Welcome, my darlings!

This story began two years ago and never was completed. Today, I realized, I needed to stop and look. I needed to do this right. I have revised, revamped, and revised the original chapters. So please, reread before we continue! And as always, this story is for my Grandma.

Disclaimer: This will be the only disclaimer for the entire story. Throughout your reading of anything I post, note that I am merely playing with the wonderful world created by JK Rowling. Anything of which you recognize, is clearly not mine.

This is titled the Prologue. But, actually,

Welcome to the End.

She struggled to convince herself to wake up, groaning as the headache from last night's drinking binge grew. She fumbled into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face, forcing her eyes to adjust to the light. She looked up into the mirror and sighed at the state of her hair. Hermione ran her fingers through the long, curly mess and decided to plait it. Nothing else was manageable. Throwing on one of her skirts, she grabbed the first blouse she saw and pulled it over her head. Glancing at the clock, it read 7:02, leaving roughly twenty minutes until she had to apparate.

She made herself a cup of tea and sat on her couch, forcibly looking anywhere except the pictures on the mantle. She couldn't bear to look at their smiling faces. She knew they would bother her, doting on her to make sure she was okay.

"They have your best interests at heart, Hermione," she lectured to herself. She knew they would expect her to unleash her famous temper resulting in a catastrophic end to many inanimate objects. "But that won't happen because you are in control," she whispered as a retort to the argument holding station in her mind.

Hermione wasn't so much as concerned with Ron's reaction. They had broken up two years ago and never truly regained the friendship they once had. She highly doubted he would even come see her. But then there were two problems she had to face. Ginny was her best girl friend but she didn't understand Hermione the way her best friend did. He was Hermione's best friend, her protector, and her reality check. Nothing Hermione said or did could get past him. He knew her inside and out and she was too entirely anxious about when she would see those green eyes staring right into her. If anyone could crack her wall, it was him. He would take her down brick by brick. "Damn you, Harry," Hermione said, almost affectionately.

Hermione knew it was time to go to work and stop her musing. Mustering all of her famous Gryffindor bravery, she threw back her shoulders and held her head high. She took a deep breath and, with a loud pop, she was gone.

She apparated directly into the Ministry's Atrium. As Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, she was granted permission to apparate and disapparate inside the Ministry's wards. Hermione stumbled, losing her footing and crashing into passersby. With a sheepish, half-hearted smile, she apologized and quickly turned and scampered to the safety of her office.

She shut the oak door quietly and successfully locked herself away from her coworkers who were all too eager to hear her latest woe. As she thought of the disgusting gossips, she felt her bravado slip into place. She was Hermione Granger. She was strong, independent, and nothing would ever break her; especially not a relationship that was doomed from the beginning. She was practical. She was logical. Her brain told her it was wrong from the start. Her bloody, know-it-all brain would thrust itself upon her skull, pounding again and again, begging for her body to realize the agony and despair that was at the end of the road.

Yes, her mind was rational but the chambers in her chest were made of the opposite material. Her cursed heart would never listen to her arguments. Her heart didn't care about the practicalities that were thrown at it. Her heart did not think, it only felt. And those feelings had been so strong, so profound, her heart persuaded her mind to agree. Damn, damn her heart.

Hermione could feel despair itching up her spine. She straightened herself and closed the blinds. Hiding from the world, she felt at peace. Folders sat upon her large, mahogany desk and she let out a slight breath, excited to see what today would bring. What distractions it would bring, actually.

She smoothed her hair down one more time while she took her seat. She delved into the new stack of papers immediately. She was lost in her work, reading a letter from Hagrid about new plans to implement aid to the giants in the Northern Region, when she heard her someone knock. Hermione grabbed her wand and unlocked the door. Upon entering, her secretary fumbled under her glare.

"Tara, didn't I say no interruptions?"

Tara looked down, "It's the Minister, Ms. Granger."

Hermione sighed and her shoulders slumped in defeat. It was rare for the Minister to visit and she couldn't turn him down. She nodded her head at Tara and waited for his entrance. She returned to her papers and was expecting to see Kingsley walk through the door. Instead of his bald head and earring, Hermione was met with a shock of red. Immediately, she tensed and sat back in her seat. With her arms folded and her irritation rising, Hermione spoke, "Congratulations on your promotion to Minister, Ginevra."

Unfazed, Ginny cracked a smile, "Don't be mad at Tara. I threatened her with the Bat Bogey if she didn't tell you I was the Minister. You should've known I needed to come and see how you were doing." Ginny's eyes searched Hermione's face for any sign of what she was thinking. When she couldn't discern anything, Ginny took a seat and sighed, "You've learned well, Hermione."

Hermione instantly flushed with anger but forced herself to remain with her cool façade. She allowed the comment to drift away, choosing to ignore it. She turned back to her work at hand and allowed Ginny to sit in the silence. Ginny cleared her throat and Hermione looked up to meet the girl's gaze.

"You don't have to be like this, Hermione. Everyone goes through this and no one should have to do it alone. You were there for me when Harry's stupid arse decided leaving me was the best answer during the war. I want to be there for you."

Ginny reached out for Hermione's hand but she pulled away.

Hermione didn't move to speak. Both of the girls' frustrations were rising as they remained in stony silence. Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, as once again the bravado kicked in as her defense.

She spoke quietly, "Ginny. I am not going to listen to everyone's speeches about how I'm supposed to be handling this. I'm glad you came, really. But," Her breath hitched, "we were not you and Harry. I knew it was going to end. You and Harry are meant to be with each other forever. We," her breaths were becoming even shorter, "were just meant for a moment. And that's how it has to stay."

Ginny attempted to protest throughout Hermione's speech but none of it was heard. Hermione remained unhearing and returned to work. Ginny stomped across the room.

"One day, 'Mione, you will need to talk about things. I'm here when you do."

Ginny slammed the door behind her and Hermione stared in the space Ginny had been standing. She gave a small shake of her head and tried to, once again, concentrate on her paperwork. She managed to work through the morning without any more interruptions. Feeling slightly more confident that no one would come, she decided on taking a break. As she unpacked her lunch, another knock resounded on the door. Hermione knew this would happen.

Praying that it wasn't Harry, she called a meek, "Come in".

Her entire body went stiff when bright green eyes zeroed in on her. He stood there for a moment just analyzing her. Underneath her desk, she began wringing her hands in anxiousness. There was no smile on his face as he walked over to sit directly in front of her.

He nodded his head, knowing she would only speak with permission.

"Harry, I know you think I'm not okay, but really-"

He cut her off before she could even get the wheels of her speech spinning, "Hermione, don't give me this bullshit. We've been friends for eleven years. Don't you think I know when you're faking? Don't you think I can tell when even something is slightly off about you? It's okay to be hurting over this, Hermione."

"Harry! I am so sick of people saying that I'm hurting. I'm fine! The only thing off about me is that every single person out there has some expectation of me!" Hermione walked around to stand in front of him, poking him in the chest to annunciate each word, "I. Am. Doing. Fine!" Hermione felt the control leave her body and with an aching strength, she pulled herself back together.

She leaned back against the desk, shaking and unsure of what to say. Harry pulled himself to his feet and leaned close to her, almost touching noses. Her eyes flickered back and forth, trying to engage his thoughts, and come up with a battle plan.

He began to whisper, "Hermione Granger, you're telling me you don't think about him? At all? When you are home alone, sitting on the couch alone, and finishing a bottle of wine alone, you don't? Don't lie to me."

Hermione did her best not to glare at him through the tears in her eyes. She physically felt the fire coursing down her skin and the flames of anger begging to be unchained. She shook her head. Harry growled.

Hermione escaped to her seat and watched as Harry advanced, leaning over her desk to continue, "Every place you two ever went, every song you've ever listened to, every topic you two ever talked about, nothing about these would cause you an ounce of feeling? He isn't on your mind?"

Hermione didn't bother to flinch at the taunt, "Harry, of course. But I cherish it. I cannot miss something that I expected to leave."

The entire time she was speaking, Harry only heard him. Harry could distinctly see the way his face would look and heard him being the voice to Hermione's words. His anger reached a boiling point as he saw the same expression carefully masked over Hermione's features. His fists repeatedly slammed onto the surface of her desk, sending her belongings and papers flying. Hermione flew back in shock.

"Damn it, Hermione! You are supposed to be the brightest witch of the century!" He realized he was yelling and forced his voice to lower to a velvety, deadly tone, "One time, you used to trust me. Whether it was just me you trusted, or Ginny, too. At one time, you were my best friend and nothing would keep us apart. You would never lie to me. When did it change?"

Hermione felt tears prick the back of her eyes but rapidly blinked them away, "Don't be foolish, Harry. I trust you with my entire life. That will never change."

She reached out to touch his cheek but he jerked away. He spoke with a quiet rage, "You have changed, Hermione. We all supported you even if it took time to adjust to it. We all support you, no matter the price. Yet, we never expected you to act like him when it ended. We fully expected you to turn on him. But now that the time has come, you've turned on us instead."

Hermione tried to stutter a weak protest, but Harry whipped out the door before she could find the words. She sat still thinking about the conversation but realized she needed to clean the mess Harry had made. Hermione was interrupted when Luna flounced through the door. She always had a soft spot in her heart for the girl but she really wanted to be left alone.

Luna was looking at her with an odd expression and Hermione waited for her to speak. Instead, Luna dreamily crossed the room and laid a folder on the desk. Hermione got up from gathering the fallen things to peer down at the new file. Luna moved over to the windows and opened them so the magically administered sunlight could stream through.

"This was accidentally given to me," Luna spoke, not even bothering to look away from the enchanted landscape that was Hermione's view. Hermione nodded in thanks, carefully hiding any thought that could flit across her face while Luna remained there. Hermione began perusing the file and assumed that Luna had been making her way to the door but was startled when Luna's hand gently rested on her shoulder.

She met Luna's bright blue eyes and didn't know what to do when Luna's dainty hand made its way to cover Hermione's heart. Her palm rested there as she spoke to a confused Hermione, "Lose one friend. Lose all friends. Lose yourself." Each word was said with such finality that it shocked Hermione. She felt as if the world stilled and nothing but those words could save her.

Before Hermione could respond, Luna had gone.

Hermione needed a second to think so she locked the door, closed the blinds once more, and blew out the candles. She sat quietly, pulling herself together.

"What do they know?" She spoke out loud to the darkness, "I know how I'm feeling! I know I'm fine! Why can't they accept that?"

She gave herself a reassuring nod and got up to pack her things, deciding that a nice hot bath sounded much better than remaining in the office. Without bothering to unlock the door to let anyone know she was leaving, she disapparated.

Appearing in the living room of her flat, she felt all the air being released from her body. She looked around the apartment, he was no longer here. But that fact didn't stop him from overloading her senses. She fell onto the couch and the onslaught of him overtook her. She could hear him talking about the stupid microwave that took too long. She could see him sitting on the duvet reading one of her many books. She could feel the way his arms would hold her when they danced out of boredom. She could smell his cologne clinging to fabric of her furniture. Merlin, she could taste his lips from one of his quick kisses. He was everywhere while being nowhere near.

Her heart appeared to be imploding on itself. It began rapidly beating and she could feel it aching to the point of utter destruction. She pulled herself into a sitting position. As Crookshanks jumped into her lap, the repeating motion of petting him soothed her. She gathered her thoughts and willed herself to be stronger than this. She was just overcome with memories. As her stomach rumbled, she decided that going out to grab a bite was much more enticing than staying in her apartment.

The entire walk to Diagon Alley, Hermione could feel that painful thrumming in her chest. Hadn't this happened with Ron, too? And she had made peace with that a long time ago. Her mind told her that she was being childish and this would soon disappear. Maybe her heart was trying to tell her that this was an exciting, fresh start. It had to be true.

With a renewed vigor, Hermione stepped into a small French restaurant that had opened its doors a few months ago. She remembered the day the Prophet had announced the grand opening of Mon Cher. She had turned from the stove, tossed the paper across the table, and asked him if he'd like to go that night. They never did.

As she walked in, classical musical played softly as the scent of fresh flowers wafted towards her. A tall, expressionless man took her by the arm and escorted her to a table in the main dining room. The waiter sat her next to a beautiful marble fountain and underneath a gold framed painting of a beautiful garden full of life. As each flower swayed in the wind, she classified them from memory. Her eyes followed along the path, weaving its way between the blooming flowers. Each stroke was so vivid, Hermione couldn't help but become entranced.

"Are you waiting for someone?" Another waiter asked, causing Hermione to pry her eyes off of the painting. She took a moment before answering, noticing that the table had been set for two.

"No," she responded with the best fake smile she could muster. He just nodded and filled her glass with the house's wine. He told her he would be back in a few minutes to take her order. She didn't reply; she had already forgotten his existence and couldn't tear her eyes away from the empty glass and plate sitting across from her.

She could hear him now. "I have better paintings than this at home and the wine is just bloody awful," he would say, always the arrogant prat.

She could see him now. He would pick the napkin up and place it on his lap, saying some inane insult about clumsy waiters. She then would find herself slightly irritated at him and send him a scowl; but then he would wink at her and instantly be forgiven.

She imagined that he would look over the menu but would end up distracted by her watchful gaze. She used to memorize all of his movements. Realizing what she was doing, he would reach over and grab her hand within his own. He would give her the look. This was the look that told her everything she ever needed to know. It would promise her everything that she could never have. But she longed for that look each day. Then right when she was expecting to hear the words of love and care, he would open his mouth and say, "It's alright if you don't understand anything on the menu. I will always be here to remind you, famous Gryffindor know-it-all, of what you don't know".

Hermione let out a small laugh, still caught up in her daydream.

"Miss? Miss? Are you alright?" The waiter was staring at her with a look of bewilderment etched on his face.

Hermione snapped out of her daydreaming. The seat across from her was empty, no trace of him ever being there. She raised a hand to her cheek; she didn't know that she had been crying. She immediately threw a few galleons on the table to pay for her wine and raced out of the restaurant. She ran until she found an alleyway that she could duck into. A small crevice in the stone allowed her to sit whilst not being seen. She racked her brain for the reason feelings of this magnitude would cascade over her. It had not felt like this with Ron. She contemplated and contemplated but to no avail.

She leaned back against the rock and pulled her legs to her chest. Her hair was falling out of the plait and into her eyes. Grief consumed her and body wrecking sobs escaped her. Her heart beat so hard that it caused a tremor of pain to explode. She clutched at her chest, silently begging for the pain to stop.

Instead, the pain was unrelenting; pulling her under its waves again and again, until she drowned. She lied on the concrete floor of the alleyway. No one had ever spoken about this part of being forced to face the truth and therefore she was not prepared for this. Misery beat on her until she couldn't move and she no longer had the strength to feel anything. She could feel nothing besides the pain. She didn't care who saw her now. She only wanted the pain to go away.

She so desperately wanted it gone but Hermione was always logical. She knew the pain would never ease, never subside. "Please," She whispered to the emptiness of the alley, "Please, Merlin, please".

When Hermione's whimpering faded into small groans, Luna's words echoed in her head once again, causing the pain to heighten. "Lose one friend. Lose all friends. Lose yourself," her memory repeated to her.

That day, it was quite chilly and everyone was expecting snow. Small children begged for hot chocolate and couples walked around shopping for Christmas presents. That day, Harry Potter went home to his wife, Ginny, and their unborn child. That day, Ron Weasley proposed to his girlfriend, Lavender Brown, who accepted without any hesitation.

That day, Hermione fell asleep alone in an alleyway. She didn't care where she was. She succumbed to her slumber, knowing that these were to be the only hours of peace she would have for the rest of her life.

Hermione knew that she had not had to lose one friend or lose all of her friends to lose herself. She had lost herself before that was possible. She lost herself the day he walked out the door.

So.

How'd you like the ending?