Unofficial Portkey Archive

Life and Times

Rating: R

Ship: HHr (main emphasis)

The (unlovely) procedure: all rights go to JKR for previous plot and characters, Scholastic, Warner, and whoever else has their hands in HP.

To the world you may be just one person, but to one person you may be the world.

***

Chapter Fifty-Nine - Support

***

"…Tell me all about it, Harry."

A gentle breeze blows across a field of lavender, of poppies, of white roses. A crystal-clear blue sky, cloudless, hangs overhead. The trees, the grass, down to the individual leaves upon each flower is vibrant with definition, colour. The entire meadow seems painted, unreal, and perfect as just a hint of all aromas churning as one, single breath of life.

In the centre of the meadow two bodies lie.

Hermione, gazing toward the bright blue sky, lay relaxed on her back. Wearing what she wore, of black and white, on that fateful, terrifying day. The day she had been taken to the Ministry by Ginevra, and Ronald, her guardian, and given the news…that the one she lay beside had passed away.

Harry, in purest of ivory cloth, watches Hermione, his love, her eyes lively in the sun-filled environment. He has an arm around her, holding her, feeling her breathe, the lifts and descent of her form, alive. He smiles at the gift she bears him, herself, the miniscule detail of living, the zephyr taking loose strands of her hair and wafting them in the breeze, the quirk of her brow, and how she tried…desperately…not to break down.

"Dad is quite the joker. He's…just like what I dreamt of him to be. He's found it comical how I've grown up to be just like him in every way possible. Stubborn-mum calls it."

Harry chuckles.

Hermione glances from the sky to Harry, to see him laugh, to smile so gorgeously.

"Mum is…beautiful. She's everything like the picture's I've kept, the letter's she wrote, and all the things those who knew her told me about her. She was the first one I saw from the train, and the first embrace when I leapt off…"

Harry brushes some tufts of brunette shifting across Hermione's lovely features, his hand feeling her skin, his fingertips sliding down to her cheek where he cradled her.

She rubs into him.

"Severus was with mum and dad, and Minerva."

Hermione smiles, the whites of her eyes dancing.

"Seamus showed me around…it's so…no words can describe it."

"…I want to be with you…"

Harry saw the first tear trickle down Hermione's cheek.

"…You are with me…"

He wipes the tear away.

"I'll never leave you," he ended, watching another tear drop and cross her flawless skin.

"…You left me…"

Harry takes Hermione's hand, and with his, places both upon Hermione's heart. "I will always be with you."

"…I want to go with you…to Heaven…"

Harry lowers, caressing her forehead softly, to breathe in her smell. He lowers further to kiss her lips and carefully wipes away more tears cascading freely from her ducts.

"…One day your loving soul will meet with mine, again, here…," He looks back into her big brown eyes, enlarged and filled with those tears. "…I've given you everything…"

"Live for me now…," he kisses her lips.

Her heart skips a beat. "…I love you," she whispers.

"I'll always love you," she adds, stuttering breaths, her chest heaving with wrought emotion.

He caresses her forehead once more, closing his eyes, and says with kindness, "…Just remember that I'll always be there with you here…"

He places his hand upon her heart.

"…Always…"

And, she squeezes it tightly, never wanting to let go…

Hermione lay rigid, unmoving. Covered up to her neck, a pillow beneath her head, her hair in chaotic tassels, she lay looking at nothing, gone, with the visions in her head. She was there with Harry, and not inside, in the present, having heard of her beloved's tragic murder a week ago. She'd been kept to Ginny's apartment, taken Ginny's bedroom, since coming back from the Ministry.

The world had changed and gone back to a bit of the every day, thanks heavily to the Aurors, the Obliviators, and that of the Ministry's Reconstruction teams. No one in that world knew; but, within Hermione, within all those surrounding her-they knew.

Raindrops struck the window panes, streaking sideways in the shuddering gusts. Once hot tea and sandwich now lay temperate liquid and hardened bread. She hadn't eaten, stricken to the bed, and would only really move to breathe.

She wished she were there with him when it happened. To fight the Death Eaters off, to try and save him-or at least hold him, to tell him that she forever loved him, in her arms as he died. He died alone-and she couldn't do anything about it. Helplessness and hopelessness, she stared coldly at the wall, rarely blinking, utterly unconscious to the world and dead within.

She didn't change when people showed up, her friends, to go to Harry's funeral in a few short hours. Luna and Alice, and Ronald, had been there now for a while. They'd showed up every day to check on Hermione, and Gin, with Ronald stuck to Hermione's side like a watchdog. He never slept. Gin would rotate every so often with Ron, but after getting sore took to her sofa not too far away in the living space. Not that Gin ever had enough sleep, waking up every hour, on the hour, to check on Hermione.

Ronald would place a hand on Hermione just to feel her breathe in her catatonia. Gin would talk to Hermione without ever getting a response, no good mornings, good afternoons, or good nights. When Luna was there she also tried to talk to Hermione, and would carry on quite the conversation about everything and anything to the silent body tight in the sheets. Alice, on this day, had brought with her a dream catcher and had placed the round-webbed wooden device above Hermione's head on the headboard. She bent down, leaned over to Hermione, squatting, and ran her fingers through Hermione's hair.

She gazed into Hermione's cold stare and merely shook her head, sighing. She gave as much love as she could to the lacerated witch, a shell of a human. She drew closer and kissed Hermione's warm temple…

"…Ile ier raen melad…" she whispered into Hermione's ear.

…And, gave her the warmest of embraces.

When Alice stood back up she noticed Ronald behind her, at the wall, in the corner. She passed him and he gave a nod of recognition, emotionless. Alice smiled and reached for him, taking his shoulder where she squeezed, and gave him an affectionate pat as she walked back into the living quarters where Luna and Gin spoke quietly.

Ronald, overcome with emotion but treated and trained to never express truth, rubbed his face with his leather-gloved hands. He took a step towards the lifeless Hermione, all glow pattered out, all happiness gone, the very rose in her cheeks diminished to nothing. He lowered, bending, his chin on the mattress, his arm underneath to watch his Hermione…and all her deep suffering. He longed to take it away, to take it all away, to change everything. He put his hand on hers, the shape of her limp fingers held within his, and attempted to soothe her…

To get what he'd always got: the emptiness.

He looked over at the decaying sandwich, the cooling tea…the fresh bouquet of flowers he'd brought for her this morning. He took note to take the food away, to bring her back something new…in case…

He looked back at her, into her, and felt the pain…but nothing close to hers, he knew. He'd lost a brother…he knew her sorrow…but to lose someone so close, intertwined, soul mate…that he'd never felt, and never wanted to ever feel-ever. Seeing Hermione the way she was…brought a certain…distaste…a visage, a nightmare he shoved far back into his mind. She'd never be hurt…and she was hurting. He kept her safe…but she needed…more…

"Hey…"

Ronald turned his head towards the soft voice and saw Ginny, puffy-eyed, clad in dark in the doorway. He tilted his head up to show she'd gotten his attention, but never once let go of Hermione.

"…Has she…," Gin squeaked, wiping a tear from her eye. "…Has she?"

Ron shook his head gravely.

"…I've got to go…," Ginny whispered, trying not to have Hermione hear…if she could hear her…because she didn't want to go.

But, with Ronald there, and…Hermione…someone ought to go pay their respects.

Gin had offered, however distraught by the decision, wanting dearly to stay by Hermione.

Luna and Alice became her support.

Ronald nodded toward Gin.

Gin looked at Hermione through her transparent black veil hanging from her hat. "…I'll be back soon, love!"

She squeaked again, her voice fluctuating, ever-changing with the emotions. She put her hand to her chest and cleared her throat. "…I'll be back before you know it!…"

Gin waited…eagerly…to hear Hermione's voice…

…and silence…

…And, Gin dropped her shoulders.

She reached out to Hermione, her black-gloved fingers grasping the air while she covered her mouth, gasping and hesitating breaths, feeling another weep coming on… "…I love you so much…"

Ron heard his sister crying, and then the door to the flat shutting. He heard their pops, apparating to the undisclosed location. He got up, pushing himself up and took the plate of old sandwich and tea. In quick step, with taught speed, he was in and out of the kitchen with a bowl of chicken noodle and another cup of hot tea from the kettle. He placed it back on the side table, aside the bouquet in its vase, and lowered once more to Hermione.

He pressed gently his lips atop her head and gave her a kiss, combing tenderly those locks of hair…and then quietly sat back down in the chair. He glanced outside, at the pouring rain, the raindrops like teardrops upon the window panes, and back at the frozen figure of once was an incredibly free-spirited…Hermione Granger.

***

The rain shower didn't let up, continuous weeping from the storm above. They all stood in puddles, his friends, his loved ones. The Ministry didn't show. The faculty from Hogwarts had come, though. Dean, Oliver, Lee Jordan-Neville who stood close to Ginny between Luna and Alice. Each of them, Lovegood and Burton, had their hands around Ginny, or the one who cried out the loudest. Her boots an inch-thick in muddy water, she gripped at the wet, black sheen casing of Harry's casket. Powerless, she shouted, screaming the words the other wide-eyed occupants wanted to say.

"Why?!"

Neville thought she'd fallen over. She had tried to embrace the top, slipping in the rain. He caught her, as well as Alice, and then Luna. Gin held her cheek to the casket, and her friends held on. She pressed her lips upon the case, howling in mourning, the raindrops mixing with the fluid from her eyes.

***

The group huddled beneath a tent when the ceremony was over. Barriers were set to keep the rain out, as well as for safety measures alongside the obvious Auror company present for Harry's funeral. Somber, the chatter kept to a minimum, low volume. Someone would get a little loud, maybe a laugh, and eyes would follow. Having exchanged greetings, the groups divvied off into smaller cliques. The boys, Dean, Oliver, and Lee stood together. The faculty, Hagrid standing out, shuffled in their own corner. One could still hear him bawling, something very surreal and odd from the nurturing bear.

Alice and Luna sat in provided chairs for those not wanting to stand. Beverages were made available, a cup of juice in their hands. They'd left Gin when Neville asked if he could look after her. Of course, they weren't far away, but knew Neville would dutifully keep his word. Gin had leaned into him from her right and Neville, an arm around her, held her against him. Her hat in her lap and a hand clutching the veil, Neville brushed her flaming-red hair, the Weasley-red sifting through his fingers.

Gin stared tiredly at the ground, the sodden grass, the tracks of clotted mud. She heard the drops hitting the tent like steel filings. She looked towards a wisp, white smoke moving around the outer band of the tent, and as much as she wanted to scream-scream at them, at everyone there-she hadn't an ounce of anything left. Listless, if it not for Neville holding her up she would very well be in the flood herself.

She'd brought ammunition, however…

…After minutes, a half hour, an hour of feeling numb…

…She pulled out a tiny silver bottle from her coat pocket to much of Neville's dismay.

"Gin… I don't think…" He went to snatch it away from her…

…To hear her snap at him in fury. "Fuck off."

She let the clear liquid fall happily into the strawberry-flavoured concoction she'd sipped on, a sweet aroma of vodka making Neville place a hand on his nose.

"Gin-"

She pushed off of him, staggering to the side, cradling like a protective mother her cup. She glanced at Neville in slits, hissing, pointing at him, "You fuck off-now."

"I'm only-"

"Don't you dare say anything to me," She tilted her head back and took a lingered drink, consuming as much of the alcohol she could before-or if-it were to be taken away. This was her first drink in months-she deserved it. "Don't you fucking say anything to me-do you hear me?"

Having not eaten anything at all…she could already feel the buzz, or the best feeling she'd had in a while, exceptionally light-headed.

Neville went to grab the cup and toss its remaining contents to be slapped, the sound echoing. Everyone turned their heads, and everyone saw Gin, stumbling backward as she went to stand up, to get away. Neville held his cheek, a fiery hand-print developed, and looked around at all those eyes. Gin felt them, too, gazing around, the world in a spin and her vision becoming murky.

"What?!" She yelled. Her eyes went from one pair to the next until she'd had enough of their punishment, to her, to berate her actions, what she did. She pointed at them, circling about, and said: "Fuck you…"

She closed her eyes, gritted her teeth and stomped up and down, "Fuck you all!!"

The drink began to spill, and in her protective nature went to retrieve the leak only to fall backward, smacking bum-first into the muddy floor.

"Fucking hell…!"

Alice came to her rescue first, the crowd seemingly unaware at her quickness, followed by Neville, and then Luna. She fought their grasp, as much as they helped her stand, and cussed them all again. Luna looked towards Neville, to see him take precedent in the assistance and supported Gin with an arm to keep her from swaggering.

"That's quite the strength…," Alice whispered, keeping a hand on Gin and catching a whiff.

"I don't think she's eaten…," mentioned Neville, having Ginny stand when all her legs wanted to do was buckle.

"What the fuck are you all staring at?!"

"A marmalade, kiwi, and ham sandwich will help her get over the wooziness," stated Luna in her whimsical way.

***

Ginny teetered into the kitchen. Fairly familiar, Neville had taken her to his home-or once was their home. Every inch Ginevra could move in, with or without the alcohol, having done this intoxicated before on several different occasions. She felt of the doorway, the wall, stumbling into the dining area and catching a chair, she reached for the counter. She laughed when she knocked into the ledge, knocking some jar away and grasped the cabinet's brass knobs.

She turned to see Neville-always Neville-having followed her. He went to take her hand, her arm, but Ginny violently pushed him away. He took a step back, but caught her middle to brace.

"Don't hold out on me, Longbottom!" She started laughing, having taken the refrigerator's handle. "I know you got some somewhere-fucking Firewhiskey-I can smell it!"

"No, no-no Gin," Neville began to tug on her, to get her from the kitchen, only to be slapped. He took it in stride, capturing her and swiftly pried her from the door.

"The fuck are you doing?!" She was tossed over a shoulder where she smacked his back once, twice, a third time. He never flinched, carrying her off.

"You're going to bed," he answered sternly. "I'm turning the shower on. You're getting in. You're sobering up, and then you're going to bed."

She bobbed on his shoulder with each stair, the house being cavernous and deep, swaying. "I want that fucking bottle! I know you have that fucking bottle of Firewhiskey in the fridge!"

"Thanks to you," He rounded the banister and headed towards what used to be their bedroom. "There's no alcohol in this house nor will there ever be any at all in this home. No more, Gin. I'm tired of it."

"Quit your bitchin'!" She was tossed on the bed, discarded, as Neville went to the master lavatory's closed door. Furious, Gin shot up, stood up and started a run out.

Neville, used to this sort of drama, instantly read her and pulled her back into the room. He threw her back on the bed, pulled his wand from his dress robes and said an enchantment on the door knob. "There," He said, traveling back to the bathroom. "Now, for Christ's sake stay still for a bloody second while I get the shower started. Damn!"

He was in the bath when she called out, "I'm not sleeping here! Fuck no!"

"You're staying here until you're sober, damn it! You're not going to be out there doing God knows what!"

"What-Neville? Is this your plan?!"

Neville's head appeared from the bath. "Excuse me?"

"Fuck me."

Neville put his palm to his face, shook his head, and went back into the bath. The shower flipped on and one could hear Neville checking the temperature with his hand, the water pressure stopping and starting as it hit the shower floor every so often.

"You've got me here-just like you want-and now you're going to fuck me!"

"God damn it, Gin," Neville walked out just in time to see Gin stripping down, her shirt off, bra exposed, having a go at the button of her trousers, trying desperately to shuffle them down. "For fuck's sake-"

Neville, with heavy-footing, trudged over and began swatting Gin's hands from their actions. He pried them away only to find Gin fight him, push his hands away and continue her removal. Neville finally, in a fit of anger, grabbed both of her hands, overpowering her, and pressed them into the mattress. He jostled her, shaking her, lowering to meet her eye-to-eye:

"Stop! Stop this! Stop this RIGHT NOW!"

"Don't fucking yell at me!"

"I'm going to continue to yell at you if you're going to act like a child!"

"Watch your fucking mouth!" She bore into him, her eyes to his, but utterly faltered, finding it all very, very amusing. She started laughing, falling back into the bed.

Neville started to pull her upward by a trouser-leg and Gin shouted, "See! You do want them off!"

Ignoring Gin's drunken wit, Neville went about lifting his once-engaged fiance off the bed as he'd done…too many times to count.

Gin went to grab on, to look at him, his clothes, and pushed him away. "Fuck! You know I hate these fucking robes!"

"Come on, Gin…," Neville tiredly bent back down and tried to lift the Weasley up.

"Why do all the fucking guys have to wear these fucking stupid fucking robes?" She began to use her feet, her legs to prod Neville away-and gone hysterics over his huffing and puffing, his resentment and exhaustion. "Why can't you all wear fucking normal clothes-like Muggles! Now those are hot!"

"Because I worked the whole fucking day, Gin-not like some of us."

Neville sighed, looked towards the lavatory, the running water, and then back to Gin. He really hadn't gotten anywhere. He ran a hand through his hair, gaining a ripe head throb after everything.

Gin hopped onto her elbows, and in squints, lowered her voice to say, "Now what the fuck does that mean? You think you're better than me, Longbottom?"

"No, Gin-"

"Because you're NOT better than me!"

Neville grazed every portion of his face, raking a hand down slowly across his skull. "Ffffuck… Gin, okay-you obviously don't want the shower-"

"You want to get me naked."

Neville stopped at her interruption and shook his head inside a breath. "…I'm going to turn the shower off, and then I'm going back downstairs while you-"

He poked her stomach. "You're going to get comfortable and slip into the sheets."

He left the side of the bed and quickly the shower head was turned off, the light in the lavatory darkened.

"What?" Gin asked, offended, by his sudden dismissal. She watched him walk from the bath to the bedroom door, unlocking the knob with a counter charm. "You used to want me. You used to want this!"

Gin grabbed her breasts.

Neville did a second-take and groaned. He head-planted his face into the door and banged his head against the wood. "I'm going," He smacked his forehead again against the door. "Downstairs," And again, "To warm up a meal where I'm going to bring it back up here-"

He sharply flicked his head to her. "Where you're going to get fucking sober. I'm tired of this, Gin-and frankly, I'm getting fucking tired of you."

"Fuck you!" She shouted, and said it again, and louder, just to wake up the neighbourhood. "FUCK YOU!"

"Fuck you!" Neville shouted back, giving Gin a jump.

He trounced to the foot of the bed in a leap than a walk. He pointed at her, "I loved you, God damn it-and you fucking fucked with my head, and-I'm just fucking tired of this, Gin!"

"Well, I'm fucking tired of everything-EVERYTHING!"

"You can't come into my house, look at me, and ask me if I ever wanted you. You know I fucking wanted you-I wanted you forever-I wanted to grow old with you and you fucking took off and left me standing there like a FOOL!"

A tear slipped out of Neville's eye to which he hastily banished by hand, but not prior to Ginevra seeing the genuine pain. She felt…absolutely drunk, getting up, sitting up on her legs, her bum on the mattress where she ushered him over with open arms. Neville watched her for the longest time, not knowing what to do or how to handle the scene, with his crumbled marriage, his best mate's death, the world in a fit…

He stumbled over to her, if not for wanting, for solace. He fell directly in her arms. Gin took him, cradled him, embraced him with all her might. She nudged him with her nose, smelling him, tasting him when she'd caress inside his hair, his temple, his cheek…to his mouth where she led him.

It didn't take a moment for Neville to shrug off his dress robes with a little help from his fiery ginger, and to feel her for the first time skin-to-skin. She lay back, with him on top, her legs interlocked about his hips. His brain had quit, his emotions in charge, his sense of gratification taken over. He'd rock steadily, chasing her zipper, and then his, bracing the bed, the headboard.

She gasped when she felt him, smiled, and moaned at his ear, his lips at her throat.

***

The warmth of the sun basked heavenly down upon the two. Hermione had her head in Harry's lap, the cool breezes licking at loose strands cascading off his snowy-white clothes. She laid on her back, the meadow of flowers their aroma, her head tilted towards her lover as he soothingly, kindly brushed through her silky strands by fingertips. She sighed one pleasant sigh, her eyes opening and closing to his touch, his hand casually exploring her cheek, her lips, her chin, to her throat and back again.

She grinned in the sunlight, her eyes closed, just taking everything by feel.

"…I've never seen a more angelic creature…," Harry was smiling when Hermione met him. She smiled, too, grazing her cheek along his trouser, her hands feeling his shirt, the grass…

"I never want to leave…"

"I'll be here…," Harry lowered to caress her lips. "Always."

"I want…," She said in a breath betwixt another caress from Harry. "…To be here. I want to…"

Harry shook his head side-to-side, nudging the tip of his nose against her. He made a light laugh from his throat when she smiled at him, leaning back to give his angel another kiss. "…Enjoy life…"

"Not without you… I want to d-"

Harry halted her next word, a dreaded word, with a kiss.

"When have you eaten last…?"

Hermione shrugged. "…I don't care."

Harry leaned back, and for a moment was inaudible, invisible to Hermione. Her mind raced, anxiety hit, and she began to hyperventilate until he came back within her vision. She'd sat straight up, and Harry, his hand, soothed her cheek knowing quite well her emotion.

"I'm right here…," He'd found a plate, a floral pattern around the edges, and navy in colour to the stark white porcelain. "Shh…"

She wrapped her arms around him. "Don't leave me…"

"Hermione…"

"Hm…?" She'd escaped to his neck.

"Love…"

"Yes…?"

"Here…"

He put his arm around her, and with his other, seeing her peek from the crevice she'd created, offered her a piece of cut apple from several cut on the plate. "…You need to eat."

She stared at the bite, a listless gaze, and slowly placed her hand effortlessly, limply on Harry's. He led the piece of apple to her mouth where she opened and bit down, Harry watching her cautiously…for she hadn't eaten since…

She chewed hungrily, and with a bit of strength willed Harry's hand back to her mouth where she finished the bite. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against his shoulder, her forehead at his neck. She swallowed the fruit, and Harry smiled.

He rubbed her cheek and gave her forehead a soft kiss. "That's my girl…"

She smiled.

"…Think you can finish it all for me?"

She nodded, albeit tired.

"…Wonderful, Love…," He plucked another cut half and Hermione, placing her hand back on Harry's, opened again to allow Harry to feed her. He smiled when she bit forcefully, eager. He hugged her tight, kept her close, and grinned whilst saying, "…So beautiful…"

Ron stood at the window.

He didn't so much as watch the rain pelting the panes nor at anything else in particular. His mind reeled over the anguish, the sadness he could feel just feet away from him, the figure lying so helplessly statuesque in his sister's bed. He could feel her heartbeat, or what was left of it, a slow thump, a very abnormal beat as if in reality, physically her heart actually had broken.

He maintained vigilance, her guardian…so close, and yet so far without words…in protecting her from harm.

And, from his sister…of whom hadn't come home.

He gritted his teeth at the sentiment.

Even though she was ill and emotionally unresponsive, her form would at least respond in ways one unlike him couldn't see. Her eyes wouldn't glaze over, and she wouldn't look like death warmed over. Her body would become a bit spirited…of which only he could see. Something he wished he could do to her, at least to console her from sadness, because…

Ron glanced at Hermione, her form in a fetal position, crumpled in the middle of the mattress.

She was asleep.

…Because something so happy and carefree, so beautiful should not be burdened with such sadness…

He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.

He hadn't gotten sleep-not that he needed of once was him-but still, he bordered edgy. Hermione had moved, had gotten up, lifted from the bed and began crawling to the side he stood by. With speed he was there, her lifeless body, her eyes closed, clamored and shook the stand aside the bed. She was feeling for something…and when she almost toppled over the plate of apples he'd cut for her, took hold of the plate himself and sat beside Hermione on the bed.

"I've got it… I've got it…," He spoke low, quietly, thunder erupting the atmosphere as flecks of rain splattered against the window.

She leaned into Ron, laid inside the pocket his tunic created, the friendly ginger supporting Hermione with his wrapped-around arm. Her eyes were closed, her fingers feeling of the slice of fruit on the plate and Ron noted, "…You want the apple?"

She didn't move much, no nod, but her hand rested atop Ron's with Ron picking the slice from the floral-patterned plate.

Ron led, with Hermione's fingertips lightly pressed into his hand, the apple to her mouth. "Open…," he whispered.

She did, and Ron, ever-vigilant, observed the two front teeth bite down on a third, and then her chew.

He smiled…something he hadn't done in quite a while.

She had the side of her head against his neck when she was fed another third of the slice, propped against him, and chewed slowly until Ron placed the last bit on her tongue. While she finished, he reached back for the glass of water and waited on her swallow.

She went for another slice of apple, and Ron slightly laughed. "Here," He said, holding the glass up for her. "It's water. Drink some so you won't get choked."

He steadied the glass, seeing her wind that hand which once held atop Ron's at the bottom of the cup. He grinned, seeing her slow swallow, and hearing her thirst become quenched. He made a light laugh through his nose, leaned in and kissed Hermione's temple. He let his forehead rest against the side of her head and breathed one, happy sigh, "…You don't know how glad I am to see you eating again…"

He caressed her cheek and combed some of that bushy-brown Hermione bed-head back while she took up another apple slice and methodically chewed and swallowed. When she got the hang of it without Ron's assistance, he watched her, smiling…ecstatic at what could be considered the most mundane of every day activity for a person. But, there Hermione was…eating…

And, she finished the entire plate.

And, two full glasses of cold water.

She had to be walked to the loo, her legs, her body stiff and the water going right through her. She'd lean on him there and back when she was done, climbed back into bed by herself and curled in a comfortable way so opposite from the worrisome fetal position. Ron, head over heels at the improvement in so little time, stayed at her side. He kicked off his boots so the sheets wouldn't become dirty and lay so he could keep a close eye on her, a gloved hand rubbing her back, her side as her body formed that lovely slope to her hip.

She faced him, arms, hands to her chest, her face towards Ron an inch from his tunic.

He watched her…her eyes closed, asleep…

…And, he was so proud of her.

***

Ron awoke to the feeling of stirring.

I hadn't realized he went to sleep-and wished he hadn't-for the fact of protocol. He had a spare energy shot in one of his boots, but hadn't enacted on it. Instead, he awoke with an arm around Hermione, Hermione close and moving aside him. She was trying to get up, he supposed, but fell so helpless without enough energy.

"What's wrong?" he spoke in whisper.

She said something that even he couldn't understand, her voice severely low and hoarse.

"Say that again for me, lovely…" Ron leaned in closer, his ear to her lips.

She tried to clear her throat.

"…Pee…"

"Loo?"

She attempted a nod.

"Do you want me to help you there or would you like me to carry you?"

She went to say something, but he stopped her.

"Here," He took her hand and spread her index and middle. "Wiggle the first for help or your middle to be carried."

He thought she wiggled the index at first, but the wiggle from her middle finger was quite evident.

"All right," He got up slowly, as if not to rock the boat to sicken her, and went around to her side.

She hadn't moved when he came around, sifting his hands, and then arms beneath her flaccid form. Gently, he walked the few steps to the loo entrance and set her down. He had her feel the sink counter for balance, and then continue the trek to the toilet.

"You've got it?" He watched her step, wobble, step, wobble.

She gave a weak nod.

"All right, I'll be just outside the door," He went to back out when he heard the button to her jeans unsnap, and then closed the door for privacy.

He waited, looking at the clock, at how it was just before five, and knocked on the door when a few minutes passed. "Okay in there?"

He heard something bump, and slowly he cracked the door open. "Need me to come in…?"

He heard the thump at the counter and realized she'd gotten from the toilet and began that track back to the door by herself. He pushed the door open all the way, gave a small smirk at her persistence, stubbornness, albeit the good kind, and reached around her to flush.

She had her jeans in her hands when he closed in to pick her back up, just in her knickers. He didn't know what to do… He hesitated…well, he did when he thought about it within the hesitation…but, pushed himself beyond his…attraction, to that of Hermione in desperate need.

"Did you want them back on?"

He leaned in close so he could hear her.

She just shook her head.

"Okay…," He took the jeans from her and began to fold them. "I'll set these on the stand when we get back in there."

She nodded.

"Ready to go?"

She nodded.

"All right…," He lowered to pick her up, Hermione's arms out. Gently, he lifted her lithe form and she attached herself around his neck. She rested her tired head against his chest.

On their way back to the bed, he heard her say something.

"Hmm?" He lay her down and began covering her up, her beautiful legs, her flawless skin in contrast to the dark blankets. He lowered his ear.

"…Smell…"

"Smell?"

"…Do…I…"

He smiled and rolled his eyes.

Of all the things… Hahaha…

He'd taken to her scent, being around her…

…But, he made sure she knew, face-to-face.

He leaned to Hermione, just below her chin, at her throat and sniffed…her warm vanilla scent…

…He had to close his eyes…and remember…

"You smell great…"

She smiled weakly, her eyes remaining closed.

She mouthed, "Thank you."

"You're quite welcome."

She was exquisite, amazing… He couldn't help but keep his eyes from her.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"…Water…," she mouthed.

It wasn't but seconds when Ron came back with a full glass of cold water.

He helped her sit up, an arm around her.

He smiled when she took the glass on her own with just a little help now from him and drank.

"Whoa…," He laughed. "Slow down there."

He was grinning when he took it away, setting what was left on the stand aside her jeans.

"…Sorry…," she smiled, relaxing back on the bed.

If nothing had happened…he'd appreciate this time.

But everything had happened…and even just looking at her that way caused him…guilt.

He went to move, to get up…but was stopped when Hermione held onto his tunic.

She released with her slackened grip.

"What…?" He asked.

Slowly, she rolled over towards him and lightly patted the area in front.

"I…don't know, Hermione…"

Completely enervated, her motion for Ron to get closer wasn't much of an action than a stiff movement of her curling finger.

Ron hesitated again, but was drawn to her.

She mouthed, "Ron…"

"Yes?"

"It's okay," she mouthed, gave a slight nod and smiled.

"…Are you sure?"

She sighed, closing what little of her eyes held open.

He shuffled to her, to her drowsy smile, and slowly, she reached for him and placed her hand on his chest.

Ron, above the sheets, slipped carefully in…as if not to scare…or do anything wrong…and wrapped an arm around a very warm Hermione.

***

When Gin came to, the sound of thunder shuddering the walls of the bedroom, the wind whistling against the glass panes, and the storm wailing outside, she the sudden shock of migraine…as well as not knowing what the Hell she did. She knew she lay in a bed, but didn't know what bed. She knew she felt warmth, and an arm, but didn't know whose it was. She remembered, fleetingly, Harry-Harry's funeral-and…

She hurriedly got up and cursed herself for doing so, her equilibrium off-balance, driving that headache to spike. "Fucking hell…," She sat up with two fingers between her eyes. Her tone was low, the headache bordering on overbearing. She spoke in a rasp, "…The fuck did I do?"

She turned slowly to her right to see…

…Neville, twisting and turning himself, wiping away the sleep from his eyes and seeing him, and then her, in their birthday suits.

It hit her.

"Fucking Christ-!"

"What…?" Neville had an arm across his eyes. "It's seven o'clock in the morning, Gin. Go back to sleep already… I'll fix you breakfast in a few hours…"

"For fuck's sake did you use protection?!" She hit him.

"What the Hell?!" Not taken to being beaten in the wee hours, Neville pushed on Gin's side. "Of course I did… I'm not as stupid as you might think I am…" He yawned and pointed on over at the stand.

Gin swiveled, gently, to see an open box of condoms with some having been left out with all the commotion.

"Fucking hell…," She fell back to the bed, her head on the pillow. She hid her eyes, covering them, her nose, her mouth, with her hands. Her voice came muffled, "I haven't used birth control since the last time…"

"Well then count your lucky stars I'm not a dumbarse…," Neville yawned once more and threw his arm back around Gin…

…Only for Gin to throw it back off.

She got up, staggering to the side.

"What the Hell?" Was Neville's first response, and then a, "What are you doing now?"

"I'm leaving-" She murmured, feeling around with her feet in the dark. "Where the fuck are my knickers?"

"You're leaving…?" He elongated those words. "Wait-what?"

"Neville…," She sighed, and Neville felt her push off the bed.

He pushed up himself, hearing her stumble about the floor to find her knickers.

"…Shut the fuck up," she ended. "And, help me find my clothes!"

Neville, above the influence and its consequence, intelligently flipped the lamp at the bed on.

"For fuck's sake!" groaned Gin, turning her head away. "Warn a girl before you fucking do that… Damn…"

"I'm not helping you find your clothes," he watched a very exposed Gin crawl about the room scraping together bits and pieces of the night before.

"Fuck you, then."

"I want you back in bed."

"I need to get back to Hermione," Gin stopped to groan, her headache pounding. "The fuck did I drink last night?"

"Who the fuck knows, Gin. I think I smelled vodka and it was probably one hundred percent," He shook his head and got up, to see her point up at him and turn away.

"Don't help me…," She carefully pulled herself up onto a chair. "Just leave me the fuck alone…"

She slipped her knickers on one leg at a time.

"What was all that then, huh?" Neville put his hands on his hips and continued to observe a very dazed, very self-inflicted Weasley sluggishly put her funeral wardrobe on. "What was all that you said last night?"

Gin squinted up at him in the lamplight, her bra on backwards as she clasped it in the front. "…Do you actually expect me to remember what the fuck I said?"

She lowered her head to rotate the band and slip on the bra. "God damn…you really are fucking daft…"

Neville threw his hands up in the air and turned towards the bed. "Un-fucking-believable!"

"What?!" Gin said it a bit loud, having her to stop a moment to catch whatever thoughts slurred in her mind. "Ffffuck…"

Neville sat down on the bed. "You don't remember what you said at all?"

"What do I look like to you?" The sound of metal clinked together as Gin slid on her trousers, the belt buckle jingling. "A fucking liar? Have I ever been a liar?"

"No," Neville mused, sarcastically. "But you've been a fucking drunk."

Gin pointed, and then wagged her finger at him. "You're fucking brilliant-you know that? You should be a clown in the circus one day. Yep!"

"You told me you still loved me-wanted to be with me!"

"Quiet the fuck down, will you…?" Gin clutched her head and waited for the pressure to pass. "Ffffuck…"

"…I'm sorry," he apologized quietly.

She held up a finger, and slowly, but surely, elevated her head to see him in squinted eyes. "…I think…"

The room all but went silent what with Gin shifting about with her attire. She sat still with her shirt in her lap and slouched over a bit, feeling a tad sickly and hot. "…I don't know what to think…fuck thinking…"

"Whatever, Gin," Neville grunted, jerking the sheets back and climbing back in bed. He went on his side and stretched to find the button and instantly the room went dark again. "I'm done-I'm done. You know your way out. Just don't vomit on my carpet, will you? I just had it cleaned."

Neville mumbled something in the void that lingered.

Gin, unmoving, spoke quietly to add, "…I do love you…"

The light clicked back on, and Neville was on his side staring at Gin across the room.

"The fuck mate!" Gin held her eyes, her head, climbing in the chair to hide her face. "Fucking hell…"

"I love you too, Gin," Neville breathed. "I've loved you for a long time-and I hate, hate seeing you this way…"

Gin glanced up, a hand blocking the light. "But…Hermione needs me-"

"No, she doesn't."

"Watch your fucking mouth!" Gin yelled, and it didn't faze her the slightest.

Neville caught what he said and quickly found himself misunderstood, the words wrought wrong, "I didn't-I've been through a lot Gin."

"We all have," Gin replied. "She's been through the worst of all of us, so just watch your fucking mouth next time or you'll have me to deal with-hangover or no hangover."

"I love you."

Gin, holding the side of her head, whispered with her conclusion, "…I love her more."

Neville, feeling like his heart just fell to his stomach, physically fell back to the bed awkwardly. "You don't-"

"I do…," Gin shook her head gently. "I so, terribly…do…"

"I'm sorry…," she ended within the quietness.

"I don't want to lose you…"

"You're not going to lose me," he answered firmly. "All the bullshit…it's just that. I love you too damn much to throw it all away."

"I'm sorry…," Gin closed her eyes, feeling some…comfort…or something… "…If…in another time, another place… I'd be your-"

"Don't," Neville hushed her. "Just don't."

She looked and saw him put a hand up.

"Don't say anything else… Just…," He waved his hand. "Just go along…whatever…"

"Aw…," She saw Neville turn away from her and gradually, with what strength she had left, pushed from the chair.

He heard her get up and rolled over in time to see the Weasley-red envelope him. Ginny wrapped her arms about his bare chest, his shoulders, his neck, where she hugged him so very tight. She felt him reciprocate, tighter, with his full strength and fervor. She felt him approach and let him: a kiss on the forehead, the cheek, the jaw line, and lower where he nuzzled into her throat and beyond to her breasts. She combed through his hair, her face, her nose, her mouth planted at the side of his as she breathed in sighs, Neville lovingly caressing every inch of her bosom.

His arms crisscrossed her back, winding themselves to never let go. "Stay with me…," he groaned, muddled where he was.

"I can't-"

"You can!" He held her, running his hands up and down her back, his head still hidden at her chest. "You don't have to do anything-just lie here with me, sleep…"

"…Please…" He pleaded.

"I want to…" Gin went to lift up, and Neville unwillingly let her.

"I want you to!"

"…But, the longer I stay-if I stayed-the more painful it would be when I left tomorrow…"

"Then, stay with me here and never leave!"

Gin smiled and leaned down, nose-to-nose, and kissed Neville's lips. She held his face and softly ran her fingers down his cheek. "…You'll always have a special place in my heart… I want you to know that…"

Neville, after watching her, hearing her speak, took the back of her head, cradling it, and caressed her rough. She was caught off-guard, but happily grinned within the kiss, and within her drunken sway.

"…I love you, Ginevra…"

Gin lifted away, ran a hand down the front of his bare abdomen, and finally lifted from the bed. She shrugged her shirt back on and went to step away, to get her bag, but was stopped by Neville. He'd shot from the bed and took her hand.

He didn't have to say anything…

…She knew.

Slowly, she let her fingers slip away from him and headed for the door…

"Ginny!" He called out for her, and by the time she could peer back into the bedroom he'd come racing to her side.

He picked her straight off the floor, in such an enormous hug, and said at her throat, Ginny having re-wrapped her arms about his neck: "I love you! I love you…! It'll get better, baby…"

Gin, in smiles, rubbed his back and let his shoulder become her pillow.

She was excessively exhausted.

"Please…just honour a promise…"

"…Sure," she whispered.

"…Please stop drinking…stop smoking…I love you too much to see you sick…to see you…"

She grinned, eyes closed, and softly peck-kissed Neville's cheek.

***

With an acute pop, Gin appeared at the door of her apartment. She groaned, peeking at the annoyance that was London's stormy skies, the lightning clapping, the rolling thunder…and her searing headache. She re-arranged her bag to get to her sunglasses even though there wasn't a trace of sunlight. It helped her ease off the throb behind her eyes, between them. She put her hand on the door itself, inhaled slowly, exhaled just as slow, and took hold of the doorknob.

Gently she was in and softly she closed it behind her.

She first heard noises, people talking, muffled speech, and then got a full picture of Weasley-red.

"Where have you been?"

Her head hanging low, she tilted it to the side to see her brother, arms crossed, boring into her with those stark-cerulean irises. She waved him off and begun her hundred mile walk towards her bedroom, and towards Hermione…although, she didn't make it far, a hand grabbing hold of hers.

"Answer me."

Gin shook him off and pushed Ron the side.

He didn't budge.

"The fuck do you think you are? Father?" She laughed at him and started off again, only to be grabbed in the same area and jerked backward.

She threw a punch and missed, Ron easily dodging, swatting the hand down.

"Don't do this to me, mate…," she threatened, sizing Ron up through her tinted glasses. "I'm fucking tired, I have a headache, and-"

"Little miss drunk!" Ron wanted to shout, but didn't. Something stopped him. "What a friend you are…"

"Fuck you."

"She ate this morning-but, you wouldn't know that because you were out getting shit-faced. You're pathetic…"

Gin sort of just stared at him, not knowing how to retort after, "…She ate? She actually ate? What did she eat? You didn't feed her fucking junk shit, did you?"

"Look who's talking," Ron huffed and pushed Gin the way she was walking, down the hallway. Gin stumbled in that direction, flicking her head back and wishing she hadn't. "You're fucking pathetic. Don't talk to me."

Ron swished his hand. "Go fucking pretend to love her."

Gin's middle finger rose. "Read this!"

"Can you handle her and you at the same time?" Ron's sarcasm lay thick. "Or, do I need to babysit your sorry arse?"

"Go fuck yourself."

"I haven't reported in to my superior-"

"You go fucking do that."

"The sausage for her protein is ready to be fried, the toast for her carbs is ready in the toaster, and the fruit has already been chopped bite-sized so she won't get choked," He motioned off to the kitchen, and then eyed his sister with disdain. "I'll be back to treat Hermione like she should be treated, and not left alone all fucking night."

Gin reached back and threw her bag at Ron…

…Though, Ron had vanished without a pop.

Only wisps of white cloud remained, for a second or two, until that disappeared without a trace.

Gin's bag smacked into the far wall near the door.

She turned and continued going towards her bedroom, towards the voices she began to familiarize herself with, the card catalog in her head picking out the resemblance and affinity in each of the female and male tonalities. She braced the hallway's wall with her hand, muttering, "Fucking wanker…," and then turned the corner to see…

Emilie Granger sitting on the bed and Frederick Granger standing in a lab coat.

Hermione lay snoozing, her head, her face clouded with plushy pillow.

Gin covered her mouth to stop a burp of whatever she drank last night. She felt horrible, needing to eat, to drink, to recycle her system from the vodka. To her unfortunate query, she ended up coming in and hearing Emilie in whispers to Frederick, not so much for Ginevra, but because Hermione was in dreamland. They hadn't even noticed Ginny there until…

"…We really should seek the family psychologist, Freddie."

"Hun, she's lost Harry…she's going to be sad. I don't want her to be sad. No father wants their daughter said, but what will the psychologist do? Give her pills?"

"She needs to come home-"

"She is home," interrupted Gin. Both Granger's turned their head to the owner of the flat, the fiery red-head. "She's home here."

Emilie put her hands on her knees, having turned from her daughter's side towards Gin. "She needs to actually be home, with the family-"

"This is her family."

Both Emilie and Frederick glanced at each other.

Gin began again, "And no silly doctor is going to fix what happened, and the last thing she needs is to be popping pills to feel better."

Gin, her hand supporting herself on the doorframe, stumbled into her bedroom when she went to go in. She caught the stand, the bed, the sheets, with Mister Granger stating the obvious, "You look awful, Gin. Have you been drinking?"

Gin held her head, slowly crawling towards Hermione. She fell beside the sleeping Granger and looked off at Hermione's father. "It's been a long…long…night…"

"You shouldn't drink, love," replied Emilie. "It can lead into-"

"I drink, I smoke, I've done pot-what's next? Heroine?" Gin laughed.

Emilie didn't. "That's not at all funny. You've always been a good kid."

"I don't need another mother…," mused Gin. "I've already got one on my arse as is, and she can go jump in a lake for all I care."

Emilie shot up. "We're taking Hermione home."

Gin glared through slits, her arm over Hermione. "You've got to get through me first…"

"You're in no shape to take care of anything!"

"Em…," Frederick tried to calm an assured volatile environ.

"Popping pills is so motherly…," Gin coughed, holding her head. "Take her to a shrink! Her fucking love just died!"

"Don't you use that language and tone with me!"

"Get out of my apartment…"

Emilie bore into Gin, the maternal instinct on fire mixed with the disrespect coming from Ginevra. She was about to yank the little red-head off her daughter's body…and Frederick knew it, could feel it. "Em!" He said, coming up beside his wife.

"This is Ginny-we know Ginny. She's been Hermione's best friend for ages…"

"She's drunk, Freddie-and did you hear her?!"

"Em… We're going to be late for work. Come on, dear. We'll call later."

"I want my daughter!"

"Em!" Frederick was at the door, his hand out to Emilie. "We'll call later and we'll stop by when baby girl's awake."

Emilie wagged her finger at Gin. "I'm warning you…," she pointed at Hermione. "That's my one and only. If you get her hurt-"

Gin rolled her eyes beneath the sunglasses, her hand covering her mouth.

She felt any moment now she'd vomit…so she didn't speak up, to her displeasure.

"Em, let's go. She'll be absolutely fine."

"You'll have a mother grizzly on your bum in a heart beat…," she pointed a stern finger at Gin. "Do you hear me young lady?"

Gin went in and out of reality, her eyes opening and closing as she tried to hold everything back.

Emilie took Frederick's hand…

…And the moment Gin heard the door of her flat slam shut…

…Took off into the loo and threw up everything but her trainers.

{Author Note: If anyone's ever tried to write "sad" when they're feeling pretty good, it just doesn't turn out right. When you're sad and write "happy," same. I've been feeling damn good these few weeks what with my 25^th birthday bash, chicks, and clubbing. Hell, one week was just one big club crawl. The last thing I felt like doing was write post-death anything. Haha. That, and I'm in the medical field now. Lots of things going on at once! But, I'm still here and this will be finished how I envisioned it one way or another!}

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