Disclaimer: I am very much *not* J.K. Rowling, and therefore very much do not own Harry Potter or any of the related franchise. That said, I'm free to abuse the HP universe as much as I like. The title and chapter names are taken from the lyrics to "Red Sky" by Thrice, though the song has less to do with the story than with my total inability to come up with story and chapter titles on my own.
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I. Morning's Light
The dawn sky seemed so red that morning—a horrible, vibrant color, washing over the dull, grey ache in her heart. Bodies all over; the real floor of the castle was invisible to her unfocused eyes. Wizards might not kill as gorily as muggles, she thought absently, but the end result was no less grotesque. She tried to think in numbers—one live person for every five dead, tiptoeing in the eerie silence, none of them quite ready to believe that it was finally over—but it made her head hurt. For once, her methodical mind would not be able to save her. She was not about to give up on it, though. Not when she needed it most.
So. It was 5:32 a.m. on April 7th. The light had just won the war, though not without price; and, try as she might, it was very difficult to categorize the dead into sides. The bodies all looked rather the same after a while. She began to peer about, then, cataloguing who was left. It wasn't terribly difficult—there were so few.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, trying desperately to locate what was left of their family. Professor McGonagall, shockingly. Neville, of all people. Fleur, hunched over Bill's lifeless frame. Professor Snape—well, he was slippery enough. Madame Pomfrey, attempting to help those who still needed it. Remus, more haggard than ever. Fred, looking as though he would never be whole again. Ginny, nearby, staring at Harry's body in blatant disbelief. Malfoy, glaring down at his father as though anger would disguise his tears. Padma, using one hand scrub futilely at the wet tracks on her cheeks, cradling Parvati's limp head with the other.
There were other survivors, slowly creeping around the dead. No sense in that, Hermione thought, irritation mixing with a tightening nausea in her gut. It's not as though they're going to wake them up. Her stomach clenched even further, this time in panic, as she realized that something very important was missing.
Where was Ron?
Of course, she didn't have to wonder for long—about 17 minutes, to be exact. She stumbled upon Mrs. Weasley, who brushed the scraggly hair out of her youngest son's unseeing eyes one last time, and began to cry the tears that Hermione felt too empty to cry for herself.
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"Ms. Granger," Professor McGonagall began gently, "have you anywhere to stay for the time being? Your parents will be allowed to come out of hiding, but it cannot be done immediately. You are welcome, of course, to stay in what is left of the Gryffindor tower, but, circumstances as they are…"
"Of course she won't be staying here, Minerva," Mrs. Weasley snapped—though not with any real venom. "She knows she's always got a place in our home, if she needs it." Here, she offered Hermione a watery sort of smile, which Hermione strained to return.
"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I… I would like that very much," she said, in a surprisingly steady voice. In truth, she would not like it very much—she did not think she could stand being around the sad remains of the Weasley family, but she really didn't have anywhere else to go, and she most certainly did not want to stay around the castle. Not while it was like this. Maybe not ever again.
"Of course, dear. We'll give you some time to… to gather your things. Meet us in The Three Broomsticks whenever you're ready."
She promptly marched off, purpose taking temporary charge of her grief-stricken mind, to round up her remaining children, and to round up the remains of the others. She was not a stranger to loss, but this was too much for even the formidable Mrs. Weasley to deal with immediately.
After watching the other woman leave, McGonagall turned to eye Hermione beadily, face worn, but alert.
"Are you sure you're alright, Ms. Granger?" The older woman asked, with only a hint of her usual brusqueness.
"Yes," Hermione replied, softly. "I'm… I'm fine."
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"Awfully cool about all this, aren't you?" Ginny said, rather harshly, as the two girls made their way to Hogsmeade several hours later, meager possessions in hand. Hermione gave her a blank look, just barely taking in Ginny's pale, drawn face and red-rimmed eyes, and wondering vaguely if she herself looked so defeated in the aftermath of their victory.
"Everyone knew the risks," she could hear herself saying, coldly. "Harry, Ron, and I especially."
She heard the slap before she felt it, and watched distantly as Ginny disappeared down the road, footprints fading once more into silence. Her hand moved of its own accord to touch her now red cheek, but the tears that sprung into her eyes by reflex would not fall by themselves.
She was left staring aimlessly at the sky, wishing that they would fall, wishing that she could feel something other than the dreadful cold that was eating her up inside; but the sun, warm and bright, could not reach beneath her skin, and she ended up treading off in Ginny's wake a mere 3 minutes later, pensive, and quiet, and very much alone.
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A/N: This first chapter is… kinda short. But, there again, denial is the shortest stage of the Kübler-Ross Model, ne? Not that, you know, Hermione is in outright denial, but somehow I see her more as the type to catalogue the facts without processing them, rather than blatantly not recognize the facts.
Reviews are always appreciated. *Hint hint*. XD
And, just to make sure everything is straight, this *is* AU, in the after-math of the final battle. Which, as you can probably surmise, occurred in Hogwarts, and around the same time as it actually happened in the book. So, as much as it grieves me, Dumbledore is still dead, but I have freely killed off/resurrected lots o' other people to make up for it. ^_^
Oh, and don't worry—this gets more into actual wizardry sometime around the third chapter, if all goes according to my grand plans.