Hermione walked slowly back into the Great Hall at Hogwarts. It was still crowded with people, living and dead – a long long line of bodies, mostly young and a horribly large percentage of them in school uniforms with Gryffindor colours. She went along the row, stopping at each one, naming them to herself. She couldn't help but notice how many were muggle-born, like herself – the much despised mudbloods. Dead to save a world that didn't want them in the first place. The anger rose in her again and she forced it down. At the very end of the long row, thirteen-year-old Denis Creevey knelt beside his older brother Colin, whose eyes were still open in an expression of utter amazement, holding the dead hand and trying vainly to stop his tears. He looked up at her as she paused, his expression lost.
"What am I going to tell mum and dad? What am I going to say to them?"
She knelt opposite him, unable to speak. A shadow loomed over them and she looked up at a drawn and haggard Lucius Malfoy. She instinctively reached for her wand only to be stilled by the soft deep voice.
"Tell them, that he died to save the world. That he gave his life to make sure others kept theirs. Tell them,.." A deep breath. And the tall blond epitome of a Death Eater knelt and very gently closed the eyes of a fifteen-year-old mudblood. He met their astonished gazes. "A universal truth is true whether stated by wizard or muggle. Greater love hath no man than he place his mortal body between his loved ones and war's destruction. Tell your parents the truth. That to save our tomorrows, your brother gave his today. And tell them also that we are more thankful than we can say."
She hesitantly stood, leaving the two of them talking in soft voices. Harry was standing with the Weasleys, clustered around Fred's body. Professor McGonagall was crying softly beside the bodies of Alicia Spinnett and Lisa Turpin. She winced as she saw Marietta Edgecombe's face, clear and unmarked in death, lying still and cold alongside Eloise Midgen, whose face was barely recognisable under its mask of blood. Cho Chang, her own arm supported by a blood-drenched sling, was looking down at them as if she'd never be whole again. They met each other's gaze and Cho spoke quietly.
"When McGonagall said we could stay and fight if we wanted, she told me that she was staying, that she'd never be on the wrong side again. And your jinx just vanished, like it had never been. She was so happy."
"So brave. I'm sorry."
" She saved my life. She was my friend. My best friend. Oh, God." She started to cry then, silently shaking. Professor Sprout pulled her close and held her as Hermione bit back her own tears. A strong hand touched her shoulder and she looked round at Neville. His eyes were pain-filled and he still held the Sword in one hand.
"Your gran?"
"She'll live. Pure stubbornness probably, but she'll live. I just thought you ought to know; the aurors are here. Finally." The last word was said with a level of cold anger that she was not used to seeing in her friend.
She nodded. "Are they? And the Wizengamot?"
"On their way, apparently. Probably with reporters. To make speeches and look as good as they can."
She nodded. "It's all they're good at. Neville, show them this. Make them understand. I … can't. I'll hex them. At least."
He gave her a wan smile. "I'll tell them."
"And make sure to ask them if they can see any difference between the blood of the mudbloods and the blood of everyone else." She let the anger tinge her voice and he blinked, then nodded. She realised anew that Neville really never cared, or even thought, about blood status, and smiled briefly, then hugged him, hard. "I'm just going to have a word with Harry," she said, hoping he didn't hear the farewell in her voice.
He nodded, heading purposefully towards the small group in scarlet auror robes as they came into the shattered meeting space.
She walked swiftly across to Harry and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned.
"I need him for a moment, Ginny."
The red-haired girl nodded, her eyes still streaming with tears. He followed her outside, into the debris-strewn corridor.
"It's time, Harry. We won. It's time for me to leave."
"You don't have to."
"Yes, I do. I can't live here any more." She smiled, a brief flicker. "And you have a girlfriend and a family who need you, Harry Potter, so no arguments. We agreed this."
He sighed and looked at his feet. "I wish you would stay."
"I wish I could stay. But you know I can't. Be good, Harry Potter. And make this," her gesture included all the death and destruction, "worthwhile. My Harry." She kissed his cheek and turned.
He pulled her close, tears running down his face; they mingled with her own. She gently disengaged herself. "Harry, read Tolkien. The end of Lord of the Rings; what Frodo says. It might help."
"Always the books." His small attempt at humour didn't fool either of them. She smiled, as much as she could muster, over-bright and a bit forced. Then she turned and walked away, not daring to look back.
A slim blonde figure was standing at the bottom of the main steps. Luna Lovegood smiled up at her. "You're leaving. It's alright. I'll take care of Neville. Harry and Ginny will be fine. You be good. And don't forget to write to me."
"I should have guessed. You always know these things. Good bye, Luna."
"Goodbye, Hermione." They stepped close; a quick embrace, as if neither wanted to stretch it out. Then she was walking away along the path, past a few startled wizards and witches in the heavy purple robes of Wizengamot members. She gave them all the same look of utter contempt and they flinched from her fury. Someone called out her name and she spun on the spot.
Then she was … out.