On The Shoulders of Giants

Chapter 1: The End of Everything

A great sigh of relief could be heard through the whole of the Great Hall. As suddenly as the silence fell it was lifted and cheers rose, filling the room and the hearts of those who had fought valiantly.

There was no more Voldemort. No more reign of terror, no more fighting.

No more death.

Hermione Granger sobered slightly as she recalled the fallen, one in particular. She knew that she had to recover the body of the valiant Professor Snape from the Shrieking Shack. He was a hero, she knew, and she only wished that he had lived long enough to see his tarnished name cleared.

Her eyes met Harry's from across the room where he stood amongst a gaggle of students and staff, looking decidedly uncomfortable. With an easy smile he bolted in her direction, obviously unable to stand the adulation for another second.

Hermione covered the small remaining distance and threw her arms around him, audibly knocking the wind from his lungs.

"Harry James Potter," she said, her voice thick with unshed tears, "don't you ever scare me like that again!"

He laughed, the deep timbre vibrating against her rib cage. "I promise," he said, and looking into his eyes she knew that he truly meant it.

Hemione wiped the moisture from underneath her eyes and took a shuddering breath. "Harry," she said quickly, "we need to go get Professor Snape's body."

He froze. "I suppose you're right," he said slowly, eyes not leaving hers. "It wouldn't be right to leave him there, not with everything that he's done for us."

Hermione nodded decisively before biting her lip. "Do you...d'you think we should bring Ron along?"

Both teens turned to gaze sadly at the Weasley family, all of whom were standing vigil beside Fred's lifeless form. Harry shook his head, pain coloring his features.

"I think they've got enough to deal with right now, honestly," he said, his voice cracking a bit. Hermione's heart broke for him. She knew how much he loved the Weasleys, considered them family even.

"Alright," she said decisively, looking anywhere but at the redheaded family in a concentrated effort not to sob uncontrollably. "Let's go."

ooOoo

As they made their way across the grounds, Hermione couldn't help but to catalogue the damage in her head. The Quidditch pitch, most noticeably, was nothing but rubble and ash. The ground was scorched and chunks of it and the castle were ravaged, in some cases even gone completely. The air smelled of death and destruction and in places the ground had been soaked through with a substance that looked suspiciously like blood. The castle which they had once called their home was now a barren wasteland of a battlefield and the sight gave Hermione pause.

With a pained look she took Harry's hand and squeezed in a desperate attempt to comfort them both.

She knew that he looked upon this place with the utmost fondness and that the castle's current state hurt him deeply. Still she couldn't help but feel a sort of hope; Voldemort was gone, and there was a future for them and their world.

They held hands across the grounds to the entrance at the Whomping Willow. Using a long stick she darted beneath the flailing limbs and by some stroke of luck (and a little bit of knowledge concerning the workings of physics - thank Merlin for her parents and their lifelong interest in the Muggle sciences) she managed to hit the little knot controlling the tree's movements. The two friends scrambled down the passage, bemoaning how much tighter it was now that they were no longer third years. They came out in the Shack.

Both teens blinked.

The room was clean. Pristine, even, despite the fact that only a few hours before a man had been murdered there.

It was...puzzling.

Harry turned to Hermione, the question evident on his face before he voiced it aloud. "Are we missing something? He was..." he trailed off, scratching his head. Hermione spoke up.

"He was dead," she said flatly, her face scrunching up in obvious confusion. "Or...he was dying. Wasn't he?"

Harry let out a noise that seemed to be half disbelief and half snort of derision. "I doubt he would have shown those memories to me otherwise."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "So, what do we do?"

He shrugged. "What can we do? We don't even know what happened. For all we know, Snape is alive and well and on his way to Majorca."

With a sigh, the teens turned and trudged back towards the castle. Finally Hermione voiced the question that she'd been thinking since the shack.

"Hey Harry?"

"Yes?"

"...why Majorca?"

ooOoo

Back in the Great Hall, the celebration had wound down into a sort of mournful wake in the memory of those who had passed. People were gathered in small groups, some around loved ones, some off to the side of the room. Harry and Hermione immediately made their way towards the Weasley family, all of whom were still gathered beside Fred's body.

Hermione's hand entangled itself with Ron's, intending to provide moral support. To her intense alarm, Ron did not return her sqeeze. His limp appendage fell from her grip after a minute of some incredibly awkward hand-holding and Hermione shuffled her feet in discomfort. After the kiss that they'd shared she had hoped that their budding relationship would move forward but it seemed that he would not even accept her attempts to comfort him in his time of need. She decided then to give him space to mourn, despite the hurt that she felt over the idea.

She turned to speak to Harry, only to frown as another stab of pain ripped through her gut. Harry was kneeling next to the prostrate form of Remus Lupin, an unreadable expression on his face. Hermione's heart broke for him. She dropped to the ground next to him, laying her head on his shoulder. He shifted until he could wrap his arm around her waist and then buried his head in the crook of her neck, shaking almost imperceptibly. She embraced him without hesitation.

"Harry," she whispered, almost crooning in her attempt to comfort her best friend. He let out what sounded like a sob and she continued, "this was not your fault, do you hear me? I know you feel guilty, but I also know that Professor Lupin - R-r-remus," she stuttered out, and Harry cried harder. "He would want you to live your life," she gasped, emotion clogging her throat.

After a long while Harry pulled away, rubbing his eyes furiously. "Thank you, 'Mione," he said sincerely, and she smiled a bit at the sentiment. "You've been so great through all of this, and you're right." He ignored the look of abject shock on her face and plowed through regardless. "I know I've been difficult..." she snorted at this and he gave her a mock glare, "but I've spent too much of my life feeling guilty for things outside of my control. Now that all of this," he waved his hand absently, "is really over, well...I want to live my life. I'll miss them. I don't know if it will ever not hurt to think about the people that we lost to this stupid war but," he sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, "letting this destroy me won't bring them back." He looked at her sheepishly, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. Hermione beamed.

"That's very mature of you, Harry," she said, and he blushed furiously.

"We've all sort of been forced to grow up I guess."

She nodded. "I guess the question is, where do we go from here?"

Harry grinned. "I may have an idea," he said, his voice laced with mischief.

Hermione just shook her head and smiled.

a/n. Hello and welcome! I started writing this little project at work as a way to pass the time and then suddenly I was making scene cards and character goals and there was exposition. If you made it to the end, please review! I would love some feedback.