Hermione Granger and the Deathly Hallows

After what seemed like years, Hermione Granger finally opened her eyes to find that she once again was in her old bed in the Gryffindor Tower at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She turned over on her side and bundled her pillow more comfortably under her head with a sigh. There were some days where she never thought she'd be back here ever again. It really was so wonderful to be home.

She stretched her arms languorously over her head, her knuckles scraping the chestnut headboard, as she debated falling back asleep. A glance at the window told her that it was probably late afternoon so she had been asleep for at least six hours. She, Harry, and Ron had headed to the tower directly after their trip to Dumbledore's office and after a tasty snack brought to them by Kreacher, gone straight to bed. Hopefully, the two boys were still there. After the year they had just had, they should really sleep for weeks on end.

But even though she did close her eyes in hopes of falling into another dream, as usual, once she was awake, she stayed awake. She turned onto her other side, plopped onto her stomach, and flipped over onto her back, but it was no use. Not wanting to leave the security of the blankets just yet, Hermione opted to stare up above her, one hand twisting through her voluminous hair, thinking a thousand thoughts a minute. Now that the war was over--Hermione could scarcely believe that that thought was actually true so she repeated it over and over in her mind before continuing on--now that they finally had accomplished their seemingly impossible goal, they had some big decisions to make. They finally had a life now so they had to figure out how they should start living it. Did they want to go back to school? Find a job? Get married? Travel? Start a business? Join the Ministry? Try out for professional Quidditch? Do nothing but eat Chocolate Frogs all day? When your entire life has been dedicated to one thing, and one thing only, what exactly do you do when that one thing finally is accomplished?

Anything. Everything.

Hermione grinned up at the canopy of her bed. That was a rather lovely thought.

Although her tired bones ached with protest, Hermione slid out of bed so she could dig around in her beaded bag for some fresh clothing. There was only one pair of jeans left and with a laugh, she unearthed a violently orange Cannons shirt that Ron had given her so many months ago. It seemed like the perfect day to wear it. Now that the war was over, perhaps the Cannons might actually be able to win a match. Anything was possible.

Out of habit, Hermione stuck her beaded purse into her sock for safe-keeping before heading to the Great Hall to check on everyone. As it was last night, it was packed full of people tending to the dead and wounded or standing together in exhausted huddles. A quick glance told her that Harry must still be taking his well-deserved nap in his room in the Gryffindor tower. She wasn't surprised to spot Ron's back as he helped Bill lower yet another body onto the floor. They still hadn't found everyone who had lost their lives today. She strongly considered scolding Ron for not getting any rest or going over to lend a hand, but instead, she quickly slipped out of the hall before anyone could take notice of her. She had a few things to take care of.

Her footsteps echoed loudly down the spiral staircase that led down to the dungeons, matching the thudding of her anxious heart. Only one torch was lit at the end of the corridor, illuminating the tall, strong form of the lone guard standing at attention in front of a locked door. Kingsley Shacklebolt's wand flew up instantly, but quickly lowered it when he saw who it was. "Hermione," he greeted with a nod.

She returned the nod distractedly, her eyes on the sealed door behind him. "They're in there?"

"Yes," Kingsley answered bemusedly. "But they're all contained and Ministry officials will be here at any moment to transport them to Azkaban. They would've been here sooner, but as you can imagine, things are rather disorganized at the moment."

"I know, I understand," Hermione reassured. She raised her chin and gestured to the door. "Can I go in?"

Kingsley's eyebrows almost disappeared into the tip of his bald head. "Go in?"

"Yes," Hermione replied with her jaw clenched in a very familiar way. Anyone who knew her knew that she wouldn't be backing down anytime soon. "I need to see something for myself."

If it had been almost anyone else, he would have said no in a heartbeat. But as this was one of the three bravest heroes of the decade, Kingsley nodded very slowly and unlocked the door. "You can't be alone with them, clearly."

"Clearly," Hermione agreed.

He stepped aside to let her pass. "I'll be right here," he told her. "And don't get too close."

Tightening her grip on her wand, Hermione entered the darkened room, keeping her chin as high as possible. This was the room that the Order had stored the surviving Death Eaters who needed to be transported to Azkaban; because they were so short-staffed, it was taking quite a bit of time to move all of the Death Eaters to prison. The room had been packed to the gills several hours ago, but now there were only five prisoners who were spread throughout the dungeon: four in each corner and one right in the center of the space.

It was the man in the middle that Hermione was most interested in seeing. Wisely keeping her distance as Kingsley had advised, Hermione illuminated the tip of her wand so she could shine it right in his face. She had recognized him from the doorway, but she just wanted to be sure. Antonin Dolohov tried to hide his bloodied and swollen face from the blinding light, but thanks to the Full-Body Bind, he couldn't move a muscle; he could only glare at her, murder still in his eyes. Hermione took a step backwards just in case, but she kept her wand trained on the man so he continued to squirm in discomfort. She had to admit she rather enjoyed seeing him in such a state.

She knelt down so she could take a better look at the Death Eater. His nose was clearly broken and still spitting out blood, his robes horribly ripped, revealing the numerous cuts and bruises that lay beneath, and if she had to guess, he probably had some internal injuries as well; the curse Flitwick had used to fell him had been quite powerful. There was no doubt about it; he was utterly defeated. Antonin Dolohov would no longer be a threat to the wizarding world.

But even with that comforting thought, Hermione didn't dare lower her wand. In fact, her fingers tightened around it. This was the man who had taken Remus and Tonks from them as well as countless others. This was the man who could have taken her away from Ron, from Harry, from Ginny, from her parents, from everyone she loved and cherished. He could have taken her out of this world and banished her to whatever alternate plane of existence lay beyond their comprehension. Perhaps it was a much better place, but Hermione wasn't ready to go there. Not for a good, long time. Not when there was still so much to do here. He could have taken all of that away from her with a single stab of his wand, all because he hated the blood in her veins.

And he wouldn't have been sorry. He never would have thought twice about it. He wouldn't have been haunted, as he had haunted her for the past two years. Hermione actually wondered if he even remembered that night at the Ministry. He had attacked so many that perhaps all of his victims' faces had blurred into an incomprehensible mass. He was lying on the ground, paralyzed, staring up at her with hate-filled eyes, and not feeling a drop of remorse for all of the death and destruction he had reaped upon so many people. He'd never atone for his sins. He would languish away in prison for the rest of his life and probably die a miserable, wretched shadow of the man he had been, but he would never ever feel sorry for what he had done to them all. It just would never happen.

She sat back on her heels and exhaled loudly through her nostrils. Even after spending a year immersed in the horrors of war, she really still couldn't comprehend the extents people would go to harm each other. It still made absolutely no sense to her. She supposed that it never would. People like Dolohov only knew about hatred; she on the other hand knew the value of other more potent qualities.

And that was why she had come here. She looked straight into his dark, stormy, furious eyes and almost changed her mind. But she thought of Ron and Harry and found the bravery they had shown her to shift closer to him with new determination. Dolohov's pupils constricted in trepidation, but she hurriedly shushed him. "It's all right," she said quietly. "Everything is going to be all right."

She struggled to keep her voice as soothing as possible; he had to be in a lot of pain right now. Concentrating intently, she waved her wand over his face, wiping his face clean of the blood so she could see just how bad the damage was. She couldn't do anything for the broken nose, but she did cast a few charms to help alleviate the pain before pulling the Essence of Dittany out from the beaded purse she still had with her. Hermione then found any particularly deep cuts and gashes--there was a really nasty one on the top of his head that made her almost sick--and with the dittany, healed them so by the time she finished, aside from his nose, Dolohov looked as good as new.

"There." She sheathed her wand and looked back into his eyes. His eyes were as violent and turbulent as they had before she healed him, but Hermione couldn't help hoping that somehow he had softened somewhat. When you saved someone's life, a deep, magical bond was created between the two of you. Hermione didn't know if Dolohov had been that close to death, but perhaps a bond also was created between two people when one Healed the other. She certainly felt a little better about Dolohov. He wouldn't be haunting her dreams for a good long time. She got to her feet and even found it in her to give him a smile. "All better."

She turned around to find that Kingsley had taken a few steps towards her, probably when she had gotten too close to Dolohov, but stopped when he realized what she was doing. He gave her a long look. "You're a remarkable woman, Hermione."

She flushed. "Thank you."

He raised an arm to escort her out of the temporary prison. "Come on. I'm sure your friends are wondering where you've gone." He shut the door behind them and after a quick wink and wave, returned to his post while Hermione retraced her steps and returned to the Great Hall to find the next person she needed to see.

That person however wasn't there. In fact, none of the Weasleys were in the hall. Disappointed, Hermione stopped in the doorway so she could try to think where he would have gone. He was probably out helping locate more bodies or maybe even survivors, which meant that he could be anywhere. Hermione bit her lip fleetingly. She really needed to talk to him before she started making plans for Australia.

"Miss Granger." Hermione turned to smile a greeting at her favorite teacher. It wasn't often that Minerva McGonagall looked exhausted, but today, the Transfiguration professor certainly looked as though she could use a good long nap. Her eyes, however, were as sharp as ever as she looked Hermione up and down. "Did you get some rest?"

"Yes, thank you," Hermione said. "Do you happen to know where Mr. Weasley is?"

McGonagall sobered considerably. "Yes. He went along with the rest of his family to move Fred to a more comfortable location where he can be prepared for the service."

"Oh," Hermione breathed under her breath, feeling more than a little guilty. She really would have liked to be there for that. "Do you know when that will be? The service, I mean," she inquired, as this was the question she had wanted to ask Mr. Weasley.

"I believe it will be on Wednesday," McGonagall answered quietly.

"Thank you," Hermione said. "Professor, can I ask you something?" she added quickly as McGonagall started to turn away to continue her work. McGonagall immediately returned her attention to Hermione and nodded. Hermione glanced around the Great Hall and bit her lip at the sight of the devastation. It really hurt to see her school in such a state. "Hogwarts will reopen, won't it?"

McGonagall looked offended that Hermione had even dared to ask that question and drew herself up to her full height. "Of course we'll reopen," she proclaimed. "Classes may need to start a few weeks, even months, later, but Hogwarts will reopen." She gathered her robes around her as she looked around the nearly ruined room, taking in the bedraggled and exhausted students. After the tyrannical year they had just endured, it really was a testament to their strength of spirit that they were still here, doing everything in their power to tend to the wounded, pay respect to the dead, and comfort the survivors. "It's the least we can do."

"Good," Hermione breathed with relief as she too watched the students with an odd sense of detachment. She didn't think Harry would be able to take it if Hogwarts closed, even for one year.

Professor McGonagall glanced back at one of her secret favorite students. "We're going to need an exceptional Head Girl next year to help us get back on our feet," she said confidingly.

Hermione's stomach stiffened. "You will," she agreed. She paused briefly. She had been waiting seven years to hear a statement like that. She had always been attracted to such positions as prefect and Head Girl, even in Muggle school, but ever since Draco Malfoy had called her a Mudblood, her thirst to prove herself had grown even stronger than ever. So, never in a million years did Hermione Granger ever think she would say the following statement, but once she did, she didn't regret it for a single second. "But it won't be me."

Crestfallen, Minerva turned to Hermione. "You won't be returning?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not without those two."

"They've told you they won't be returning?"

"No," Hermione conceded. "But I can tell. I think Ron will want to help his family out," she explained carefully. "George will probably need some help running the joke shop. And Harry--" She struggled to find the right words. Hogwarts was Harry's first home, so it was probable that he would like to return for one more year, especially if he would be in Ginny's classes. After being separated for her for so long, Harry wouldn't want to leave her. But as she tried to imagine Harry sitting in a classroom or doing homework or even playing Quidditch, Hermione couldn't do it. It wasn't possible to go back to such a life after spending so much time on the front lines of a war. Harry had grown up far too much this year to return to Hogwarts; a man could never really be content to be back in a child's world. "I don't think Harry could come back," she decided to say simply. "Not after this year."

Professor McGonagall took off her glasses so she could rub her eyes. "No, I suppose he wouldn't. Nor Mr. Weasley." She placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "But that doesn't mean you--"

"Yes, it does," Hermione said stoutly. Ron and Harry definitely were huge contributing factors to her decision not to go back to school, but really, in all honesty, it wasn't about them at all. She, like Harry, wouldn't be happy back at school. She too had grown up a little too much this year.

Seeing that the earnest approach wasn't working, McGonagall dropped her hand and adopted her trademark brisk, efficient tone of ultimate reason. "Well, I don't care if you did help save the world, Miss Granger, you will need to pass your N.E.W.T.s if you expect to get work in the sorts of fields you've expressed interest in."

"I could sit in N.E.W.T.s with this year, couldn't I?" Hermione asked without even batting an eye. She had already thought about this quite a bit.

McGonagall's eyebrows rose. "That's a tall order, Miss Granger. Learning an entire year of material in only a matter of--oh, what am I saying, this is you we're talking about. I'll send the necessary owls as soon as I can. The exams probably wouldn't be until August or September, which should give you plenty of time." She looked at the woman over the rim of her glasses. "I take it you'll take care of preparing Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley?"

"Always have," Hermione answered.

McGonagall returned her hand to Hermione's shoulder with a rarely seen smile. "Yes. You have."

She patted Hermione once before striding back into the hall to get back to work. Hermione started to head to the owlery, but stopped when she saw one of the side doors to the hall open and the Weasley family trooped back inside, all tearstained, pale, and exhausted. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came in first, Mr. Weasley supporting his wife and leading her straight to the nearest chair. Bill and Fleur were next, followed by Percy, and finally, Harry and Ginny walked in side by side, not speaking, not looking at each other, but communicating everything by the simple way their fingers brushed. Ginny was the only one still crying and as soon as she and Harry sat down, her head dropped to his shoulder. He took her hand and set it on his leg, keeping their fingers entangled, while she nestled closer to him, drawing strength from his presence. They still didn't say a word.

Percy sat on the other side of his sister; Bill on the other side of Percy. Fleur remained standing as she fussed over her husband, brushing aside his hair to inspect the new injuries on his face and murmuring in a low voice. Bill caught her hands so he could reassure her that he was fine. Still watching them out of the corner of her eye, Hermione glanced around the hall in case she had somehow missed them, but with no luck. Ron and George were disturbingly absent.

Fleur knelt down in front of Bill and took his face in her hands to take an even closer look at him. "Are you certain zat you are all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine," he replied quietly.

"Are you certain?"

Bill just nodded as he leaned forward in hopes of reassuring her with a kiss, but instead, all he received was a sharp slap in the face that reverberated throughout the entire hall. All eyes whipped over to the couple as Bill jerked backwards in outrage. "Hey!"

But Fleur was oblivious to everything but her temper; she swung her arm back again and again, not caring that Bill managed to successfully ward off any other blows; she kept right on going, just as Hermione had the night Ron had come back home. "Bill Weasley, 'ow could you do zat to me? 'ow could you just leave me at 'ome while you run off to fight wizout me?! Zat iz inexcusable!"

"You couldn't come, love, not in the--"

"Oh, I am not your love at ze moment," Fleur interrupted. "If I waz your love, you would not give me a sleeping potion so you could come 'ere alone, now would you?"

Hermione gasped from her corner and even Ginny was compelled to let out an indignant. "Bill!"

Bill didn't look sorry in the slightest as he shouted back, "So what? I had to--"

"So what?" Fleur repeated furiously as she finally dropped her arms and ceased trying to give Bill another black eye. She turned to appeal to Ginny. "So what, he sayz!" Ginny brushed aside the last of her tears as she sat up to give her sister-in-law an approving nod, silently telling her to give him hell. Fleur immediately complied. "If we are to be married, we 'ave to work togezer! You cannot run off! If you go, I go! It iz as simple as zat!"

Even though the onslaught seemed to have ceased for now, Bill wisely kept his hands protectively over his face. "You know you couldn't go! It wouldn't be safe!"

"I am perfectly capable of taking care--"

"It's not just that!" Bill reminded her hotly.

"Zen what is it?!"

"You know why!"

Fleur emitted a disgruntled snort that was most unladylike and went completely against all of her Beauxbatons training. She clearly had been spending a lot of time with the Weasley men. "Zat doesn't mean I do not want to fight! It would probably be safer for me to fight now zen ever! If I am protecting two lives, I will fight 'arder!"

"Two lives?!" Ginny and Mrs. Weasley exclaimed simultaneously before Fleur could continue or Bill could respond.

All the men except Bill and Mr. Weasley were appropriately bemused and looked at each other in confusion while Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth in pleased surprise. "What?" Percy finally asked after he turned to appeal to Harry and only received a shrug. "What does that mean?"

Mrs. Weasley ignored her son and jumped to her feet, fresh tears sparkling in her eyes at the prospect of new life. "You're pregnant?"

It was one of the few times Fleur Delacour-Weasley ever looked embarrassed. "Well, yes--"

"Oh, my dear!" Molly Weasley flew over to her newest daughter and embraced her fiercely. "Congratulations!" The other Weasleys soon surrounded her and Bill, hugging, shaking hands, offering their best wishes and opinions to what the baby should be named. Hermione smiled at her favorite family, heart swelling for them. This was probably the best news they could ever receive on a black day like this.

As soon as the hubbub had died down and the others had returned to their seats, Fleur furiously turned back to Bill, whose hands immediately flew up once again. "Are you 'appy now? Iz zis 'ow you wanted to tell your family about zis?"

"Actually, yeah," Bill quipped. He tentatively lowered his arms and tried a smile on her, and although she didn't return it, she didn't try to hit him again, which everyone took as a very hopeful sign. Fleur stood still and silent as she considered her options, but her face faltered and changed as she saw something over Bill's shoulder. "What?" Bill asked immediately as he turned too along with the rest of his family. His eyes went over to the entrance to the hall. "Oh."

Hermione, who was still lingering in the entryway, turned too and her heartstrings immediately tugged with sympathy. Although she had never met them before, she knew precisely who they were. Harry had told her that Andromeda Tonks bore a striking resemblance to Bellatrix and the turquoise-hair child with kind, brown eyes--Remus's eyes--had to be Teddy Lupin.

Mrs. Tonks, with the baby in one arm and a large, oddly-shaped bag in the other, clearly had been crying for several hours and only had just been able to pull herself together enough to make the journey up north. The woman stopped short when she realized all eyes were on her, sniffed once, and looked about for a friendly face. She found one in Molly Weasley and hastened over to the family. She set down the large bag so she could adjust Teddy in a more comfortable position. The little boy gurgled happily as he tugged on his grandmother's collar, his hair changing color every time he gave the fabric a yank. He had no idea what he had lost today. "Where's my daughter and son-in-law?" she asked gravely, her voice torn and weary from all the sobbing.

Minerva McGonagall tactfully cleared her throat to call attention to herself as she approached her. "I can take you," she offered kindly.

"Thank you." Andromeda started to be led out of the room, but she paused when she saw the dark-haired hero sitting amongst the redheads. "Wait. Hold him, could you?" She handed Minerva the baby, who let out a surprised 'oomph' at the unexpected burden suddenly in her arms. Teddy however blew an utterly charming bubble out of his own saliva and even Professor McGonagall fell in love and cuddled the child close to her. Andromeda Tonks picked up the bag and motioned to Harry to join her.

Utterly bewildered, Harry complied. He couldn't look at her. "I--I'm--I'm so sorry," he managed to get out.

Mrs. Tonks gave him a watery smile. "Thank you, dear boy," she said quietly. Tears were starting to drip down her face, but she ignored them as she gave Harry an affectionate pat on the shoulder and smoothed his hair in the motherly way that Mrs. Weasley always did. "I have something for you," she told him. "Well, it's not from me, actually," she corrected as Harry opened his mouth to protest. "It's from Remus." Without further ado, she opened the bag and extracted what could only be a perfect, brand-new Firebolt. "Here."

Harry could only stare. He looked just like he did when he received his Nimbus 2000. "It's a Firebolt," he finally said somewhat stupidly.

"Yes, it is. It's yours."

Harry's head jerked up from the broom, too surprised to speak.

"You lost your broom, didn't you?"

"Uh--yeah, yeah," Harry confirmed with a shake of the head. "But I didn't tell him. I didn't tell anyone--"

"Remus knew," she continued with a slight quaver. "He noticed that it was missing the night they rescued you so he assumed it had been lost in the fight. He knew you needed another one and he said--he said that it was a Marauder's responsibility to get it for you. I don't know what that means, but..." She trailed off when she saw Harry's face break for a moment. "...you do, don't you?"

Harry nodded thickly. He sniffed hard as he finally reached out to take the broomstick. It was identical in every way to the one Sirius had given him so long ago. He ran his hand over the smooth handle. "It's perfect," he said in a small voice.

Andromeda smiled for the first time that day. "He wanted to get it for your birthday, but it took a while to save up the money and then broomsticks were hard to come by--the Ministry was afraid that people would attempt to fly out of the country so they put a ban on the best ones--so he had to go through some unconventional means to find it, but he did it. He was saving it for your next birthday, but I thought--I thought you might want it now."

Harry suddenly straightened up with realization and held out the broom to Mrs. Tonks. "I can't--it's too much--sell it--or save it for Teddy--"

"No," Andromeda refused as she took a step back, her hands in the air in surrender. "Remus knew you'd try that, so he made sure that it was non-refundable and he said that as for Teddy, it's a godfather's job to buy him a broom, right?"

Harry looked over at the child in his professor's arms. He swallowed hard as his shoulders squared with newfound responsibility. "Yeah. It is."

Andromeda's hand was back on Harry's head, trying once again to smooth his unruly hair. The tears were falling in earnest now, but her voice was stronger than ever. "He talked about you all the time," she confided. She nodded to the baby who was watching them with keen interest. "Talked to Teddy about how brave his godfather was. He couldn't wait for you to meet him."

Harry was working really hard not to collapse, so he stayed very still and stared only at his godson in hopes that the child's naïve happiness could somehow pass to him and ease the situation just a bit. Mrs. Tonks moved Harry's head so he had to look at her; this was too important. He had to know that this was true. "He loved you like a son. He was afraid to show it, I think he knew this would happen, which is why he made sure I knew to do all of this, and also because he knew that you couldn't--"

She broke off, uncertain whether or not to finish the thought. Harry nodded painfully so she knew he understood perfectly. He had already lost three fathers in one lifetime; losing a fourth would be nearly impossible to bear. Harry's chest heaved as he glanced at the baby again, and then back at Mrs. Tonks. His eyes were very red. "It--still--he--was still--"

"I know," she soothed. "I know."

And that was the moment that Harry Potter finally gave in and allowed himself to cry for everything and everyone he had lost last night. Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley all instinctively twitched, wanting to go to him, but all of them knew that Andromeda Tonks was the woman for the job at the moment. She wrapped her arms tightly around him so he knew that even though he would always blame himself for their deaths, no one else did; that everyone in this room would love him forever, not because he was the Boy Who Lived, but because he was Harry; he was so very Harry and so very wonderful and they were all so lucky to have him in their lives.

After a while, Harry recovered and straightened up, looking quite embarrassed to have caused such a spectacle, but Mrs. Tonks gave him an affectionate peck on the cheek to assuage him before she returned to Professor McGonagall to retrieve her grandson. Teddy also received a warm kiss of the cheek. Andromeda readjusted Teddy's blanket around him as she walked back to Harry. "I don't want to take him to see his parents," she confided. "Not just yet." She held out the child to his godfather. "Could you?"

Harry, who had just saved the world and vanquished the most powerful Dark wizard of their time, suddenly looked absolutely terrified. "Oh--well--um--"

Teddy was already in his arms. Harry's entire body instantly stiffened as he rigidly froze, not even daring to breathe lest he disturb the child who had already been through so much. Sensing his godfather's discomfort, Teddy squirmed and started to whimper, his face puckered in preparation to cry. Harry looked rapidly all around him, but Mrs. Tonks and McGonagall was already gone, leaving him quite alone and helpless. "Uh--"

Ginny swiftly came to the rescue. "Here. Hold him like this." Ginny gently extricated Teddy from Harry's grasp and cradled him carefully so his head rested against her elbow. She raised that arm so Teddy was at a different. He quickly quieted and relaxed into Ginny's arms. She spoke softly to him as she returned to her seat and even from a distance, Hermione could have sworn that the little boy smiled.

Harry followed her, absolutely amazed and more in love than ever before. "How'd you do that?"

"Tonks brought him over one time," Ginny explained softly. "I watched how she held him. That's what Mum always said; watch how the mother holds the baby and that's how you should hold him." She twisted her neck to find her mum who was watching them with very wet eyes. "Right, Mum?"

"Right, Ginerva," Mrs. Weasley returned proudly. She leaned against her husband who kissed the side of her forehead.

Harry leaned forward to wrap the blue blanket more securely around Teddy, but before he could move his hand away, Teddy had reached out with his little hand and grabbed Harry's finger, never wanting to let go. Harry's entire face softened. "Hey," he said to his godson. "You've got quite a grip there." He nudged Ginny carefully with his shoulder. "I think we've got a Keeper."

"Finally someone to play against Ron," Ginny agreed.

Harry moved his finger Teddy was clutching back and forth, laughing as the baby's hair turned from turquoise to the exact same shade as Harry's unruly head of hair. "I'll teach you how to fly," he promised him. "We'll have to get you a broomstick pretty quick, I started flying around this age, I reckon you're ready too."

"I think you'll have to wait a little longer, Harry," Ginny disagreed. She bounced Teddy in her arms and spoke to him a gentler voice most adults reserved only for children. "Godfather Harry is a little crazy, isn't he, Teddy?"

"Or Aunt Ginny is a bit overprotective, isn't she, Teddy?" Harry returned. Teddy let out another gurgle that might have been a laugh. The couple grinned at each other at the sound of it, so they completely missed that everyone else in the Great Hall was watching them and knowing that this was a brief, fast glimpse of their future.

Hermione used the opportunity to slip out of the room. Suddenly, she really missed Ron, but she couldn't find him just yet. She had a few other things to tend to, but the sooner she completed her tasks, the sooner she could find him. She hurried up the stairs that led to the owlery with her fingers crossed. She assumed that most of the owls had fled or been killed, but perhaps some stragglers were still there and ready to fly.

To her relief, there were four remaining owls, huddled together for comfort. Hermione took a few minutes to stroke their feathers and speak to them in a low, reassuring voice. When she was certain they had calmed down, she found a supply of owl treats tucked in a cubby and poured a hefty supply onto the floor. As they cheerfully gathered around to consume the treats, Hermione used the opportunity to pull parchment, quill, and ink from her beaded bag so she could write a letter. She picked a large gray one that reminded her Errol and held out the letter to him. "Could you take this for me?"

The owl immediately took the parchment into his beak and swooped out into the early dusk, happy to be of service. Hermione went to the window to watch him go. Another one of the owls joined her and settled down on her shoulder, nipping her earlobe in gratitude for her acts of kindness. She rubbed the top of his head, thinking about her own pet. She'd have to go to Auntie Muriel's to pick up Crookshanks tomorrow; she certainly missed him an awful lot.

After one last pet of the head, Hermione gently pushed the animal off so she could be on her way. She had one more stop to make. As expected, the Hogwarts library was completely deserted so she was free to unlock the door to the Restricted Section and slip into the prohibited territory. She knew every inch of these shelves so she confidently made her way straight to the proper section. Kneeling down to retrieve the purse one last time, Hermione's eyes went straight to the telltale gap in the neatly organized shelf. She shook her head. She should have known. She should have not only searched for the books that were in the library; she should have taken notice when a book obviously was not in the library. Madame Pince would have had a record of every single book that had been on these shelves. Hermione could have probably gained access to that list if she had asked; she could have found out about the Horcrux books ages ago.

Oh well, Hermione thought as she extracted the Horcrux books she had borrowed from Dumbledore's office. Luckily, she had thought to Summon those books before leaving Hogwarts last year. Otherwise, they would still be in the middle of a war. Hermione paused so she could bask in that thought. They were no longer in the midst of war. It was over. That was going to take a while to get used to.

"Nice shirt."

Hermione twisted around. She really should be surprised to find him here, but in all honesty, she wasn't in the least. She tugged on the orange hem of the T-shirt and feigned a disgruntled look. "It's all I had," she replied flippantly.

"Looks good on you," Ron said as he stepped forward to see what she was doing. He managed to chuckle when he saw the volumes in her hands. "Returning those books?"

"Of course I did," she said. "I was just borrowing them. I never meant to keep them--I told you--"

"Yeah, yeah," Ron interjected dismissively. He watched her carefully return the books to their proper location. "Should you do that?" he asked abruptly.

Hermione sat back on her heels. "I know, I thought about that too," she said. If they left these books available to all the students, there was a possibility that another ambitious, clever student could start experimenting with immortality all over again. "But I think that it's more important that we make sure that students know how to destroy them, just in case."

Ron nodded his assent. Hermione returned her bag to her sock before climbing to her feet. "How'd you find me?"

"Oh, please," Ron scoffed with his wonderfully familiar smile, "if I can't find you, I always come here first." He led the way back to the entrance to the Restricted Section. "How are you?"

"All right," Hermione replied. "How about you--I looked for you in the Great Hall with the rest of your family, but you weren't there."

Very suddenly, Ron looked as though he had aged ten years. "Yeah. I was with George," Ron answered somberly. "He wanted some air after--" He trailed off helplessly, unable to go on any longer.

"Oh," Hermione said sympathetically. "How is he?" She flinched regretfully. "That's a stupid question, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "But thanks for asking it. He'll be okay. Eventually." Not wanting to discuss his brother any longer, he returned to the shelves of the Restricted Section and ran his finger along the worn spines, skimming the titles. "So which ones are we checking out next? I reckon you're already getting ready for next term?"

"Not just yet," Hermione answered, not wanting to tell him just yet that she too wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts. She leaned her head tiredly against the edge of the bookshelf. Now that she had finished all of her tasks for the day, she was starting to realize just how exhausted she still was. Perhaps she should have slept a bit longer. "Not until I get back from Australia."

She had hoped that the seemingly-casual mention of their trip would make him happy, but Ron actually looked a bit disappointed. "Yeah. About that." Hermione quickly straightened up. Ron paced a few steps away from her so he could lean against the bars of the Restricted Section. "Fred's funeral'll be in a few days," he said. He struggled to sift though his memory. "Tuesday I think."

"Wednesday," Hermione corrected. Ron glanced in her direction and she shrugged one shoulder. "I asked."

"Oh." A ghost of a smile flashed over his face for a moment before his grief overwhelmed him once again. "So I have to be there for that."

"I know," Hermione said, a bit confused. Of course, Ron would be at his brother's funeral.

Ron struggled to continue speaking. "So if you want to go without me, I get it."

Now Hermione was extremely confused. "What?"

"Go to Australia. To find your parents." Ron finally looked over at her, his eyes hollow and deep with hurt. "Remember? I said I'd go with you?"

"Of course I remember," Hermione returned, indignant that he'd even consider that she had forgotten. "And I can't believe that you thought I wouldn't go to the service. We'll leave on Thursday. I already sent an owl to request a Portkey; Apparating out of the country, especially if you've never been there before, is really tricky so I don't think we should risk it. I do need to ask you though if you mind traveling by Muggle airplane, at least on the way back--I don't think my parents would feel comfortable Apparating or using a Portkey so I'll at least have to go with them, but you could always Apparate back on your own while--" Ron was staring at her, causing Hermione to falter and come to an uncomfortable stop. "What?"

"I just--I just didn't think you'd go. To the funeral, I mean," Ron explained. She opened her mouth, but he hastily defended himself before she could tell him exactly what she thought about that assumption. "I know how much you miss your family; I just thought you'd want to go there straightaway."

"I do miss my family," Hermione confirmed somewhat crossly. "But Fred's family too. I'll be there."

Ron gaped at her as though he had never quite seen her before. He crossed back to her and swallowed hard. Now that they were so close, Hermione could see a fresh tearstain along his jaw. She had an awful feeling he and George hadn't returned to the Great Hall because they were too upset to face anyone. "Good," Ron said thickly. "I want you there."

"Then I'll be there," Hermione returned. She reached out to touch Ron's hand. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Ron said quickly. He would be all right. Eventually. He edgily slapped his free hand against the bars of the Restricted Section, once again avoiding her eyes. "So what's left on your list? I know you got one. What else do you need to get done today?"

"I'm actually finished for the day," Hermione replied. "I'll need to go to get Crookshanks and then I'm going to try to find a wand--I'd like to get a new one before we go to Australia." She made a face at Bellatrix's wand that was sticking out of her pocket. It had served her well, but it was still a bit painful to use and besides, the foul witch was dead now. Her wand should die with her. "But I'll do that tomorrow."

"Good." Ron pushed his hand more securely into hers. "Where d'you think Harry is?"

"Last time I saw him, he was with Ginny and the rest of your family," Hermione said.

"So he'll be busy for hours," Ron reasoned. "Ginny's going to want to spend loads of time with him."

"Probably," Hermione agreed. A very slow smile spread across her face as she suddenly knew what Ron needed right now. He didn't want to think about what he had lost; he needed to think about what he was finally gaining. "So what are we going to do?" she asked. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and lifted her eyebrows invitingly. It had been a long time since she had flirted openly with Ron. There just hadn't been time with all the Horcrux-hunting and saving-the-world. But now they had time for everything they had ever wanted. They could be stupid and stare at each other with dumb grins on their faces while playing footsy underneath the table or brush hands in front of the common room fireplace or even remain on a sofa for hours on end, only coming up for air when it was absolutely necessary. They could be teenagers now. They could finally have the carefree lives they had always wanted.

No, Hermione corrected as Ron leaned towards her to let her know her precisely what he wanted to do right now. They could be adults now. Her toes curled with pleasure. She and Ron had never had the passionate but fleeting kind of relationship that most adolescents had. It had always been something deeper, something infinitely more fulfilling and that was probably why they had never happened before last night. They simply weren't really ready. They had been two teenagers struggling to cope with adult love and even though they had thought they were--or they had hoped they were--they really weren't. But now--now--finally now--

They could do anything. They could do everything.

Well, maybe not everything just yet. Hermione embarrassedly pulled back as she realized just what they were doing in a rather public place. "What?" Ron asked, stricken, worried that he had done something horribly wrong. Hermione shook her head, blushing brightly. "Oh," Ron chuckled. "Think Madame Pince is going to catch us?"

"Well--uh--but--" Ron's hands had fallen to her waist and one finger was moving up and down her side in agonizingly slow motion. Hermione blinked and tried to focus. For some reason, that one little movement was causing her brain to completely fail her.

"What is it?" Ron pressed mischievously. "Is this against prefect regulations?"

"As a matter of fact, it is," Hermione managed to get out.

"What page is it on in the handbook?" Ron questioned with that smirk of his that could stop time. "I'll go look it up." Hermione opened her mouth to automatically spit out the correct answer, but once again, her brain was blank. Ron looked as though Harry had killed Voldemort again. "Can't remember, can you?"

"I--uh--uh--" Ron's hands were moving now, curving around so they could slide up and down her back in reassuring sweeps so she knew that this was okay, they were safe, and if anyone found them, they would probably applaud, murmur 'it's about time', and be on their merry way. They could finally do this. Hermione let out a long, long breath to steady herself. It was still so hard believe that they were finally able to do this.

"So if you can't remember--" Ron was leaning forward again, making her mind once again shut off completely so all she knew was the painful pleasure of his mouth on hers. It was almost too much, but at the same time, if it stopped, she'd die, so they had to keep on going for as long as possible. He backed her up so she bumped against the bars of the Restricted Section and her arms coiled around his neck and her back arched towards him so they could stay completely connected while relying on the support of the bars to remain upright. It was the only way they could keep their balance. Hermione's heart was pounding so hard that she thought her chest was going to explode. He really shouldn't do this to her--he must know what he did to her--how could one person incapacitate her so easily--they had been starting a perfectly good row--she could have argued with him--she knew that bloody page number--but she just couldn't--not now--not when he--this was awful--he was going to win every fight now. She'd had always known she was in trouble for loving Ron Weasley, but now she was just starting to realize just how much trouble she really was in. She grinned against him. Merlin, she loved being in trouble.

Nevertheless, she had to say something lest he get the idea that he could shut her up on a regular basis just by snogging the socks of her. Her brain was still mush, so all she could think to do was pull away and whisper, "You're horrible."

Ron nodded in complete agreement. He might have taken the statement as a criticism, but not today; he knew precisely what she meant. "You like me that way."

She mirrored his movement. "Yes, I do," she said breathlessly. Her hand came up to shakily smooth and clench his shirt, almost to remind himself that they were really standing here, struggling to catch their breaths, their hearts beating as one, their dreams for their future all coming true at a rather remarkable rate. And it was that reminder that compelled Hermione Granger to tug on Ron's shirt and fall back against the fence of the Restricted Section so they could find each other again, this time not coming up for air for a good long time. She could be a little horrible too.