Authors note: Hi! Thank you for clicking on my story. I make no promises that it'll be good... Please comment suggestions for improvement, I am here to learn after all. But thanks and hope you do enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters or settings because I am not J. I am a wannabe writer who lives on her computer...
Hermione was lost. Not knowing when the pain would stop. Never knowing if she would heal. Because in that moment, the pain was all she felt. And it killed her.
The memorial at Hogwarts, only days after the defeat of Voldemort, was nearing. Harry had told his friends that any of them were welcome at Grimmauld Place. No one really had the heart to go home. So she and the Weasely's were staying in the abundance of spare rooms.
Her black dress hung on the bedroom door. She's stared at it a lot. It was a really depressing dress. It was a death dress. She'd bought it to attend funerals in. It was weird that she was doing normal things like buying clothes. Just 2 days ago had Hogwarts been under siege. And Hermione didn't know what to do with herself. She was grieving and so was everyone else. Between the outbreaks of really depressing stuff, there was nothing to think. Hermione's eyes stung, they were red and puffy and had been for 2 days. A lot of the time she just leaned against the wall and stared at her feet. There was nothing to think, but she couldn't stop remembering. Fred's eyes. Tonk's hair. Remus' stern looks. Collin's smile. And then came the tears. Endless bouts of emotion. Then feeling nothing. Like an empty shell staring at her black depressing dress in her grey depressing room. Staring at anything. A crack in between the floor boards. A fold in the curtain. A book not so neatly stuffed onto her book shelf. The glass of water, unsettled by anything. The dust settling on her carpet. Depression, no doubt. And it wasn't going to end anytime soon.
Everything felt surreal. Like Hermione was watching everything through a screen. She was seeing through a grey filter. Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with her. Everything was disjointed now. Nothing seemed real at Remus and Tonks' funeral. Teddy cried even though he didn't know why. Nothing seemed more real than the pain at Fred's funeral. George couldn't tear his eyes off the coffin. The only thing that grounded her was her death dress. Which was weird, she realised. However the dress was a symbol of consistence. It was a memory, like a photo album. But of dead people's funerals.
On the morning of the memorial Hermione put her black dress. She pinned up her hair with a black clip and tucked her wand under her skirt. Just a habit. She sighed. It was her last funeral, but it was one for a mass grave.
Tracing the flaking wallpaper along the staircase, Hermione wandered downstairs. After biding good morning to Kreacher and to Harry, the only ones awake, Hermione apperated. It took her a while to decide that she would visit the castle before the ceremony. So to pass the time Hermione explored the librar
It was a strangely comforting place. And the only place that was vaguely familiar. Someone had swept the floor which was now free from dust and debris. The books had been restored to their shelves. In fact, the library had been spared on the whole. A couple of the windows where smashed but they could be fixed. Luckily, the fire that had broken out further down the corridor had been contained and it seemed like the flames hadn't gotten to the library. Hermione drifted between the isles and soon she was engrossed. A sudden movement, someone behind the shelves. Hermione tensed. She could here the shuffling towards the back of the library. She peered curiously through pass the isle. She caught a glimpse of silver blonde but instead of pursuing the stranger, Hermione half turned. Almost as if she was second guessing her own decision. But the proceeded to walk cautiously out of the library onto the grounds.
The gentle breeze pushed the stray strands of hair off her cheek. The clear country air was refreshing. Hermione's lungs felt full of oxygen. She finally felt like she could breathe after a week of holding it in. A week of patting other's on the back. Of asking if they felt okay or needed a shoulder to cry on. It was horrible, thinking like that did make her feel guilty. But now she didn't have to tiptoe around Ginny incase she burst into tears. She didn't have to hide any happy emotion she felt incase someone else was still grieving. She had cried all the tears she had to cry.
Hermione's eyes fell onto the grass underneath her feet. Buds and wispy grass stems were the heralding of spring. A glimpse of summer's brilliant green that soon would grow to carpet the earth. The trees, warmed by the fresh sunlight and rain. Among their adolescent branches chirped the birds flitting in and out of the clouds. May was one of Hermione's favourite months. And today was a perfect day in May.
Looking upwards, Hermione stared up at the vastness of the castle. It seemed bleak and caused a rift between the light hearted atmosphere. With it's windows shattered, stone chipped and turrets demolished. But the air was light and delicate. Hogwarts would be repaired and the shadow of a new year hung in the air like a promise.
Turning back, the depressing scenery was replaced with gatherings of friends. The memorial was to take place on Hogwart's grounds. A billowing white tent stood to the left. A raised platform stood facing the castle, a podium in it's midst. With rows of seats stretching out. A maroon curtain was draped as the back drop for the platform where the Minister of magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, would present his speech.
Hermione caught sight of a glimpse of flaming red hair among a crowd of black funeral robes.
"Ron." Hermione breathed. She ambled down the inclined hill to her friends gathering near the stage. "Ron! Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, even though she didn't really know why she was so relieved to see them.
Harry saw her and let go of Ginny's hand. "Mione!" Harry squeezed her tightly into a hug. "Been a while," He mused. Hermione smiled, knowing that they'd seen each other that morning at Grimmauld Place before apperating to the ceremony. Harry grinned as Ron pulled Hermione into a kiss. It caught her by surprise, especially in such a somber setting.
"Ron isn't a bad kisser," Hermione thought. "He's just a bit… slobbery."
Hermione then spoke to Mrs Weasely and paid her respects to Andromeda who cradled her grandson Teddy in her arms. Then just as she joined Ginny, people began to take their places. Ginny, Hermione, Harry and Ron all sat in one row of chairs immediately in front of the podium. The whisperings were diminished when the Minister stepped onto the stage. Kingsley had a smooth, exotic way of speaking. It was relaxing to listen to.
After greeting and thanking everyone for attending the memorial, he announced Ginevra Mcgonagall as Hogwart's Head Master and that the term would begin in september as normal.
Then Kingsley proceeded to read a list of the victims of the battle of Hogwarts. He spoke about their funerals and commemorated them for their service. Kingsley talked about not only those who had died in the last week but those who died defending our world against dark forces. Old members of the Order of the Phoenix, employees of the Ministry. Hermione held Harry's hand tightly when Kingsley mentioned Sirius. After his roll of acknowledgements he paused.
"Akin to the services and sacrifices of the victims of this war there are those who played a large part in the liberation from dark power to our community. As a gesture of appreciation and acknowledgement for the service of a select few, and as the Minister of Magic I have the honour and privilege to bestow the Order of Merlin." Kingsley gestured to a young man on his right holding a grand glass case, the medals glinted inside amidst the crushed velvet.
"Firstly, for his acts of outstanding bravery and distinction, I award Harry potter a First class Order of Merlin." A mighty round of applause ensued as Harry, shocked and bewildered, stumbled on stage. Kingsley draped his medal over his head, it's green ribbon flapping in the breeze. Kingsley shook Harry's hand firmly and reassuringly. The applause didn't end for a long while.
"Secondly, for her acts of loyalty and for her courageous endeavours, I award Hermione Granger a First class Order of Merlin."
Hermione's eyes had glossed over, her body and mind uncomprehending. Ginny shook her arm madly until without instruction her legs carried her onto the platform. She found herself stood side by side with Harry. The applause for her was deafening as Kingsley reached over, placing the medal over breast of Hermione's dress. She felt Harry squeezing her hand, "You deserve it." He mouthed. Hermione stared, her mouth agape and cheeks blushing, out into the crowd. She spotted that Hagrid was wiping a tear away and that the Weasley's were hooting and cheering. She felt proud too, Harry really deserved it. The crowd settled down after Kingsley raised his hand in a silencing gesture.
"And, in honorary respects, I bestow Severus Snape with a Second class Order of Merlin. As recognition for his dedication and service to Dumbledore." The crowd did not object but bowed their head in respect. The silence was peaceful. Kingsley did not speak for a long time.
"I would also like to reaffirm the Order of Merlin that was bestowed to Remus Lupin. His life, among many other's, were..." Kingsley paused as if he was searching for the right word, "...sacrificed during the Battle of Hogwarts. His service can never be repaid. Victory during war is costly. For any battle casualties are far more costly. We mourn for our loved ones, friends, strangers. For they are the heroes of war. There may be nothing glorious about their deaths. 'Heroes of war' is far to eloquent a term. The sacrifice and courage of every one is what we remember them for. Defending each other to even death is the greatest sacrifice that can be made. And they will be remembered. As is the service of the Order of the Phoenix, the Professors at Hogwarts for the protection of its students. For the support of every magical being in our fight to be freed from the dark wizards who live in our world. Today, like the 2nd of May every year, is a memorial but not just for the dead. For all the sacrifices that have been made. Thank you."
A orchestra of silent music ensued. One that played in the eyes of the people like Mrs Weasley who remembered. Painful and woeful music. A ballad of love and mourning. After a minute or two, people began to depart. Harry and Hermione were still in an embrace, standing in a sombre trance on the platform. As they broke apart, they were flooded with congratulations. Hermione noticed that Ron hadn't said anything.
Ginny was admiring her medal when Hermione felt someone tap her shoulder politely. She turned to find, shockingly, that she faced Draco Malfoy. His perfectly tailored suit was a mossy green and black pinstripe diner jacket and accompanying trousers with a black dress shirt and moss green tie. She was genuinely surprised at the formality of his attire.
After the initial shock, Hermione jeered under her breath, "Green? He really is the Slytherin Prince."
What set Hermione on edge was Draco's expression. It was vacant and stern, not taunting eyes and mocking lips. He stood there, silently, his hands at his sides. Draco stared and Hermione finally saw his eyes. They were a stormy blue, a blizzard of Arctic ice. His hair was silver, not platinum. The blonde in his hair seemed to have been whitewashed in a silver bath. It was swept up in a cresting wave.
"Hello, Draco." Hermione spoke hesitantly.
Draco took a minute to compose himself. Then, after running his hand through his hair nervously, spoke. "Granger." He acknowledged. "I'm here…" His lip quivered slightly, but only just enough for Hermione to notice. "I'm here... To apologise."
Hermione's mouth was agape in a sphere and her eyes bulged. The only thing that Hermione could think was, "What the hell is wrong with him!?"