Hey! This is my first Songfic, to the old Irish folk song, Last Rose of Summer. It's kinda tragic and yet beautiful at the same time. Please review, it'll boost my self confidence and I can get around to posting any more! That button is there for a reason!!! This is a one-shot deal, so don't expect any sequals. If you beg, I may post another story!!! Thanx in advance!! --C. T.

Disclaimer: The charecters are those of J. K. Rowling, and the song doesn't belong to me either. It belongs to Ireland, I guess, since it's a folk song. Hope you enjoy!

Hermione Granger walked solemnly from the last class of her seventh year. She had decided to come and be the Transfiguration teacher for the next year, as Professor McGonnagal was going to retire. Harry was leaving, bleak and dull as Ginny had been killed in the battle. She herself felt like she was falling apart, since her recent lover had also been killed. Professor Dumbledore had not escaped unscathed either: he had been hit with the crucious curse many times, and they were waiting for the word of if he would remain sane. In the meantime, professor Flitwick was acting as the Headmaster.
"Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone..." The ancient Irish folk song's lyrics faded into disuse as she heard the pained baritone choke into sobs. "All her lovely companions are faded and gone; no flow'r of her kindred, no rosebud is nigh to reflect back her blushes, or give sigh for sigh." The voice trailed off, and she had been certain there was also a woman's tremulous soprano mingling with the heartfelt baritone. "I'll not leave thee, thou lone one, To pine on the stem; Since the lovely are sleeping, Go, sleep thou with them; Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed Where thy mates of the garden Lie senseless and dead." This time, she was certain of the fact that there was a woman's voice. It sounded motherly and loving; not towards the man's voice, but to a listener. She had a flash of what Hermione was sure was the woman: Long red hair, vibrant grren eyes, and fair skin. She carried a baby blanket, and her smile was all Harry's. Hermione breathed one word: "Lily..."
"Yes, child. Now come. You belong with us," Lily Potter whispered. She was glowing vibrantly, as a second shape faded into view. She knew him, her lover, her Potion's professor, her Severus.
"Hermione..." He held out his arms, and she rushed into them. He was surprisingly solid and warm, as he had been the last time he had held her. It was then that she recognised what they were wearing. Silk robes of the purest most radient white.

Suddenly, Hermione awoke, sittting up in bed. The last verse of the song escaped her lips as tears began to fall: "So soon may I follow, when friendships decay, and from love's shining circle the gems drop away! When true hearts lie wither'd. And fond ones are flown, oh! who would inhabit this bleak world alone?" She wiped away a tear, and felt a warm hand caress her face. He was there, in the white robes she remembered. "How can you be here?" she asked, ever practical.
"You died of heartache last night. This is Heaven. Lily and Ginny will be back with Harry. In the meantime..." He held her in his arms. She noticed the white robes that she was wearing and laughed, holding him tighter. Throughout the Gryffindor Tower, the song echoed in an eerie and calming way.

'Tis the last rose of summer,
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone;
No flow'r of her kindred,
No rosebud is nigh
To reflect back her blushes,
Or give sigh for sigh.

I'll not leave thee, thou lone one,
To pine on the stem;
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go, sleep thou with them;
Thus kindly I scatter
Thy leaves o'er the bed
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie senseless and dead.

So soon may I follow,
When friendships decay,
And from love's shining circle
The gems drop away!
When true hearts lie wither'd.
And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit
This bleak world alone?