|| hermione/ fem reader ||
a slytherin like you can't possibly be entangled with a muggle-born.
Where loyalty is everything, you are given a crucial mission: lead Harry Potter to the Dark Lord, who has declared his return. As you navigate this dang...
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"MY BOY! THATS MY BOY! NO!"
"Harry, what happened?" Something in Dumbledore's eyes darkened. "Harry," he repeated.
Tears streamed down Harry's face, pleading for it all to stop. Blood trickled down his forehead from the scar, and he could taste the metallic tang mingled with salt on his lips.
Ron rushed to his side, wrapping his arms around his best friend. "Harry," he cooed, "You're okay now. It's alright. You're safe. Everything is okay."
"It's not!" Harry croaked, his arms flying to his head as he tangled his fingers in his hair, pulling it back with desperate force. "It is not! He — he is back."
Dumbledore took a step back, understanding imprinted on his face. "Who, Harry?" His voice fell to a whisper.
Through Harry's glossy gaze, he hesitantly looked at the now lifeless body nearby. Ron hugged him tighter, trying to shield him from the horror.
Ron swallowed hard, struggling to hold back the bile rising in his throat. He tore his eyes away from Cedric.
"It's all my fault," Harry cried, tugging his hair more aggressively, rocking back and forth. Wetness pooled onto his trousers.
"Just breathe," Ron whispered into Harry's ear. "I'm here." Harry leaned into Ron's touch, seeking the warmth of his best friend.
The crowd of people stood on their feet, murmurs of confusion and grief filling the air. Among them, Hermione scanned the scene before her, trying to tune out the whispers and cries. The longer curiosity roamed, the louder it grew.
As she identified everyone standing on the grass, an empty feeling crept into her. She looked again, and a cold breeze rushed down her spine.
Y/N was nowhere to be seen.
It was as if her body had a mind of its own. Before she could process it, she was already pushing through the crowd, creating a path. Desperation flowed through her.
"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione asked, bending down to comfort him, with Ron by her side.
Ron looked at Hermione, shaking his head. His eyes drooped with pain as he watched Harry weeping.
"She's dead, Hermione. She's dead." Harry rasped, striking himself harder in anguish. Ron shifted position, grabbing Harry's hands to stop him.
Hermione picked up on the unspoken context.
She dropped to her knees, her sobs hovering in the chilling silence. Her heart twisted, a sharp stab of pain slicing through her as everything within her shifted. It all blurred, and with each sob, the emptiness inside her intensified.
