve. "It's Scorpius!"

"Oh, there you are!" Hermione gasped, picking him up and swinging him in her arms before crashing into the couch. Both of them laughed and she held the boy closer as he continued snuggling into her arms.

Just as they settled, the library door opened. "Yay! Daddy has the hot coco!"

Silently, Draco floated one large mug and a smaller one in their direction before taking his own and settling in the ottoman across them.

"What will you say, Scorp?" Hermione nudged. The boy looked up from his mug, a little chocolate mustache on his upper lip.

"Oh! Thank you very very much, daddy!"

Draco smiled softly at his son. "You're welcome."

Hermione's cheeks burned when he raised a brow at her. She coughed. "Thanks, Draco."

Hermione chanced a look at him when he didn't respond, meeting his eyes across the mug, chocolate wafting, warm and sweet. He smirked at her and took a sip.

For a brief moment, she let the feeling surround her — she could not put a name to it, too afraid to look closer at the memory and have it fade away. But it was warm and familiar, and it stirred a deep ache in her chest.

***

Hermione woke up again, not knowing if it had been days or hours. She had been woken up this time by a sound — she was sure of it. There it was again. Hermione strained her ears, trying to stay awake. An explosion sounded from somewhere outside, along with shouts and running.

Suddenly the door to her cell exploded. Hermione was blinded by the beam of light that illuminated the chamber.

"She's here!" a voice called out. Two pairs of feet ran to her side.

"Hermione," another voice exhaled. "Hermione wake up! Wake the fuck up!"

"Draco?" she croaked, blinking as she tried to adjust to the light.