A/N: I'm a bit sad right now, this is the end. But I'm also happy, now I can write more fanfics. I hope you all enjoyed this sad little story, I know I did. And though at times I had trouble, I made it to the end. (Confession, I wrote a story, non-fanfic, that took two years and now that it's finished I still won't try to publish it, I think I have to revise it plenty first.)
Anyway, thank you very much to all of you who reviewed, and read it. A few months ago, I didn't even know what the word "shipping" meant for Harry Potter.
Bolded words at the end should mean something to a few, hope it isn't too corny or cliché by now, or that the entire last bit isn't crappy. (If it is, I may write an Epilogue)
Quote really works for the whole story, but I only just discovered it.
Major question from last chapter answered here, though, *hint* I kind of have a hard time reading stories where either Harry or Hermione die. It takes a lot to get me to read on, so kudos to Paracelsus, among others, if you've ever read this.
Author's note too long now, on with chapter.
But just one more thing, THANK YOU, to you and you, and you, and all of you who read and reviewed. :D
Disclaimer: Not mine, if book seven ends this way though, maybe I can sue for copyright…. Of course, it still wouldn't have been mine in the first place and I would get sued for money I don't have.
*****
"One is left with the terrible feeling now that war settles nothing; that to win a war is as disastrous as to lose one." - Agatha Christie, Autobiography, 1977
*****
Aftermath
Someone was calling her name.
"Hermione… Hermione… can you hear me? Hermione… wake up Hermione… come on… Hermione, wake up! Oh gods how did Neville do this… Hermione wake up, please!"
She could hear them clearly, and yet they felt so far away. But that didn't change the fact that she could hear their exhaustion, their anxiety, their fear. Whoever was calling her had had a very bad fright.
But she had no concern for that, she was dying.
"Hermione… Hermione please… please wake up…. I know I wasn't too late this time, I know I didn't take too long…. I stopped them Hermione, I stopped them from kissing you…. So please… please wake up Hermione…."
If only to reassure them she wished she could move her hand, but she was too weak. It was a laborious enough task to breathe, forcing her lungs to expand and take in that shock of cold air and her heart to pump fast-freezing blood.
She couldn't feel any of her limbs anyway. She knew they were there, she just couldn't feel them.
How foolish was it to think that hypothermia was a wonderful way to die. She felt as far from sleepy as it was, despite her eyes being closed, she was very much wide awake.
How wonderful it would be to die like this indeed.
"Hermione come on, you can't do this… don't do this…. I don't care about stupid promises and anything, just don't do this…. Fight it, Hermione, live… you don't have to do it for me, do it for Emmeline… just wake up for Emmeline…. Come on Hermione! Wake up!"
With great effort, she forced up her eyelids to find, much to her dismay now, Harry kneeling beside her, shaking her numb body, trying to rouse her. His eyes looked as terrified as his voice had sounded. His face was flushed as if he had just been running, or maybe it was just the cold, and he was so absorbed in this that he didn't notice her eyes were open.
Or maybe it was because they were barely open in the first place. She couldn't do it as fully as she would like no matter how much she tried. And then too, she wasn't really sure that she wanted to open them again.
He would probably be glad to know that she was alright, but she had almost broken her promise to stay with him. No matter what he said, she knew him; he would never forgive her for it.
"Hermione please, please Hermione… don't leave me…! Not you too… please not you too, I can't do this… I can't help… I need you to live… please! I'm begging you!"
His voice was faltering; she didn't have to look up to his face to know that he was getting desperate… and that he was crying. She had rarely ever seen him cry, but she knew he was doing it now.
Maybe dying for the world wasn't such a good idea after all.
Funny, and in a very dark way, he now knew how she felt when he and Ron used to joke about it.
"Wake up please Hermione… please! I'll do anything; I'll do anything if you wake up right now…. I don't care what it is, I don't care what it takes, I'll get a Time Turner and trade places with you if I have to… just don't leave me…. Please don't leave me like this!"
She tried to groan but knew that it was all in her head. His lack of reaction at the attempt meant that no sound had escaped her lips. He just went on crying and pleading above her.
"Hermione… Hermione… I want to tell you something…. I have to… now… and I don't know if you can hear me… I wish you could… but I have to tell you this anyway…."
"Hermione I'll die if you're not here with me. I don't know what happened in this graveyard… you're going to have to wake up to tell me… but if it was for me, Hermione wake up. Don't die for me Hermione; I don't need another mother… I don't need you to die for me like she did. Wake up Hermione, please…. I can't live with that… I can't live… I won't live without you… you're the reason I'm still here now! Please Hermione… please… don't do this… wake up!"
Still nothing, she was too weak.
"I know you probably don't understand what I mean but Hermione, you can't live through Voldemort to die with Percy…. That's not fair Hermione, you can't do that… you have to wake up… if you were going to die you should have done it before so that I had no reason to live…. Please Hermione… don't leave me here alone… I don't want to be alone, don't leave me here alone…."
Feeling was returning to her somehow. She could feel as his hands nervously went to her sides, drew up her own and folded them over her chest. Then he slipped one arm beneath her back, the other under her calves, and jerkily lifted her from the cold, misted earth.
Her head lolled back and the world flipped upside down so that she finally caught a glimpse of Percy nearby.
He was smiling.
He was still smiling.
"I'll get you warm… because you have to stay with me… I have to get you warm so you'll stay with me…. Don't go away; don't go with Ron… you can't keep going with Ron when I need you…. Don't do this to me again… please Hermione…."
What was he talking about? She hadn't gone anywhere with Ron before, why was he saying that?
And where were they going? Where was everyone else? Why was he here alone? Why wasn't he mad at her?
But he answered none of those questions though, he couldn't hear them. He just carried her along- her body felt as if it were floating- and pleaded in desperate whispers.
"Please Hermione… I'm begging you… stay with me… don't leave me…. I need you too much… I… I… I love you too much. Ron was my brother, and that hurt, it still hurts… but you… you're more than my friend, you're more than my sister… you're my heart…. That's why you can't leave me… you're my heart Hermione… and if I don't have my heart I'm going to die…. Emmeline's needs me, but I'm going to die…."
Why was he saying that? He didn't mean it. He only said it because he was guilty. He could only be saying that because he was guilty. Why did he keep saying that?
"I'll get you warm, so you won't leave…. But if you're still going to, don't leave yet… give me a chance to get you warm…. Give me time… that's all I want… you and Ron gave me hope before… I want you to give me time…."
They came to a stop somewhere, she didn't know where but she knew they had stopped moving. And then she felt that old squeezing sensation. He was Disapparating them somewhere.
She hoped he had gotten her wand.
With a "pop" she barely heard, she felt a warm rush of air on her skin but knew it should be cold. Her body was yet to warm, she hoped she hadn't dropped a degree.
It was never good to have your body temperature drop a degree.
But Harry had stopped speaking too.
He carried her quickly upwards- stairs- and then into the dark of what had to be a house- Grimmauld Place- before air, that felt scorching rested unto her and she wanted to jump away out of his arms.
He was moving again no sooner than the door had time to close. She heard someone, startled; ask a frightened question, ("Oh gods, Hermione! Is she alright?") And then more voices, questions, a child's shriek ("Hermione!"), but Harry never answered and they never stopped moving.
Harry took her all the way to the stairs and then up those, one flight, two flights, three and then off somewhere to a room. She tried to think, whose room was on the third floor… oh yes… his. He was taking her to his room.
He shut and locked the door behind them, whispered, "Lumos!" and the lights came on. Then, he placed her on the bed, and as the realisation of what he intended to do came to her, he began to pull off her shoes. His hands were shaking, and it was more than with cold, as he unbuttoned, unzipped and pulled off her jeans. He had to stop more than once when he unbuttoned and then freed her of her shirt. There was some very nervous rustling in the background, and then she felt him, his entire, nervous, trembling, warm, half-naked body as he climbed over her on the bed and drew the blankets over them.
He was trying to warm her with his own body heat; the touch of her mostly bare flesh beneath his made him tremble and generated more. If she could she would have reached her arms round his neck and told him that she was okay.
But she didn't.
The warmth was making her sleepy. His arms around her, and his voice, now whispering encouragements, were as soothing as a lullaby.
He brushed his lips across her forehead, she felt her body relax completely, and she drifted off to sleep.
*****
When Hermione would awaken next, it was to the touch of golden morning sunlight playing gently at the lids of her eyes. She blinked at it and opened them.
Harry was there.
Lost in a sleep where his hands were encircling her waist, his legs were entangled with her own, and his head rested gently on the pillow next to hers.
In any other situation she would have thoroughly revelled in the feeling, but she couldn't.
Also present and apparently waiting for her to rise were various Weasleys, Lupin and Emmeline.
She was thankful that the covers came up to her neck, it would have been less than comforting for them to know that she was only in her underwear.
Of course, her clothes on the floor were already a dead giveaway too.
She blinked again, and groaned.
This alerted them to her return to consciousness, someone thrust a steaming cup of something dark at her and said, "Drink this, you'll feel better when you're done."
Sitting up, she reached a hand to take it, surprised at this ability now, part of the blanket fell away and Emmeline started singing,
"I see London, I see France,
I can see your un…"
Hermione cut her off, though in a hoarse whisper, "If you want to live… you'd better not… finish that song…"
She fell mute, but then climbed unto the bed between Harry and Hermione and wrapped her arms around her sister just as Hermione took a drink of the dark liquid.
It was hot chocolate, and sweet enough that as the warmth spilled through her chest, she felt a smile coming to her lips. She smiled at Lupin, "Thank you… I… I really needed that…."
He nodded at her, and there was a silence where she quietly drank from the cup and Emmeline lifted the fallen blanket edge to cover her carefully. She then turned around in the bed, looked down at Harry, and lifted the covers and peered in. When she noted his undress, she looked over to Hermione again, who couldn't help the colour that appeared at her cheeks, before shrugging and settling down into the space she had created between them.
When Hermione was mostly finished with her drink, Lupin asked, "Do you remember what happened in that graveyard?"
Hermione wanted to say yes, she really did. She had even stopped drinking to, but nothing came to her. It was all a very strange blur of cold, darkness, black shapes, mist and a very frightened voice calling her name.
She shook her head, "No… not much… not after the Dementors came at least."
There was a stirring in the bed that was not Emmeline. Harry must have woken or was waking up.
Lupin said, "That's okay, it doesn't matter much… we just want to know what happened with Percy… we found him after Harry brought you back…. He had been kissed… you… well… we know you weren't completely. But what happened before… can you tell us why he went through all this trouble to get you and then gets kissed by Dementors? What happened last night?"
There was that stirring again, Harry's leg came away from hers, but out of the corner of her eyes she could see that his were still tightly shut. He was probably pretending to be asleep, waiting to hear what she had to say.
She sat up a bit and settled the sheet over herself; Emmeline scooted down to the foot of the bed to listen with the others.
Mrs Weasley began to protest, "She should rest, she's been through enough, and she should really just rest now."
"I can tell you that much, you may not believe this… but Percy… he wanted to die," Hermione told them, trying to keep her voice steady to show that she was alright.
"What?" exclaimed Charlie, clearly stunned as the others were, though the only one to vocalise it. A silence had fallen at her statement.
"Yes… he went through all this trouble to take me… because he wanted to die…" she said and then began to explain.
It would take well over a half hour to do it too. Though they listened as quietly as they could, they couldn't help but interrupt sometimes as Hermione regaled the very strange and somewhat sad story of Percy Weasley. And they especially had to when she got to the part where Percy told her that his father had allowed the Death Eaters to attack them. After that they said no more.
By the time she was finished, a pin dropping would have echoed in the quiet of the bedroom.
Hermione didn't allow it to go on for long though, she had a question of her own.
Setting down the cup, and chancing a glance at Harry- eyes still shut- she asked, "How did Harry find me?"
"We're not sure," began Lupin, "We had first thought that Percy had taken you to Hogwarts, but then we realised that that was wrong. Harry had been rather impatient enough to find you already, and once we knew you weren't at Hogwarts he nearly lost it. He alone knows why he went to the graveyard… but he's still asleep now so…"
"I understand," Hermione said, and stole a look across at Harry again.
At this point, Mrs Weasley rose from her seat and said, "I think we should really let you rest again dear… you look very tired…"
"I am actually; I haven't slept in two days I think…" Hermione said, and, as if to prove it, yawned.
"Well then… we'll let you get changed so you can go down to your room…" Mrs Weasley said and began to shepherd the others out.
One by one they rose, Hermione finally noticed that Ginny had been in the corner, wordlessly watching the whole time, and left her to it. Even Emmeline, who had reached up to give her a tight hug, left the room with them. And then Mrs Weasley, being the last to go, turned just before she left to say, "Thank you."
Hermione looked at her confused, "What for? I couldn't save Percy, just like I couldn't save Ron."
"You couldn't have, they were both gone before you had the chance… but you've given them back to me…" Mrs Weasley said, and then left her to puzzle over this.
And Hermione did sit there thinking over what she said, until Harry stirred again and she realised that she was lying in his bed in only her underwear.
Again, to a part of her, not really a bad thing, but logically speaking, also not right.
She pulled the covers with her to get her clothes, quite pleased that she had use of her limbs once more, when Harry's voice came from behind, "You could have died."
She stopped, and said without looking at him, "I know… I… but I had to do something… you heard what he said… what if I hadn't been able to stop him?"
"Then I would've," he insisted, and his hand came to her arm and tried to turn her to him.
She resisted, "Your fight is done, and I couldn't let you die after you lived through that."
"That's not your decision to make," he told her, and finally got her to face him.
He sat up and stared her straight in the eyes, she dropped her head, "And this wasn't yours."
He released her arm; she moved off the bed, gathered up her clothes and began to put them on. He kept his eyes down, but she could feel him sneaking glances every now and then, so that, feeling playful, she asked, "Do you like what you see?"
He coloured, she smirked, and after that she felt them no more.
When finally, she was fully dressed, she said, "Well… I… I'm going down now, I'm famished… and tired… and… I just want to sleep."
He nodded, and then asked, "Don't you want to know how I found you?"
She stopped, considering it a moment, and then shook her head, saying with meaning, "No, I don't need to know, I know you'll always find me. That's another reason why I love you; you'll never let me get lost."
"And you won't let me lose my way…" he said. "Stay… please…."
She knew he didn't mean it that way, that he actually wanted her to stay with him like she promised, now that Percy wasn't trying to kill them anymore. It didn't stop that part of her that hadn't too terribly minded that she was half-naked in his bed from thinking it was though.
She hurriedly crushed that. For goodness sake, she had just survived almost being kissed by Dementors. The past weeks had been pure hell, what was she thinking?
She replied, "Emmeline has school… in High Wycombe… and our relatives haven't seen us since the funeral… I have to go to them…"
"Then I'll go with you…" he said.
"You can't Harry… the Weasleys, the Order… they're surely still Death Eaters out there after you, and even if not, they're reporters too… you can't…." she told him.
"They'll go after you too!" he protested.
"I'm not as prominent a target," she pointed out.
"Bellatrix and a group of them killed your parents in France, where the hell do you think you're going?" he continued to protest, his voice rising.
"I don't want to fight you, but I need to be away," she said quietly.
He sighed and looked away from her. She had a feeling he would cry again.
Why was she always hurting him?
"Then promise me you'll come back… that you won't stay away," he said, giving up immediately.
She closed her eyes and sighed.
"Harry, for what… I can't stay here and hold your hand… I can't wait around for you to maybe like me and then "give it a go"… I can't even tell you what I want to do anymore… other than get Emmeline back to school and… well… deal with my parents' Will. At sixteen I was afraid and did something stupid, I'm almost twenty and I'm not afraid anymore. But it's worth nothing at the end because you don't feel the same. I need to be away from you… because now, I can't stand waiting anymore… life's too short… I'll find someone else…"
At this he rose anxiously from the bed and said, "Did you hear anything of what I said last night?"
"What?" she asked, lost, confused and a little upset that he was ignoring her.
"Hermione, I can't do this without you… what do you think happened when you went off to France… what do you think happened last night? I went spare looking for you. I started going back to all the places Percy had been when you saw him and it was pure luck I ended up at the graveyard first. Hermione… I can't… the things I thought… what I knew… if you go then I can't… I don't know why… but I need you with me…."
She fought at tears that were welling painfully at her eyes and said, "No you don't… last night… whatever happened… you felt… you were feeling guilty… you didn't mean it."
He let out a growl of frustration, then reached a hand to her and pulled her to him. She barely had time to start at this before he very firmly kissed her.
To say that she was shocked was an understatement. And unlike that last time in a drunken haze, this was full of desperation, need, want… and she dared not think of the last.
He gripped her by the arms, pulling her as close as he dared, and pressed his lips to hers. She had gasped when he did it and he took advantage of the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. She didn't resist, she let him kiss her.
She then let him release her arms and pull her into an embrace that brought her flush against his bare chest. She let her own arms encircle his neck and he pulled her closer, twisted slightly and brought her down unto the bed with a "plop". He never broke their kiss, his tongue toying with hers, as he did it. His hands then slid down her waist and then back up her arms again to draw them from his neck, then pinned them onto the bed above her head while he came to straddle her. She accepted his weight easily, but had to stop for air.
She needed to breathe.
When she pulled away from him, both their lips swollen, he nipped at hers. She turned her cheek and forced her hands down. He let her hands escape but did not move from over her.
"You don't feel the same… I know you don't… you're feeling guilty…" she began was cut off.
"Stop trying to tell me how I feel!" he snapped. "It might have taken me weeks, a wizard turned bad and a very long night to figure it out, but I know what I do… how could I have ever wanted anyone but you?"
"If this is gratitude…" she began again, now warningly though her threat had no weight.
"Gratitude? I can't even begin to pay you back for everything you've done for me! Gratitude is there… but more than that… Hermione… I can't lose you, just promise me you'll come back…" he pleaded.
"I'm not good with promises; I couldn't help Ron so that we'd both be there when you came back. I almost died last night even after I told you that I'd be with you forever. Don't make me promise, I won't keep it," she said.
"You're here aren't you? You and Ron followed me as far as you could go didn't you? You've never broken a promise to me… wavered maybe… but you've never broken one… so please… tell me you'll come back…." He said this turning her face to his with his hand.
She looked up into his eyes, shut her own and sighed again, "Okay Harry… I'll come back. I promise."
And then he rose off of her, allowed her to get off the bed and go to the door, and with one last, sad look, leave.
*****
A leak at the Ministry of Magic meant that in less than a week the headlines of the Wizarding world's newspapers declared: "Attack at Ministry Ruin Averted by Friend of Harry Potter!" (Daily Prophet), "The Muggle-born and the Dark Wizard Part II: Showdown at Godric's Hollow!" was the callous headline of the Evening Prophet, and Witch Weekly, never one to be left out, but unable to change, came up with, "Like Father, like Son - Like Mother, like Daughter-in-law?" They had themselves a field day.
The curfew was lifted; the mist had finally too, completely cleared to appropriate periods of appearance. This meant cold winter mornings, or just after the rain, or whenever mist appeared naturally in England. The newspapers were once more on their own, Ministry business was reverted to the usual, Auror patrols were lessening, and Death Eaters were fast either slipping out of sight or going off to Azkaban.
And all this no more than three months after the Dark Lord Voldemort breathed his last breath. Nothing was going to be the same again; though it had stopped being the same the moment Harry Potter took his first step into the Wizarding world.
And then, just after the start of the school term for both Muggle and Wizarding children, it was learned that Harry Potter would be playing professional Quidditch (he didn't say for how long, just that he wanted to play Quidditch for a while, if any team would take him) and was snatched up by the English National Team, eager for a chance at the World Cup.
Bulgaria, under Viktor Krum, had taken it from Ireland the year before, (as if there wasn't a war going on) apparent revenge for their last defeat.
Hermione and Emmeline sent him a book they had made filled with clippings on his achievement, and Emmeline included a rather comical drawing- most likely without her sister's knowledge- of him standing on a fallen Viktor. They were oddly shaped, and looked more like Muggle rugby football than Quidditch, but he got the idea.
A few days later, news broke that Hermione Granger was going into teacher-training, most possibly to teach at her former school, Hogwarts, now that the curse on Defence Against the Dark Arts was hopefully lifted. (She was actually thinking about Transfiguration but the Prophet wasn't too concerned for details.)
She had been staying with her grandparents- much to the chagrin of Emmeline, who learned to use the owl post and wrote daily complaints- under the watchful eyes of Ministry Aurors. Harry was giving her the space she requested, hating every second of it, but granting her wish. When he read the article in the Prophet he sent a congratulatory note. Hermione Flooed the Weasleys just to smile.
The Weasleys made the news, briefly, at a formal memorial for Arthur, Percy (welcomed back into the family, upgraded from contemptible git to unfortunate, misguided fool) and Ronald Weasley held by the Ministry where both Harry and Hermione were noted in attendance. And then at another occasion, when Ginny Weasley, it was announced, went into training to become a Healer. And then Witch Weekly took over, releasing information about Harry Potter's ex-girlfriend and an alleged romance with new co-worker, Neville Longbottom.
(There had been some tentative questions about this from Harry and Ginny simply told him, "I heard you and Hermione talking, after the others left… I knew I didn't stand a chance after that.")
There was then a lull of a few weeks where nothing but regular news was reported, and the Man-Who-Triumphed became third page material. The newspapers became rather dull. And then, on the nineteenth of September, came a headline, the Daily Prophet winning the race to get it first: "Harry Potter to Wed Muggle-born Friend, Hermione Granger!"
The outcry that followed this, mostly consisting of, "Have you ever heard of them dating, someone said they never did!" or "They're too young! She's twenty, he's nineteen, it'll never last!" or even still, "He just got rid of that nasty evil fellow, it's too soon!" never reached the couple's ears.
They were too busy with Mrs Weasley and Grandmother Puckle planning the wedding, both of whom agreed with the general consensus but kept it to themselves.
It was hard to believe then, that at the start of the summer, Harry had just saved the world. That at last he was free to have the kind of life he never did, or even thought he would. He had lost a lot- Voldemort had left a lot of death and destruction in his wake- including his parents, Dumbledore, and Ron, his brother, but thankfully, and he would not be guilty for it, he still had Hermione.
She herself had been through a lot, facing off her own Dark Wizard and living to tell the tale. But she was still there, and with Emmeline and the Weasleys, was going to help him start his only family, one free of prophecies, evil wizards, and Dursleys.
It was going to be just like what he had seen in the Mirror of Erised, or, he hoped it would.
He liked to hope.
And then, thinking of the Mirror of Erised made him think of other things also. Things he never thought he would, or could.
Sometimes, Harry liked to think about the real purpose of everything Voldemort had put himself through. Was it really worth it to live forever, surrounded by sycophants, killing and torturing to stay in power, if you had no one and nothing to live for by doing it? No, not to Harry at least, and maybe, somewhere deep down, buried under the floorboards of a cupboard beneath the stairs he pitied him for it.
Funny, he actually sometimes mourned the man who would not have done the same for him.
But then, Harry could.
He had something to live for, or rather, someone.
Their engagement was quick, but what more could he possibly want to learn about her that he didn't already know? It took him a while to figure out that he loved her and now that he had, what was he waiting for?
Maybe he would regret it someday, but he knew he wouldn't. The moment he saw her again at the memorial he walked right up to her and took her hand in his own. She did not protest, she had come there for the memorial, but she had also come back to him.
She was never going to leave now.
"I think we're together forever Harry, no, I know it. Nothing is going to take me away from you. We'll hurt, we'll cry, but then we'll move on, like he would have wanted us to, and nothing, is going to stop me, from being with you."
In the meantime, someday, maybe not today, or next week, or next month, but someday, he and Hermione would figure out what they really wanted to do. He would not play Quidditch forever, he felt free when he was flying, but coming back down to earth and Hermione wasn't so bad. She really wasn't sure that she wanted to be a teacher, she loved learning too many new things to confine herself to one subject, but she would give it a try. And then they both were watching for any signs of magic in Emmeline. Harry didn't care what Lupin said, fighting off the Imperius Curse was very interesting news to him.
It wasn't a perfect start, but it would have to do. And on that day that they finally got it worked out, all of this would be a memory, the aftermath of a war, or a curse. No more pain, no more sadness, no more fear, just a faded remnant they would never forget. Simply, something left behind, like his scar.
Fin.
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