Devastation. That was the only word Hermione could think of to describe the scene lying before her eyes. Grass once green was stained red, a wide lawn once comfortable and inviting now reeked of death and despair. In all, it was the aftermath of a horrible battle. One that was only in a lull. During the reprieve that was sure to be brief, she, along with anyone else fit to do so, was combing the grounds looking for wounded. Her heart felt cold and callus as she bypassed the dead, but, after all, there was nothing to be done for them now.

What had brought them here? Simply put she knew that it was hate and prejudice put into action, but emotionally she was still struggling. Who could honestly be that horrible as to wish the pain and suffering here upon others? It was inhuman and insane. Everyone knew that Voldemort was not really human anymore, but it was the heart of a bitter human that had created the monster he was now. Was he really, inherently, this evil? A question she was sure an answer would never be provided for.

Ahead her eyes caught a small part of the battle that prompted tears. So far she had been doing well and had hardened her heart against the atrocities lying all about. But this… these now directly ahead, were much more personal.

"Oh no." She whispered, her brown eyes glistening, one tear leaving a trail of mud down her bruised cheek. "Remus."

Her friend and former professor lay prone upon the ground before her, his leg twisted in an odd way beneath him, blood staining his trousers just below the knee. His light brown hair was tousled as if he were asleep as she had often found him in the living room at Grimauld Place while Sirius yet lived. The weariness of pain and stress still lay etched upon his face, expressed in scars earned from the nights of full moon.

The true tragedy lie in the appearance of his beautiful wife, stretched out at his feet, just in front of him had he been standing. Stepping over the body of a death eater, Hermione realized what must have happened. Tonks, ever willing to do anything for Remus, had thrown herself before a killing curse meant for him. Her short hair was the same color as his, but her eyes were their own sparkling blue, now devoid of the light Hermione was so used to seeing there.

Dropping to her knees beside Remus, she took his hand gently in her own. While a third year at Hogwarts, she had taken on the weight of extra lessons, requiring a time turner just to get to all of them. She had been under oath not to tell anyone, so confiding her growing stress in her friends was out of the question. She had, however, needed someone to talk to.

Dumbledore was hardly a confidante, he was far too busy and she really didn't know him any better than the average student at Hogwarts. McGonagall was not at all the sort you talked to, she'd probably have told her it was her own fault after all, she had requested it. Sinistra and Trelawney she didn't know, Sprout was not a listener, Flitwick was overloaded with 'good' advice, Hagrid was not to be trusted with secrets, Binns was dead and Snape was… Snape. That left her with one option: Remus Lupin.



He had become her confidante and her comfort. The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was a good listener, and a supportive teacher. When Hermione came to him in November, so exhausted she could barely cry, he was the shoulder she finally collapsed on. At fourteen she had noticed, briefly, that he was good looking in that older man sort of way and had had a momentary crush. That was not her motivation for going to him though, he was simply a helpful, careful listener.

She became very comfortable around him, and he her. She reminded him some of James' Lily. Ridiculously intelligent, compassionate, possessing of a great temper, and she was loyal to a fault. He related some of the (tamer) stories to her of his school days, of the three chums he was so close to, never actually disclosing who they were. Which Hermione was quick to discover he would not do and didn't press him for the information. She laid upon him the woes of a vastly overloaded fourteen year old girl, whom he acknowledged to himself to be much more mature than her age group.

Her head was bowed over him, tears now leaking profusely from her eyes, when shock ripped through her. Weakly, faintly, he grasped her fingers. Eyes flying open, she leaned closer, trying to discern if this were real, or only another empty hope in darkness.

"Remus?"

His eyelids fluttered and his head turned ever so slowly towards her. "Ginny?" He rasped out. She realized he was incoherent and unable to really recognize his surroundings.

"No, Remus it's me. Hermione. You're alive!" The soft words seemed to guide him to the waking world, and memories washed through him. In his mind's eye, he could clearly see his petite, pixie wife screaming "NO!" and jumping in front of a flash of green light headed straight toward him. The last thing he remembered was roaring and killing the offending enemy before collapsing spent and without any strength. He had barely any now, as it were.

"Dora?"

"Oh Remus. I'm so sorry… she's… she's gone." Hermione wept for the young mother and devoted wife. She had been willing to give up anything for her beloved Remus, now she had given her life. The poetic tragedy was enough to break anyone's heart.

"Gone. Harry?"

"He's missing Remus, it isn't over yet."

"Not over. Let it be over." He meant his own life, but Hermione was quick to assure him that soon the battle would end and then everything would be alright. Nodding briefly, he let his grief and physical pain consume him and drifted away…

"Hello, I'm James." Remus had been detained by the headmaster for a moment and was the last to enter his dormitory. Three other boys were already there, two with raven black hair, one of those was tall and skinny with hazel eyes and glasses and the other showed promise of filling out nicely and wore 

his hair shaggier. The third was a blonde with watery blue eyes and was a bit chubby. Remus decided he would like them.

"I'm Remus."

"Sirius."

"Peter." It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

And a wonderful dream.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron stood together in the St. Mungo's waiting room, anxiously awaiting news from the healers. Arthur Weasley waited with them, technically a representative of the Order and the Ministry there to report back how the hero Remus Lupin was, but he also lent fatherly advice to the nervous young people.

It had been three weeks since the final battle to end everything and everyone still looked haggard and worn. Much of it was from grief, much from the toll of fighting so fiercely. Nightmares were seeping into dreams and disturbing any rest sought.

The three teenagers stood, Hermione in the middle, each of her hands clutching the boys', when Healer Fritz Underhill emerged into the waiting room. Harry was the first to speak as he was the closest to Remus, who was friend and like a surrogate father to him.

"How is he?"

"Still sleeping."

"Sleeping?" Arthur said, confused. "He's been asleep for three weeks?"

Underhill nodded. "It's a very unique case and many factors surround of course. At first we believed that the combination of stress both mental and physical overwhelmed him and his body responded by sending him to sleep so that he could repair himself. Grief may as well have been a factor, as Miss Granger informed us he was aware of what his wife had done to protect him. Now… Perhaps that is still the answer, but whatever it may be, he sleeps on."

"When will he wake up?" Harry asked.

"There's no way to know. He could wake up in an hour, or he may sleep for years. He is in a comatose state that is very unusual, not unconscious, just not awake. We'll keep him in the spell damage ward and you are of course welcome to visit at any time. In fact, visitors would be a very good idea. Talk to him and tell him what's going on in your lives, keep him informed, and maybe the sounds of familiar voices will pull him out of it. Until then, there's nothing more I can do."



"I'd like to pay for him to have a private room." Harry said. "I don't want him to wake up surrounded by strangers and then be told everything… he needs privacy for when that happens."

"Very well, I'll talk to one of the nurses and have him moved." Underhill nodded to them and left at a brisk walk.

Harry, Hermione and Ron formed a circle, their arms around each other. "At least, physically, he'll be alright." Hermione whispered, tears pooling in her eyes. The boys leaned their heads against hers as she gripped their hands tightly.

"I'll be here as often as I can." Harry informed them.

"Us too mate." Ron assured him. "He needs someone when he wakes up."

Hermione nodded, her face now buried in Ron's shoulder. She was silently berating herself for crying like this again, but knew she really couldn't help it. Squeezing Harry's hand, she turned to let herself be enveloped in Ron's embrace and he rubbed her back, offering all the comfort he could.

Arthur watched the three friends with nostalgia and a pang of sadness. They were as close as siblings, closer even, and he was heart wrenchingly glad they were not torn apart by the war and that all of them had survived. Hermione had had a very close call. When their close whisperings had stopped and they simply stood in silence, he brought himself to interrupt.

"I've got to go and report to the minister, you three should head home, everyone there will want to know." Harry nodded.

"Okay Arthur, we will." Arthur was like a dad to Harry and Harry was reminded of it, pleasure swirling in his heart. Home, as everyone knew, was the Burrow. To all of them. The week after the battle, Hermione had gone, with the two boys, to retrieve her parents. It had been a very tearful and wonderful reunion and she had been so glad to have them back. Still, though, she remained at the Burrow. Mr. and Mrs. Granger had understood, well, sort of, and had let a house in the nearby village to be close to their daughter. They would have lived in the Burrow, but with eight children, one daughter in law and two parents, it was rather cramped. Comfortably so, but still.

"See you for supper Dad." Hermione lifted one hand, still sniffling and hiding her face. Arthur apparated away and left the three of them alone. "Dad's right, let's get home. Mum will be worried."

Harry disapparated and Ron, knowing Hermione was hardly in the frame of mind to do so herself, turned on the spot with her in his arms. All they could do now was wait for Remus to find his way home again.