Hermione stood, wiping away the tears clinging to her eyelashes. Molly Weasley was still leaning over her son, sobbing uncontrollably, her tears splashing against his still, empty face, sliding into his red hair. A soft breeze filtered in through one of the many broken windows, blowing through his hair just enough to make is ruffle. The small movement had hope, pointless, stupid hope burst through her chest like a firework; she heard a gasp rip from her throat. The wind, and with it any hope of life when there wasn't any, vanished, as quickly as it had come, and the weight of a dead friend settled back into her shoulders tenfold. She couldn't watch it any longer; she kissed Ron gently on the crown of his head and made her way over to Harry who sat alone by the wall, watching like some silent protector, still desperate to save them all, even though the threat was gone. She slid to the ground beside him, their knees knocking together gently, a small comfort to them both, the knowledge that he wasn't alone, hadn't been for years and would never be again.
Their eyes rested on the Weasleys, a cloud of red hair and pain, but away from the heart of their storm, Hermione couldn't help but feel the shred of hope she'd kept in her chest for months slowly growing. They would grieve their friends, and they may still have to fight the lingering death eaters, but Voldemort was gone, the monster was gone, and they were free. Harry was free.
For a long while they continued to watch quietly as people moved among the bodies of the fallen. Xenophilius Lovegood had arrived, and he and Luna walked together, helping where they could, even if Xenophilius looked pale and frightened still. Hermione watched them for a few moments, her heart full of affection for the odd pair, until her eyes caught onto the battered doors opening slightly. Bellatrix Lestrange, impossibly, walked through the door, a small dark haired baby pressed to her chest. In seconds, Hermione was on her feet, wand out, aimed directly at the death eater. Harry was standing beside her instantly, his hand on her wrist, holding her back. There was something off about his stance, neither protective nor defensive, or at least, not of Hermione.
"Mrs. Tonks," he said, shock filtering through Hermione's nerves as the woman, Tonks' mother, apparently, and not the dead death eater, moved towards them. As she drew closer, Hermione could see the differences she hadn't noticed before; her hair was dark brown rather than black, less grey showing at her temples. She was beautiful in the same haughty as Bellatrix, but the only gauntness in her face was that of fear and grief.
"Harry," Mrs. Tonks said. She didn't sound as soft as Hermione had thought she would, but her eyes were kind. "Where is my daughter?"
Hermione started to speak, to take over like she always did, but Mrs. Tonks had little interest in her, her eyes resting on Harry, and she realised, suddenly, that perhaps she was intruding on something she didn't understand; here stood her best friend, who had lost his whole family years ago, and a middle-aged woman, who had lost the remained of her family today. She squeezed Harry's shoulder and moved away.
She didn't return, as she had intended, to Harry's watch post, was instead caught off guard by Narcissa Malfoy staring intently at Mrs. Tonks. There a great sadness in her face Hermione wouldn't have expected to find there, and for a second Hermione almost felt sorry for her. As her eyes moved away from her surviving sister, however, her mask returned and within seconds she was gone, apparating away to Merlin knew where. Hermione couldn't bring herself to be concerned; the remaining Aurors would catch her. As she turned to look back at Harry, she found Ron standing before her, his eyes red rimmed and puffy, s slight quiver still pulling at his lips.
"I can't go home," he whispered, his voice wet, as Hermione embraced him, his head tucked into the space her neck and shoulder joined.
"We'll go to Gimmauld Place," she whispered back, breathing in the scent of him, the scent, for a long time she'd worried she'd never get to smell ever again.
"We can't," Harry said quietly from behind her. Hermione guessed, from anyone else, Ron would have been furious at the intrusion on their private moment, but Ron only reached out to grab onto their best friend's shoulder. "The aurors need to check it before we can go back."
"You can return to mine, if you wish," Mrs. Tonks voice said. Hermione hadn't noticed her moving away from her daughter and son-in-law. She drew away from Ron to look at the woman, standing between Ron and Harry still. She didn't look as if she had been crying, and little Teddy was fast asleep in his holder, but she held something small in her right hand, and Hermione guessed she simply didn't wish to be alone.
Andromeda's house wasn't particularly small, but it had an aura of cosiness about it in the same way the burrow did. It looked perfectly muggle, barring the many moving photographs, but there were even a few muggle ones, black and white of a young couple Hermione didn't recognise. Teddy had started crying as soon as they'd walked in, but, much to Harry's own surprise, settled for him as soon as he scooped the baby up. He held him for a long time as Hermione and Ron helped Andromeda cook a small dinner for them, looking into his eyes.
"They're hazel mostly," he said after a while. "Like Remus's."
When the time came, Andromeda set herself up a bed in Teddy's room, though she sometimes called it Dora's, even though the three of them insisted she sleep in her own room, and the three slept in her bed, curled up together like they had on the few nights it had been so wet and cold even the fire in the tent hadn't kept them warm.
"You're free now Harry," Ron whispered into the dark. "You don't have to worry about your dreams."
He stayed silent for a very long time, so much so Hermione had assumed he'd already fell asleep. Though as she started to drift, he said, "We're all free."