Hermione's arm flung immediately to the note with Harry's handwriting on it. Even as she was 65, she had quick reflexes.
In the arms of the Angels, fly away from here
From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie
You're in the arms of an Angel; may you find some comfort here
It was Harry's will that he had written ten years ago. She started bawling, bawling for her life. Could he…actually be gone?
So tired of the straight line, and everywhere you turn
There's vultures and thieves at your back
The storm keeps on twisting, you keep on building the lies
That you make up for all that you lack
She couldn't control herself. Her eyes were blurred as she tried to read the rest of it.
It don't make no difference, escaping one last time
It's easier to believe
In this sweet madness, oh this glorious sadness
That brings me to my knees
Ron got the rest of Harry's family fortunes, Ginny got his Firebolt, and Hermione…she laughed weakly at this…got all his old spell books and his trunk.
In the arms of the Angels, far away from here
From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear
She controlled herself enough to stop crying…wiping her eyes, she got to writing to Ron, who was on an Auror trip. Her hand was shaking, but she tried to hold it still. Harry is gone, she wrote…he's dead.
You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie
In the arms of an Angel; may you find some comfort here