Chapter Thirty-Five

A/N: Everything you recognize belongs to JKR. I make no money. Many thanks and hugs to my beta, Shellsnapeluver, and to RedOrchid, whose thoughtful advice is indispensable. This chapter is for my dear friend OpalJade, who is the very definition of steadfast and brave.

When the darkness came, she was confused. She had heard a noise, but had not felt the impact of the knife. Perhaps death meant the end of pain, but if that were so, why did everything hurt so terribly? She felt as if she were being stung to death by bees, and her joints... her very bones... seemed to be on fire. Yet clearly she was moving inexorably toward something, and there was a rushing, watery sound around her that she was certain must be her own blood. Oddly, she kept hearing Harry screaming, "Shell Cottage, Shell Cottage!" And that was funny, because that was where she and Snape had meant them to end up, though there was no way for Harry to know that. It's strange, the things a dying mind invents, she thought. Then, Who will tell Snape?

She hit the ground hard, and the sword bounced out of her hand with the impact. She heard the sounds of running feet and a low voice whispering, "Shell Cottage is located in Cornwall on the outskirts of Tinworth."

She looked up, startled, and saw a distant light in the darkness that seemed like it could be the shape of a small house with the door standing open, but her attention was redirected by the piercing fear in Harry's voice as he yelled, "Dobby! Dobby, no! No--HELP!"

Ron had released her hand, and she pulled herself across the hard ground with her arms, edging up beside Harry, who was leaning over the little elf's body. The handle of the silver knife protruded from his thin chest. This did not make sense--it was supposed to have hit her--she had seen it coming; it had been headed right for her. She looked up and saw Luna running across the ground toward them, but that did not make sense either, for Luna was in the basement of Malfoy Manor, because Hermione had failed to rescue her; she had failed.

She tried to open her mouth to ask what was going on, but she could not find her voice. A long shadow fell over her body, and she heard the voice whispering, "Come on, Hermione, arms up. That's a good girl; you're going to be just fine," and strong arms lifted her and cradled her to a chest that smelled unfamiliar. She started to kick--this was not who she wanted. Where was she, and what was happening? And if this was death, then why wasn't it kinder? Why did it just parade her failures in front of her like a terrible accusation--unless it was hell?

She tried to scream, but all that emerged from her throat was a drawn out whimper, and the voice she nearly knew shushed her and told her to hang on just a little longer, that they would help her... but she did not know who they were, and if this was hell, she wanted to go back to her friends... please...

And then there was nothing.

***

When Snape returned to Hogwarts, he went, as he so often did now, to the dungeons, to his old rooms, his old potion stores. He had time; there was no need to rush. Dobby would take them to Shell Cottage and then he would return for him. There was no need to run, no need to throw open the door and stumble over the landing, no need to watch the purple stain of Dreamless Sleep running over the stone floor where it had fallen from his trembling fingertips.

Snape willed himself calm. This was an opportunity, and he must treat it as such. He could get what he needed to heal her and bring her replenished potion stores if he could be calm enough to collect what was necessary. Murtlap, Dittany, Sleeping Draught. Polyjuice, Pain Reliever, Contraceptive, Burn Salve, All-Purpose Healing Draught. The listing steadied his hands, and he packed his robes full of bottles and phials. Yes, he would bring this to her like a gift, and she would know how it had hurt him to leave her there; she would know that he would see Bellatrix Lestrange killed, that... that he... he would make it up to her.

He paced around his laboratory. Where was Dobby? It had been a half an hour at least. Surely, they were not still in the Manor? A small part of his mind began to think through his options, as the rest of it spoke soothing nonsense thoughts about giving things time and being patient. But panic bubbled beneath his skin, and he could not sit, could not plan, could not think.

When an hour had passed, he told himself that it would be safe to call, and whispered, "Dobby."

Nothing happened.

His eyes grew wide. He tried again. "Dobby!"

When there was no answer, he burst from his old room and ran through the castle. He was still Disillusioned; no one could see him, but several students looked curiously as tapestries flapped in his wake, and once he jostled a sixth-year Ravenclaw who screamed, but he did not stop; he kept running, leaping the steps three at a time, tearing toward the Gargoyle, who stepped aside to admit him as soon as he touched it. He was running up the spiral staircase, consumed with the idea that he would demand that Albus tell him where Shell Cottage was located, even though he was dimly aware that a portrait could not be a secret-keeper and that the Weasleys had not even been married, let alone homeowners, when Albus had died. Still, Albus would know--Albus would have to know; Snape would torture it from him if he had to; did he think Snape knew nothing about torture?

When he reached the top step, he heard a voice, her voice, just as he had that night so long ago when she had hidden herself in the stairwell and waited for him, and he nearly laughed aloud with relief. He put out both hands and began to feel for her when he heard it again. Pleading. Severus.

It was coming from his pocket.

Snape's thoughts were so confused--had he just a moment before been considering torturing a portrait?--that at first it seemed perfectly logical. Yes, she was in his pocket. Merlin, had she been in there the whole time? Then he made a fist with his left hand and punched the stone wall as hard as he could. There was an odd crunching sound and liquid fire radiated out from his knuckles, burrowing into his elbow, and he snatched his hand back and clutched it to his chest. But the pain had done its job; it had cleared his head, and he slipped his good hand into his pocket and withdrew the Deluminator.

He found us using a Deluminator. Dumbledore left it to him in his will, Hermione whispered in his mind. And Minerva added, I heard his voice, and I pressed the button.

He jabbed the button down with his thumb, and instantly, a ball of light rose from the device and hovered just before his face. Snape blinked twice before opening his mouth and taking a deep breath. He could feel the warmth as it entered his throat, the pressure of its presence as it settled into his chest. The light seemed to fill him with a kind of purpose and calm that he had been unable to find without it. The wards were still down in his bedroom. He could leave from there.

He removed the Disillusionment Charm and opened the door to his office. "Hello, Albus," he said mildly as he crossed the room.

Then he entered his bedroom and spun.

***

But it had not worked. Snape arrived in a copse of trees on the rocky coast of Cornwall, as he had described to Dobby, but there was no cottage, no group of injured teenagers, no house-elf, nothing that should indicate that he had found the right place. Perhaps he had Apparated to Tinworth because that was where he had hoped she would be. Because that would mean that she had gotten out alive.

But she was alive, his mind insisted. She was alive because he had heard her voice. She was alive somewhere, and she had called for him. He picked his way along the rocky edge of the cliff overlooking the sea. The salt air kept his mind clear, and the movement seemed to keep him from flying apart. He could not go back to the Manor, not if the Dark Lord were still there, but perhaps he could hide himself outside it and watch for signs of what was happening inside. Then if he had to get in, he could call on...

Snape came upon a grave, freshly dug and surrounded in bleached shells and stones. At the head of it, there was a larger stone, engraved with the words, Here Lies Dobby, A Free Elf. He sank to his knees beside the turned, fragrant earth.

He did not pray, but something issued from his mouth, a stream of senseless sorrow and gratitude, and he bent his head low over the grave and whispered to the little elf below the ground. Did not mean to ask this of you...very brave... a good elf... she loved you very much... will always be grateful...

"Professor Snape?"

The voice came from behind him, and he jumped violently to his feet, spinning to face it.

Luna Lovegood stood before him, looking nearly ethereal in the moonlight.

"Miss Lovegood," he said warily, raising his wand slightly.

She held up both hands. Her wand stuck out from the pocket of her dressing gown. "I am a friend, sir."

He nodded. There was silence for a moment as he stared at her. "You made it out of Malfoy Manor," he said finally.

"We all did," she said.

He could not stop the hiss of breath that escaped him, nor the choked sound of his voice as he whispered, "And Herm--Miss Granger?"

"She is badly injured. Fleur nursed her a bit, but whatever happened... we don't know how to treat it."

"The Cruciatus," he said sharply, "Where is she?"

"In the house," Luna said, waving her hand vaguely to the east.

"I cannot see it, Miss Lovegood. The Fidelius Charm. I admit, I thought at first I had come to the wrong place. Until I found this," he said, indicating the grave.

"I can hardly bear it," she said frankly, in her funny little voice. "When he came today and told me that he had come to get us out, I knew. I knew I had seen you in the basement. Mr Ollivander said it was the dark, that it played tricks on you after a while, but that day, when I woke up, I had the oddest taste in my mouth, and my first thought was of the hospital wing, of the day I fell out of the Quidditch stands during my first year. I kept thinking and thinking, trying to remember why I had been asleep, if one of the Death Eaters had come and dosed us with something. But I felt good. Stronger than I had in a long time. And I kept seeing Dobby in my mind's eye, his little hand reaching up for yours."

Snape could not speak.

"And when he came today, he said I must be brave, that he would take me to safety. I told him I would rather stay until Harry and the others got out, but he said that his orders were to rescue me first. He knew I was down there. It wasn't in my mind."

"No, it was not, Miss Lovegood," Snape said stiffly.

"He died just after they got here," she said. "I think he knew... I hope he knew that they had made it." Her hand came up and brushed at her cheek.

Snape did not know how to respond to her tears, to any of this.

"Miss Lovegood," he said helplessly. "I want to heal Hermione."

"Yes. Yes, I thought you would. She's in my room, you see. She's.... she's delirious, sir. She's been saying your name."

He thought of the Deluminator. Severus, she'd said. "Has anyone--"

"No, of course not. I put a Silencing Charm on the room before I came looking for you."

She had been looking for him?

Luna's face melted into a very odd expression of compassion. "You sent help for me. And she clearly knows your secret. I knew you wouldn't leave her. Professor Snape, you need to Disillusion yourself so that I can take you into the house."

"But the others--"

"Harry is with Griphook, the goblin. The others are in bed. Fleur poured firewhisky all around; I saw her put something purple in it. I didn't drink it." She paused. "I think I can get you upstairs. I am sorry that I can't tell you the secret, Professor, but I'm not the keeper."

"No. No, of course not." He stood there unmoving.

"Put on the charm, sir," she said gently.

Snape lifted his wand. Vaguely, he recognized that he was taking orders from Luna Lovegood, but it did not seem to matter. She was going to take him to Hermione. He cast the charm.

Luna offered her small, white hand, and he took it, following her almost blindly back along the cliff, across what seemed an empty moor, and into the cottage. It was close and warm inside, and bore the look of a house meant for two that had suddenly been forced to accommodate many more. Shoes littered the floor, and there were dishes piled up in the sink. Everyone had clearly gone to bed in a hurry. Luna led him past a small living room in which a low fire burned, abandoned in the grate, and up a set of rickety steps. When they reached the landing, he could hear low voices from behind a door, the guttural sound of a goblin's voice. They moved quietly down the hallway, and Luna pulled her wand from her pocket and tapped on the door. It opened before her, and he followed her in and watched as she closed and warded the door once more. He added his own Silencing Charms to the room and moved to the small, narrow bed on which Hermione lay fitfully.

"I--I'd like to be able to leave you to your work," Luna said. "But I don't know where to go, and I don't know how to explain why she has improved unless I say that I did it."

Snape turned away from Hermione and looked at the Lovegood girl for what felt like the first time. He had always found her so... unfocused, so odd; her potions were abysmal, and yet, there was this coolness under pressure, this strength. She was a fine planner. A good ally.

"There is no need for you to go anywhere, Miss Lovegood. I can give you a potion for sleep if you would like to rest. I... I am in your debt."

She seemed to consider him. "And you will not need any help?"

"I will be fine. You should feel free to sleep if you need to."

"Then I will take the potion. Thank you, sir."

Snape felt inside his robes for the Dreamless Sleep and conjured a spoon. He measured out five drops and handed it to her. She did not hesitate, but took the dose and lay down upon her bed.

"Thank you, Miss Lovegood," he whispered, but she had already closed her eyes.

He turned back to Hermione. They had removed her clothes and draped her in a clean white sheet. He picked up her hand and examined it. The skin had healed over, but there was still something foreign beneath. It looked as if Fleur Weasley had given her a Healing Potion without first cleaning the wounds. The light was bright in the room, and Snape extinguished all the lamps except the one right beside the bed. He waved his wand over her body, and a mist rose from it, hovering over her. He watched its colors change from pink to sickly green, dark yellow--ugly, accusing colors. Above her ankle, the cloud turned a deep and roiling purple.

Snape sat down on the edge of the bed and tipped a phial of Pain Reliever slowly into her mouth. He massaged her throat, encouraging her to swallow. He placed several drops of Dreamless Sleep under her tongue and heard the slight smack of her lips, which he found encouraging. Some of the furrows in her brow slackened, and he hoped that her headache was lessening. He knew the blooming headache of the Cruciatus far too well.

Her hair was matted on the pillow, and he moved to smooth it back from her face when he felt something sharp tear into his hand. Glass. Her hair was full of glass. Who were these idiots caring for her? Surely what he felt below her skin was glass, too. He did not look forward to what came next, but it would have to be done. He raised his wand and cast a Shielding Charm between himself and Hermione.

"Accio Glass!" he said. Hundreds of slivers peppered the shield before falling to the ground. Snape cleared them away with his wand and quickly returned to Hermione. Her skin had opened in more places than he could count to allow the glass out. He took off his robes and turned them inside out, revealing the potions stored inside. He laid them on the bed and slid his fingers over the bottles, selecting a slim bottle of Dittany. He thumbed it open with his left hand, and for a moment, he could not remember why that hurt so terribly. Ah, yes, the wall, he thought, and paused to swallow a dose of Pain Reliever himself. He could attend to his hand when he was finished with her. He took a few drops of Dittany onto his fingertips and followed his wand with his fingers as he sealed and smoothed, sealed and smoothed. He took particular care with her face, using perhaps a tiny bit more Dittany than he usually would to ensure that she would not scar. A few bloody tears had slipped from her eyes when he had removed the glass, and he gently opened one eye and then the other to look for abrasions, and dropped a single drop of Dittany into her left one. Fortunately, it seemed it had not been the eye that had been pierced, but the tear duct.

Snape moved down her body systematically, then turned her over to reveal her back, where the glass had cut more deeply. He was working over the backs of her legs when he saw the first spasm. Taking her calf firmly in both hands, he massaged the muscle until it loosened, working his fingers down her leg into her foot, which he pulled and rubbed, forcing her to flex her toes. As soon as he had finished with one leg, the other began, and he noticed her right hand curling into a fist. He cast a Warming Charm onto his hands and resumed working his fingers into her flesh, kneading and pulling, forcing her muscles to release their tension.

As he worked, he thought of her hands, these hands he held in his, toiling over his body so long ago that it felt like another lifetime. He had few memories of those long days and nights, only dream-like snatches of waking to her body extended beside his, the coolness of a rag smoothed over his forehead, the pressure of her fingertips as she rolled a sliver of ice over his lips. Dumbledore had left her there. He thought he saw, now, why the meddling old bastard had done it, for he had thought it impossible to feel more strongly about this girl than he had only an hour ago, and yet, as he tried to bring her relief from the pain, he felt his heart would burst from loving her. Whatever Dumbledore had said, he must have known what he was doing. He tried to feel angry, to feel manipulated and tricked, but he could not bring himself to feel anything but grateful in that moment.

He took her left ankle into his hands and carefully felt the bones. This would be difficult to set. He remembered the incredible care with which she had healed his broken fingers, and he was deeply sorry that he could not do as good a job for her. But he could not simply snap these bones back into alignment, and by the way they felt, he was very afraid that she had been given Skele-Gro.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and pulled sharply on her ankle. He felt a kind of sick grinding in the joint, and he gave another sharp tug, finally feeling the snick he had been hoping for. He had no Deflating Draught with him to lessen the swelling, but he tore off a piece of the sheet and wrapped her ankle tightly. He did not like to have to mend these bones with a spell, but she would need to be able to walk right away--she had no time for convalescence. When the war was over, she could go to St. Mungo's and have it rebroken and set properly.

Gently, he rolled her onto her back once more. He selected a final jar from his robes and picked up her left hand, slipping the ring from her finger. Immediately, her head tossed on the pillow, and she began to whimper.

"Shhh. Hermione," he said. "It's just me. This will only take a second." He smeared Burn Salve over her ring finger, gently working it into her skin before he replaced the circlet, and she quieted.

Finally, Snape picked up Hermione's discarded clothing and shook the glass from it. He reached into the pocket of her denims, and with relief, he pulled from it the key and chunk of hair that he had given her in Malfoy Manor. When Hermione had thrown herself backward, knocking Bellatrix Lestrange off balance, Snape had been poised behind her, and the confusion had given him the chance to seize the necklace and a lock of Bellatrix's hair. He set the items on the bedside table where she would be sure to find them and folded her clothing neatly, leaving the pile on the end of the bed with his robes. He took the beaded bag from where it lay on the floor, moved the potions from his pockets into the depths of her bag, and set it on a nearby chair.

After checking to see that Miss Lovegood was indeed sleeping soundly, he prised off his shoes and slipped into the too-small bed beside Hermione. Her knees had drawn up again, and he smoothed them down with his hands, catching her legs between his and holding her body straight with his own. Gently, he turned her in his arms and rubbed the tightened muscles of her back. When he began to feel her relax into natural sleep, he pressed a hand between her breasts, where he could feel the beating of her heart. It felt steady and even. Her head nuzzled more deeply into the hollow of his neck, and he shifted slightly to accommodate their new position. The danger had passed. She was recovering.

Snape lay awake for several hours, listening to her breathing. Occasionally her hands would scrabble against the sheet, and once she jerked violently in his arms, but he whispered to her until she slept quietly again. Finally, he slowed his breathing until it matched her own and drifted into a light sleep beside her.

"Professor Snape." A hesitant voice called him back to the surface. "Professor Snape!"

He looked up to see Luna Lovegood standing nervously beside the bed. He glanced at the window. The sky was still dark, but just barely.

"Miss Lovegood," he said blearily. "Are you all right?"

"I just woke up. It--it's just before dawn, sir. I think I should get you out of the house."

Snape slid Hermione gently from his arms and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His entire left side was asleep. He stood and shrugged on his robes gracelessly. Hermione had not woken. He would not get to say goodbye, to tell her...

He leaned over her and smoothed her hair a final time. "Hermione," he whispered. "I have to go--"

"Professor, please hurry!"

He rose and took Luna's proffered hand. She moved quickly through the house and back out the front door, nearly running as she headed across the yard to the edge of the property.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she said. "Thank you for everything."

He released her hand. "Thank you, Miss Lovegood."

"Be safe," she said, and he nodded.

He watched as she ran back across the open moor and disappeared into the enchantments.

***

Hermione awoke to Luna backing through the bedroom door, barefooted and smeared with dirt, her arms filled with what looked like flower bulbs.

"What are you doing?" she said, sitting up in bed. She winced with anticipated pain, but none came. Her head throbbed slightly, and her skin was sore and tender, but she there was nothing like the blinding agony that she had felt the night before. "What's going on? Where are we? How did you get here?"

Luna dumped the bulbs onto the floor beside her own bed and sat down beside Hermione.

"Dobby came for me," Luna said quietly. "Just as you were arriving. He brought Dean and Mr Ollivander and Griphook, too. He brought us here to Shell Cottage. Then he went back for you."

Shell Cottage... So Snape had sent Dobby. That part of the plan had survived. But something dug at her mind, something almost remembered... Dobby...

"I don't really remember getting here last night," she said. "I remember being in the Manor--and then I remember thinking that I was going to die--I saw a knife... Luna, where is Dobby?"

"Hermione," Luna said so softly and sorrowfully that she knew.

"Oh, no. No, that can't be. That's not right, Luna. That can't be right."

Luna put her arms around Hermione and rocked her very gently. "Harry buried him out in the yard, by the sea where he can hear the waves. He's free now, Hermione. It's okay. He'll always hear the sea and know that he is free."

Hermione sobbed quietly. Luna continued to whisper to her. "Professor Snape came last night. I found him out by Dobby's grave. I saw him once before, in Malfoy Manor. Mr Ollivander said I dreamed it, but I knew he had been there. Though it did seem rather odd to imagine that Professor Snape had come to save us. But he did. He sent Dobby to get us from that basement. Daddy says that you can know whether to trust a man by whether his elves trust him. I think Dobby trusted Professor Snape, don't you?"

Hermione nodded miserably into Luna's shoulder. Dobby had trusted Professor Snape. Dobby had trusted her.

"And then he came to heal you. He stayed with you all night. Every minute. Every minute," she repeated, and her voice made the words into a lullaby as she rocked Hermione back and forth. "I just took him back out now. When he came in, he looked as if he'd fallen into a nest of Acromantulas. I guess that's what love looks like when you're afraid."

Hermione sobbed even more recklessly. He had been here, and she hadn't known. "Was he all right?" she choked out.

"He was fine. He was just fine," Luna crooned.

"Luna," she whispered.

"It's okay... you're all right."

"Harry and Ron?"

"They're both fine. You must have been very brave, Hermione. You were in terrible shape when you arrived. We were very frightened."

Wave after wave of emotion threatened to send her spiraling toward darkness. Luna knew about Snape. Somehow, she knew. Hermione tried to take comfort in the arms of someone who shared her secret, who knew her husband's heart, but her thoughts turned once more to Dobby. They had succeeded. Harry had the mastery of the wand, and they had made it alive to Bill and Fleur's. Harry had a chance. But Dobby... she had sent him to death as ruthlessly as Dumbledore had intended to send Harry. She had asked him for his help, led him to that terrible house, and he had taken the knife that was meant for her. She shook in Luna's arms.

"What did I do, Luna? What did I do? I never meant him to die."

"Dobby was a free elf, Hermione. You didn't make him do anything."

"Yes, I did! If it hadn't been for me, we wouldn't have gone. I planned it; I put it in Harry's head. I asked for Dobby's help."

"If you asked, then he had a choice."

"No," she said.

"Yes," Luna said firmly. "And I don't know why you had to go there, Hermione, but whatever the reason was, you were very brave to try it. And now you need to be brave for a little while longer."

Brave a while longer. Brave a little while longer. Hermione did not feel like being brave. She felt like curling up in this white sheet, now streaked with mud from Luna's hands, and dying, but she knew that Luna was right. She had asked the same of Snape. There was still too much to be done. Suddenly she remembered the key that Snape had pressed into her hands. Her head jerked up from where it had rested on Luna's shoulder, and she saw it on her bedside table. Harry had the mastery, and she had the key to Bellatrix's vault.

"Can you stand?" Luna asked.

Hermione got shakily to her feet. Her ankle hurt like hell, but she could stand.

"Let's go see the others," Luna said.

Hermione held up the sheet as she walked toward the chair and dug some clothing out of her bag. Luna turned around while she dressed, and out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw her conjure a glass and some water. Luna was crushing some of the bulbs in the bottom of her glass with her wand.

"You still have your wand?" Hermione asked. It felt wrong to get dressed without picking up her wand and stowing it in her pocket. She felt very small and defenseless without it.

"No, this is Fleur's. She left it here in case I needed to cast any charms on you in the night."

"Oh... Luna, what are we going to say about what happened last night?"

"Don't worry about that. I'll take care of it."

***

Harry sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea in his hands. Ron was leaning against the kitchen counter, and they were talking seriously when Hermione entered the room. Immediately, Harry rose and crossed quickly to Hermione and hugged her tightly. "Thank God," he said. "I wasn't sure..."

"I'm all right," she said, and held out an arm to fold Ron into their embrace. The three of them stood there for a moment, and Hermione felt some of her strength returning. When they broke apart, she saw Luna watching from the doorframe, and she wished that they could share their plans with her. For the very first time, she wished she could tell their secrets.

"Hermione," Ron said. "You look... What happened? When we went to bed, you were still all..."

"I gave her an infusion of Gurdyroots," Luna said serenely. "I hope Fleur won't mind--I had to tear up her garden a bit."

Ron turned toward Luna with a look of amused wonder. "Luna, with everything that happened, I never got to ask you last night--how did you get here?"

"I was in the cellar at Malfoy Manor," Luna said. "Mr Ollivander was there, too. Just when we heard the commotion upstairs, Dobby appeared and told us that he would take us to safety. I didn't want to go, but he promised that he was coming back for you."

"Dobby was already there?" Harry asked incredulously. "But that means..."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat.

"Someone's helping us!" Harry nearly shouted. "When we were in the basement, we called Dobby, and he came and took Dean and Griphook. We told him to take them here, that it would be safe, that it was under the Fidelius Charm--but he'd already brought Luna and Mr Ollivander here! And right after he left, Wormtail came downstairs--and I swear, Hermione, it was like I had some kind of shield on me, but I can't have done, can I? Because the shield came off of you and Ron when Bellatrix cast Finite Incantatem. Wormtail reached for me with that silver hand he's got, and it wouldn't touch me. It was like... like it couldn't touch me and instead..." he looked rather ill thinking of it, "it strangled him."

"What?" Hermione exclaimed.

"Then I took his wand, and we ran upstairs, and I dueled Draco." He cut his eyes over at Luna, and Hermione nodded. "But there, too, it seemed like he couldn't touch me. The curses... they just seemed to bounce right off."

"Harry, I'm sure that it seemed that way, but I saw a little of that. You were doing a really good job--"

"Hermione, I'm telling you. He couldn't hit me--and he was trying. And then Dobby showed back up. I didn't call him. Did you?"

"I didn't call him," Ron said. "I was still dueling Narcissa."

"I--I don't know," Hermione said. "I was--I wasn't tracking very well--"

"And who Confunded Draco?" Harry yelled. "None of us even had a wand at that point! I think someone's helping us. I think someone's on our side."

Hermione glanced at Luna, but she was staring dreamily at the ceiling.

"Someone is on our side," he repeated.