Harry Potter is dead. In the aftermath of the war, in order to strengthen the might of the magical world, Voldemort enacts a repopulation effort. Hermione Granger has an Order secret, lost but hidden in her mind, so she is sent as an enslaved surrog...
Harry Potter was sitting on a rooftop, smoking cigarettes, staring off into the distance. Hermione clambered out of a window to join him.
"What happened to us, Hermione?" he asked when she got close.
"A war," she said quietly, reaching out and turning his face toward her. There was a gash on his head. His pale skin was faintly red from the blood he'd washed off. His expression was sad, tired, and angry.
"Who changed? Was it you or me?" he asked as she laced her fingers through his hair and pushed it aside so she could close the wound.
"Me," she said, avoiding his gaze.
"Why? Do you think I won't be able to do it?" he said. "Are you trying to brace yourself that I'll fail?"
She cast a diagnostic charm on him. He had two fractured ribs and bruising on his abdomen. She pushed him back so he'd lie down before she started healing him.
"I think you can do it. But—the prophecy. It's a coin toss. After Dumbledore died—," she faltered slightly.
"Death is just one curse away from us all," she said after a moment. "I can't just sit back and watch, waiting for fifty-fifty odds to land and assume I know the outcome. Not when there are so many people depending on us. What you have, the way you love people, it's pure, it's powerful. But—how many times have you killed Tom now? As a baby, because of your mother. In first and second year. But he's still here. He's still fighting you. I don't want to assume anything is enough."
"You don't think Good can just win," Harry said. The reproach in his voice was heavy.
"Everyone who wins say they were good, but they're the ones who write the history. I haven't seen anything indicating that it was actually moral superiority that made a difference," she said as she murmured the spells to repair the fractures.
"You're talking about Muggle history though. Magic is different. The magical world is different," Harry said, reaching toward her wand hand just as she moved it to heal the next rib. He closed his fingers into a fist and let it drop.
Hermione shook her head minutely and Harry's expression grew bitter. He looked up at the sky. Hermione cast a barrier charm over her hand and then began spreading a bruise paste over Harry's stomach and ribs in small circular motions.
"You used to be different," Harry said, "You used to be more righteous about things than me. What happened to S.P.E.W.? That girl would never have said Dark magic was worth the cost. What happened?"
"That girl died in a hospital ward trying to save Colin Creevey."
"I was there when Colin died too, Hermione. And I didn't change."
"I was always willing to do whatever it took, Harry. All those adventures of ours in school. Once I was in, I was in. Maybe you just never noticed how far I was willing to go for you."
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