She set up a barrier around herself and built a web of analytical magic around the Cup. Horcruxes were such a taboo there was no record of the magic ever being analysed. Hermione understood the fundamentals, based on theory, but actually dealing with a suspended piece of mangled soul was a level of Dark Magic she had never encountered in any form.
She ignored the charmwork crafted by Helga Hufflepuff when the Cup was created and focused on the Dark Magic. The Cup was surprisingly unprotected. Voldemort must have assumed that the Lestrange vault had sufficient safety measures on its own.
The soul fragment had interlaced and entwined itself with the other magic of the Cup. Poisonous and malevolent, it seemed to sense it was being disturbed. Hermione worked quickly; if she had enough information on Voldemort's magical signature, they might be able to use it to find other horcruxes.
Her eyes darted up to Draco. He was still as a statue as he watched her, as though he were not even breathing.
She wrote everything down on a scroll and picked up the sword of Gryffindor. It was a perfectly balanced sword, but it felt unwieldy compared to a knife. She drew a deep breath and drove the blade into the centre of the Cup, splitting it in half.
There was an unnerving moment of stillness. Hermione snatched up her wand.
The air shifted and moved around her.
There was a long drawn out scream, and the soul fragment rose up from the Cup like a black wraith with scarlet eyes. For a second it seemed poised to strike. It appeared to detect Hermione and moved sharply towards her. Then it wavered and dissolved into thin air.
Nothing.
Hermione gave a small gasp and stood clutching her wand, her chest jerking unevenly as she tried to breathe.
She performed a quick spell to confirm the soul fragment was gone.
“It's done,” she finally said, flicking her wand and removing all the wards around her. “That — wasn't too bad. I thought it might be a lot worse than that.”
She looked up and found Draco was only inches away from her. He dragged her into his arms and gripped her until she was crushed against his chest. “Never — please, not ever again.”
She wanted to say no, but he was so tense he was nearly shaking. She found herself nodding slowly and saying, “Alright. I won't.”
Harry was like a lost lamb in Grimmauld Place. Ron had been placed on leave. He went to stay with his mother, while he grieved over Lavender and tried to come to terms with the guilt he felt over Kingsley's death.
Hermione found Harry standing listlessly near Ginny's door more often than not.
She opened the door after a visit with Ginny and found him standing blank-eyed outside the door. He had a black eye and cut lip, and his knuckles were split so badly there was still blood running down his fingers and dripping onto the floor.
His eyes brightened, and he seemed to come back to himself when he saw Hermione. “Is she alright? Is she doing any better? Do you think she's — do you think I'd be able to see her soon?”
Hermione stared at him, her stomach dropping sharply at his appearance. Harry was worryingly fragile. She had tried several times to convince Ginny to come clean and tell Harry she was pregnant, but Ginny was adamant that telling him would make things worse. Hermione had appealed to Moody; to her disappointment, he had sided with Ginny. Harry was in no condition to handle any additional stress, and the Order could not handle the breakdown of trust if the truth came out at such a critical point. Things were too precarious.
Hermione swallowed her guilt while performing all her pantomimed protection and sterilisation charms on herself.
Ginny had a bump that was beginning to require precautionary glamours, if only to fool Dobby, who Harry regularly spoke with.
The baby was a boy. Ginny already referred to him as James.
“She's the same, Harry. I'm sorry.”
His expression fell. He gave a listless nod and started turning to go.
He was deathly pale, and the eye that wasn't purple and yellow was sunken.
She reached out to stop him and touched his face lightly. “You're fighting again? When did you last sleep?”
He jerked. “A — a couple days ago. For a few hours.”
She cast a diagnostic charm on him; he had several fractures in his hands and his eye socket, and his torso was covered in bruises.
She took him gently by the arm and led him down the hallway toward the hospital ward. “Is it nightmares again? I can teach you a few more occlumency techniques, it might help. Come on, let me fix you up and get you some Dreamless Sleep.”
Harry gave a short, hysterical laugh. “I wish I had nightmares.”
Hermione paused and looked at him. “What do you mean?”