It had been almost five years since the end of the war, five years since the battle that had stolen too many lives and left others in shambles and pieces to be picked up before any could move on. None would ever forget, but wounds healed, mostly. There was still gaping maws of pain within all of them, but as time went on, it was easier to conceal it. Live life as if it wasn't inside.

As Hermione and Harry sat side by side listening to the plan for the next day, the first celebration of the victory since the war had been won, Hermione couldn't help but wonder when their appearances would no longer be necessary. After all the functions they had attended, all the public appearances, as if they were solely responsible for the war being won. She was grateful that Neville was included in all of these, it was only fair, and they had been on their last stand when he had severed Naginis head. Had it not been for that, Harry may not have overpowered the Dark Lord.

Details of the parade that would travel up and down Diagon Alley and where they would be positioned floated through her mind with little interest. And it would all culminate in a grand party being held in the now re-established Great Hall of Hogwarts. It would be a day of bittersweet feelings, none were that healed not to recall all that had happened. And though they could all live in peace, it didn't mean that everyone was unscathed. Hermione herself would excuse herself for a while to go to the rebuilt bridge, to pay remembrance to the man she had loved so deeply.

The conversation drew to a close and the Golden Trio filed out of the room, Hermione was still lost in her thoughts as Harry and Ron tried to engage her in conversation, only receiving non-committal in return.

"Well, I think the Dragon Sacrifice will be a crowd pleaser." Harry commented, using the only thing he could think of to draw Hermione out of her thoughts.

"Yes I'm sure it… I beg your pardon? They are going to do what to Dragons? That's barbaric!" She exclaimed, stopping midstride, about to turn and go and give the event organiser a large piece of her mind.

"Welcome back Hermione. Nice of you to join us." Harry laughed, as Ron closed his arm around her waist to draw her forward into walking again.

"That was unnecessary Harry." She chided.

"No it wasn't." He continued to laugh.

Dawn crested on the horizon, bringing to life a new day, the day of the parade. Hermione had lain awake all night, as she always did the night before the Memorial Day came. Ron slept peacefully by her side, one arm up and over his face, the bed sheets strewn down across his chest. With a deep sigh, Hermione on just resisted the urge to thump him. How could he slept like this? All night without a murmur or a groan at what the coming day was going to bring? And she knew when he got up, he would eat like he had been starved his entire life. It wouldn't be until later that he would show even the remotest sign that this was stressful for him. But then, he wouldn't be Ron Weasley if he didn't eat and sleep like nothing ever bothered him.

Deep down, Hermione knew she shouldn't be so hard on him, he was slowly and patiently piecing together her fractured heart, understanding, on the only level that he could, that she hadn't been able to continue of the fast paced route they had started out on. And that he had waited a couple of years, before placing his claim on her, by placing the ring on her finger. Admittedly, he didn't know the extent of what had gone on, he had pieced some bits together, figuring it out in the only way his mind had been able and sadly, Hermione hadn't corrected him, not really. There was the diary she had given him, which she had written about her time in the Snatchers camp, but he had never read it. The seal charm she had placed on it had never been broken. He was content with what he thought he knew and Hermione didn't want to break that for him.

Pushing herself out of bed, Hermione started her day, the same old routine, wash, brush teeth, wake Ron, calm her mane, dress, wake Ron again, make breakfast and wake Ron for the final time. Truthfully, she should be happy that her life was normal, simple. The same old routine. That was how she had always imagined it. The younger Hermione would have been thrilled at it, a job where she was doing what she was passionate about, a fiancée that she could take care of. Only life had shown her something else, let her fall for someone else that she would never truly be over.

"Come on Ronald, we'll be late."
"Alright, alright, keep your hair on Mione." He grumbled, while grabbing his wand.

With a floo journey, they were there, at the meeting point for the day's events to begin.

It had been long day and the Golden Trio had all spent it with smiles on their faces, having heart felt talks with all that wanted them. But it was a day that took a lot out of them. None of them were flippant of what had happened, nor did they want the greatness that was accomplished to be demeaned in anyway, but they all still held their own personal scars of what had happened, that they could not and did not want to share with the world and his missus. So when they were seated in carriage for the final parade, they all took a collective breath.

There was just the ride through the streets and then they were off to Hogwarts, for more bittersweet memories. As they travelled through the streets of Diagon Alley, people and faces were all a blur to Hermione, she had long passed her threshold for this kind of thing. As she watched the world pass by distractedly, the same smile plastered onto her face that she had used for the last five years.

Sitting up straight, her eyes pinned on a face she never thought she would see again. Her mouth dropped openly slightly, before she recovered enough to call for the carriage to stop. Jumping down from it before it had come to a full stop and stumbling slightly. Then she was taking off in the direction that she had seen him. The calls from Harry and Ron behind her weren't really heard, she was completely focussed on finding him.

Running down the alley, her breathing hard and laboured as she pushed herself for more speed, he was fast, he always had been. But as the alley led onto another street, she stopped, her eyes searching everywhere, barely hearing the sound of footsteps thundering up behind her.

"Hermione?" Harry's voice protruded into her consciousness.

"I saw him Harry. I saw him, I know I did." She muttered quietly, her eyes still searching the street in front of her.

"Him, him?" He pushed. She could only nod.
"Mione…" He began.

"I know Harry, but he looked so real. I suppose it was just a fantasy. Something I wanted to see." That ever present ache in her heart began to swell once again, moving towards the crushing ache it really was when she let herself feel the pain. The sting of tears present in her eyes as she finally blinked, finally tore her eyes away from the street, from anywhere that he might emerge from. "It's even possible he is ghost." She choked out.

"Come on Mione, let's get this over with. We can talk about it later."

As they finally made it to their final destination, the Great Hall of Hogwarts, the abundance of noise was deafening. Those their sharing their stories of May 2nd. Of the final battle. Many regaled their stories with grandeur and flamboyance, while other spoke reverently, fully aware of the tender situation they spoke of.

Midway through the evening, Hermione slipped away from the party, heading out the same spot she had visited for the last few years, the only place she could feel a connection to him, it was the last place he had been. And though she was grateful for what Neville did, a part of her hated him for trapping her Snatcher that way. For leading him to his death. Wrapping the light shawl tighter around her shoulders, she stared out into the darkness and let the withheld tears flow. Grieving once again for a loss she would never truly accept, never truly recover from.

After regaining her composure, she wiped the track marks off her face and then moved back inside, to re-join the happy crowd and play her part in it.

From within the darkness, piercing blue eyes stared at the feminine figure on the bridge, open fingered gloved hands toying with the tasselled ends of a pink scarf. What he had witnessed confused him, there had been tears shimmering in the darkness, tears of grief, at something that happened at the bridge. Could it be the young witch grieved for him? The man that took her innocence? Held her captive and handed her over to the other side? Could she really still care enough after the last time they had seen each other, since he had handed her over the Lestrange witch?

"Interesting. Very interesting."