She met the man when she was eleven years old - a child. Sometimes she still feels like a child. Most times though she feels like a very old woman.
As she walks through rows of the dead, she feels ancient; ancient and sad. So much waste, so much loss. Listening to Ron, one would think war is purely for brave stories and heroes – but she knows what war really makes is widows and orphans.
When she reaches the last grave in the last row she stops and faces it.
Severus Tobias Snape
For all Harry's proclamation of supreme love and heroics, Snape's final resting place in the back corner of the cemetery speaks volumes.
Is he a hero?, she wonders tilting her head and staring at his name. She supposes the answer is yes. He risked, and gave, his life to save others – isn't that the quintessential definition of a hero? Ron's war stories would have you believe that heroes are handsome and courteous and kind – the reality, she knows, is that heroes are human; and sometimes those human heroes come in unattractive and cruel packages.
With one last look at the grave of her former professor, Hermione drops a jar of boomslang skin and a jar of bicorn horn near the head stone. Walking away, she tells herself that will have to do, because there isn't any way to really settle one's tab with a dead man.