And so...
It was dusk when I wandered outside the castle. I left through the main entrance; even though the huge doors had been blow clean off. I stumbled out into the fading orange sunlight, limping slightly due to a gash on my thigh. I hadn't had it tended to yet… in light of everything that had happened, all the deaths, the Weasley family's grief, it felt wrong to worry over a small injury. Ron was back in the Great Hall with his family and Harry had run off to Gryffindor tower. He said he'd gone to sleep, but I knew better. I knew he was sitting, collecting his thoughts, pondering why he should live while so many others died. Fred, Lupin, Tonks, Collin Creevy, and fifty others, all dead. I had sat with the Weasleys, holding Ron's hand, but then got on to feel like I was intruding. So I kissed his forehead, smoothed his hair out, and slipped away.
As I walked towards the lake, I couldn't deny that I felt exceptionally useless. I had played no great part in this, and I was useless trying to comfort a devastated Ron, when I had no idea how he was feeling. He was probably still sitting in the Great Hall, unmoving, trying not to feel. Trying to hold off the tears and be strong.
When I reached the lake, I knew what I needed to do. I needed to feel the cold water; I needed to remind myself that I was alive. So I started pulling my clothes off and slipped into the water, wearing only my underclothes. The word "Mudblood" itched on my skin as the cold water touched it. It had never healed properly- Bellatrix's blade was bewitched. The scar was an angry red color, outlined in charcoal black. It looked almost burned into my skin. I swam out towards the middle of the lake and submerged my head underwater and floated underneath, keeping my eyes open. I felt the cold water shock me back to reality, and I could hear the silence in this darkness. When I came up for air, I could see someone on the shore. He was tall and lanky, with fiery red hair. I swam back towards the figure, knowing it was Ron. Maybe some other day I would have felt self-conscious walking half-naked out of the water, but I couldn't seem to care.
His eyes were a little wet, his nose slightly red, and his expression was tormented. I wordlessly pulled my sweater on and took his hand.
"I was just thinking…" he began, his voice low and husky. "I was just thinking that some things shouldn't be left unsaid. And Fred… he wouldn't have wanted… he wouldn't have wanted everyone to stop living for his death. Even though we want to. We have to keep going, for him." He took a deep breath and looked down at my face. "Hermione…" he whispered my name. I squeezed his hand and leaned my head against his chest.
"It's going to be alright," I whispered back.
He wrapped his arms around me, and we stood there, holding on to each other in the rapidly fading sunlight. After minutes of standing like that, I felt one of Ron's arms leave my body. It reappeared on my collarbone and worked its way up to my face. I looked up at him as he leaned down. The kiss that followed was so different from the one that we'd shared earlier. It was slower and softer, but just as sweet. The first kiss that should have happened ages ago. When we broke apart, I could have sworn that I heard Fred Weasley's familiar laughter.
And so, the hole that Fred Weasley's death left in all our lives never truly healed, but he was with us every step of the way. He was always there, smiling down on us and having a laugh. His memory would interrupt so many wonderful moments in our lives, making those moments infinitely more precious.
And so, we didn't move on.
We lived on.