There is comfort in loneliness
There is solace in sore hands.
These feelings of emptiness,
That work can't erase,
I'm trying to drive them down.
You came through the emptiness.
You came with your sore hands.
A union of lost souls,
Sharing a nameless will.
I'm trying to drive them down.
Our Nameless Will By Amandine
No matter who had come a-callin'
I would have stayed with you.
Hollow and Bold by Marla Hansen
Epilogue-Sharing A Nameless Will
Harry paced the dungeon-like corridor restlessly, his fists clenching and unclenching periodically.
"Of all the stupid-contrived-idiotic-Those absolute imbeciles-pathetic wastes of-"
"Harry," Remus sighed, clearly exasperated. "You're going to cut a trench in the stone."
Harry ignored him, continuing to pace and mutter. "If they actually think-I'll show them Dark magic-curse the pants off-break her out myself-"
"Harry! For Merlin's sake! Simmer down, will you? Hermione's going to be fine!"
"She better be, or I swear-"
"I know, I know." Remus rolled his eyes. "You'll curse them all and then break her out of Azkaban."
"And then go after their families."
Remus rolled his eyes again, scratching at the bandages on his neck.
"Stop that!" Harry barked. "Madame Pomfrey said to leave it alone."
"But it itches!" Remus whinged.
"Stop whinging!"
"Stop worrying, then."
Harry let out a huff, and then slid to the floor, looking put out.
"Harry, how could she not get off? You practically vowed to destroy the Ministry if she didn't, not to mention Molly's tearful description of her heroic rescue of Ginny, and then the rest of the Order vouched for her as well."
Harry mumbled something about `stable civilizations', `categorizations' and `scapegoats'.
"Rubbish. You've been listening to Hermione too much. If nothing else, this new regime simply can't afford to anger the people's hero and savior at this moment. They need your support."
"They should have let me stay in the courtroom," Harry grumbled. "And they shouldn't have used this courtroom at all, for that matter. Stupid Level Ten. Stupid Courtroom Ten. Stupid number ten."
Remus chuckled at that. "They have to maintain some sort of regard for the rules. You know all potential Death Eaters are tried here, and they're not going to let you sit in there and intimidate everyone in the room while they cast their votes."
Harry huffed again, crossing his arms.
"Funny, I thought you just turned eighteen, not six."
"Har. Har. Bloody hysterical. Now's hardly the time for jokes, Remus."
"Fine, fine. Excuse me for trying to bring you out of your irrational depression."
"It's not irrational! It's perfectly-"
The doors to Courtroom Ten swung open.
"Harry!"
Harry was on his feet and across the room faster than Remus could blink.
"Hermione," he breathed, feeling lightheaded. "You-?"
She beamed, her eyes sparkling. "Got off. I think it had something to do with the savior of the wizarding world sitting in my corner glaring at everyone who-mmph!"
He did not allow her to finish, pulling her close and claiming her lips with his immediately. She melted into him, her hands burrowing into the black strands of his hair.
"I just love happy endings," Tonks sighed, attaching herself to Remus' arm.
"I'm just glad to be rid of brooding!Harry," Remus quipped.
Harry released Hermione reluctantly, finally noticing the numerous flashes going off and the excited murmurs all around them.
"Oops," he muttered, a wide grin stretching his face.
"I didn't mind at all," Hermione breathed, looking flushed.
"Where to?"
Hermione bit her lip. "I hate to kill the celebratory mood, but-"
He squeezed her hand. "It's okay. Ready?"
She smiled faintly. "Yes."
They disappeared with a pop.
"And here I was, thinking there were wards preventing that sort of thing." Remus grinned, scratching at his bandages again.
"Wards don't stop Harry." Tonks replied, and then slapped Remus' hand away from his neck. "Stop that! You know what Madame Pomfrey said!"
"Sorry, dear."
A light breeze met Harry and Hermione as they arrived at their destination, ruffling their hair and cloaks. The setting was peaceful, it's rolling hills and lush grass gave off the feeling of remoteness. Indeed, the surrounding area was home to no man, wizard or muggle.
Home to no man that was alive, at least.
The land itself belonged to Harry; a lot purchased by an early ancestor in hopes that the property value would swell over the years. It had, but the land had remained undeveloped and largely forgotten. Harry had been the first to build on the land, though undoubtedly not for the purpose his great-grandfather had planned years ago.
Hermione's hand slipped into his; he gave it a soft squeeze and began to lead her toward the center of the plot of land, where a simple black gate with a decoration of a Phoenix stood. He stopped before the gate and pulled out his wand, closing his eyes for a brief moment before casting his Patronus; the majestic stag charged through the gate; it opened without a sound.
Feeling her questioning glance on him, he explained, "We all thought it'd be a nice idea to have to relive one our best memories before confronting some of our worst."
Hermione nodded, watching his Patronus prance around, a wistful look on her face. "I never quite mastered the Patronus charm," she informed him softly.
"I hadn't thought there was a spell that you couldn't master," he replied with a smile and a nudge. "You're absolutely brilliant."
She shook her head. "I must have tried it over a thousand times. It just never-worked. Some other Death Eaters could-they were twisted enough to gain actual happiness from torture and death, but I just-couldn't." She moved closer to him, tucking herself into his shoulder. "I might be able to do one now though; I've collected some different memories since then."
"We'll work on it later," he said, reveling in her warmth.
She pulled away slightly, but kept her hand in his. "I'd like that."
They passed through the gates; Hermione's shoulders tense, her face blank.
"Stop doing that," Harry chastised gently.
"Stop doing what?"
"Blocking off everything. It's okay to feel, you know."
She sighed, biting her lip, "I can't help it; I do it almost naturally now."
"We'll work on that as well."
She smiled softly. "I'd like that too."
They walked in silence until Harry spotted the tall, slate-gray grave they were looking for.
"It's over here." He led her over to the headstone, her hand gripping his tighter.
When in front of the tombstone, Hermione bowed her head, her fringe falling into her eyes, obstructing his vision of her face. She pulled out her wand and held it in both of her hands, palms up.
"Harry, can I use your wand?"
He removed it from his wand holder and handed it to her without hesitation. "It's actually your wand," he reminded her.
"It's yours, Harry, if you want it."
She placed her spare wand on the grave, and with a flick of her original wand, transfigured it into a flawless white rose.
"Hermione, what-"
"The wand that I gave to you to use against the Dark Lord, this wand, was my original wand; the one I chose as an eleven year-old-vine wood with a dragon heartstring core. That wand," she gestured to the wand-turned-rose on grave, "was given to me by the Dark-" she halted in her speech and paused. "-By-Voldemort, when I joined him; walnut with dragon heartstring."
Harry wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer, feeling remarkably proud of her for saying the name.
"I never used my vine wood wand for the Dark Arts; never killed or tortured anyone with it, only with the walnut wand." She licked her lips before continuing. "I need to leave that wand behind."
She handed her vine wood wand to him. "And I need to give this wand to you."
"But, Hermione-"
"It belongs to you," she said softly. "I'll get a new one later, I promise."
He nodded, feeling as though something very significant had just occurred, but not exactly sure what. Nevertheless, he held Hermione's vine wood wand as though it were a prized possession.
Hermione knelt down next to the grave, reaching out to brush her fingers against the rose.
"I'm sorry," she whispered to the headstone, her eyes downcast.
A single tear fell down her cheek. Harry knew it would be the only one she would shed for her past.
She stood up slowly, her eyes rising to read the inscription on the headstone with reverence.
KINGSLEY WALLER SHACKLEBOLT
BORN 29 June 1968
DIED 3 November 1996
He who was pressed from all sides
But remained victorious in spirit
Is welcomed into the choir of heroes
Harry's eyes roamed around the Order cemetery, remembering those lost in the war: his friends, his teachers, and his companions.
"I'm done, Harry."
He smiled. "Me too, but if you don't mind, I like to go-" He trailed off, feeling slightly foolish.
She read his expression immediately. "Are you sure you want me to-"
"Absolutely." Harry then hesitated. "Unless you don't want-"
She touched his face. "Harry, I'd love to go, if you want me there."
His eyes shone brightly as he gripped both her hands in his and apparated them out of the graveyard, only to appear on a deserted narrow road, just outside of a small village. He led Hermione down the now familiar path, past the cottages lining the road further on, into the center of the town, past the old war memorial, and through the kissing gate that lead to the graveyard.
It was empty, as it so often was; a smattering of flowers on a small number of the graves was the only evidence that the graveyard was ever frequented. The small church connected to the graveyard was dark and quiet, Tuesday afternoon not being a particular busy time.
He stopped in front the large gravestone with his parents' names inscribed and turned to Hermione. It was odd how standing there with her, in front of his parents' graves, produced a sort of peace that was altogether new to him.
"I can't-I mean-I don't really talk to them," he explained.
"Sometimes it's not necessary, I think."
His eyes scanned the inscription on the headstone; the last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.
"Hermione," Harry began, almost hesitantly, "you know how we blocked Voldemort's curse, don't you?"
She regarded the grave of James and Lily Potter with something close to a smile. "Of course. I don't imagine there's more than one way to block the Killing Curse."
"But-it was different when my mum-when she-"
"Maybe it was love of a different sort, but it was still unconditional in nature."
"If that's the case, shouldn't I have, well, died?"
A small crease appeared in Hermione's brow; she nibbled on her bottom lip, seemingly deep in thought. "It's hard to determine the results that added variables will have in such a complex Arithmancy problem-"
Harry shot her a slightly exasperated look, mingled with affection.
"In other words," she continued with smile, "it's impossible to say for sure, but-well-I think it has something to do with the fact that the protection from the curse was two-sided, something that wouldn't have been possible for you as a one year-old."
Harry frowned. "But doesn't every young kid instinctively love their parent?"
"Instinctively, yes, I suppose so, but I think it's the ability to accept that love, and fully recognize it, that gives it the unconditional aspect. Love can't be unconditional if you haven't experienced any conditions that would change that. Beyond that, there could be other factors as well, such as that each of us was magically mature, enabling the transmittance of the power needed to block the curse."
Harry grinned, "Ah, I give up. As long as we're both alive. `Sides, hopefully we won't need this particular bit of knowledge."
She turned to face him fully. "No more battling evil for us, then?"
"Unless you count the evils of legislature, no, I think I've had enough of that."
Hermione's eyes lit up with excitement. "Oh, Harry! We have so much to do! So many laws need rewriting! I was thinking we could start with the complete reworking of International Confederation Law 1384, since, really, it lays the foundation for all the injustices that are present in our government today, but Law 1356 could be said to do the same thing-oh, so much to do!"
Harry let out a small laugh and wrapped Hermione into a hug, kissing her on the temple. "Good thing we have a lifetime to get it all done, eh?"
Hermione halted in her muttering to look up at him, almost surprised, then relaxed into him. "Yes, that's a very good thing."
Notes:
As if I could ever kill Remus or Tonks. What's that you say about the 7th book? Who dies? La la la, I'm not listening!
I think I'll just keep using a graveyard scene in every piece of fanfiction I ever write, just in honor of my favorite scene from canon. ^^
The inscription on Kingsley's grave comes from a poem by Nobert Capek.
The inscription from the grave of James and Lily, from DH, actually comes from the Bible (Cor. 15:26, to be exact) in case anyone was wondering. ^^
So, that's the end. I had a really fun time with this one, so thanks to Harry85 for the challenge and to all of you guys for the awesome reviews.
Lately, every time I finish a story, I think it'll be my last, but then something pops into my mind and won't let me go, so this probably won't be the last you see of me-I have a couple of one-shots written already, if nothing else, and a couple of lengthy ones in the works that I'll never be able to finish. ^^
Thanks again for reading and sticking with me through this thing! Hope you enjoyed it.
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