The Coin

After fixing a light supper, Hettie curled up in front of the fire in her usual chair, the roses in the pattern of the Victorian high back more than a bit threadbare now. She had sat in this same chair for most of the fifty years she had shared with her beloved Hubert. And every evening he had sat beside her, snoring while she either read or knitted.

To all appearances, this night was the same as a thousand before it, but Hettie knew differently. She sat there reading the same page of Jane Eyre over and over again. She was unable to get past the part where Mr. Rochester and Jane were exchanging their vows. Promising to love one another `til death parted them. `Til death did they part. Why did that thought keep playing over and over in her mind?

Hettie closed her oft-read book and gently placed it on the table by her chair. She closed her eyes and recalled the warm spring day when a handsome man had waited for her under an arbor of flowers. A harp had played The Wedding March. She had floated, as if on air, down the flower-strewn path into the arms of the man she loved more than life itself.

Then she remembered a dark haired woman pressing a coin into the palm of her hand and whispering a prophecy that sent a shiver racing down her spine. Then her strange vision shifted to a brown haired young woman and a dark haired man sitting across the table from one another, obviously, at least to her, deeply in love. She had known then that it was time to pass on the coin that had been given into her safekeeping so many years before. So she had.

Hettie opened her eyes when Hubert let out an unusually loud snore; she smiled at him fondly. Since that night in the restaurant, she had second-guessed her decision more than once. Many times, she had thought of the lovely young woman and her handsome young man and had prayed that they would admit the truth to one another before it was too late. Many times she had wished she had thrown that coin into a river so that no one else would have to suffer the fate of the curse. But she had known all along that that wasn´t an option.

Trying her best to push away the feeling of dread, she woke Hubert and he shuffled off to bed behind her like he had done countless times before. But sleep eluded her. Troubling thoughts and visions assailed her every time she tried to close her eyes. Visions of the young woman she had gifted with the coin lying pale and motionless on a hospital bed. Her young man sitting beside her, holding her hand.

At almost dawn, Hettie gave up the fight. She sat alone in her garden. Ribbons of pink and purple streaked the early morning sky, chasing away the gloom of night. Those troubling visions of the night before were more than just bad dreams. Something was wrong. She could feel it in her very bones.

A chill wind sent a shiver down her spine. As dawn broke across the horizon, Hettie pulled her shawl closer around her. After her fitful night of fighting sleep, she knew one thing with an absolute certainty. The coin had been lost and the prophecy was about to be fulfilled.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Harry stood looking through the observation window of the Intensive Care Unit. He had kept a vigil there since he and Elizabeth had Apparated into the hospital the night before and a mediwizard had taken Hermione from his arms. The bereft feeling that had

overcome him when he had surrendered his welcome burden had not left him all night.

He had watched as Dr. Hastings performed spell after spell on Hermione to no avail. Now she lay there as still as death. If it wasn´t for the bright green light that emanated from the wand that the mediwitch passed over Hermione at regular thirty minute intervals, he wouldn´t have believed she was still alive.

After the initial flurry of tests, the doctor had come out and introduced himself to Elizabeth as the chief mediwizard. Harry was already well acquainted with him since he had been brought into the facility many times for various injuries he´d sustained in the line of duty. Harry was used to spending time in hospital; some things never changed. But he had only seen Hermione lying so still in a hospital bed once before-when she had been petrified during the Chamber of Secrets debacle. As much as he had been concerned for Hermione´s well being then, this time was much worse. Harry didn´t want to stop and analyze why that was.

Dr. Ian Hastings was a short, balding man with a slight paunch, but his warm, twinkling blue eyes lit up a kindly face. He had patiently explained that they had run all the normal diagnostic tests, but still were unable to pinpoint the particular spell that had been used on Hermione. It had many elements of the Avada Kedavra curse, he had told them, but said he´d ruled that one out right away since Hermione was not dead. His attempt at humor had fallen flat with a very distraught Harry, though the statement had sent Elizabeth´s mind spinning with possibilities. The doctor had promised them he would not give up until he found the right counter-curse, but he had cautioned Harry not to get his hopes up. Hermione´s condition was extremely grave. If she did not wake from the coma soon, her chances of ever waking again were very slim.

So they waited; Harry at his post, Elizabeth in a chair flipping through a parchpad, looking at old field notes. Ron and Lissa, who had been summoned by Elizabeth shortly after arrival at hospital, sat holding hands, Lissa´s head resting on Ron´s shoulder.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Sabrina let herself into Hermione´s flat with a whispered "Alohomora," glancing around to make sure no Muggles were lurking to see her casting the spell. She flipped on the lights, chasing away the last vestiges of the night.

"Crookshanks," she called out softly. "Here kitty kitty," she said as she walked through the quiet home, looking for Hermione´s pet. "Crookshanks?" But the cat did not come out to meet her nor make a sound to alert her to his presence. Great. Just like a cat, Sabrina thought. You don´t want them and they´re right under your feet. But you do and they´re nowhere to be found.

Sabrina made her way into Hermione´s bedroom, still looking for the missing feline. The secretary had been worried about Hermione yesterday when she had not shown up for work. Then late last night, she had gotten an owl from Elizabeth saying that Hermione was in hospital and her condition was critical. Even in his distressed condition, Harry had remembered to tell Elizabeth that someone needed to feed Crookshanks and he´d suggested that she owl Hermione´s secretary.

Sabrina planned on completing her task then stopping by the hospital to check on Hermione before she headed to work. Not that she thought she would get much work accomplished, but she knew her boss would want her to keep the office running as smoothly as she could until she felt well enough to come back. She refused to think that she wouldn´t see her friend´s cheerful face back in the office again.

"Crookshanks, please come out," Sabrina implored. But she heard nary a meow. She looked in the rocker, one of his favorite places to sit, but he wasn´t there. Nor was he lying on the neatly made bed.

She strode over to the bed and got down on both knees, flipping the coverlet up. She gazed under the bed and saw two pinpoints of yellow glowing back at her.

"Hello, Crookshanks."

The cat meowed a plaintive hello.

"Come on out, sweetie. I´m going to feed you." Sabrina moved back a bit and patted the floor beside her. Crookshanks didn´t move. "Come on, I know you must be hungry. I´ll feed you if you´ll just come out." His yellow eyes glowed steadily at her.

She pointed her wand under the bed and muttered "Lumos" so she could see the cat that was so flagrantly disobeying her orders. Crookshanks blinked back at her. He lay there, his crossed front paws resting on a book.

"What do you have there?" she asked the cat, reaching under the bed and pulling a familiar- looking book out. Crookshanks walked out from under the bed, his bottlebrush tail held high in the air, purring and brushing against her as he passed.

"I wonder how this got under there?" She looked at the book on coins that she had loaned Hermione.

Walking back towards the kitchen area, Sabrina safely tucked the book under her arm and held the cat food in her hand. Crookshanks followed along, weaving himself in and out between her legs. She poured some cat food in his bowl, and then got him a fresh dish of water.

Once the cat´s needs were taken care of, she sat down on the couch, opened the book and started thumbing through. About halfway into the book, her eyes lit on a coin that looked vaguely familiar. It looked like the coin Hermione had shown her, but without the actual coin to compare it to, she couldn´t be sure. She needed to get her hands on that coin. But it was probably still in Hermione´s purse and her purse was...

"At the Muggle police station," Sabrina said aloud, groaning in frustration. "I´m supposed to go there and pick it up." She´d been so preoccupied with making sure Crookshanks got fed that she´d almost forgotten the second part of her task Elizabeth had assigned her. Hermione had apparently dropped her purse when Nappa´s minions had grabbed her Apparently, one of the Aurors reported that it had been found and turned in at the police department.

Deciding that she´d stop there on her way to hospital, Sabrina cast one final look around Hermione´s flat to ascertain that everything was in place. She gave Crookshanks, who was brushing back and forth against her again, a final pat. "Your Mum will be home soon, sweetie, and until then I´ll make sure you´re taken care of." The cat´s narrowed eyes gave her the impression that he was questioning her word. She only hoped that she was telling him the truth. She hurried out the door, anxious to retrieve Hermione´s purse and get to the hospital to see for herself how Hermione was doing.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Walking back towards the Intensive Care Unit, Lissa observed her fiancé sitting with his head in his hands, his shoulders slumped dejectedly. It broke her heart to see him in so much pain. She knew he was worried sick about Hermione, as well as Harry, who wasn´t fairing very well himself at the moment. Harry was standing at the observation window, where he had been all night and most of the day. It was as if he was a tree rooted to the spot and even the fiercest wind wouldn´t be able to move him at all.

Ron had tried several times throughout the day to get Harry to leave his vigil, but he would not be swayed. From Ron´s defeated posture, it looked like his latest attempt had failed also. Well, enough is enough. Harry´s going to get out of here for a while if I have to have Ron bodily carry him out.

Lissa walked over to Ron and gently touched him on the shoulder. She smiled encouragingly at him when he looked up wearily at her. Ron gratefully took the cup of hot coffee she offered. Taking a moment to run her free hand through his fiery locks, she met and held his gaze, lending her strength and support. Lissa trailed her hand down the side of Ron´s face and gave him one final smile, before bending down to place a soft kiss on his lips. Then she strode purposefully over to where Harry stood.

"Harry," she said gently, touching his arm.

When he looked down at her, she offered him the other cup of coffee she carried. He took it from her, but made no move to drink it, then riveted his gaze back to Hermione´s lifeless form.

"Harry." He didn´t acknowledge her this time. It was as if he hadn´t heard her.

"Harry," she spoke more loudly this time using her schoolteacher´s tone that never failed to gain her students´ attention. Harry reluctantly tore his gaze away from Hermione to look at Lissa.

Lissa gentled her voice, but still spoke in a firm tone that brooked no argument. "Take your coffee and go for a walk with Ron."

Harry was shaking his head as the refusal fell from his lips. "Hermione might wake up and I want to be here."

"Harry, you´ve been here all night and day. You´re about to collapse yourself. You´re not going to do Hermione any good when," she emphasized the word, "she wakes up. I´ll stay with her. I promise I won´t leave her. If she wakes while you´re gone, I´ll send for you immediately."

Ron had come up behind Harry while Lissa was speaking. "Come on, mate. Let´s take a walk." He gently urged Harry away from the window, but his eyes stayed locked on Hermione´s still form.

"You´ll call me if she wakes up?" Harry´s green eyes bore into Lissa´s hazel ones.

"I promise."

Harry reluctantly followed Ron down the long corridor that led out into an enclosed garden off the Intensive Care wing.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

The clock had long since clicked over to Time To Go Home, but Sabrina still sat at her desk sorting through files. Putting all the urgent ones in one pile, she shuffled the others to the side of her desk.

"That´s it. That´s all I can do for today," she said to the empty office. Giving the files one last resigned look, she reached in the drawer for her purse and pulled it out, along with Hermione´s.

After she had picked up Hermione´s purse at the police station, she had gone by the hospital to check on her condition. But as soon as she had arrived at work, there had been too many things that needed her attention, so she had put the purse away and had not given it another thought all day.

"Hmm, I never did get a chance to look through here. And I guess there´s no time like the present." She turned the purse upside down and scattered the contents out all across her desk. There was the usual array of things found in a witch´s purse, but no stray coin caught her eye. She sifted through the contents, picking up objects to make sure that the coin wasn´t underneath anything, but no luck. Sabrina thought that Hermione had dropped the coin down into her purse, but maybe she had moved it to her wallet instead. Emptying out the coins she found there, she saw sickles and knuts, but no old coin.

What if Hermione had lost the coin? What if the prophecy was coming true?

Sabrina gathered up the contents of Hermione´s purse and hurriedly stuffed them back into the bag. Picking up her own purse, as well as the book on old coins, Sabrina prepared to Disapparate. She was determined to investigate the mystery of the coin further to see if it had any bearings on Hermione´s present circumstances.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Harry sat on the cold stone bench in the enclosed garden, his coffee cold and forgotten on the bench beside him. His eyes kept darting back to the door that led to the Intensive Care Unit every few seconds. Ron stood a few feet away, carefully studying his best friend. Harry looked a fright. His usually unruly, dark hair was sticking out in every direction where he´d run his hands through it continuously. His normally vivid green eyes were pale and shadowed with worry. He looked more weary and worn than he had after he had returned from his final battle with Voldemort.

Ron walked over and sat on the bench beside Harry, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "She´ll be okay, mate," he reassured.

"We don´t know that." Harry´s voice was flat, monotone.

A pang shot through Ron´s heart. He knew Harry was right, but he refused to believe that Hermione wouldn´t make a full recovery. "If anyone can beat this, Harry, it´s her. Hermione is one of the strongest people I know. And she has something to live for, something that is sure to bring her back."

Harry turned questioning eyes to Ron.

"You," he said simply. "She has you to come back to."

Harry gave an undignified snort.

Ron just smiled. "Don´t you know by now how much she loves you? She wants to spend the rest of her life loving you. There´s no way she won´t come back so she can do that. You know Hermione, she never gives up when it´s something important."

Jumping to his feet and rounding on his best friend, an anguished look Ron had never seen on his visage before, Harry shouted, "And look where that´s gotten her. Look what loving me has gotten her. She could die, Ron. She could die." Harry slumped back onto the bench, burying his head in his hands, anguished sobs wracking his body.

Eyes full of compassion, Ron laid his hand supportively on Harry´s shoulder, allowing him to express the grief he´d carefully bottled up inside since he´d brought Hermione into the hospital. Finally Harry´s sobs subsided, but he didn´t raise his head from his hands.

His own voice clogged with tears, Ron tried to speak. "Harry." When Harry offered no response, Ron cleared his throat and tried again. "Harry."

This time, Harry raised his tear-streaked face to meet his best friend´s. Ron could only imagine the pain Harry was feeling at that moment. If it had been Lissa... Ron let that thought go; the knifelike pain that twisted his heart didn´t even bear contemplating.

"Harry, you have to believe that she´ll be okay. That your love for her will be enough to bring her back."

"I don´t love her, Ron. I can´t." Harry raised desolate eyes to plead with his friend. The raised eyebrow above Ron´s eye gave little doubt that he´d be just as likely to believe that Fluffy was the gentlest of lap dogs as that Harry didn´t love Hermione.

"If she gets better...no, when...when she gets better," Harry gulped, "I´ll break up with her. That will put her out of harm´s way. Nappa only took her because we were dating."

Ron stared at Harry incredulously. "Do you really believe that breaking up with her will put her out of harm´s way? You think Nappa´s that stupid?"

Harry glared at Ron mutinously. "I´ll make him believe it. I´ll even stage a big scene with

Hermione and have her say she doesn´t want anything else to do with me because loving me is too dangerous. And that wouldn´t be a lie."

Ron rolled his eyes and snorted. "You actually think you´re going to get Hermione to say that? Are you completely daft or simply more stupid than Crabbe and Goyle put together?"

Bolting up from the bench, Harry started pacing back and forth. "I have to break up with her, Ron. I don´t have a choice. It´s the only way to keep her safe."

Ron stopped Harry´s pacing with a gentle hand to his arm. "Harry, being associated with you comes with a certain level of risk. It always has...we´ve known that since we were eleven. We accepted that risk when we became your friend."

"But you shouldn´t have had to." Harry´s voice had a resigned air.

"No, maybe not. But it´s all part and parcel of loving The Boy Who Lived. Hermione knows that. When she wakes up, you can ask her if she regrets saving a boy from McGonagall´s wrath after a certain incident with a troll, or if she regrets falling in love with a man who has powerful enemies that are bent on doing him harm."

Ron paused and looked into Harry´s tear clouded eyes. "I think you know what the answer will be, mate."

Harry nodded.

"But I´ve got to make sure she´s protected," insisted Harry.

"There just might be a way," Ron mused. "Maybe..."

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

After their conversation, Ron had urged Harry to go lie down for a bit. He knew in all probability Harry wouldn´t actually sleep, but he´d finally convinced him to at least go home, shower and try to nap for a while. Only after repeated promises to notify him immediately to any change in Hermione´s condition had he agreed.

Ron stood staring in the observation window. It had been two days now and Hermione showed no signs of waking. He´d sat with her until a mediwitch had run him out of the room.

"What if she doesn´t get better, Lissa?" he asked miserably.

Lissa, who had come in moments before to stand several feet behind her fiancé, walked up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist, hugging him from behind. "How´d you know I was here? And don´t tell me it was magic." Lissa smiled against his back where she had laid her head.

"No. I saw your reflection in the glass." Ron couldn´t quite bring himself to smile back.

"No change?" asked Lissa.

"No." Ron choked back a sob.

Lissa was in his arms a second later, hugging him tightly. Ron clung to her as if she were his only lifeline in a raging sea. In fact, if he were honest with himself, he did feel battered and bruised by the emotions of the last two days, as if he had been tossed about and broken up like a wooden ship at the mercy of a turbulent ocean. Lissa was the only constant in the raging storm, the one thing he could depend upon.

She held him for a long time, rubbing his back soothingly and murmuring words of comfort and love. Finally, he pulled far enough away to look down at her, but he didn´t release her from his arms nor did she take hers from around him.

"I´m so proud of you, sweetheart," Lissa´s voice trembled.

"Proud of me?" Ron sounded confused.

Lissa looked up into her fiancé´s reddened eyes. "You´ve been so strong for Harry and Hermione. I know how much you love them both and how hard this must be on you."

Ron nodded. "They´re my best friends. I don´t know what I´d do without Miss Know It All in there to tell me how much I don´t know. And Harry. Harry would be lost without her. I´m not sure he could survive the guilt of her death. I watched him battle his guilt over his parents´ deaths, after he found out the truth. Of course, he turned that guilt into hate...against Voldemort. That´s where it should have been. But this time, I´m afraid he´d let the guilt of her death eat him alive."

When he stopped talking, Lissa gave him an encouraging smile. She could tell that letting out his feelings was working a catharsis on his soul. She could feel some of the tension leaving his body.

"Have I ever told you that I used to be jealous of Harry?"

Lissa shook her head.

"I was... very jealous. I wanted to be Harry. Or at least be famous and important like him. I´ve always lived in the shadows, first of my older brothers then as Harry Potter´s friend and sidekick. I wanted everyone to say `that´s Ron Weasley.´ Not `that´s Harry Potter´s best friend.´ But now I know what being The Boy Who Lived has cost Harry and I´m glad I´m just plain ole Ron Weasley. I don´t know what I´d do if I was famous and someone came after you because of me. I can imagine how Harry must feel. If that was you in there..." Ron trailed off, unable to continue.

"So you told Harry that he should feel guilty because he´s the reason Hermione is lying in there?" Lissa quirked her eyebrow.

"Of course not. I told him that Hermione knew the risk she was taking getting involved with him and she did it anyway because she loves him."

"That´s right, Ron," Lissa said gently. "It doesn´t matter if you´re famous or not. Loving someone is a risk. You´re never promised that the person you love will always be safe or well. But you give your heart and you take that chance because when you truly love someone, there isn´t anything else you can do."

Tears glistened in Ron´s eyes again. He pulled her back into his arms and held her close. "I love you so much."

"And I love you, Ron."

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Silence lay like a heavy blanket over the room, muffling all sounds. Hermione´s brown hair fanned out like a tangled web onto the pillow to frame her pale face. The rise and fall of her chest was barely perceptible with each shallow breath; she lay there completely motionless. Harry sat in the chair beside her bed, holding her cold hand which was clasped tightly in both of his.

As soon as Harry had arrived back from his short visit to his flat, Dr. Hastings had come to him to inform him that they had done everything they knew how to do to make Hermione well. But nothing had worked. She was slipping away. It was only a matter of time. He´d kindly informed Harry that he could sit with Hermione if he wished.

So Harry sat. With every tick of the clock, he watched as Hermione´s life ebbed away, one breath at a time. He´d tried to reach her parents, but they were on a safari in Africa, a present from Hermione when she had gotten her promotion. He still had people out looking for them but he didn´t think that they would make it home in time.

Time. He´d had so little of it with Hermione in the grand scheme of things. Although they´d been friends for fourteen years, he felt like his life with her had just begun the moment of their first kiss. That´s when his world had shifted. Changed. Been shaken up like one of those snow globes filled with water and artificial snowflakes. Kissing Hermione had turned his world upside down like one of those globes and given it a few shakes for good measure. Only in the last several weeks, the flurry had started to settle to reveal the peaceful scene that his life was supposed to be. His life with Hermione.

Harry looked down at their joined hands. Hers seemed so small in comparison. Over the last several weeks, he´d come to expect the warm, safe feeling that encompassed him whenever she had slipped her hand so trustingly into his own. Sitting there now, however, holding her hand, he didn´t feel the same warm sensations that usually flooded him. Instead he felt clammy, like her hand felt. An almost lifeless cold--a feeling not unlike the first time he had ever encountered a Dementor.

Slowly raising her hand to his lips, he began to kiss each cool fingertip. His mind flashed back to the last time he had done so. But last time, her eyes had smiled back at him and promised so much more.

And he had kissed her softly, and then he had Disapparated.

"I´m still holding you to that promise, Hermione."

Harry brought Hermione´s hand, still clasped firmly in both of his, to his heart. Had it only been a few nights ago that he and Hermione had almost made love? The urgent owl had turned out to be a false lead, and he had wasted the night chasing shadows instead of making love with Hermione. Now he might never get the chance. Regret crashed into him like an unexpected Bludger.

"Please, Hermione. You have to wake up. There are still so many things we need to do. And there are still so many things I need to say to you," Harry´s voice broke on a sob. It took him a moment to realize that someone´s hand was resting on his shoulder. Harry looked up through tear-blurred eyes to see Ron standing there, his face full of compassion and sorrow.

"I´m sorry to bother you, mate, but Elizabeth is here and says she needs to talk with you and Dr. Hastings," Ron said apologetically. "She says it´s important."

Harry nodded, rose stiffly from his seat, then bent over and pressed a kiss to Hermione´s forehead and whispered, "I´ll be right back." He reluctantly released her hand, laid it gently by her side and followed Ron from the room.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Sabrina sat cross-legged in the chair at her kitchen table, several old books lying open, cluttering its surface. She had been poring over the tomes in every spare minute of free time since she had found the other book on coins at Hermione´s flat. Hermione might have shrugged it off as unimportant, but Sabrina wasn´t sure that Hermione´s present circumstances didn´t have a direct correlation to the curse.

Crookshanks walked back and forth across her table, pausing here and there to stare down at a book as if he, too, were poring over the pages. Her grandmother would have a fit, she thought, if she saw a cat walking on the kitchen table, but Sabrina didn´t have the heart to chastise him. She´d brought him over to her flat after work today because that seemed more logical than going back and forth to feed him.

Pausing at a particularly ancient tome, Crookshanks pawed the page until it turned to the next one. "Careful with that Crookshanks, that´s a very old book." Sabrina admonished as she went back to reading the book in front of her. Crookshanks meowed loudly and looked back down at the page. Sabrina looked back up to see the cat staring intently back at her, then staring down at his paw.

"Find something?" she asked in an amused tone.

Crookshanks meowed what sounded remarkably like a yes to her.

Chuckling in amusement, but her natural curiosity piqued, Sabrina reached for the ancient book. Briefly scanning the page, she exclaimed "For Merlin´s sake! That´s it. I can´t believe it could possibly be that easy. I´ve got to get to Harry now." Closing the book, Sabrina hurriedly found her wand and her cloak and Disapparated.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Harry sat in the quiet waiting room. The doctor had banished him there sometime ago. Ron and Lissa sat across from him, their hands entwined, Lissa´s head resting wearily on Ron´s shoulder. Ron flipped idly through a sports magazine, trying unsuccessfully to read an article on the Chudley Canons. Harry sat staring into space, his mind lost in thought.

The quiet reverie was broken when several mediwitches came rushing by heading straight into Hermione´s room. Harry, Ron and Lissa followed quickly, looking through the glass partition. Flurried activity was taking place all around Hermione´s bedside. They could hear spells being cast in loud, desperate voices. Dr. Hastings, who had been standing at the head of the bed, waved his wand calmly over Hermione´s chest. It emitted a scarlet red light and a low, sad hum. His face was grim as he said, "Time of death, 22:16."

All the mediwitches except one filed solemnly out of the room, most avoiding looking at the trio, who stared numbly through the window. The ones who did look their way cast them sympathetic glances. At Dr. Hastings´ nod, the remaining mediwitch slowly pulled the sheet up, covering Hermione completely. He shook his head regretfully and walked slowly out of the room.

"I´m so sorry. I wish there was something I could have done."

Harry nodded mutely. Ron offered his hand to the doctor. "Thank you, Dr. Hastings. We know you did your best." The doctor shook Ron´s hand, nodded, then left the three alone to their grief.

Hugging Ron tightly, Lissa buried her head in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Ron rubbed one hand comforting up and down her back as he reached out to Harry with his other, placing it on his shoulder. Harry shrugged it off. "Don´t, Ron. Just don´t."

Harry turned back to the window, staring blankly at the sheet-covered form of Hermione. His white knuckles gripped the edge of the windowsill, the only outward sign of his emotions. Ron held Lissa, his face buried in her hair, rocking her back and forth.

At that moment, Sabrina walked into the Intensive Care Unit and took in the scene in a glance. Sorrow washed over her in icy waves. She was too late.

None of them noticed the cloaked wizard, who had been surveying the scene from down the hall, as he Disapparated with a smile on his face.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

The day of the funeral dawned bright and beautiful, not overcast and drizzly like a typical London day. That was only fitting since this wasn´t a typical day. This was the day that they were laying Hermione Granger to rest. She had been only twenty-five years old, her life barely begun when she had been taken away so senselessly, needlessly, tragically.

Draco Malfoy looked at the mourners assembled by the freshly turned grave. It was a small gathering. He knew that if Harry hadn´t had his way that a large number of people would be gathered at the graveside. Hermione Granger was that loved by wizard and Muggle alike. But Harry had insisted that he hadn´t wanted Hermione´s funeral to become a circus for both media and curious bystanders. He had wanted only close friends and family there. Hermione´s parents, who had indeed arrived too late to say good-bye to their daughter, had agreed.

It still amazed Draco that he was counted among those few gathered here and then only by virtue of the fact that he was Ginny´s boyfriend. When he had started dating her, Ron and Harry had been less than thrilled. But Ginny´s steadfast belief that he had changed from the boy that they had all hated in school finally won their grudging acceptance, if not their approval. He felt that Hermione had been instrumental in helping with that change of attitude because she could see how happy he made her best friend.

Regret coursed through Draco. In the last several weeks that Harry and Hermione had been dating, Ginny had insisted that he go along to several dinners with Harry, Hermione, Ron and Lissa. He was surprised to find that he had enjoyed himself. He had even thought that Harry and Ron were beginning to mellow a bit in their attitude towards him. Maybe that´s what being in love with a good woman would do to a man. He looked down at Ginny´s tear-streaked face. That was certainly what had happened to him.

Only half listening to the Granger´s white haired, kindly looking minister, who intoned the eulogy, Draco surveyed the faces around him. The whole Weasley clan was there. Molly and Arthur flanked Ron and Lissa. Arthur looked somber. Molly´s eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. Ron´s eyes were dry, but his face was etched with sorrow as he stared down at his fiancée who cried softly, her head pillowed against his shoulder. All of older Weasley children stood behind them with their families, offering a wall of unwavering support.

Hermione´s parents stood closest to the minister. Hermione´s mother was weeping copious tears into her handkerchief. Her father´s face bore the look of a man who had had his heart ripped out. Draco supposed that he had.

Three witches stood on the other side of Ginny; their faces all masks of grief. Two, he knew had worked with Hermione; Mrs. Sheldon and Sabrina, her superior and her secretary. Sabrina´s dark eyes were clouded with grief and some other emotion that Draco could not readily identify. It looked almost like guilt to him, although he couldn´t imagine what Hermione´s secretary had to feel guilty over. The other witch he had been introduced to briefly. She was Harry´s partner, Elizabeth. She kept throwing worried glances at the last person who completed the circle of mourners, Harry.

But Harry wasn´t actually part of the circle. He stood back a bit, like he could distance himself from the reality of Hermione´s death if he didn´t stand too close. His face, Draco noticed, was completely blank. No tears glistened behind the round frames of his glasses. His face could have been chiseled out of the hardest granite. No emotion crossed his features at all. He simply stared blankly at the cherry wood casket covered in a spray of white roses.

Finally, Draco knew the funeral service must be nearing an end when all the mourners, save Harry who stared steadfastly at the coffin, bowed their heads as the minister prayed, commending Hermione´s spirit to the hereafter. Once the prayer was over, everyone started moving towards the Grangers to offer their condolences. Everyone except Harry, who instead walked to the coffin.

Laying his hand on the glistening wood, a single tear drop rolling down his face, he whispered softly, "I´m sorry, Hermione." Then he turned and walked away.