The Prophecy of Descendants

She was beyond tired, she could feel weariness settling into her bones.

She saw the almost imperceptible slump in Harry's shoulders and the smallest of hitches in Ron's gait as they ran; they were just as tired, each pulling from physical reserves they didn't even know they had.

Hours of running, dodging, rolling, hiding and casting spell after spell against Death-Eaters was taking its toll on them all.

She knew the war wouldn't last much longer, but right now they were all so tired that even five minutes was too long!

Voldemort was running on empty, The Order knew that for sure. His followers were becoming fewer every day; some realizing the error of their ways but most perishing from the effects of practicing too much evil magic.

But there were still enough followers that it would take two teams to eradicate them all; the Infamous-Trio and the Order.

They had separated from the Order several hours ago, leaving the older witches and wizards to raid the main facility of Voldemort's followers and lay waste to those practicing within. And, like usual, it left Harry, Ron and Hermione to act as 'bait' and fend off any wayward Death Eaters.

Of course, for them nothing ever went as planned.

The Order's attack into the lair hadn't been unexpected and the dank castle used by Voldemort and his men had been extensively booby-trapped, both inside and out. It seemed that an alarm had been set up for any magic outside of the Dark Lord's castle-walls.

Harry had taken down two Death Eaters before a warning had sounded.

And that's when it began: the running and dodging, the rolling and jumping, all interspersed with spell after spell and curse after curse.

"There's only three left," she heard Harry mutter as they all sped out of the woods and into a clearing.

"One for each of us, then," Hermione suggested logically.

"Harry's already had 12! You're up to 11, Hermione! I get two so we're all even. Harry sit this one out!" Ron suggested as they tried to find the best offensive position.

"Its not a competition," Hermione grumbled, stopping short as she looked in front of them.

Ron gulped audibly. "I take it back," he said, counting well over ten Death Eaters approaching them from the woods on the opposite side of the clearing. "Harry, you'll have to pitch in--I'll just owe you if that's alright, mate."

"Sounds fine," Harry agreed.

As if by some silent command they all moved back to back, creating a triangle with their bodies. They each had their own vantage point of the Death Eaters surrounding them.

"This would have been better ten minutes ago," Harry groused. "I'm a little worn out now."

"Told you we should have taken up jogging," Ron agreed.

"Boys!" Hermione hissed. "A little focus here, please!"

The words no sooner left her mouth than a Death Eater raised its wand and cast out at Harry, a bolt of red magic coursing towards his frame.

They both turned to take out the Death Eater, but it was too late. Harry's figure crumpled to the ground in a heap.

"Bastard!" Hermione shrieked, turning to cast on the Death Eater who had struck-down Harry.

As she spun towards the Death Eater, Ron rushed to keep his back to hers, not allowing a vulnerable target to open up. Despite the dire circumstances, he couldn't help but smirk at her language and how he seemed to be rubbing off on her.

His smirk was soon replaced with a look of utter horror when he took in the number of Death Eaters closing in on them. The Death Eaters all raised their wands and leveled them at the two young adults. He watched their mouths begin to form what would no doubt be a horrific and painful curse.

He couldn't even bark out a warning for Hermione to duck before he caught a flash of light out of the corner of his eye and his ears were assaulted by a variety of profane words he'd never known before. They were all drowned, however, by two voices he knew to belong to Snape and Lupin screaming a very impassioned "No."

Sparks of red magic flew from the wands of the Death Eaters just as flashes of blue were emitted by the members of the Order. The bolts of magic flew towards Ron and Hermione, meeting above their heads and battling fiercely, the air filled with hissing and popping as the two factions warred.

The bolts zigged and zagged in battle before suddenly plummeting and enveloping Hermione and Ron in a cocoon of purple magic.

She felt the electric shock of the magic surround her, coursing through her and setting every nerve ending on fire.

Her mouth opened as a scream bubbled up in her throat, but she was unable to speak. Out of the corner of her eye and through her blurred vision, she saw his body convulsing; blue eyes rapidly twitching and freckled body contorting against unknown forces.

She tried to reach out for him, her fingers forcing their way through the intensely thick magically-charged air. Their fingertips touched briefly, just the quickest of glances, and it was the last thing she knew.

Their bodies fell to the earth, landing tangled together, not two feet from where Harry had crumpled earlier.