A/N: I do not own any character references by JK Rowling in the Harry Potter series or agree with her comments. This story is a product of my pure imagination. I do not profit from this and will not pay for any commissions for art about this story.
And everywhere that you should be
There's a ghost staring back at me.
And people tell me it will heal with time.
They never had a hurting like mine.
They never had a hurting like mine
Cause everybody knows what a broken heart feels like
Everybody says it'll all work out.
No one wants to feel like I do tonight.
Cause everybody knows what a broken heart feels like
Everybody knows what a broken heart feels like
~ What A Broken Heart Feels Like by Striking Matches
~*~ 2nd May 1998 ~*~
When Hermione returned to consciousness, she was vaguely aware of the lack of snoring in the dorm with her. Opening her eyes, she looked around the abandoned boys' dorm, expecting to find herself the only one within the room. But Harry stood at the window looking out at the setting sun. His body haloed by the glowing light. Her voice felt weird as she spoke, "Did we sleep through the entire day?"
Harry looked back at her, "You slept the entire day." He sniffed, wiping at his nose, then walked over to her bed. "I've been up for a few hours. Ron woke me up to tell me that he was heading off with his family. They were handling Percy…" he trailed off.
Hermione reached out and took his hand as she sat next to her. "Doesn't that feel like it was a lifetime ago now?"
"I died, Hermione," Harry admitted.
Hermione gasped, gripping his hand.
"I don't know if it was real, but I was in heaven or an in-between, and I saw Dumbledore. I'm so fucking mad at him, he planned and manipulated my life… my entire life, Hermione," Harry said sadly, "I never had a choice without his manipulations in some way."
"That's not true," Hermione told him as she touched his face, "You had me."
Harry's eyes fluttered shut, then opened as he moved his face into her hand.
"You had me, you always had me, Harry," Hermione assured him.
Harry looked away from her, "I'm not sure what's left of me," He confessed, "I feel like I'm walking around in someone else's skin. Like mine was left behind on the forest floor or the platform when I came back."
Hermione sat up, her blanket pooling at her waist. "You didn't leave anything behind. You survived. That's what people do when they go through hell and survive it."
She saw Harry's Adam's Apple jump as he swallowed. "I nearly didn't come back," he admitted.
Hermione's heart twisted painfully within her chest. "What?"
He looked at her, and she saw that his eyes were bloodshot; he looked so tired. "When I saw my parents, Sirius and Remus…" his voice broke, "I was so tired of fighting. I am so tired, Hermione. So damn tired."
"But you came back," Hermione stated, "You came back because you're not done. Because we're not done."
Harry let out a sob, "I came back because of you… and Ron, Ginny, Luna, and Neville. I couldn't leave you with my mess to clean up."
Hermione blinked away tears, "You brave, reckless, noble prat."
The ghost of a smile touched his lips, "That's me." He looked out toward the window, "They have the bodies lined up outside, under covers, waiting for people to come collect them. Is it bad that I don't want to leave here? That I want to hide away here, away from the tears, pain, and the attention?"
"Not at all," Hermione assured him. "We can hide away as long as you want."
"You have to go back to Ron eventually," Harry said, looking away from her.
Hermione frowned as she walked over to him. "Harry, that kiss was all on Ron. Yes, I hugged him, but only because he thought of the House Elves. He kissed me. I didn't kiss him back."
Harry swallowed hard, glancing at her.
Hermione closed her eyes, then looked at him, "All I know is that I almost lost you, and I can't, Harry. I can't pretend that when I…" she took a breath, "When I saw you in Hagrid's arms… I lost it."
Harry turned to her, "I heard you. I wanted to say I was alive, but I couldn't let him know."
Without hesitation, their lips met. Hermione wasn't sure who started it, but there wasn't any urgency to it. Just a need to feel something. For her, that he was still there, he was alive. His hands tangled in her hair as hers slid up his back beneath the shirt he was wearing, running around his chest to rest over his heart. Feeling the strong beat under her hands reassured her.
The kiss of exhaustion, grief, and relief. Of love, they had buried under years of friendship, battles, and hiding to keep each other safe. No words were uttered as they shed the layers between them.
Harry grabbed his invisibility cloak and picked up his wand, pointing it at the door. For what reason, she didn't know, as he did it non-verbally. Throwing his wand to the side, he covered their naked bodies with the invisibility cloak, then gently laid her down. Her legs tangled with his, and their bodies were drawn together like magnets. Harry's hand found her waist, and he leaned in to kiss her. Her hands went up to his head, running her fingers through his hair, giving the cloak a tent-like appearance.
The kiss was gentle at first, but quickly turned passionate. Hermione felt herself growing wet with need. Her body missed him, craved him after so many months of having him for herself. Harry groaned as he rubbed against her. His hand sneaking between them, his fingers sliding against her as he teased her clit.
Hermione gasped as her hips bucked against him, without words, begging for more. Then he was inside her, filling her, making her cry out with a sob.
Harry kissed away her tears as he moved within her. Words were not said. It was as if they spoke, the spell would be broken. Butterflies deep within her danced, excited to have him close to her again, their bodies finding the rhythm they had lost themselves in for so long. She felt the tension building within her as she neared her release. Her body shuddered with pleasure as she hit her peak, and Harry continued to move within her.
Harry moaned, following behind her after a few thrusts as her body squeezed him, collapsing on her. Together they lay there, their bodies intertwined, catching their breath. Hermione ran her fingers through his sweaty hair, noticing that his glasses were sliding off his nose, and pushed them back up the bridge of his nose. He finally looked at her.
Sliding out of her, he sat up, and Hermione could see him for the first time without the haze of need and let out a horrified gasp, "Harry!"
His ribs were visible, and cuts were all over his body. Angry bruises maimed his skin, but in the center of his chest, near his heart, was an angry, black bruise. Gently running her fingers over the bruise. His hand came and took hers. "It was where the killing curse hit me again. Makes me wonder if I had a big, massive bruise on my head when he tried to kill me before."
A sob emerged from her throat as she rested her head against his chest.
Harry's heartbeat under her forehead, calm and reassuring as he ran his fingers through her hair, "We can't do this again, Hermione."
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut so hard that she saw stars, accepting fate. If it was what he truly wanted, she would give it to him. For now. "Whatever you say."
He pulled away from her, and she could see goosebumps littering his skin as he exited the cloak. With a sigh, she watched him for a moment, then swallowed as she pulled the cloak from her body and started dressing as he did.
"So, you'll go to Australia?" Harry asked, pulling his trousers, with holes throughout them, back on.
Hermione swallowed hard, "I'll stay here for a bit, making sure they are safe. Some of the Death Eaters escaped. When it's safe, I'll go down there and get them. I'll give it a couple of months and go down hopefully in July or August," she told him, looking at her shirt, and it was ripped in spots.
"Here," Harry said, grabbing his rucksack and pulling out his Quidditch jumper, "It's too small for me now."
Hermione took it and briefly held it to her nose, inhaling his scent, then slid it over her head. Pulling her trousers on, she looked at her knees through the rips, then tried to button her trousers. "As much as I was glad that Fleur let me borrow her clothes, we are not the same size. It creeps me out that the Snatchers stole my clothes." She sighed as she gave up buttoning them, "Can you tell that they aren't buttoned? I had pains from them during the battle, and if I don't have to suffer through it, I don't want to."
"Can't tell a thing," Harry assured her as they were finally presentable, and he waved his wand at the door.
It was as if Ron was waiting outside the door. Not even a minute later, it burst open, and Ron stumbled in. "Bloody hell, have you two been sleeping in here the whole time?"
"No. Just hiding," Harry admitted.
"Well, there is going to be a memorial in about half an hour before they release the bodies to the families. Kingsley wants us there." Ron explained.
Hermione watched as Harry's shoulders squared, and DA Harry took over as he nodded.
"I'll go see what Kingsley needs," Harry said as he left the dorm.
Hermione sighed, running her hand over her face as Ron sniffed at the air. "What?"
"That smell…" Ron trailed off as he lifted his arm and sniffed, "Wait, it's me. Bloody hell, I need a shower. When was the last time we had a proper one?"
Hermione lay back on the bed as her heart hammered within her chest, "It seems like a lifetime ago, but it was only the day before… I think, before we left Bill and Fleur's?"
Ron rubbed his eyes with both hands. "Was it only the day before yesterday? Seems like a lifetime ago." Ron held out his hand. "Are you coming?"
Swallowing hard at the implication and guilt she felt at his words, she took it and let him pull her up. Ron had kissed her in the chamber and again before the battle. While the kisses felt desperate, Hermione froze as she remembered Harry's words the day Ron returned. He had told Ron that he didn't love her as she loved him. That he loved her like a sister. But what they had just shared definitely didn't feel sisterly. She was so confused and desperately needed to have a one-on-one with Harry without interruptions.
She took a large breath and slowly exhaled as she stood up on her own and pulled Harry's Quidditch jumper down.
Ron looked at it. "If I gave you one of mine, would you wear it?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, "The Snatchers took all my clothes, Ron, and the clothes Fleur let me borrow were much too small. These trousers aren't even fully buttoned. Harry was nice enough to let me borrow this because it's big and covers me. Let's not do this, okay? We aren't going there."
Ron held his hands up, "Sorry."
Hermione sighed, "Let's just go down to the memorial."
The sun hung low behind the now ruins of Hogwarts, casting shadows over the grounds as if cloaking the mourners in black. Rows of chairs had been set up on the grass while they slept, just outside the main entrance of the castle. They were filled with students, professors, Ministry officials, and family members, with survivors sitting beside mourners they had never met before, as if they were all family. A large platform was in front, with a podium featuring the Hogwarts crest on it. Briefly, she was reminded of church growing up, and the pastor standing behind the pulpit of long ago.
A warm breeze blew across her face as she stood beside Harry and Ron off to the side of the chairs. Ron tried to take her hand briefly, but Hermione laced her fingers in front of her across her stomach to keep herself grounded. Luna was on Harry's other side, Neville next to her. Ginny stood to Ron's right, her eyes red, arms crossed over her chest.
Kingsley stepped up to the podium, the newly appointed Minister of Magic, wearing deep purple robes, and raised a hand, effortlessly bringing a hush to the crowd.
"Today, we stand together," he began, "Not simply as witches and wizards, but as people changed forever by what we experienced."
She heard him take an audible breath. "We have lived through what will be remembered as one of the darkest chapters in our history. We have lost friends, brothers, sisters, children, and mentors. We have lost futures that should have been lived, voices that should have been heard, and hearts that should have loved." Kingsley stated as Hermione felt her chest growing tighter. "But we have not lost why they fought."
Kingsley motioned to the castle, "We stand here because they stood here, on the front lines, in the halls of this very castle, where they chose to fight for a world where love is stronger than hate, where freedom triumphs over fear."
Hermione felt Harry shift beside her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his jaw clench.
"It's our duty to ensure their sacrifice was not in vain, so that our world learns from this and changes because of this. The cost was far too high to repeat our mistakes for a third time." Kingsley stated, and she heard Harry exhaled shakily. "And so, as my first act as Minister for Magic, I declare that from this day on, the second of May, will be known throughout the Wizarding World as Remembrance Day. A day to not only mourn those we lost, but celebrate their courage, their lives, their legacy."
Hermione felt numb as those around her wept.
"And now, we remember them." A large scroll unrolled in front of him, and Kingsley began reading the names. One by one. He would say a name, the first being Anthony Boggs. The bell would toll in the bell tower, and the family would step forward. Kingsley would give his condolences, hand the family a plaque, and after they said their goodbyes, wizards in black robes would speak to the family, then disappear with the casket.
Hermione swallowed as the second name was one that she didn't know. Another family stepped forward to accept their loved one.
She and Ron inhaled at the same time as the third name was announced. "Lavender Brown."
Hermione knew that she should have tears for her former dormmate. But the numbness had taken hold as her father stepped forward to accept the plaque.
Colin Creevey
Many other names she did not know.
"Nymphadora Tonks- Lupin"
Hermione flinched this time as the bells tolled. Catching sight of a woman stepping forward, her long dark curls cascading down her back. Hermione's stomach twisted at the resemblance to Bellatrix, before she remembered that Tonks' mother was once a Black: Bellatrix's sister, Andromeda.
As she stepped closer, the blind panic that she briefly felt faded, and she heard Harry inhale beside her. Andromeda had a child in her arms, Teddy. Hermione's throat tightened at the sight. The baby fussed in her arms, unaware at only a few weeks old of the weight of the day.
Harry stepped forward before she realized it, walking up to Andromeda, before she stood at the podium.
"I don't know if you remember me, Mrs. Tonks," Harry said quietly, "Remus and Tonks… they named me Teddy's godfather. I can take him for you, if you'd like."
With trembling arms, she passed Teddy into Harry's arms, and the baby instantly settled into them.
Andromeda's knees buckled slightly as she stepped forward and placed her hand on the casket that had her daughter's name on it. Hermione nearly sobbed as Andromeda's forehead touched the wood, and she wept against it.
"Remus Lupin"
Harry stepped forward and pressed his fingers gently onto Remus's casket, careful not to jostle Teddy. Harry had lost the last link to his parents.
Turning back, he walked toward her and Ron, standing beside them again. Teddy was still secure in his arms, whose head now lay against Harry's chest as if he knew he was safe.
The bell in the tower rang, once… then again as Kingsley handed Andromeda two plaques. She ran her hands over them, clutching them to her chest.
"I will bury them next to my Ted. Their names will be on the stone beside his," she said softly.
The men in black cloaks nodded and whisked away their caskets.
Andromeda walked over to them as she looked down at Teddy, still quiet in Harry's arms. Her face softened, making her look entirely different than her sister, "You can come see him whenever you want."
Harry carefully handed Teddy back to her. "Thank you."
Hermione went to reach for Harry's hand, but withdrew it at the last moment. As she stood there, while more names were being called, her legs slowly started feeling weak.
By the time "Percy Weasley" was called, Ron flinched at the sound of his brother's name. Beside him, Ginny took a sharp breath. He didn't look at her or Harry as he walked forward, his jaw locked tight with emotion as they wordlessly stepped forward to join the rest of the Weasleys.
Hermione stayed beside Harry. She didn't need to be up there. It wasn't her place. She watched as Ginny and Ron reached the coffin first, then Bill came up, supporting Mrs. Weasley, who had collapsed against the coffin. Her sobs seemed to be amplified across the mourners.
Mr. Weasley caught her just before her knees gave out, pulling her to his chest, his tears sliding down his cheeks.
Hermione swallowed hard, tears burning her eyes, and turned slightly to Harry. "You are practically family. You should be up there."
Harry shook his head, his eyes never leaving the mourning Weasleys in front of them. "No," he said quietly, "Not family. Just a frequent visitor. Nearly as much as you."
Hermione flinched at his words, but there was a cold truth to them. He was not wrong. Here they stood, two practically orphans alone in the world without families, watching families mourn for their loved ones. Hermione's stomach twisted as she wondered if James and Lily ever had a funeral. Harry was obviously unable to attend, and neither was Sirius. She wondered if Remus did, the last of the friends, who thought he had just lost not only James and Lily but Peter, too.
Ron dropped to his knees as reality hit him, his head against the bottom of the coffin. Ginny knelt beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Hermione tightened her lips as Mrs. Weasley ran her fingers over Percy's engraved name.
"At least, they were able to forgive him in time. He tried to make it right, and he did by saving Fred," Harry trailed off. "But war doesn't care where you are in healing, it just keeps taking."
As the bell tolled for Percy, Ron stood up. Taking Ginny's hand, the men in black took Percy's casket off despite Mrs. Weasley's screams.
"We will never be the same… will we?" Hermione whispered.
Harry finally took her hand and squeezed it before releasing it. "No, but… we can move on to something different. Make a new world."
They stood together, and Ron and Ginny did not rejoin them. Instead, they went off with their family. Hermione closed her eyes briefly, and Harry nudged her with his arm. "What do you say, we head back to the castle?"
Hermione nodded, and they turned to leave together.
"Are you leaving?" Luna asked, her eyes wide and red.
"It's too much," Hermione admitted, "My legs… I need to sit."
Luna interlaced her arm in Hermione's, "We'll go back with you."
They barely made it toward the back of the chairs when someone called out Harry's name.
"Harry Potter!" A woman rushed toward him, "I just wanted to say thank you. For everything."
After that, it was like someone had given everyone free rein, and witches and wizards began to run over to them.
"Can I shake your hand?"
"My daughter would have died if not for you, thank you, thank you!"
A flood of admiration and gratitude sprang up for them. Hands reaching out, patting his shoulders, grabbing at his robes.
Hermione watched Harry shrink in on himself as they surrounded him. Not realizing that this wasn't a celebration. This was a wake for over fifty people.
"Enough!" Hermione's voice cracked through the crowd. She clapped her hands once, the sound echoing across the lawn like a gunshot. Heads turned, and Kingsley stopped mid-breath. "That is enough."
Murmurs started as she stood next to Harry and stared at the misguided well-wishers.
"Families, much like some of your own, are trying to mourn their loved ones. This is not the time for praise or attention. This is not the time for him," she said, nodding toward Harry, who was still looking at the ground. "This is the time for them, the ones we lost."
Silence fell over the crowd like the dust that had settled over the castle.
Harry's voice came from beside her, broken and worn. "She's right. This isn't about me. Not today. Not ever." He stared at the trampled grass, and she saw that his knuckles were white.
Neville came up beside him, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Come on, mate."
He linked his elbow with Harry's, and Hermione moved to Harry's other side, threading her arm through his in solidarity. Luna still on her other side, together the four of them made their way up the lawn toward the castle. Toward shelter from the storm outside.
They didn't talk, for they were all emotionally and physically exhausted.
Behind them, the names continued to be read. And the bell kept tolling as they made their way deeper into the castle to the Gryffindor common room.
As they walked inside, the common room had never felt so quiet. It was as if the room was mourning, as everything inside seemed dulled. The fire in the fireplace crackled, casting eerie shadows as they walked over to the couches and sank down on them.
Luna curled up on Hermione's favourite armchair, her eyes wide, taking in the room. "This is my first time in the Gryffindor Common Room. It's warmer than ours. Cozier, more lived-in. I always thought, for some reason, it would smell like Cinnamon."
Hermione gave her a tired smile as she rested her head on the back of the couch. "Weirdly, it usually does around Christmas."
Luna nodded in her dreamy way. "I like it."
The fire popped, and they sat quietly, letting the day wash over them. Hermione's stomach growled, and Hermione sat up, "Kreacher!"
With a sharp crack, the old house-elf appeared, still wearing the fake locket. "Mistress Hermione has called Kreacher?"
Hermione smiled at him, "Would you mind bringing us something to eat? Just a few sandwiches. We slept through breakfast and lunch."
Kreacher nodded and vanished with a crack. A minute later, he returned with a silver tray of sandwiches and placed them gently on the table in front of them. Handing them each a bottle of water.
"Thank you," Hermione told him.
Kreacher nodded once more, disappearing quietly.
Neville reached for a sandwich and leaned back on the couch, chewing slowly. After a few bites, he let out a long sigh and stared at the ceiling. "I feel like I am so old now."
"Old before our time," Luna said, taking a sandwich and staring at it.
Neville laughed a dry laugh, "Yeah." He looked at Hermione and Luna. "What are you two going to do? I mean, after all this?"
Hermione hesitated as she took a small bite and slowly chewed on it. "If they reopen Hogwarts, I'd love to come back. Finish properly. Get my NEWTs. I feel I need to finish it."
"Me too," Luna said, "I think I'd miss the Thestrals, and the library, and the way the castle hums with magic at night."
Neville rubbed a hand down his face, "Will they even have NEWTs at this point? Half the school is rubble."
"I hope so," Hermione stated as she looked at Harry, who had settled on the floor, with his back against the couch. One knee was drawn up, as he gazed at the fire as if he might find the answers to life in it.
He finally spoke, "I didn't think I'd honestly make it to this point."
They all froze, staring at him.
"At some point, I wanted to be an Auror. It felt like the only thing I was good at, fighting. That was the reason. To stop him. To learn how to fight him," his fingers curled around his knee, "But I survived. And now…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "I don't know what to do now."
Hermione leaned forward and rested her hand on his shoulder, "We'll figure it out. One day at a time."
"Yeah, Harry, you've got us, and you've done more than enough. It's okay not to know. We don't all have to know," Neville assured him.
But Hermione didn't feel assured. She felt scared for some reason. Like she had to expect something was about to happen. But what, she did not know.
~*~ 3 May 1998 ~*~
Upon awaking, the first morning after the battle had ended, Harry and Hermione met in the common room and walked out of the dorms, where Madam Pomfrey had immediately accosted them.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, I cannot believe they let you two just come up here like nothing happened and didn't seek treatment for you! Merlin's Beard! What sort of fools think releasing you back to sleep it off is a substitute for medical care?!" She scoffed like a wet hen, "Come with me at once. You both need at the very least, nutrient potions, skin, and bones, the both of you!"
Hermione looked at Harry, who shrugged. Then they followed her to the infirmary, like scolded children, and were immediately pushed into their beds, with the curtains drawn. "In," she snapped as Pomfrey handed her a set of pajamas and said, "Change." She ordered sweeping out and yanking the curtain behind her, leaving Hermione alone.
Rolling her eyes, Hermione changed into the rough linen pajamas that Hogwarts was famous for. Her muscles ached, and her arms still throbbed beneath the fabric. Sighing, she climbed back into the bed, tucking her legs beneath her. Moans and the occasional sob drifted through the curtains. This was not a place of peace like the tower. Only exhaustion and the sounds of suffering filled this room.
From the next bed over, she heard Madam Pomfrey gasp, "Potter, that bruise! I need to check for internal bleeding!"
"It's just a dark curse bruise," Harry said, his voice low. "It should heal unless you healed the bruise on my head when I was a baby. Hagrid brought me to you, right?"
A pause. Then a whisper.
"Is… is that from… the Killing Curse? Again?"
Hermione held her breath, but there was no reply from Harry.
Only the faint sounds of Pomfrey whispering diagnostic spells. Then Harry's sharp inhale, more a hiss than a gasp. Bottles clinking together before she spoke, "You'll need this regimen for the next month: magical exhaustion, unstable core, Merlin, Potter. You have lost nearly a whole stone since I saw you last. Now, take these. All of them. You need rest."
Hermione heard Harry grumble, then the sound of a goblet or two hitting the table. Hermione jumped when her own curtain was pulled aside.
Madam Pomfrey appeared, her face tight and her eyes closed. She composed herself visibly for not even a second before meeting Hermione's eyes. "Now for you, Miss Granger."
Hermione sat up, lifting her arm. "Other than the cursed knife marks on my arm… I probably just need nutrient potions."
Harry's voice called out hoarsely, "She was also under the Cruciatus Curse. For a long time. She's got some nerve damage." He stated, slurring his words at the end.
Hermione glared through the curtain even though he couldn't see her.
"Is this true, Miss Granger?" Pomfrey asked.
"Yes," Hermione stated, "But it's already doing much better."
"Nutrient potions and nerve calming draughts," Pomfrey muttered, as she gently took Hermione's arm in her hands and pulled the sleeve back. She gasped. "Miss Granger… who-"
Hermione pulled her sleeve back down. "She's dead. That's all that matters."
Pomfrey stared at her, then turned, leaving Hermione's curtain. She returned with two goblets of thick, shimmering potions. Hermione took them, drinking them both in one go, gagging at the taste.
Patting her hand, Madam Pomfrey gave her a rare smile. "Get some rest, Miss Granger. I mixed a small amount of Dreamless Sleep in with your nutrient potion. So that I can work on your arm."
Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but her eyes were already heavy, and her limbs started to sink into the mattress.
The last thing she heard was the gentle hum of spell work, and she barely felt as Madam Pomfrey picked up her arm.
When she woke up again, it was to the sound of two voices.
"They need time, Kingsley. Rest. Healing. Not questions and certainly not politics!" Madam Pomfrey said.
"They will get that," Kingsley replied, "But some things need to begin moving forward. They're part of that future, whether they like it or not."
Hermione blinked groggily and looked around. The stained-glass windows had been repaired while she was sleeping. The windows made it seem like it was midday. Her body was less sore, but her mind was foggy. Looking down at her arm, it was covered in thick gauze, and it itched beneath it. Blood had stained the gauze.
The curtains at the foot of her bed opened, and Kingsley looked in at her. "Good, you're awake." He pulled Harry's curtains open, and she could see him. Harry was lying still, too still, with his arm draped over his eyes.
"Potter," Kingsley stated, folding his arms. "I know you're awake."
Harry lowered his arm, sighing as he opened his eyes, reaching for his glasses, "Damn, I thought I'd try pretending."
Kingsley looked at them. "Look, I need you both up and dressed in your best. I was outvoted. There's a ceremony before dinner."
Hermione pushed herself up onto her elbows. "What kind of ceremony?"
"The Wizengamot has decided to award you both, along with Ron and Longbottom, Orders of Merlin. First Class."
"No," Harry stated.
Kingsley's jaw tightened. "This isn't up for discussion, Potter. It's for morale. For unity. The public needs… something."
Hermione sat up fully. "There is just one problem, Kingsley. We don't have anything resembling 'best.' What we have is threadbare, filthy, or…" She looked down at the borrowed pajamas, "Cut for someone else's body. The Snatchers took most of my things when we were captured. And as grateful as I am for Fleur's generosity, her wardrobe doesn't exactly fit me."
Kingsley rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Huntington!"
With a soft crack, a small house-elf appeared, dressed in what looked like a miniature butler's uniform. He bowed low.
"Yes, Master Kingsley?"
"Mr. Potter and Miss Granger require appropriate dress for tonight's ceremony. Find them the best."
"Now, that's not necessary," Hermione interjected.
But the elf had already turned its eyes to her and Harry, gave a sharp nod, and with a snap of its fingers, vanished once again.
"I'll see you out front at five," Kingsley said as he swept from the room.
Hermione huffed and flopped against her pillows, arms crossed tightly across her chest. "Paraded like trophies."
Harry glanced at her, then at the ceiling.
Madam Pomfrey came bustling back in, muttering under her breath as she carried two trays of food. "Just what you two need, more stress," she grumbled, setting two goblets on their tables, "Never sold him as a politician, and look how fast he'd slipped into that role."
She set the trays on their laps. "Eat, and rest. I'll check on you in an hour."
With a final huff, she whisked away to another patient.
Hermione sighed as she pushed herself up. "Where do you think Ron is?"
Harry shrugged, poking at his roast beef sandwich. "No clue. Probably with his family."
Hermione sat quietly, chewing her food. "It feels wrong. To get medals. When Tonks, Remus, and Percy are all gone."
Harry nodded, "Yeah. It really does."
Hermione stepped carefully over more chunks of rubble as she made her way up to the Astronomy tower, where Harry was last seen heading. Opening the heavy door, she saw that the stairs miraculously looked intact. Taking a deep breath, she climbed, dodging a few pieces of loose stones littering her path. She stepped around them as she climbed out of the stairway and pushed the door on top open, she found Harry leaning on a piece of the remaining railing, looking at the ruined grounds. "I thought I'd find you here."
Harry inhaled sharply as he glanced back at her. "Does anyone else know that I am up here?"
Hermione gently shut the door behind her. "No. Not even Ron."
Harry exhaled, then looked back at the grounds. "They took away five more bodies."
Hermione came to stand next to him and watched another gurney float next to three people as they walked down the path. Swallowing hard, she glanced at him. "What are you going to do now, Harry?"
Harry glanced at her. "Help those who need help. Organize funerals, maybe-"
Hermione slid her hand into his. "Harry, you don't need to carry the world's weight on your shoulders to save others. Sometimes, you need to save yourself first. You need rest."
He sighed and, by habit, laid his forehead against hers. "I don't know how to do that."
Hermione closed her eyes. "I know."
The robe that Kingsley's house-elf had brought her hung from Hermione's shoulders as if it were at least two sizes too big. Pale gray silk, with soft silvery flowers sewn in and scandalously low-cut for her liking. It was clearly selected by someone who had little understanding of her taste and even less desire for her modesty.
The long mirror in her dorm once made cheeky comments, but now the spell was broken, offering only a silent reflection. Hermione tugged at the neckline, trying to will it together. She was afraid that if she used her wand in an attempt to put a few stitches in it, it would rip.
The girl in the mirror was supposed to play the role of the heroine. But she didn't feel like one. She felt weak and exhausted, emotionally and physically. No potions would cure her of that for a while.
With a sigh, she slid the simple flats on her feet and made her way to the stairwell.
But just before the bottom landing, voices floated up to meet her, low at first, then rising with tension. Hermione froze.
"Why can't we start things back up, Harry?" Ginny's voice asked, "It was torture for me without you. Remember all those moments we shared out at the Quidditch pitch… or behind the tapestries?"
Hermione leaned forward, trying to see beyond the landing. She spotted them near the hearth and could see Ginny's hand trailing down the front of Harry's new silver robes. He looked like a statue, still and tense.
"Ginny, as much as I'd love to, I'm not in the right headspace to continue a relationship. Look at what I just had to do!" Harry told her.
Ginny pulled away from him, "I don't see why it had to be you that Dumbledore picked."
Harry's laugh was bitter, "You don't understand, Ginny. He didn't pick me to win. He left me a mess. Told me half-truths and sent us on a wild goose chase. I had to finish what he started, and I wasn't even meant to survive. Surviving was an accident. All of it was an accident."
Ginny inched closer, "It was prophesied that you'd face him. You were always meant to do this. And now… just think about it. The Boy Who Won and the World-Famous Chaser," she smiled, "You. Me. Power couple. You, finding the rest of the Death Eaters as an Auror. Me on your arm. Everyone would be so jealous."
Hermione inhaled sharply, her eyes stinging as Ginny rose on her toes and pulled Harry in for a kiss.
She didn't wait to see if he returned it. Turning quietly, she rested against the stone wall. The cool surface pressed against her bare shoulders. She shut her eyes and told her heart not to break.
"Gross! Do you two have to do that here?!" Ron's voice boomed. "Where's Hermione?"
"Upstairs still," Harry replied.
Hermione scrambled up a step, pretending that she was descending as Ron reached the foot of the stairs and spotted her.
"Oh, there you are. Those robes look good on you," Ron said.
Hermione managed to smile politely. Ron was wearing new blue velvet robes, which had probably been bought for him by Kingsley as well.
As she met the bottom of the steps, her eyes moved to Harry. He wasn't smiling. Her heart tried to convince her it was because of the ceremony, not Ginny. But it felt like a lie. Oh, she wanted to believe it was a lie.
"I'm ready to get this over with. Who else?" Hermione asked.
Harry stood up, adjusting his collar. "I didn't want to do this in the first place," he muttered.
Hermione frowned as he exited the portrait hole, and Ginny hovered behind him, close enough to touch. Falling in step beside Ron as they went through the portrait hole, the castle was quiet.
"Harry seems… moody today," she said softly, "Had he said anything to you?"
Ron shook his head. "He's been moody since the battle, Hermione. What do you expect? Our best friend died. You can't expect him just to be fine." He glanced at her, "Are any of us alright?"
Hermione bit the inside of her cheek as they reached the marble staircase. Banners still hung in tatters as their footsteps echoed in the empty corridors. Most of the students had already been sent home. Only members of the Order of the Phoenix and some Aurors remained working on the castle already as they neared the entrance to see the Great Hall's doors open wide.
Inside, a stage sat where the staff table would usually be. Chairs, so many chairs were set up, and cameras were flashing already. It was made into a spectacle. Hermione stepped forward as Harry froze at the door. Standing beside him, she looked into the room.
Like Harry had said, survival had been an accident, pure chance, and now they had to smile and play a part because of it.
Applause still echoed in Hermione's ears, even as part of the hall had emptied. Kingsley's voice played in her mind in a loop. "You have shown courage beyond your years. For your service, the Ministry of Magic offers you, each of you, a permanent place among us. NO NEWTs required."
It had been meant as an honour. As a reward. But it felt like a sentence. A lifetime of servitude at their will for doing their job for them.
The buzz around her swelled again. Officials in robes and Ministry pins that just days ago would have arrested her and sent her to Azkaban now swarmed her like moths to a light. Each one introduced themselves, name, department, and title, and pressed in closer.
"Hermione Granger, what are your ambitions?"
"Do you see yourself in Magical Law? Possibly International Cooperation?"
"I have heard of your Elf Rights campaign. You'd be perfect for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. We need someone with your brains!"
"I think she'd be better in Education! With your skill set, you could run the department by thirty!"
Each voice blended into the next. Each hand offered a future before she could grasp the present.
Hermione smiled, nodded, shook hands, and answered their questions as best as she could without screaming. Answering the same, "I appreciate your offer… thank you… But I'd prefer to finish my education first, if possible."
More hands. More questions. More pressure.
In the last twenty minutes, she'd lost sight of both Harry and Ron. Her throat was dry, and her head was pounding. Spinning slowly, she saw Ron at least. Laughing, caught up in a conversation with someone in a Cannon orange robe. He was practically glowing.
She didn't want to interrupt. So, she turned and slipped through the open doors of the entrance hall until the stone walls gave way to the open night air. She inhaled the breeze as it blew against her face, cooling the fever that had been building upon her skin.
And there, not far from the entrance, she saw him.
Harry stood in the grass, facing the side of the castle where the plaques had been embedded into the stone. Names etched in brass and shining under the torchlights below. Harry's shoulders were hunched, his silver robe almost ghostlike in the dark. He didn't turn when she approached.
"There you are," she said gently, stepping into the grass. "Too overwhelming for you, too?"
Harry exhaled, pulling her into a tight hug. The tightest he had ever given her, "It's all overwhelming." He swallowed, "I should be up there with them."
Hermione's heart ached. "Harry, no. You deserved to live."
His head snapped toward her as he stepped away from her, eyes blazing. "More than Remus? Or Tonks? Percy? Colin?" His voice dropped, raw and biting, "I shouldn't even be here, Hermione."
"You-"
He cut her off, "You kissed him in the Chamber of Secrets. Ron told me. He hasn't shut up about it since. He's planning to go to Australia with you, did you know that? You said it didn't mean anything, but it did to him!"
Anger flared like a match striking within her. "Well, you snogged Ginny today! I saw it myself!" she snapped, and Harry flinched.
"When Ron kissed me, it was in the middle of chaos! In the heat of battle! That doesn't compare to today, to us! I am so tired of Ron's emotional dynamite, always erupting over something! One second it's a broomstick, the next it's his rat. I thought things were different with you!"
Harry stared at her, jaw clenched. "I might not be the same person after coming back. Who's to say that I will be? Maybe sixteen years of Voldemort inside my head ruined me?"
"I do," Hermione told him, "I know you."
Harry shook his head. "I just… I can't, Hermione. I'm tired. So tired."
Hermione softened. "Then we take time."
His eyes met hers, those green eyes, old before their time. "No," he said, "You take time. And think about it. Ron's better for you. Normal. I'd just… I'd ruin you."
Hermione reached for him, catching his arm. "What do you mean by that?"
Harry's eyes fluttered closed, then he inhaled, "Hermione, just let me go."
"Go where?" she whispered.
He turned back toward her, and her heart broke at the anguish in his voice. "To sleep. I'm so fucking exhausted."
Her hand dropped away, fingers trembling.
Without another word, Harry began climbing the steps back into the castle, his robes trailing behind him like a ghostly form.
Hermione watched him until he disappeared inside, then sank onto the steps, pressing her hands into her eyes as they burned and her heart unraveled.
Tonight, nothing felt victorious at all.
/\/<3/\/<3/\/
The castle was getting quiet as he walked into it. Almost everyone who remained, including Hermione, who he assumed had also already gone to bed. Torches crackled along the walls. The celebration had drawn to a close. The medals were given. The public cheered. Photos taken. Money given. Blood money that it was.
Harry walked with no clear direction. His hands shoved into the pockets of his robes. Each step echoed in the empty hall. It didn't feel like Hogwarts anymore. Not home.
As he went to climb the steps, he spotted Kingsley at the edge of the Great Hall speaking with someone from the Ministry. Harry's feet carried him that way before his mind could comprehend.
"Kingsley," Harry said.
Kingsley looked at him, "Harry, are you alright?"
"I need to talk to you," Harry said quietly, "In private."
Kingsley nodded, "Of course, this way."
He led him through the side hall and down a narrow staircase. It took Harry a few seconds to realize exactly where they were headed. The room where the champions had met after their names had been called.
The room where Cedric had first accepted his fate. Where they'd waited to die, none the wiser.
Harry paused, dust floating in the torchlight.
Cedric's name echoed in his head. Another casualty. Another boy who was thrown away in someone else's war.
Kingsley turned and faced him, "What's wrong, Harry?"
Harry took a deep breath. "I don't want to be an Auror anymore." The words came so fast, Harry wasn't sure Kingsley registered them.
"You don't?" Kingsley blinked.
Harry shook his head, staring at his feet. "No. I thank you for your offer, but I'm tired, Kingsley. I've been tired since I was eleven. Tired of fighting. Tired of always being someone's weapon, someone's last hope, someone's headline. I don't want to chase down Death Eaters. I don't want to have to kill someone ever again. I don't want to hurt people. I want to help them. I want to learn how to fix things… how to fix people."
Kingsley was quiet. "So, you want to be a healer."
Harry looked up, and something inside him eased. "Yes." It was like he could breathe finally. "God, yes."
Kingsley folded his arms across his chest and studied him. "Are you sure?"
"I'm positive," Harry said, "And I need to get away. From here. From this castle. From the eyes and the whispers and the pity."
Kingsley sighed, "Dumbledore thought this might happen, that you could make this choice if you did win."
Harry swallowed hard. "Well, I guess he knew me better than I thought."
"And what about Hermione?" Kingsley asked.
Harry looked away, "I've been in love with Hermione since my fourth year," he confessed, "Possibly earlier, but Ron made it very clear how he felt. She was his. I don't want to be in the way, I don't want to break something that is already hanging by a thread." Harry laughed. "I figured they'd kill each other first, but yesterday, they kissed in the Chamber of Secrets. Ron told me. Then I saw them again. And I just fucking stood there like a bloody idiot." He shook his head. "I'm not the kind of person who takes someone from someone else."
"But you love her?" Kingsley asked.
"I do," Harry told him, "But she'd be a target if she were with me. People still want me dead. There are Death Eaters out there who think I stole their master away from them. I don't want that life for her. Not again." Harry sighed, "This place… It's broken. Students are gone. He would never have wanted this."
"Dumbledore could not have predicted everything," Kingsley told him.
Harry looked at him. "How do I go on, Kingsley? How do I live with this guilt? People cheered tonight, and I could see them all looking at me and wondering why their loved ones weren't the ones who made it. I remember how they turned against me in my fourth year, and again in my fifth, and then during the war. It'll happen again, and maybe I deserve it."
"You don't," Kingsley told him, "But I understand why you feel like you do."
"I need to make amends," Harry told him, "I need to heal people, not hurt them."
Kingsley gave him a slow nod. "I know some people. Let me make some calls.
Harry blinked, and something twisted within his chest. "Thank you."
Kingsley put his hand on his shoulder. "You're allowed to want peace, Harry. You earned it."
Harry headed back up the stairs, his body heavy with exhaustion. "Let me know when you hear back."
"Where are you going?"
Harry gave him a tired smile. "To sleep off this hangover of war… and hope that when I wake up, things will be… something."
"They will be," Kingsley stated.
Preview of Chapter 15 – it's time to go
Hermione sighed and shifted, looking at all the redheads staring at her, watching her as if she were in a zoo. "I'm not a dementor, you lot," she said dryly, "Just pregnant."
George walked over and slapped Ron hard on the back, grinning wide. "Way to go, Ronnie. Giving Mum her first grandchild. Bet she didn't think you would be the first."
Hermione bit her lip and glanced at Ron as the fireplace lit up again, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley arrived. "We have to tell them."
Ron hesitated, squeezing her shoulder. "Are you sure?"
Hermione nodded slowly. "Yeah, we can trust them. All of them."
Mr. Weasley had barely settled into his chair when he caught the look on their faces. "What is it, dear? What do you need to tell us?"
Hermione inhaled deeply, then reached for her wand. "Everything."