A/N: This is (possibly) a one-shot song-fic type thing based on the song "Self-conclusion" by The Spill Canvas. It's a beautiful song, though they really should have gotten a female and done a duet to make it less confusing. Anyway, if I get enough requests I may write more chapters.

Self-conclusion

A slender, petite, pale young woman with haunted brown eyes and curly brown hair stepped up to the cliff. The wind whipped her hair around her face. Something about her expression told me she was there for the same reason I was. That was until she got here. Then I felt something change. I knew who she was. She didn't seem to recognise me though. But then again, I had been disguised for months now. Her expression changed when she saw me. She looked annoyed and began speaking with an almost melodious melancholy:

"Excuse me sir, but I had plans to die tonight and you are directly in my way." Before I could even say anything she added, "and I bet you're going say it's not right."

I smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. It was more of an "I understand" smile. I couldn't believe she didn't recognise me, but I thanked God for that. It would only complicate things. It hurt that things had gotten so bad for her. I replied, "Excuse me, Miss but do you have the slightest clue exactly what you just said to me and exactly who you're talking to?"

Her eyes grew angry, adding another level to the sadness. She said "I don't care, you don't even know me!" She went to turn away but I placed a hand on her upper arm. I said "I know but I'd like to change that soon, hopefully."

She looked at me as if to continue, so I did.

"We all flirt with the tiniest notion of self-conclusion in one simplified motion. The truth is that you're never supposed to act on it. No matter how unbearable this misery gets."

Her expression changed from incredulous to anxious to shocked. She obviously wasn't expecting me to understand. I don't think she realised just how much I probably understood, or how much I knew her already. She was so different now she was almost like a stranger but the look in her eyes was what I saw every day in the mirror.

She shook her head gently and looked at me with a expression containing sadness, confusion and oddly enough, patience. Like she was trying to be patient with me? Some things never change I guess.

"You make it sound so easy to be alive. Tell me how am I supposed to seize this day when everything inside of me has died?" She said, hugging her body.

I ached to reach out to her. Something about her made me refuse to let her go. There was something drawing me to her. I realised then that I didn't want to die any more. I wanted to save her. I swallowed and whispered:

"Trust me girl, I know your legs are pleading to leap," and before I could stop myself I added, "But I offer you this easy choice: instead of dying, living with me." I realised as I said it that it sound like I wanted her to actually live with me as in move in, which admittedly was bit weird. I had originally meant not dying, but then I realised that I kinda meant that too, deep down, I had always felt it.

She looked at me like I had suggested she strip naked in front of me and shove bamboo splinters under her fingernails or something. She stuttered "Are you crazy?" She grabbed the front of my coat and shook me gently "You don't even know me!"

I smiled again. Well if she was going to repeat herself, so was I, "I already said I know but that I'd like to change that soon...hopefully."

She seemed to think about it for a moment. I took her indecision to as an opportunity to continue:

"I would be lying if I said that things would never get rough and all this cliché motivation would never be enough." She seemed surprised that I wasn't trying to convince her which is why I then said :

"I could stand here all night trying to convince you but what good would that do? My offer stands and you must choose."

After a while she let go of me and walked towards the cliff edge. For a moment I thought she was about to jump and I went to grab her, Instead she sighed, looked back and said softly and in such a resigned way:

"All right, you win, but I only give you one night to prove yourself to be better than my attempt at flight. I swear to God if you hurt me I will leap; I will toss myself from these very cliffs and you'll never see it coming."

She turned around and walked towards me I met her halfway. I took her hand and whispered to her with the rush of affection and relief that had washed over me:

"Settle precious, I know what you're going through because ten minutes before you got here I was going to jump too."

I brushed a strand of her curly brown hair from her face and smiled at her. I leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

"What is your name?" I asked.

"Right now it isn't important." She replied.

"Please...?" I begged. I already knew but I wanted, no needed, to hear her say it. She sighed.

"Hermione." I sighed in relief. She didn't ask for my name, just walked beside me in silence and for a time, that was all I needed.

A little bit of background (I felt this worked better at the end of the chapter, otherwise it ruined the little bit of mystery):

Hermione has lost so much since the war. Her relationship with Ron failed after he grew impatient with her ambition. Ambition that was wasted. The Ministry of Magic had been less than sympathetic about her parents. They had insisted on healing them without Hermione's help, stating that she has "Done enough damage already." Only to permanently damage their minds forever. Hermione had been visiting almost daily for 5 years. She was 25 now. All those years wasted as a member of the "Golden Trio", all the work she had put in to make sure that Harry could place the fatal blow that would save the world, was barely acknowledged. But of course, she was only the female third of the Golden Trio, how much could she have possibly contributed? Especially being that she was muggle-born. The Happy Ever After that Hermione had sought throughout her teenage years never came and now she knew it never would. She had lived a fairly sheltered life at Hogwarts, she had assumed that gender equality was at the same level as it was in the non-magical community, she had been wrong. She had nothing in the wizarding world other than Harry, who she barely saw due to his connections to the Weasley's, with whom she had lost contact with shortly after her relationship to Ron had dissolved. Molly blamed Hermione for being selfish and wanting a career and of course, everyone went with her opinion for an easy life. The non-magical world was a constant reminder of her parents, the wizarding world was full of two-faced, hypocritical, ungrateful, chauvinistic degenerates that revelled in inequality. She had had enough.

A/N: So, please tell me what you think. I usually read long-ass SS/HG stories (such a weirdly awesome pairing). I'll be putting who