A far cry from home
Summary: She didn't cry when Dumbledore died. She didn't cry when Ron went down. She didn't even cry once it was over, once the Dark Lord was finally defeated, once they'd won. No. She cried when they realised Snape was dead. And she didn't even know why.
Disclaimer: She didn't even cry when she realised Harry Potter was JKR's.
Hermione didn't remember much of the last battle after it had happened.
She remembered flashes of light: flashes of purple light showing the rest of the Order arriving; flashes of red light showing Professor McGonagall duelling with some Death Eater or other; flashes of green light showing Luna being hit by the Killing Curse. But she didn't cry.
She remembered screams when Neville charged at Yaxley, the man who had killed Ginny; screams when Ron fell to Lucius Malfoy; screams when Draco turned on his own father. But she didn't cry.
And she remembered silence. Not straight away; the Death Eaters didn't realise their leader had fallen; just as she had looked around for Harry, not realising he was dead, too. But gradually, the broken remains of the Order brought more Death Eaters down, and when Bellatrix Lestrange realised her master was dead she turned her wand on herself, and after that, the Aurors arrived, and everything fell silent.
And Hermione looked around at the bodies. But she didn't cry.
No, she didn't cry at all. Not until they brought the bodies back to Hogwarts.
When Dumbledore's body was brought in, and Mad-Eye Moody was weeping like a teenage schoolgirl, like she should have been, she thought she would cry, but she did not.
When Hagrid was levitated through the doors – Hagrid, who had died taking a Killing Curse meant for Harry – all in vain, all in vain, Harry was dead now – she wished she could cry, but she could not.
And Ron. She watched them carry Ron past, and wished the tears would come, but they would not.
But when Snape's body was laid out, when she saw his cold, pale face, when she realised the bravest and most loyal member of the Order was dead, then she cried. And she knew the tears shouldn't come, not for a Potions-Master-turned-spy, not for a man she had hated for years, not for a Slytherin.
But come they did.
And finally, she could cry.