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document.write(''); Death or Something Like It

Author: Elizabeth lissag7@juno.com

Rating: Probably more around PG, but I'll PG-13 just to be safe. Some violence and allusions to more adulty things.

Summary: The final battle has taken place, and Harry and co. mourn their losses, which include Hermione. But just as they begin to move on with their lives, there is an unexpected twist of fate.

Ships: H/Hr, first and foremost, some D/Hr, H/G, and a little R/L

Disclaimer: Sadly, none of these characters are mine. On a side-note, I started a similar fic with Buffy, Angel, and Spike a while back that I never finished. So if you happen to be one of the three people that read that and think that I'm stealing that idea, don't worry. It's mine.

Hermione was sleeping quite soundly now on the spare bed in Ginny's room, and though Mrs. Weasley had repeatedly told all of them that they should leave her be and let her get some rest, none of the Weasley clan had left the room since her arrival. They were all huddled on or around Ginny's bed, watching their bushy-haired friend sleep.

Fred cleared his throat suddenly, looking about. " Does this seem a little stalkerish to anyone else?"

Ginny hushed him suddenly, and her brothers all turned to look at her strangely, thinking that she had been offended by Fred's comment. It wasn't until they heard the footsteps coming up the stairs that they, too, realized someone had arrived. Expectantly, they all turned toward the door, instinctively knowing who it was.

Sure enough, the door creaked open and there was Harry. As was evident by his pumpkin patch pajamas and bare feet, he hadn't even taken the time to get dressed before coming.

He looked first to the Weasleys, who were all watching him expectantly, before his gaze fell upon Hermione. For a moment, he merely stared, disbelieving, and then slowly, tentatively, he moved forward. Coming to a stop in front of the bed, he kneeled down beside her and watched for a moment in mesmerized silence at the sight of her stomach rising and falling with each breath. Then, gently, he reached out and brushed his hand across her forearm. As skin made contact, he let out a shuddering sigh as tears began to pool in his eyes and slide down his cheeks.

This seemed to awaken the Weasleys. They moved forward, surrounding the bed, each taking their rightful place. Ron knelt down beside Harry, exchanging the first genuinely happy smile with his best friend in a good, long while; Ginny stood behind Harry, placing her hands on his shoulders; and Fred, George, and Bill stood at the foot of the bed, looking upon all of this fondly.

" I can't believe it," Harry said, shaking his head in wonder. " I just can't believe it..." He turned to Ron questioningly. " Did she say anything to you? Did you find out anything from her?"

Ron shook his head. " When I found her, she was crying outside the front door. I couldn't get her to say a word. Dad finally put a sleeping charm on her and brought her up here."

George grinned. " It's like some sort of bloody miracle, that's what it is."

" Is it?" Ginny returned, her voice filled with doubt. The others turned to stare at her. " Don't get me wrong-I'm glad that Hermione's back. Really, I am." As if to prove her point, she reached up to wipe a few tears that were trickling out of the corners of her eyes. " But what if it isn't a miracle? What if someone did this on purpose?"

By the silence in the room, it was evident that she hadn't been the only one to think such a thing. Harry turned to her, his face suddenly ugly. Ginny recoiled her hands from his shoulders instinctively. " Don't you dare suggest such a thing again," he snapped, " not to her, not to anyone. I know why she was brought back-because her death was a mistake. The universe knew that, so it brought her back, that's all."

Ignoring them, he turned back to study Hermione once more, his features softening visibly as he did so. The Weasleys looked about uneasily, not certain what to say.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley entered the room, conversing to each other in low whispers. They stopped once within hearing range of the small group gathered at Hermione's bed. " Has there been any change?" Mrs. Weasley inquired, coming forward to peer over Ginny's shoulder at the still-slumbering Hermione.

" None so far," Bill informed his mother.

Mrs. Weasley turned to her husband questioningly. " Do you think we should wake her?" she inquired.

" Not yet," Mr. Weasley advised. " She'll come about in her own due time."

" Well, wake me when she does," Fred requested, yawning as he turned and departed from the room. Sensing that they weren't particularly needed at the moment, George and Bill muttered their excuses before doing the same.

Mrs. Weasley tugged on her husband's shirtsleeve. " Come on, Arthur," she suggested, " let's go wait for the others to arrive."

Once they had gone, Harry sighed suddenly as a thought struck him. " Someone should tell Malfoy." he said reluctantly.

Ron screwed up his face. " What?" he asked, in a tone that clearly suggested Harry had gone mad.

Taking in a deep breath, Harry recounted his experience at the graveyard with Draco. When he had finished, Ginny and Ron were both looking at him in wonder. Ron's face twisted with fury. " That stupid git...in love with Hermione, is he? I'll kill him!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. " Don't be ridiculous, Ron. Obviously, Hermione didn't mind his company so much or she wouldn't have been sneaking around with him."

Ron scowled at his sister. Was it just his imagination, or was there the tiniest glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes as she spoke the words?

Harry's shoulders seemed to tighten, ever so slightly. " Well, we'll have to wait and see what Hermione thinks about it, won't we? All I know is that Malfoy, slimy buggar that he is, deserves to know that she's alive."

Ron sighed melodramatically. " Fine. But whenever that gallant-conscience thing wears off, Harry, I'll be all too glad to be around to see it."

Harry smiled lightly to himself. For some inexplicable reason, his conscience had always sounded a bit like Hermione.

Muttering to himself, Ron rose to his feet and headed for the door. He stopped before entering the hallway. " Come on, Ginny," he snapped, irritated that she hadn't realized this was a time to exit and leave Harry alone with Hermione for a bit. His sister was bright enough, but she certainly could be daft.

Glaring at her brother, Ginny turned and stormed out into the hall.

Once alone, Harry turned his entire focus to Hermione. He could hear the faint lull of her breathing, and nothing in his memory had ever sounded so blissfully perfect. This was all too wonderful to be true, he knew. Hermione was alive, after all this time. Hadn't he wished for this a thousand times? Hadn't he dreamed that it would happen? And now here she was, and he couldn't bring himself to believe it.

Suddenly, the gentle rhythm of Hermione's breathing stopped. Harry's heart lurched in panic, and for a moment he nearly stopped breathing himself. Then slowly, leisurely, Hermione's eyes fluttered open. They stared off into nothingness for a moment, disconnected, then settled on his face.

She rose abruptly, wobbling unsteadily like a deer taking its first few steps. "Oh, Harry," she gushed, " you're okay!" Her gaze traveled around the familiar room in the Burrow where she had stayed for so many summer and Christmas holidays. " Is the battle over, then? Is everyone all right?"

Harry could only stare at her, astonished. She acted as though, as though....she had never died.

Seeing the look on his face, Hermione's features instantly darkened. She reached out and took Harry's hand. " Oh, no." Tears of compassion clouded her eyes. "Everything isn't all right, is it? Someone...didn't make it." He looked away. " Please, Harry, you have to tell me. Who was it?"

Harry gripped her hand and pressed it to his forehead in anguish. " It was you," he said hoarsely.

He felt Hermione's hand go limp in his own. "Harry, what are you talking about?"

" Two months," Harry continued, refusing to release her fingers from his grip, "it's been over two months since you died. And now you're here and you're alive and you're..."

A sudden thought seemed to strike him. He reached forward gingerly and pushed back her thick hair, letting his fingers rest on her neck. All too vividly, he remembered the sharp snap when Voldemort broke her neck. But now, it was as though it had never happened; her neck was smooth and firm...and whole.

Hermione was watching him with wide eyes. Slowly, she reached up and wrapped her fingers over Harry's hand, drawing it gently away. " Harry," she said softly, her gaze wandering down to his pajamas, " are you sure that you haven't been dreaming?"

Harry met her gaze solemnly. " I'm not entirely convinced that I'm not dreaming right now," he informed her.

Hermione's eyes were troubled, and for good reason. Either her best friend was going mad, or she had been dead. They were hardly two very optimistic alternatives.

Sighing, Harry lowered his head and rested it on top of the mattress, still clutching onto her hand. " You don't know what it was like without you here," he mourned. " We were all zombies, Hermione, walking around like there was nothing left to live for. Especially me. I thought... I thought..."

But he couldn't bear to finish the sentence. Soothingly, Hermione reached out with her free hand and began to stroke his hair. " There, there," she murmured. "It's all right. I'm here now..."