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The sound struck her like a wall, and her bones vibrated. The wards over Sussex rippled into view as rapid series of blasts zipped down the side of the lab. The air shattered in a deafening explosion. The blast slammed into the wards and then ricocheted back into the base of the Sussex Lab. A cloud of dust and deadly poison filled the air, and the entire east side of the building wobbled and then fell, toppling back and crashing into the west side of the building.

The ground shook so powerfully Hermione was thrown off her feet. Her head struck the ground, and pain caused her occlumency walls to waver. The dazed, drugged sensation seeped into her consciousness as she pushed herself to her feet. She shook her head, blinking and trying to clear her mind. There was a sharp, painful ringing in her ears that muted all other sound. She glanced back at the lab before bolting towards the anti-apparition point.

She had made it fifty feet when a freezing despair came over her.

She stumbled and faltered.

Harry had died.

All the grief abruptly struck her like a tidal wave.

Harry. Padma. Dobby. Everyone.

Everyone.

Everything she'd done. None of it mattered.

It had all been pointless.

Harry's blank eyes as he was struck with Killing Curse after Killing Curse.

Ron screaming. Throwing himself towards his best friend desperately.

“Is Parv—?”

Colin's screaming as he was flayed on the hospital bed.

There was no point.

“We had a good run, Granger, but we were never meant to last.”

She stood in the heath and shook.

A tidal wave of death washed over her.

They were all going to die.

She sank to the ground. She was so cold, and everything hurt.

She pressed her hand against her chest and tried to breathe.

“You must know, you're reaching the point where the damage is becoming irreversible.”

All the memories she tried to hide from. All the screaming and dying. The putrid, tongue-curdling smell of gangrene and rot. Burning flesh. Bowels and insects and poisoned blood. Clawed hands gripping blindly towards her— “Help.” “Kill me.” “Please.” “Make it stop.”

Her whole body ached with cold, as though there was frost spreading across her fingers.

She wanted to die.

Draco.

“You're mine. I'll always come for you.”

She stilled. She'd told him she'd be waiting for him.

If she didn't go back, he'd return to find a mess of hastily assembled explosives and her scrawled note on the table. I love you. I love you. I love you.

She forced her head up and realised there were Dementors, filling the sky and closing in on her.

She gripped her wand and tried to stand. She couldn't cast a patronus. She had to run.

She stumbled to her feet and then collapsed again, shivering violently.

The descending Dementors were gathered so closely around her they blocked out all light.

She pushed herself up again, racking her mind for something to use. Something that wasn't poisoned by the war.

“I'm going to take care of you. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you. You don't have to be lonely. Because you're mine.”

It wasn't happy. She wasn't sure what it was. But it was hers, a promise Draco had made to her. She had to get back to him. He was hers. She'd earned him. She'd promised she'd be waiting for him.

She couldn't die. She couldn't leave him behind. He'd crawl through hell to get her back.

Her skin was burning from the agonizing cold. She pushed herself up and pointed her wand towards the Dementors closing in on her.

“Expecto Patronum!” She poured every drop of emotion she had into the spell.

White light exploded from her wand, growing larger and larger until her patronus fully corporealised.

Not her otter.

Not a blur.

Hermione stared up as a full sized Antipodean Opaleye emerged from her wand. It filled the sky. It threw back its head, roaring and unfurling enormous wings. It opened its mouth, and white flames poured from it.

The Dementors retreated up into the sky, but the dragon flew after them in pursuit, driving the Dementors higher and higher until they doubled back and flew down towards the field.

Hermione stood up and watched them approach as she slashed her wand upwards.

Dementors may not die, but they could surely burn.

The fiendfyre curse, an inferno of molten flame poured from her wand, twisting and writhing as it morphed and corporealised into dozens of chimeras as the Dementors flew down, fleeing from her patronus. As the Dementors neared the ground, Hermione directed her wand skyward and the fiendfyre roared up, morphing into a wall of flame.

The whole sky was filled with screaming, burning Dementors being set aflame and eaten as the fiendfyre shifted and morphed into an enormous glowing dragon.