It had been three days since my encounter with Draco Malfoy, and I hadn't stepped foot in Diagon Alley since.

I only left the Burrow to go to London, to see Shaftesbury Avenue, to remember my father and the times he took me there.

But every time I passed the cafe, my chest tightened; the memory of the attack seemed fresh in my mind, even though it had been over a year ago. My hand automatically went to my wand, and I risked it many times being seen in public.

I couldn't bring myself to look for my parents, only to bring them back and wonder what happened to their daughter. I didn't want them to ask why bright lights or loud sounds made me scream, or why I woke up each night in a cold sweat, crying out for Fred, mourning all that I had lost. I didn't want them catching a glimpse of an odd word, carved crudely into my arm, asking how it got there. I didn't want them wondering why their once brave, outspoken daughter had been reduced to a timid and quiet creature, a shell of her former self.

For all those reasons, I wanted them to stay in Australia, stay until I could become more like the person I used to be, so that the questions they would ask couldn't bother me as much as they would now.

Staring into the fireplace, I wondered if they were happy, blissfully unaware of the destruction that had ravaged my world, blissfully unaware that they had a daughter.

Loud footsteps disrupted the silence of the early morning, and I turned to see Ron standing at the bottom of the stairs, his dressing gown loose, his hair tousled. He never slept easy, much like Harry and I, and I woke to him screaming, sometimes crying quietly into his pillow, unaware that I could hear him from Ginny's room.

He acknowledged me with a jerk of his head before shuffling sleepily to the kitchen, opening the icebox, no doubt looking for something to eat.

I uncurled myself from my spot on the couch, walking surreptitiously to the kitchen, hoping that there wouldn't be another argument between us this morning.

I put on the kettle and quietly moved around him, only muttering a 'thanks' when he handed me a mug. He sat down at the table, chewing on a leftover bit of shepherd's pie, ignoring me.

I sat down across from him, staring at the worn wood of the table, ignoring him as well. I knew that my being in his presence hurt him greatly, and it hurt me equally too.

At one point I had imagined a future with Ron, somewhere near the end of our fifth year. I had been set, so set on being with him, but he had mucked it up by being with Lavender. Then Fred came along, comforting me, and I fell for him, quickly.

Fred never hurt me, never cheated me. He listened, he loved me. Fred was the love of my life, and it had been hard, being away from him for a year. That year was the worst, and it had gotten better when we reunited at Hogwarts, only to have it end in tragedy.

A lump formed in my throat when I thought about Fred lying dead in the Great Hall, the ghost of his last smile on his face, and I began to cry, my soft sobs disrupting the quiet room.

Ron stopped eating, his fork halfway to his mouth, and he looked uncomfortable. He set his fork down and reluctantly reached across the table, taking my hand in his and stroking it with his thumb.

"Hermione…" he began, and I wiped my eyes, looking at our hands, sniffing. "I'm sorry."

I didn't look up at him, even though I could hear how much he meant it in his voice. I swallowed and took a shaky breath.

"I-I miss him," I began, my voice wavering, and I shook my head gently to clear the lingering thoughts, "and I know you do too, Ron."

Ron nodded, and I made eye contact, clearing my throat.

"But we can't go on like this. It's hurting you, it's hurting me. It's hurting your mum, your dad, Ginny, Harry, even… even George," I leaned forward, reaching for his other hand. "We need to get this out of the way. I love- loved, Fred- and there's nothing that will change that. You and I, we- we were never meant to be. It just wasn't in the cards for us." I could feel the tears falling again, and I could see Ron beginning to cry as well. "Please, please understand, he wouldn't have wanted us to go on like this. Hurting each other."

Ron sniffled, then nodded. "I know, 'Mione. It's just hard." He smiled, and held my hands tighter. "I keep thinking about what he would say if he was here: 'Ron, stop being such a fucking tosser, you bloody idiot'."

I laughed softly, watching as he laughed too, until we slipped back into silence, looking at our hands.

"He didn't die in vain, you know," a voice murmured behind me, and I turned to see Harry leaning against the doorway, a small smile on his face.

I smiled and nodded, jerking my head, motioning for him to sit down. He pulled out a chair and sat down, looking between Ron and I.

"Have you two made up?" he asked, and I nodded again.

"Something like that." The kettle began to whistle and I let go of Ron's hands, getting up to pour my tea. I turned, looking at Harry. "Want some?"

Harry nodded and I got another cup out of the cupboard, pouring him some tea. I set the mug down in front of him, settling myself back into my seat.

"Thanks 'Mione," he murmured, taking a sip.

We sat in silence, just enjoying each other's company until dawn broke, the rustling of the others awakening signaling the day was starting.

The first one to come downstairs was Molly, and she looked pleasantly surprised to see all three of us awake. She smiled at the three of us, but her face seemed to go stony when she looked at Harry. She still hadn't forgave him for striking Ginny, and he understood that and tried to amend things by making himself scarce whenever Molly was in the room.

Right on cue, Harry finished the last of his tea and got up, leaving the kitchen and going outside. Molly watched him go, knowing why he did it, and sat down in his spot when she could see him no longer.

She spoke after watching Ron and I for a few minutes, her voice tentative. "Well?"

Ron got up and put his dishes in the sink, sitting back down and looking to his mother. "We've made up. No more rows."

Molly smiled at her son and pat my hand gently, taking a sip from her cup of tea, seemingly deep in thought. "Hermione?"

I smiled at her. "Yes, Molly?"

She set her cup down and folded her hands together, her expression grave. "I've been thinking and… I think we should go through Fred's things."

The smile slipped from my face, and my hand clenched the handle of my teacup. "O-oh?"

Molly sighed softly, and held the my other hand, softly stroking it. "I know… I know it's hard. But, we have to do it, dear."

Ron started. "Mum I don't think-"

"Ronald, please, I think I know what's best." Molly spoke firmly, and I quickly got up without a word, and exited the kitchen.

I went outside into the front yard and kept walking, walking until my stocking feet were covered in water up to my knees from the small pond. I stopped, closed my eyes, and let the sounds of the morning wash over me, bathing me in serenity.

Molly had known about Fred and I long before anyone else did. She knew that his death had affected me the most, second to her and Arthur. So it astounded me that she thought it appropriate to spring this on me, knowing that I still hurt over Fred's death, knowing that the mere thought of him could bring me to tears.

A sudden rustling to my left sent me into automatic battle mode, and I opened my eyes, reaching for my wand, only to remember I had left it back at the Burrow. Panic set in and I began mentally mapping the way back to the house if I needed to escape.

"Who's there?" I demanded, watching as the tall blades of grass shifted, and a peek of platinum blonde made my heart stop.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that it was Luna Lovegood, not Draco Malfoy.

"Hello Hermione." Luna said in her usual, dreamy tone, treading lightly into the water beside me. "What are you doing out here all by your lonesome? And in your socks?" She looked down at my socked feet, and I at her bare ones.

"Luna, aren't you cold?" I looked her up and down again, taken slightly aback by her choice of outfit. She wore a dark blue summer frock with black leggings, and no jumper.

She looked me up and down in return. "Aren't you?" She countered, and I smiled.

"I guess so. Hadn't really noticed it before you pointed it out."

"Funny how things work that way, isn't it?" Luna kicked at the cold water, and giggled delightfully. "I think it's the Wrackspurts at work again."

I nodded, vaguely remembering what a Wrackspurt was. "Why are you here? Did you walk the entire way over here?"

Luna smiled. "No, silly. I Apparated. How silly… walking over that large hill in December! What a notion!" She cocked her head to the side and peered into my eyes, a small frown on her face.

"You're sad," she observed, and I looked away but nodded.

"I am sad, Luna."

"Why?"

"Because…" I didn't know how to answer her without breaking down into tears. "Because it's cold."

Luna's frown deepened, but she accepted my pathetic excuse anyway. "Cold drives away the garden gnomes. They don't like it much." She twirled around, as if searching for some, but stopped abruptly, staring at her reflection in the water.

An awkward silence settled between us as I watched Luna stare at herself in the water. Luna wasn't really the same, either, after the war. She became more… loony, in a sense. Sometimes she would space out even more, forget where she was or why she was there, and most of it I suspected had to do with the torture she'd endured at the hands of Death Eaters. But she never lost her sunny and dreamy disposition, something I envied her for.

I cleared my throat. "Luna, why are you here?"

She smiled at her reflection and looked at mine. "I've come to see Ron."

I chuckled. "Ron? Why on Earth would you come to see Ron?"

She looked up at me and cocked her head to the side again, searching my face. I felt vulnerable and I didn't like it.

"Something, like a feeling, told me to." She finally said, and turned to walk to the Burrow.

She paused, and turned back to me. "You know, he knows you miss him... Fred, I mean. But he'd want you to move on and be happy. Just like my mum wanted my father to do." And with that, she left.

I watched her go, my heart aching in my chest, and I followed her soon after.