Quiet Revolution

Chapter 1-- Put to Rest

Tell me you love me
Come back and haunt me
Oh and I rush to the start
Running in circles
Chasing tales
Coming back as we are

Nobody said it was easy
Oh, it's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy...
No one ever said it would be this hard
Oh, take me back to start...

He was dead.

Dead.

Harry was dead.

Harry was dead.

Maybe if she saw it in writing, it would make more sense than telling herself so over and over until the words numbed and made absolutely no sense.

Hermione Granger had learned a thing or two about bluntness over the years; it was her secret weapon taken out whenever she was frustrated with her two best friends, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. Now it was her worst enemy; she had to hold herself at gunshot, pull the trigger and let it all out.

Harry was dead.

But there was good news - so was Voldemort. Yes. Right, that's great news, she thought sarcastically to herself. One of her very best friends was dead, but all everyone seemed to care about was the fact that You-Know-Who had finally fallen as well.

She'd not been present when it had happened, but Ron had. And every time he described the scene to her, she felt her stomach twisting into thick, uncomfortable knots.

'Harry was so brave,' Ron would always say while his head hung low. 'Harry fought it out until the end. Hermione, you should have seen it... Harry had finally defeated You-Know-Who -' (Ron was one of the very last people who still feared to utter his name) '- and we all thought it was over, seriously thought everything was going to be good...but suddenly, I don't know what happened but Harry just fell. His eyes closed, and he... he never opened them again. But he fought so hard, Hermione... you really should have seen it.'

Why would I have wanted to see it? she thought to herself. Why would I want to see one of my best friends fall to his untimely death? She shook her head to herself and then looked over at Ron - he was sitting next to her, stone still. His eyes were resting low and dark bags hung underneath both his eyes. His boyish red hair looked ashen. She shook her head again. It was unfair to Ron as well. He hadn't deserved it any more so than Hermione had. Ron and Harry had truly been the best of friends.

Hermione looked down at her shaking hands. It was just her and Ron now.

She looked around at all the people who had come. It was quite a massive crowd, actually. The cemetery was chilling quietly in a dark, damp state. It wasn't raining at the moment but it had poured the night before, so the cool air seemed to settle over their shoulders like a burden nobody wanted to carry. The sky that dangled in the backdrop was a meek shade of grey, and the only colour in evidence was the bold green of the trees that had littered the cemetery. All around her were dark, cold slabs of tombstones - wizards who were long gone. She dropped her head down to face the gaping dark hole in the ground, a coffin gazing back up at her. Without further hesitation, Hermione let a few quiet tears drop down on the rich cherry wood.

Maybe they had been too confident. She had always liked to nag Harry and worry incessantly about him being in danger, but she also had a tendency to beam with bright, flushing pride every time she thought about Harry defeating Voldemort at the end of each term. If he could do it for all the other times - why did he fail this time?

She had been too confident. This was completely all her fault. It---

"Hermione," a soft, strong voice said quietly, interrupting her unpleasantly dark thoughts.

She looked to her right of her shoulder and saw Professor Dumbledore, dressed in all dark, grey robes, his arm gently resting on her shoulder. His normally smiling crescent eyes looked bleak and didn't sparkle. "Are you ready?"

No, she thought to herself. I won't ever be ready.

"Yes," she whispered and began walking towards the podium.

She looked up and observed everyone. A large crowd had turned up, and they stretched all around her for about a half mile's radius. Some of the people closest to her stood near the grave, their expressions somber. Ron was studying Hermione with an obvious trace of pained sadness on his face, but he smiled slightly at her, having met her eyes. Professor McGonagall stood with a thin black veil draped over her forehead, covering her eyes. Hermione spotted a few glittering tears in her eyes through the sheer fabric. She had never, ever seen Minerva McGonagall cry before. A few other teachers had come as well; from where she stood, Hermione could see both Professor Trelawney (who, of course, had been predicting Harry's untimely death for years now, but had been in complete shock when she'd found out) and Professor Snape amongst the other Hogwarts staff.

Dobby was somewhere around, she could hear him bawling.

And the lovable row of red hair also caught her eye in the crowd. The whole Weasley family, usually quirky and bubbling with some kind of beautiful charm, now seemed to have been drained of all light and energy. They all smiled at her encouragingly though, waiting for Hermione to give the eulogy.

Her usually thick hair was limp and damp and it hung all around her face underneath her black hood as she stepped up to a floating podium that was gleaming with a bright light; it was placed just a few feet away from Harry's grave. To her surprise, in the back of the crowd, towards the side, she spotted Harry's Muggle relatives - Mr. and Mrs. Dursley and their oversized son, Dudley. They stuck out like three brightly coloured pumpkins amongst a sea of black bats. Then she remembered that Dumbledore had sent them a last minute invite as it was the right thing to do. Slight appreciation rose in her heart, for she knew Harry would have been surprised, but somewhat thankful and slightly flattered even, that they had shown up for his goodbye.

She could imagine his uncertain grin, that--

Stop it. This isn't the time.

She coughed out at the crowd and cringed slightly after hearing her cough magnified. She smiled down and then looked up, gripping one hand with the other to keep them from shaking.

"The first day I met Harry...his glasses were taped up and cracked. And his shirt was three times too big while his trousers were even more unfitting." She was shaking, but she continued. "I, of course, fixed up Harry's glasses with a simple spell. Outwardly, I was snooty and had an ego too large for the small compact of the train, but on the inside...I saw that this was Harry Potter. And the moment I laid eyes on him, I saw a bright boy with a heart of gold...and that's what made him one of the best people I've ever known - since day one. Harry was always convinced that if it hadn't been for me...he wouldn't even have lived this far." She paused again and felt her heart sighing softly. "But what he never realised was that for me...if it weren't for him, I would have never experienced a love among friends so pure, so powerful...not even the greatest kind of ancient magic would ever break this type of bond."

She was okay. Hermione swiftly brushed a few damp strands of hair from her face and continued to talk. She caught Oliver Wood smiling when she talked about Harry's undeniable love for Quidditch. Professor Snape nodded at her when she spoke of Harry's academic struggle (particularly in Potions), but how he had, for the most part, kept up a good attitude in that class. Neville Longbottom's lower lip quivered when Hermione spoke of Harry's appreciation for landing in Gryffindor and quoted him for 'meeting some of the best people on Earth.' Molly Weasley dabbed at her eyes when Hermione mentioned Harry never really knowing what having parents was like, but what he had managed to be blessed with was equal, if not far greater, than any blood family he could ever have asked for.

"Harry..." Hermione trailed off. "Harry didn't have the best life," she laughed softly. "I don't think having Lord Voldemort -" there was a quiet gasp among the crowd "-returning yearly to kill you could be called a pleasant experience. But Harry always made the best of it. So I don't have any doubts that Harry did have a good life, rich in so many ways. He had friends who were willing to go down with him." Hermione paused and smiled at Ron through tear filled eyes. He smiled back sadly. "He had the courage that made him a fighter for life. And that's what I remember...that Harry fought to be alive, just to feel life...and I remember he came up to me one day -" she stopped again, feeling choked up, but after an encouraging nod from Professor McGonagall, she continued "- and he said...'Hermione. I'm tired of fighting,' and for once I, Hermione Granger, was at a loss for words." The audience chuckled wistfully. "I finally answered. I said, 'Harry, I know. I know you're tired...and you fought 'til the very end...' and this is where I now speak for everyone here right now -"

She paused, as if something had caught in her throat, abruptly. Her hands gripped the podium tightly.

Hermione felt her heart begin to pound frantically, hammering loudly against her chest. At the very back of the crowd, leaning smoothly against a tree, was none other than Draco Malfoy.

She tried to regain her composure, not wanting anyone else to notice what she had noticed. That same pale blond hair. That ugly, ugly satisfied smirk. Malfoy leaned casually against a tree, a closed umbrella in one hand and a booted foot leaning sole to bark on the tree. He met her gaze lazily and sneered...again.

What the hell are you doing here?! She wanted to yell out. How dare you show up!

She angrily balled her hands into fists. Down in the crowd, Ron was looking at her curiously while Ginny's wide eyes were persisting Hermione to continue her speech. So she did.

"I know I speak for everyone here when I say that it was no exaggeration: Harry Potter was a hero, he was the best friend a girl could ever ask for, and he truly was the Boy Who Lived. And he still is, and always will be." She finished her speech with a small smile and looked towards the back where Malfoy was slowly walking away amongst the grey stones and lush green trees, his umbrella hoisted casually above his shoulders. He soon became no more than a dark blur melting into the creamy white mist.

She inhaled slowly. Everything felt calmer.

"And as another person who might have fought just as hard, but in a different way...Ron Weasley is now going to say a few words," Hermione added as Ron turned bright red but stepped up to the lit podium. Hermione stepped down into the front of the audience to join the Weasleys all along trying hard to fight back her tears.

"That was beautiful, dear," Molly Weasley said softly into her ear, tears already gracing her eyes. Hermione nodded, while swallowing hard, and Ginny grabbed her hand and held it for the rest of Ron's speech.

Ron's speech wasn't as sentimental or well crafted as Hermione's, as his work never really did amount to hers. But the sentiments were a lot more personal. He talked about how he and Harry were really the best of friends and how sometimes he considered himself to be in Harry's shadow, but that Harry had always been an encouraging friend. He talked about their lazy weekends and all the times they'd goofed off late into the night when there was a Potions essay to be written (Professor Snape scowled a bit from his place in the audience, although the look in his eyes was less than malevolent). And he talked about how if it weren't for Harry, he never would have experienced what it was like to truly have a best friend.

Ron never cried. He hadn't cried since the day Harry died. He had spent massive amounts of time to himself, and that was what scared Hermione. She made a mental note to spend a lot more time with Ron. Things would be different, but they didn't have to be bad.

"Oh...Ron, that was wonderful dear," Molly whispered as she rushed over to Ron and kissed him on the forehead.

"Mum..." he said, embarrassed. Hermione smiled brightly at Ron. She loved Ron. Not in that way...but she truly did love him, he was her other best friend. And now...well, he really was all she had left. He had been there for her after Harry's death, checking up on her during meals and making sure she went to bed on time.

Hermione hurried over to Ron and hugged him tightly. Ron hugged back and the two of them sunk into the moment...wishing things didn't have to be this way, but glad they still had each other.

"Ron.... Hermione...." Dumbledore's gentle but insistent voice suddenly cut them off. "It's time..."

Ron looked questioningly at Hermione as she pulled back, her hands still clutching at his forearms. She suddenly wasn't holding onto him for comfort, but rather for warmth, for security. She stood there, feeling the heat shoot out of her body, now stiff as a board, as she realised they had now neared the end of the ceremony.

It was time...

"Burning Harry's wand...." Hermione whispered. She felt like crying all over again, and even Ron's face had paled a bit.

"Let's go," Ron said, and to her surprise, he took her hand, leading her to the front near Harry's casket.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" she heard Vernon Dursley babble somewhere in the large crowd. An angry witch, obviously an avid Harry Potter supporter, got so fed up with his random outbursts that she promptly put a charm on him that zipped his lips up - literally. Petunia Dursley gasped as she attempted to unzip her husband. Dudley, at the moment, looked ready to contemplate suicide at having been surrounded by all wizards. Hermione took pity, thinking these people were Harry's blood after all, and she shot a counter charm in their direction. Vernon's mouth was returned to normal, but his face was as bright as a freshly plucked tomato. He remained quiet for the remainder of the funeral and huddled close to his family.

"Hermione," Ron said quietly as he handed her the end of Harry's wand. Hermione took it gently. The weather was frigidly cold, but Harry's wand felt warm against her fingertips, as if he had just been gripping onto it, scared for his life, a few seconds earlier.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione whispered as Ron grabbed the other end of the wand. With shaking hands, they both snapped the ends together. A silence rose among the crowd, and the soft plucked out sobs were even more audible. Most every eye in the crowd was moist at that moment.

"We have to do this, Hermione...put his spirit to rest," Ron insisted as Hermione looked down at her end of the wand. She didn't know how she was going to do this. This was the last physical thing Harry had touched before he left. This was the last material connection she had with one of her best friends.

"Hermione..." Ron said gently. She looked up at Ron. Ron was being more mature than she had ever known the whole time knowing him. If he was like this, she should at least cooperate with the ceremony.

No time to be selfish, she thought to herself. She nodded at Ron as they dropped their halves of Harry's wand into a large goblet of rising flames. The fire crackled lightly and with a loud pop, the wand melted away into the fire. There was a low sigh among the audience - the transformation was complete. Harry Potter was now no longer in the physical world with them. He had gone on.

A thin white wisp of cold breathy air arose from the flames and shot into the sky. Hermione's heart almost caught fire and stopped beating. She had hoped with all her might that Harry would return as a ghost.

But it was nothing.

The crowds had now begun to separate itself. Professor Snape patting Professor McGonagall on the back. Hagrid talking softly with an upset looking Neville - he and Harry had grown particularly close in the past few weeks. Albus Dumbledore walking over to a frightened looking Petunia Dursley and thanking her softly for taking care of Harry all these years. Hermione looked around curiously and, to her relief, was glad to see that there was no sight of Malfoy. The pull this whole day had on her heart was enough, and she was tired enough without more complications.

"Hermione?" Ron asked hesitantly as he watched her, concerned. She hadn't spoken for the longest time.

She turned to look at him, his face looked fragile and his lanky boyish body fell weak as he looked at her curiously. She bit her lower lip and tried to think of something to say.

And as she fell into his open arms, sobbing openly yet again...she found there was no need to speak. He was feeling the same thing.