“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.”