I disclaim everything I don’t own.

I've got to thank Caeria, a very dedicated and excellent beta, who helped me through the first stages of this story, and taught me to be a bit more careful with the way that I write. Her story "Pet Project" is on my favorites list.

I'd also like to thank two of my most dedicated reviewers and good friends. Lorett, thanks for always helping me with anything I ask, including the title for this story. I went through a lot of them before I found one that fits, and I don't think it would have happened without you. Alison, like I've said, I just wouldn't have gotten motivated this fast if it weren't for your well-timed hint.

To those of you who read this story back before HBP, when it was called "Stay, Hermione," (psh...what a dumb name) I'm so happy you returned. I think you'll like it even better this time. I've got a lot of the same characters, including the trio, Draco, Millicent, and of course, Snape, who will at the very least make an appearance in every chapter. I've been obsessing over the story lately, and finally, everything fell into place. The title is perfect, and you'll see it fits in more ways than one. The plot is much more developed this time, as I've got a much clearer picture of each stage of the story. But I'll still keep that "painful, blinding, beautiful, and fatal," idea, as (again) you'll see.

Readers, please let me know if you catch any mistakes (spelling, grammar, or canon). I'd like to make it as clean as possible.

The story should be thirteen chapters long. I'd really love to update once a week, and that will be my goal, but I reserve the right to flake out.

Okay...yay! Finally, I got it together!

On a dark hill, at midnight, in the middle of summer, three friends stood close. “I don’t want you to do this.”

“We know, Harry.”

“You don’t have to. You know I’ll let you help.”

“We want to do it.” They said so with such calm determination that Harry gave in, sighed, and took Ron’s left hand with his right. Hermione brought her wand to their joined hands. “Will you, Ronald Weasley, aid and defend me in my endeavor to defeat Voldemort, no matter the risk?”

“I will,” Ron said heartily, as the red flame shot around their hands.

Harry took Hermione’s right hand in his own, still keeping contact with Ron. Ron brought his own wand out of his pocket. Harry continued, “Will you, Hermione Granger, aid and defend me in my endeavor to defeat Voldemort, no matter the risk?”

“I will,” Hermione said solemnly. A red flame twisted around their hands as well.

Ron and Hermione let their wands fall to the ground and clasped hands. There was no Bonder, but with the completion of the triangle, the air hummed with energy. “Will you, Harry Potter, use us to defeat Voldemort, without sentiment or chivalry?”

The question hung in the magically charged air for a moment, while Ron and Hermione stared at Harry, grim-faced. “I will.” And with that, a last flame burst from Ron and Hermione’s hands and surged through the other two, forming a circle of bright, red light between the three friends.

OOO

Miles away, in a spot much deeper and darker, two figures met.

“I was able to procure the book, Master.” Though the words were deferential, a slight hint of defiance slipped into the tone.

“Excellent. You must begin brewing immediately if it is to be ready.”

OOO

“‘Toujours pur.’ Funny now, isn’t it?”

Harry gave his friends a wry smile. He, Ron, and Hermione had just reached 12 Grimmauld Place, where the family creed, always pure, directly contradicted everything in sight. “There’s filth everywhere,” Ron said in disgust.

“It’s like we were never even here,” Hermione added in a whisper.

“Do you reckon that miserable old house-elf really made this much of a difference?” Ron asked as they continued tiptoeing through the entrance hall, careful to avoid the debris scattered across the floor.

“No, Mundungus was ripping stuff off, remember?” Harry paused as he took his first step up the stairs. “If he’s taken it, I swear, I’ll hex the shit out of him.”

“Let’s just see, shall we?” Hermione said shortly. Silence fell as they made their way to the drawing room. All three had their wands out. They were subdued by the thought of what might happen. The locket might not be the right one, Regulus might not be the enigmatic R.A.B., and even worse, if their guess was right, dark wizards might be near. And in the shadowy, watching house, climbing slowly up the creaking, cobwebby staircase, they felt their most terrible fears grow into inevitabilities.

The stairs underneath Hermione opened up without warning. She hit the ground hard, making the balls of her feet sting. She could see nothing but darkness, even when she looked up, she couldn’t see where she’d fallen from. “Lumos,” she muttered, nearly blinding herself, but it was no use. Her densely cobwebbed surroundings swallowed up any light that might have made it six inches past her wand. “Ron!” she yelled. “Ron, help me!”

Everything was still for a moment while Hermione held her breath, listening intently. Then, “Mudblood! Blood traitor! Filthy stinking Muggle defiling my house again!” Mrs. Black’s screeches seemed to pierce through the walls of Hermione’s dark hole and bounce around the black space. There was loud scuffling up above, and other portraits joining in. Hermione reached out into darkness, feeling soft, clinging spider webs coat her hands immediately. They were so thick, Hermione was surprised she hadn’t been caught when she’d fallen. She continued to explore, wiping the stuff off her hands every couple of steps. She found a wall, and a moment later, there was a loud bang, ending Mrs. Black’s rant.

Ron’s voice came, very faint. “Hermione? Hermione?”

“Down here, Ron!” Hermione called.

“Where?”

“I must have fallen through a trick step. I didn’t fall far. I’m probably only on the first floor.” Hermione kept searching the wall. Her hands encountered nothing but old wood and webs. There didn’t seem to be a door.

“She must be under the stairs. Look for a door, Ron.”

Hermione listened closely and heard one of the boys make their way across the entrance hall. Then she heard someone knocking on the wood under her fingers. “You in here, Hermione?” Ron asked, sounding amused.

“Yes!” Hermione scrabbled against the wall, trying to find a way out.

“Well, why don’t you come out?” The wall opened up. Hermione blinked at the dim light of the house. “There’s a door right here,” Ron continued, grinning at her.

Hermione frowned at the door handle Ron was holding. It was matched by another, on her side of the door. “Ron, this isn’t funny. That door handle wasn’t here a moment ago, and neither was that trick stair two years ago! Someone’s put some effort into booby trapping this house.”

Ron’s face grew serious, but he didn’t respond. “I found her!” he called up to Harry.

Harry’s face appeared above them as he looked over the railing. “Well, come on then.” He looked Hermione over and smiled. “Didn’t happen to be any spiders down there, were there?”

Hermione looked down at herself. She was absolutely coated. She tried to brush them off, but made it worse by flattening them against her clothes. “Don’t worry,” Ron said hurriedly, stifling another grin, “there’s hardly any in your hair.”

Hermione didn’t even want to think about her hair. She followed Ron up the stairs, careful to step around the spot she’d fallen through. Harry was already in the drawing room. Even at a glance, it was obvious the doxies had reclaimed the curtains Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys had worked so hard on. The room was just as much a mess as the rest of the house, with droppings, old newspapers, and various trinkets strewn across the floor. The junk crunched under Hermione’s shoes as she joined Harry and Ron in front of the cabinet. “We did leave it here, didn’t we?” Harry asked, looking at the assortment of dark objects in front of him.

“Yeah, I’m almost sure of it,” Ron said.

“Kreacher could have moved it,” Hermione suggested.

“Damn it,” Harry said sharply, “I hope so. All right, Hermione, you go down to the kitchen and see if it’s in his nest. Ron, you go upstairs to Mrs. Black’s old room. I’ll keep looking here. And both of you, be careful.”

Ron and Hermione left the drawing room quickly. Hermione was feeling more nervous each moment she was in the house, and she knew the others felt it too. She and Ron parted ways at the staircase. The familiar path down to the kitchen left Hermione feeling exposed and hyperaware of every small stirring in the menacing house. By the time she reached her destination, her hand was clutching convulsively around her wand. There, in front of her, was the little door to Kreacher’s room.

Hermione dropped to her knees and opened it cautiously. To her relief, nothing flew out at her, but Kreacher’s nest had quadrupled in size. There were goblets and pictures and articles of clothing piled on top of jewelry and blankets and cutlery. Hermione put her wand in her pocket and pulled on dragonskin gloves. She began sifting through Kreacher’s loot, crouching under the water heater. The gold and china clanked noisily as she worked. She wouldn’t be able to hear the others if they called.

There it was. Thrills ran through Hermione as she stared at it. At the bottom of all Kreacher’s stolen Black family heirlooms sat a heavy, dull locket. Hermione picked it up, studying it with wonder. The third Horcrux was found, and though they’d all tried to open the stubborn locket two years ago without any idea of its importance, Hermione could feel its secret now. A fraction of Voldemort was dangling from her hand.

Suddenly, a hiss interrupted her inspection. She jumped up, at once terrified and furious with herself for letting her guard down. It was Severus Snape, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, with his wand fixed on her.

“No!” Hermione cried, hiding the locket behind her. She held up a pleading hand to Snape. “You can’t!” She didn’t know what she was doing. She wasn’t any match for Snape, especially with the critical time it would take her to draw her wand, and he must have known what was behind her back. It was the reason he was there. But Hermione had to get the horcrux to Harry.

Snape simply looked at her, set his jaw, and spun back around. He left the kitchen, left Hermione standing there. She had a split second to decide what to do while she could still see his black Death Eater robes passing out of sight. She took the locket and slipped it into a leather pouch, tucked them both into her pocket, and then drew her wand to follow Snape.

She hadn’t made it three steps before noise exploded in the house. Snape had definitely not come alone. Hermione could hear yells and the loud cracks of hexes from the drawing room. Mrs. Black and all the portraits began screaming. “Kill them! Kill them! Get those traitorous children out of my house!” Hermione began to run up the stairs when she noticed the front door opening behind her. Putting her back to the wall, she held her wand at the ready.

And then came Ginny Weasley, ducking into the house quickly, and jumping at the racket and the sight of Hermione. “Ginny! What are you doing here?”

Ginny took a breath to recover herself, then grabbed Hermione’s hand and pulled her up the stairs. “I’m here to help.”

Hermione ran quickly in front of Ginny, leading her around the trick stair. “You shouldn’t be here. Harry’ll be furious.” Secretly, Hermione felt glad to see anyone who could help.

When they reached the drawing room, Hermione and Ginny found a one-sided battle near its end. Harry and Ron were backed against the far wall, defending themselves as best they could while five Death Eaters bore down on them; Snape, Bellatrix, Lucius, Crabbe, and Goyle. Ron had sunk to the floor, his legs in a crumpled heap, and Harry was cringing in pain, only able to manage half the spells he attempted.

Hermione and Ginny began blasting away, hurtling one spell after another before the Death Eaters could even turn around. Ginny managed to disarm Bellatrix and send bats shrieking and gnawing on the screaming Crabbe and Goyle before Snape stunned her. Hermione sent chains flying to tackle Lucius Malfoy to the ground, but couldn’t help noticing Harry’s angry glare as he helped Ron to his feet. He barely took his eyes off Ginny’s prone form as he stunned Bellatrix, who had advanced on the boys even without her wand.

Although Ron had visibly paled under his freckles, he screamed across the room. “Hermione, what the hell is my sister doing here?”

Hermione tried to revive Ginny, but Snape was bearing down on her, forcing her to dodge away. “Expelliarmus!” she yelled, but only just grazed his shoulder, causing him to grunt and twist away before trying to stun her again. Ron left Harry and joined Hermione, trying to get a good hit on Snape, but collapsing to the ground again as his legs gave out.

Hermione heard retching, and was horrified to see Harry heaving violently onto the floor, his wand several feet away. But then he raised his head. His eyes caught Hermione’s for a brief second before sweeping the room and flooding with terror. Hermione turned too, leaving Ron to fend off Snape, and saw Crabbe had managed to rip the bats from his body. Crabbe’s face was covered with scratches and deep punctures where bats had sunk their claws. It was bloody and disfigured, and even uglier than his son’s, but Hermione could see clear, deadly intent shining in his small, stupid eyes. He was walking toward Ginny.

Harry screamed just as Hermione was aiming her wand, but suddenly, the world went dark.

OOO

Hermione awoke some time later to the low ceiling of her room in the trio’s hideout. Her head ached. She reached a hand up to rub at it and noticed she was still in web-covered robes.

“Oh God,” she whispered, remembering.

She leapt out of bed and ran into the common room. Harry and Ron were seated on the sofa, and lying across the coffee table in front of them was Ginny. Her eyes were closed, her hands were crossed, and her red hair hung limply off the table. Harry’s head was in his hands and his elbows were on his knees. He was shaking, not making a sound. Hermione felt bile rise in her throat. Ron looked from his sister’s still face to Hermione’s. His eyes were dry and red. “Hermione, can you Floo mum?”

Hermione felt tears spring to her eyes. “She doesn’t…”

Ron shook his head. “I told the Ministry where to find the Death Eaters, but I couldn’t leave him again.”

“Yes, I’ll get her,” Hermione said.

Within minutes, Mrs. Weasley was there. Hermione had to turn away when she started sobbing. “Oh, not Ginny! I-I knew this would happen. I s-saw it, but not my baby girl! Not Ginny!” Mrs. Weasley clasped Ron and Harry to her in turn, but Hermione bit her lip and slunk away. She cared for Ginny, and all the Weasleys, so much that she’d gladly give her life for Ginny’s, but she couldn’t be a part of their grieving. She’d led Ginny there.

Hermione started to prepare a stew in the small kitchen overlooking the Thames. The tears burned down her cheeks as she listened to Mrs. Weasley in the next room. Then Ron was there behind her. He put one large hand on her back and Hermione sobbed and turned into his arms. “Ron, I brought her up with me!” Hermione howled through the tears. “We said we were going to protect her, but I led her up!”

“Sh, Hermione,” Ron said, rubbing her back. “She would never have stopped. Nothing you could have said would have mattered.” Hermione knew it was true. Ginny was determined to help Harry, but it wasn’t just that. She’d let Snape go. She’d given him time to leave. She should have blasted him away the second he’d turned his back.

She sniffled for a bit longer, comforted by Ron’s strong arms, and then grabbed a towel to wipe her face. “What happened?” she asked him.

Ron sighed exhaustedly. “Snape stunned you and ran. He left his friends behind to be caught, again, by the Ministry. Harry couldn’t…he didn’t…” Ron broke off and rubbed his face. “I…uh…I used Sectumsempra on Crabbe, but I think the Ministry was able to get there before he bled out. Harry and I levitated you and Ginny out of the house and brought you here. I Floo’d the Ministry, but couldn’t get to mum because….” Ron stopped again. “Shit, Hermione,” Ron said, his voice catching. He covered his face with his hands. “Harry started screaming at everything, at me, at-at her.”

Hermione pulled Ron’s hands away and wiped the tears from his face. He seemed to crumple. He collapsed onto her and wound both arms around her waist, stooping to bury his face into her shoulder. “We’ve got to help him, Hermione. Nothing else can matter until this is over.”

“I know, Ron. We’ll help him. We’ll win.”

OOO

The next morning, after a night of potion-induced sleep, Harry, Ron, and Hermione gathered around the dining table in the common room. They were dressed in their very best for the funeral, and were trying to force down breakfast. The attempt didn’t last for long. “Here it is,” Hermione said, clunking the locket down on the table.

Harry and Ron stared at it. “Is that really it?” Ron asked.

“I think so,” Hermione said.

“I think so too,” Harry agreed. His voice was raw and guttural. “It reeks. Why didn’t you tell us last night?”

“I couldn’t find the right moment,” Hermione said, shrinking back apologetically.

Harry reached out and closed his hand over the locket. He stared at his tightly gripped fist. “I’d like to keep it, once we’ve got that bastard’s soul out. Ginny’s picture belongs in here.”