For Qzil.


She's walking through the remains of the castle after the battle. It's over, it's really over. Voldemort was defeated, Harry won, and good has triumphed over evil.

But it doesn't feel like that.

Here's the part of the library that collapsed when a Death Eater set the stone below it on fire.

Here lie the remains of several first years, burned beyond recognition. They didn't think about that, they just knew that Voldemort was bad, and living in fear was bad. She takes a moment to sing a quiet little song, hurrying their souls along; they don't belong here anymore.

She picks up a book off the ground, noticing the title. The Diary of Rose Ty is all she can make out from the blackened pages. She wonders if anyone will ever notice it missing.

The Great Hall stands before her, beckoning with its warmth and love, but she puts the book down and strides away. She can't face that, not right now. She has to find…

…for a while, she forgets who she was looking for.

It's a cold winter's day and it's nearly Christmas. Hermione Granger has come back to Hogwarts, just for a moment, and the school is buzzing. They all know who she is. Her portrait hangs proudly in the entry hall, alongside Harry Potter's, Neville Longbottom's, Ron Weasley's and Luna Lovegood's. Sometimes it can be heard admonishing the students if they're late. She ignores her own disapproving face as she strides up the stairs off the Great Hall; ignores the whispers, ignores the buzzing that her fame follows along behind her. She proceeds directly to her goal like she's done all her life and sits quietly on a bench and waits.

"I've been waiting for you, you know."

Hermione is startled from her stupor and focuses blearily on the subject at hand.

Before her stands a girl dressed in Gryffindor gold but her skirt and blouse are muddied and torn. There is a pale splotch that engulfs her left eye and makes it hard to see where the brilliant blue is.

"I know," Hermione replies, "and it's been too long since I've been back."

The girl hums and turns, disappearing out of sight for a long moment. Hermione tenses and waits, brushing back a strand of her honey-straw-gray hair. Idly she picks at it, and then the girl is in front of her again.

"Why didn't you find me earlier? I looked for you."

Hermione smiles a wry smile. "You weren't ready to be found."

The girl replies by bursting into song, a happy, joyful, song that defies the waning light lingering in the afternoon. Her clear wavering notes hold Hermione captive for a long moment, but the song ends all too quickly before the second bridge. The girl takes note of Hermione's wistful gaze and reaches out, almost touching the woman's face, but she stops.

When Hermione looks up again, she is shocked to see tears on the girl's face.

"Why didn't you find me? Why did you let me search for you all these years? I've been drifting around this castle trying to find you, and you've been off…doing whatever! I've kept myself going with my songs. They call me the Songbird around here because I'll sing for them, and I'm good. That's what I used to do…I used to sing. All these British kids. They're so cute. But they're…they've never been the one I wanted to see, Hermione. I wanted you."

Her face distorts with rage but it passes quickly and soon the girl is standing in front of Hermione, grown Hermione, Hermione trying not to let all the emotions from the days she spent with the girl in front of her overwhelm her. In the end, she pulls her wand out of her pocket and studies the old wood intently.

"There was a reason you didn't find me sooner," she whispers hoarsely.

"Yeah?" the girl snaps, crossing her arms. "And what was that?"

"I had to find you first."

There is a pained scream that issues from Hermione's wand as she shouts, "Factum etmortus!" The castle walls actually hum in response from the violet blast of light and the last Hermione sees of Quinn Fabray is her terrified eyes that are swallowed into thin air and then the whole of the girl disappears into nothingness with a lingering screech that vibrates off the walls. She touches her ears, grasping her shaking wand and is surprised to find blood on her fingertips.

Footsteps sound behind her and she turns to face the current Headmaster, his eyes wide.

"Mrs. Weasley!" He shouts. "What on earth…? We heard the Songbird-"

Hermione grins her wry grin again. "Unfortunately, she won't be singing at Hogwarts anymore, Professor Pinchlock. I'd very much like a cup of tea, if you have one?"

He grips the shaking witch's arm and gently takes her down the stairs to the Great Hall, where a few teachers are rounding up students disturbed by the noise. He casts a glance back at the spot in the hallway where the Songbird could usually be found and is surprised when there is nothing there, not even the marker that used to read:

Quinn Fabray, Gryffindor

1981—1998