AN: I don't own Harry Potter

Twenty-one years ago she woke up to the salty ocean breeze of Shell Cottage, completely unaware that come that evening the fate of the Wizarding world would be decided.

Twenty-one years ago they lost Fred, Remus, Tonks, and so many countless others.

Twenty-one years ago Harry died.

Twenty-one years ago the call went out all of the wizarding world, adults and children fought together against the forces of true evil.

Hermione went to for herself, for her future, for the future of all witches and wizards, she fought because it was the right thing to do. But most of all she fought for Harry. Every spell that left her wand was in remembrance of his lost childhood, for every lie he had ever been told, every person that had left him prematurely. The curses and hexes that broke her shields were nothing more than mere anoyances. Even Her own torture under Bellatrix, was more than a fair price to pay for the peace that followed their triumph.

It was difficult to return to life after the war. The world was at peace and her incredible intellect was rendered useless. She was useless.

But she was also restless, living like a shadow of her former self. It was twenty one years ago that she began her journey. Every year that followed their victory she took on a more personal journey.

When she started on this quest she was utterly alone, but now, twenty-one years later, she had the a comforting hand to hold. She wasn't a lonely guardian, she had a companion, a lovely human that had walked faithfully alongside her.

It all began at Shell Cottage. The first May 2nd she apparated there, poor Fleur almost cursed her. But the blonde veela let the curse die on lips, instead, watched in horror as Hermione Granger collapsed on the beach, just outside the wards.

The young Gryffindor was inconsolable in her grief. Sobs bubbled out, tripping over each other and almost stealing her ability to breathe. Submerged in the past, reliving the war and the years that lead to it. She never noticed the soft arms that gathered around her or the whispered words begging her to come back to the present.

It took a long time for the tears to stop, but when they did brown eyes met the blue ones belonging to Fleur.

"Are you hurt?" asked the French woman.

"Yes," replied Hermione.

Although her wounds had long since healed and scarred, her heart throbbed painfully with every beat. The hurt she had was of her very soul. Every nerve ending alive, shooting pain through her tired body.

It wasn't until after Voldemort had been burnt to ash and their allies mourned that the true cost of the war became clear. The few unlucky ones that had faced torture suffered the most.

War time bred ingenuity, and advancements with magic itself. Both sides trying to outdo each other, modifying spells, creating new ones, all to harm, maim and kill. The Cruciatus had been one of those modified spells, unbeknownst to the Light, the curse had been altered to be as immortal as the devil that had bettered it. Flaring back to life long after the caster had joined the ranks of death.

It now worked much like a dementor, feeding on fear and sadness. The curse lived dormant in the unfortunate bodies of the afflicted only to come alive at the smallest of triggers, recasting itself for a moment, as if to assert its authority.

Fleur had recognized the signs of an impending flare, she held on to Hermione as she relieved her torture. "Let us go inside," she whispered. "You must rest."

Hermione pulled away from the other witch. "I can't, I have to see it all again."

Her legs shook as she stood on the unsteady sand. Fleur also stood. "Why must you? It will only bring you sorrow."

Hermione didn't immediately reply, she turned torwards the sea, allowing the soft breeze to sooth her.

"I must remember, I must remember them, and the war, and why we fought it. Just a year ago I made peace with what I thought would be my end. But fleur, I'm alive, and so many are not. Many will forget, and they'll become content with their lives, complacent perhaps. They will forget what it was to live in hell. They will think back on the war and deem it unpleasant to remember. But I won't, because I do not wish to live it again. I will remember even when everyone else does not. For as long as I draw breath, I won't let history repeat once more."

Fleur took a step closer to the shorter witch, a single tear staining her otherwise perfect face, she nodded. "I will help you then, hmm? Perhaps I will remember with you," she said softly.

Hermione gently rested her hand on Fleurs cheek, using her thumb to wipe the tears. They didn't speak again for a long while. The blonde girl coaxed the other back into the cottage, a bewildered Bill watched as his wife drapped a cloak over Hermione before donning her own.

Together they walked back out to the beach and away from the wards. Fleur grasped the brunette's hand an instant before they disapparated.

They reappeared on another beach that gave way into a forest. This time Hermione didn't weep, she led Fleur a ways into the forest.

"This is where we came after we broke into Grigrotts, we jumped off the dragon into that lake. I thought we'd have a bit more time after that. But Harry's connection with Voldemort… well, He knew what we were after, it forced into battle," said Hermione.

"This is that last time I had a moment to think before all the madness began."

A reply from her companion was not necessary, instead the veela stepped closer and wrapped an arm around the shorter girl. Hermione allowed her weigh to rest against Fleur, relishing in silent companionship she was offered. Without another word she apparated them again.

This time they landed in Hogsmade.

Hermione's knees buckled and she only maintained her balance due to the arm holding her upright. The grief she had felt at Shell Cottage assaulted her once more.

In her mind she didn't see the quaint little village as it was now, whole and untouched. Instead she remembered the village after the battle; building in flames, bodies littering the well-walked paths, the smell of blood, the sense of anguish and the stain of darkness violating all around.

Her heart constricted again, but she stubbornly held back her tears. Fleur was speaking to her, but Hermione couldn't focus, all she saw was the path towards Hogwarts.

People openly stared at them, Hermione in particular. She was, after all, one of the war heros. There hadn't been a person present that hadn't know her name. Many had fought alongside her, other had witnessed her power and might during the battle. Unaware of the whispers that followed them, they continued on.

Hermione took them through the middle of the village, willing herself to stay in the present. But a noise drew her attention to the edge of the forest. What she saw forced a gasp out of her lungs. Therestrals.

"I can see them too," said the blonde witch, following her gaze. "I'm sure many people can as well."

"I wish they couldn't."

Together they walked towards the school. Each step become increasingly more difficult, yet the cool summer breeze encouraged them to go on. This was the first time either of them had stepped foot here since the days following the battle. Hermione's plans to come back and finish her 7th year dissolved quickly when the first thought of them filled her with an all-consuming panic.

A lone figure stood guard by the gate, the pointy hat and familiar tartan gave her identity away. It appeared as if the Headmistress had tasked herself with guarding the gates of the fortress for the day. Much like Hermione, to remember and honor the spilled blood that beheld these grounds the prior year.

The stern woman did not seem surprised to see her favorite pupil standing before her, but did raise a brow at her companion. No words were exchanged, they weren't needed. She simply granted them passage into the school.

The Great Hall was filled with children, laughing, shouting, all filled with cheer and most importantly all alive. Hermione didn't see this; her mind showed her the Great Hall when it served as a war infirmary. The dead and wounded lining the space The house tables usually occupied. She vividly remembered the how young Remus had looked, how tenderly his hand held on to Tonks, she remembered the smile across Fred's pale face.

But the dead were dead, what plagued her nightmares were the memories of those that remained. She recalled having to snatch a blue-haired baby out of the arms of his grandmother as she screamed in grief over her daughter. She remembered George's refusal to leave his brother's body for the four days it stayed in the Great Hall; how Molly wailed, held up by her sons as she said good bye to her Freddie. She remember the lonely Severus Snape with no one but Harry and her to watch over him.

It seemed that in death, all the hardships of life are stripped away, showing the person at their purest form. Her classmates, the same ones that had fought fiercely next to her, now laid broken and lifeless, looking exactly as the children they were. Even their enemies took on human form again, she could see in them a brother, a father, a sister. Death truly was the great equalizer.

The sudden silence jolted her back to the present. Looking back her were hundreds of young faces, some she knew personally, Neville, Luna, Ginny; others she had never seen before. They all regarded her with the outmost respect and reverence.

"I wish they wouldn't do that," she said quietly and only for Fleur.

She fought in the war because it was the right thing to do, because she pledged her loyalty to Harry and promised to walk besides him until the bitter end. The war should have never happened, and the older generations had failed them all. Leaving children to take the post of soldiers. There was no glamour, no glory, just the stench of death and grief. She vowed right then not to fail, like others had. She would do everything in her power to preserve the innocence and safeguard the future of the children looking back at her.

As if sensing her train of thought, Fleur took her hand and held it tightly, the veela's own silent promise.

"Shall we continue my friend?" asked Fleur.

Hermione nodded and continued deeper into Hogwarts. Both witches could feel the castle's, magic buzzing around them. Like a worried mother, fussing over her child in search of hurts. Seemingly satisfied, the magic settled, content to join them in their journey.

They stopped many times, in odd passageways, stair cases, classrooms, all seemingly mundane areas. To Fleur, these places didn't hold any significance, that is until they came to stand in front of a wall. The same wall that had collapsed on Fred, the same wall she had lifted off her brother-in-law, as frantically as the other Weasleys. She understood then, each pause had been a place where a witch or wizard had fallen. She sunk to the floor in front of the blasted wall and wept, finally relizing the tremendous weight of this daunting task. She felt Hermione kneel in front of her, pulling her closer.

"You have done enough," said the brunette. "I can do this on my own."

"How do you expect me leave you to this? No one could do this alone."

Hermione nodded, resting her cheek against Fleur's head. "I'm choosing to do this Fleur. It is my decision, and I will do it until my body fails me. But you don't have to."

"Then it is my choice to join you, I didn't understand. You were so broken when I found you at the beach, I just wanted to help. But now I understand, I know that I have to do this as well. You don't have to be a lonely guardian."

Hermione didn't say anything, she help the blonde to her feet and took her hand. Silently accepting Fleur's companionship, for however long she would join her, she was welcomed.

When their journey took them deep into the Forbiden Forest, Hermione started to lose her composure. She collapsed in the middle of a little clearing.

"This is where Harry died." She whispered horrified.

Having said it released a fresh wave of grief, her cries echoing through the ancient trees. The dormant cruciatus coming back to life. Her sobs colliding with her screams, managing to silence the entire forest. No creature wanting to intrude in the witch's pain. They stayed there for a long time. Fleur desperately trying hold Hermione as she came apart in her arms.

"Humans," a voice behind them interrupted.

Hermione ignored it but Fleur startled, grasping at her wand.

"We have seen you in the stars Hermione Granger," it was a Centaurus. "The journey you choose is long. But necessary."

"Many years from now magic will call on you," he said walking closer to the pair. "Answer the call, fulfil your vow."

Extending a cupped hand towards the two witches, he revealed a small wooden carving of a playful otter.

"My grandfather saw your stars before you were born. He made it. It is now yours." Hermione took the little figurine.

"I wished I had died with them," said the brunette.

Fleur gasped. "And you will wish that many times, but the stars wish you alive," he replied.

"Veela, we have foreseen your future as well," he said making eye contact with the blonde.

"You are to walk beside her, when she despairs, you are to bring hope. When she becomes lost, guide her back, like the stars have guided your people."

"Good bye Hermione Granger," he said bringing his fist to his chest, thumping it over his heart. He took off back into the forest and quickly disappeared into the darkness.

"We're done here," said Hermione, apparating them away.

For the second time that day she landed on the beach at Shell Cottage.

"Go home Fleur, go be with Bill." She encouraged.

But the blonde did not release the witch. She did not want to go home or return to her post-war bliss. She couldn't, not after today.

"What will you do?" She asked Hermione.

"I don't know," she answer honestly. "But I seem to fancy a stiff drink and perhaps a long sleep."

Fleur agreed. "Perhaps you could stay here tonight, hmm? I do have firewhiskey and a warm bed."

Hermione didn't want to stay. She didn't want to relieve her time after Malfoy Manor, and Shell Cottage was filled with memories of those times. She didn't want Bill to see her break again. It was hard enough with Fleur.

"I can't." She said simply.

Fleur seem to want to object, but no words escaped her mouth. The younger witch pulled away from the warm embrace, intent on disapparating quickly.

"You will not do this alone Hermione." Said Fleur.

She nodded in response, resigning herself to her companion.

Leaning closer to Fleur, she let her lips ghost over the other woman's cheek. "Thank you."

With almost a silent pop she left.