Chapter Two
Hermione stared at her distorted reflection in the cold wood of the coffin. Tears came down her face fast and warm. She unconsciously touched the wood and traced a finger across the hinge. The black dress, black robes, the black seemed to suffocate her as she tried to escape. Anywhere but here. Maybe if she concentrated hard enough she could think of a spell that would make her melt into the ground with him. Silent sobs shook her body as she clasped her hand to her mouth, willing herself not to make a sound. With Harry gone, Hermione wasn't sure how she or Ron would go on and hunt the Horcruxes alone. Everything was backwards…Dumbledore had died in vain, Snape had died in vain, and now Harry. Hermione let out a strangled sound as she sunk to the ground, trembling.
"Hermione," Ron's soft voice drifted to her, but she didn't register what he was saying. His warm hands were on her shoulders, urging her backwards. Hermione turned to face him, her vision blurred with tears. "'Mione, they're going to bury him now," Ron mumbled softly in her ear, and she saw that his face was streaked with tears too. Hermione's hands clenched into fists. Her nails dug into her palms with the effort to keep herself from crying out. Slowly, she rose from the ground, biting her lip as she watched the great wooden coffin being lowered into the earth. She walked back to where Ginny, Mr. Weasley, and Mrs. Weasley were standing. Mr. Weasley's face was grey and his hands trembled ominously at his sides. Mrs. Weasley was choking back tears as she clung to her husband. Ginny had a hard, blazing look on her face, as though she were willing herself not to cry under any circumstances. As the last mound of earth was packed on top of the wood, Hermione found her body shaking again. Ron wrapped his long arms around her, but it made her only feel even more trapped. The reality of the situation came crashing down on Hermione, which only made her shake harder.
"It's not fair," She muttered almost inaudibly.
Ron took a shaky breath in. "It never is."
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley turned back to the Burrow shocked into silence with heavy hearts. Ginny stayed with Ron and Hermione as she stared at the gravestone and mound of earth the represented Harry Potter and all that he stood for. She felt her own hands shaking but she tensed her body to stop them. Remain strong, she told herself. Death is only the beginning of a new adventure. Ginny remembered Dumbledore's words to Harry and inexplicably her heart felt lighter. Harry would be happy on another adventure. He was a true Gryffindor. Tucking her memories away in her heart, Ginny walked back to the Burrow, a few steps behind her parents.
"Are you ready to go inside?" Ron asked. Hermione had stopped shaking, but he kept his arms locked around her.
Hermione shuddered against him, wiping the tears from her eyes. She stiffened her spine and took a breath to calm herself. "Yes." Ron took her hand and the pair of them walked to the Burrow. Hermione dimly realized that Ron's hand was around hers, but was too tired to protest. The loss of Harry grew heavy in her heart as she realized she would never see the flash of intuition in his emerald eyes or the way his glasses slid down his nose when he was up at midnight finishing a report for the Ministry. The Burrow loomed in front of the pair of them, the comforting presence suddenly distant and ominous. Hermione was afraid of all the memories that plague her as soon as she opened the doors of the Weasley's residence. For every holiday, the Burrow had been a sanctuary – a place where the three of them could get some peace and quiet and take a break from their responsibilities. Hermione feared that this emptiness crushing her would prevent her from every visiting this place again. Ron's grip on her hand tightened as they drew closer to his house and Hermione watched the resolve harden across his face. He was going to be strong for the both of them. Hermione felt like a coward, hiding behind her tears, afraid of a future without Harry. She didn't know how the Weasley's did it. Strength came with experience. The Weasley's had had much more to deal with in terms of loss than Hermione ever had. The only funeral she had been to was her grandmother's funeral when she was three years old. Hermione remembered it, but it never quite fit together in her head cohesively. The insight of a toddler could be limiting.
"Hermione," Ron muttered, shaking her out of her reverie. They had stopped walking and Hermione was in front of the door handle.
"Oh," Hermione blinked at it stupidly for a few seconds before pushing the front door open. "Sorry," She mumbled, painfully aware of Ron watching her.
"Don't apologize, you have nothing to apologize for," Ron replied, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. Hermione bit her lip and said nothing. He wasn't really irritated with her. The day had been trying for everyone, despite the show of calmness Ron had bravely tried to put on. Ron finally released her hand when they entered the Burrow and Hermione felt some of her pent up tension leave her body. The Burrow seemed haunted with grief and Mrs. Weasley haunted the kitchen, trying to cook to take her mind off of the funeral and the cold feeling spreading through everyone's stomachs. "Hey, Mum," Ron greeted quietly.
"R-Ron," Mrs. Weasley looked up, startled by the sudden appearance of Hermione and Ron. "Hermione, dear, why don't you two sit down? I can fix us some dinner…"
"Mum, you've put the pan on the stove upside down," Ron said, quietly taking it off the stove. "I'm pretty sure Dad's went to Hogsmeade and got some food. I don't think anyone is hungry right now, in any case."
Mrs. Weasley froze as her son fixed the various eccentricities of the kitchen that were caused by her preoccupation. An enigmatic emotion twisted across her face, but cleared as quickly as it came. "All right, if you say so. Ronnie, why don't you take Hermione upstairs for a bit? I'll just…clean up here and call your father," Mrs. Weasley's voice petered out towards the end of the sentence. She turned her back on Hermione and Ron as she bustled about in her kitchen. Hermione's eyes widened in concern, but Ron shook his head and steered her upstairs. They passed Ginny's room and saw her practicing spells out of The Standard Book of Spells with extraordinary concentration. Hermione winced inwardly, wishing she knew how to comfort her. Ron opened the door to his room. It was cluttered as always, with textbooks sprawled here and there. It comforted Hermione to see one thing that hadn't changed. Hermione sat down on Ron's mattress heavily and crossed her legs. Ron took the seat beside her and pinched the bridge of nose, an anguished expression washing over his features. Hermione froze, unsure of what to do with his unexpected show of emotion. Ron took a deep breath and straightened his spine, grimacing at Hermione. He reached into his pocket and offered Hermione a piece of chocolate for Honeydukes.
"Ginny say they always make her feel better," He explained, popping one into his mouth. Hermione scrunched her mouth into a half-smile, remembering all the times she had visited Ginny in her dormitory with Honeydukes wrappers strewn across the floor after she broke up with Dean. She took the chocolate and allowed the bittersweet chocolate to melt on her tongue. They sat in silence for a while, Hermione leaning her head on his shoulder and Ron rubbing the tops of her arms with his large hands. The sun blazed dimly in the evening sky as it set over the hills. Clearing his throat, Ron asked, "So, do you think we should still continue without Harry?"
It took Hermione to figure out what Ron meant. "You mean with the D.A?"
Ron moved so he could read her expression. "Yes."
Hermione paused, the ache returning to her heart. "Well, it's grown so much now. Considering the fact we only started out with you, me, Harry (Hermione had to swallow an immense lump in her throat just to say his name), Neville, Ginny, and Luna – we have thirty to forty members now. It wouldn't make sense to just give up, especially now." Hermione felt Ron flinch against her body.
"I didn't mean give up," Ron said defensively.
Hermione sighed against his body. "I know, I didn't mean it like that either. But, Harry would have wanted us to carry on, don't you think?"
Ron laughed, albeit with a hint of melancholy. "You're right, like always. 'Mione, what would we do without you?"
Hermione chuckled, although she felt that dreaded lump climb back up her throat and constricting her breathing capacity. "I honestly have no clue, Ronald."