The nightmare landscape stretched before him. The darkness was lit by the flickering patches of fire left from curses that had missed their intended targets. There were dozens, maybe hundreds, of forms littered across the grass around him. Some lay mercifully still, others writhed and moaned pitifully. There were others who, like him, stood or stumbled among the fallen, dazed by the enormity of the battle they had waged here today.
His mind was blank, he couldn't think of anything past the wand in his hand, and the small, glittering thought that his wife and young son were safe, far away from this hellish scene.
A light rain began to fall from the overcast night sky. Some small sense of self-preservation he had left prompted him towards the small stand of trees nearby. As he ducked under a low-hanging branch his tired eyes fell upon a small figure curled next to the trunk of the closest tree. A shocked gasp tore from him as he stumbled towards the form and fell to his knees.
"Noooo," he keened softly, brushing the soft brown curls away from the beautiful but battered face of Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age. Her eyes fluttered open, and his breath came back to him in a rush.
"Remus? Oh, Remus," her voice was faint, and faded abruptly as he gathered her small form into his lap, wrapping his arms around the young girl, in an attempt to protect her from what had already happened. He stroked her face, and her eyes fluttered closed briefly, then focused vaguely on him. "Voldemort?" she asked.
"Dead, as much as one like him can be. Harry defeated him, he did it," Remus answered. "Let me get you to the castle," he began.
"No, just... hold me a minute more."
"Hermione, it's raining, I have to get you help, you've been hurt." He looked at her pale face in the light of the fires; the rest of her was in the shadow of his body, he couldn't see if she had been physically injured, or if she was the victim of some more subtle curse.
"The rain won't hurt me. It brought you here, didn't it?" The pattering of raindrops on leaves had grown stronger, and they had started finding their way through the trees above.
"Hermione, please," he said. He shifted his weight, wanting to climb to his feet, to get her to someone who could help her. Her sharp gasp halted him abruptly. He looked over his shoulder, desperately hoping to see Harry, or Ron, or anyone who could help him with the damaged young girl in his arms. The scene behind him had only grown more horrifying and unearthly in the rain. No help was to be seen.
"Remus," he snapped his gaze back to Hermione's face. "Do you think the flowers will bloom tomorrow? The rain will encourage them, won't it?" Her voice had faded another notch. Her leaned over her, trying to shield her from the cold droplets.
"Yes, there will be flowers tomorrow, just you wait and see." His voice cracked.
"Good, I'm glad." Her eyes closed, and he held his breath. "I love you Remus." Tears were pouring down his weathered face. His voice had deserted him; he choked out a faint moan. "Since third year. I've always loved you. You are such a good man. Tonks is so lucky to have you," her whisper sank through his chest and into his heart. He shook with silent sobs.
"I have to get you to the castle, to Harry, to-" he stumbled over the words.
"Hold me, Remus. Tell me you love me, a little bit. I'm so tired."
"The rain-"
"The rain will bring flowers tomorrow, and will wash this all away. Just hold me a little longer, until I can sleep." Her faint, calm voice threaded through his protests. Her eyes opened to his.
"I love you, Hermione. I'll be here when you wake up." He kissed her forehead, and her lips, and she sighed one last time. He held her body close as the rain fell.