Chapter 20:
It was nice here. Safe. Unthreatening. No raised voices, no pain or death or pressure. These were the thoughts that filtered through to Hermione, as if sent from another mind, far away, corrupted by static. Though hers was the only mind here, she knew that. Still what she knew no longer mattered, thought processes were a distant memory; a worry for another day.
Virtually obscured by the intervening distance were the voices, snippets of which filtered through. They were much quieter. And it was easy to choose not to listen, feint as the words were. The temptation to do so was great. When she weighed the calm of her current state against the angst-ridden sounds of those words, the decision became much easier.
She chose to stay where she was, in the place that was not really there, but was the entirety of her reality for the moment. It was not a decision that she took without a certain amount of regret attached - the image of a dark-haired, dark-eyed man was the one thing that kept her from drifting further than she could currently perceive.
In this place, it was most likely possible to cross over the horizon. The way back would be complicated though.
To avoid the heart-ache that memory caused, blurry and incomplete as it was, she examined the place around her. This examination turned up some interesting conclusions. This was a place with no name. It was not a place of dreams or nightmares; it is not a place of good or bad; it is just a place. This was a place which had no name, nor could it ever have. It was the makings of free-fall, the aching of loneliness, boredom and loss; or maybe Hermione thought, maybe it was her emotions that were in free- fall; maybe she was unwilling to allow them to settle for fear of allowing the past to return.
As she made these discoveries, the voices faded away, and people shifted to an even further distance. The only thing that remained constant was that presence by her side, a presence she knew every intimate detail of, that haunted her mind in this empty place, calling her back.
And then, in an epiphany that was singularly undramatic, she realised what she had been struggling to find for so long. There was nothing here. No answers. Nothing more to find than was already within her. This was no way to face the world, or her problems, or past. She had to go back.
* * *
Severus Snape had sat by Hermione Granger's bedside for nearly the whole time she had been in the infirmary. After she had collapsed in the corridor, she had not regained consciousness, and showed little sign that she was aware of the world around her since. That had been four days ago, Dumbledore mused, and he had to confess he had no ideas what was going on in her head.
Neither did Poppy Pomfrey, who could say nothing more than her state was akin to that of a very deep sleep. Physically, she was unharmed. After it became clear that first day that she was not going to awaken, the ministry officials had left, demanding to be informed as soon as she awoke.
The aurors had left almost as soon as the details of what had happened had been explained, eager as they were to begin searching for a body. They were anxious to have that confirmation this time around, it seemed, and were currently storming all the haunts of his known followers. The way his death eaters were running scarred provided all the impetus they needed, and the assurance that they would not storm into one of his strongholds and meet the man himself in all his magnificence.
All celebration, in fact all mention of what would come to be known as a glorious victory, had be strictly forbidden. Dumbledore had happily complied with that; he too was searching for the words and the time to tell the school what happened and how, perhaps why, and having the body of Voldemort found to start with would definitely make it easier to begin.
At the moment, all Dumbledore knew for certain was that there had been no revels, no attacks, no raids of deaths in the magical community, and that the dark mark that had marred Severus's flesh was now gone. That, along with Severus's word and account of events, was good enough for him to believe.
However the lack of a body was not only suspending celebration and announcement, but the investigation that had been promised. Fudge, who was still in power despite his disastrous, short-sighted refusal to move against Voldemort at the end of the TriWizard Tournament, was being deliberately obtuse. This time there was no Barty Crouch to lead the purge of the magical society, no zealot on a mission to destroy dark wizards everywhere, just a man who wanted as little trouble as possible.
Dumbledore knew, without a doubt, that should he allow it Hermione and Severus would be the scapegoats for the events of four days previous. There was no way the ministry could condemn Harry Potter without revealing just how extensive Voldemort's power had become, something Fudge did not need.
For in this campaign Voldemort had taken a slightly different tack. He had not declared all out war on the magical world, preferring instead to target key people with fatal precision. The fodder for revels was drawn from the Muggle community world wide - apparition made it easy to spread the losses - instead of the children and family of witches and wizards on the side of good. It had been a master stroke, taking out the people who argued loudest that decisive action needed to be taken against Voldemort, whilst giving the rest little incentive (or personal vendetta)to make themselves targets.
That had given Voldemort the time he needed to establish himself once again, while allowing Fudge to play down the threat he posed, using the media to reassure people, and more importantly, retain his own position. It had been Dumbledore's actions, and those of the Order of the Phoenix, that had held the situation in check for as long as it had been. And now it was over.
He had seen in the way Fudge pushed through the crowd to listen to Malfoy's groundless accusations that Fudge was looking for anything to explain away the fact that Voldemort had nearly succeeding in killing Dumbledore and taking over Hogwarts to boot. The gleam in Fudge's eye as Malfoy had spoken, and his steady countenance thereafter confirmed that he was going to use that slander to his advantage.
Malfoy deserved to have his mouth sown shut, Dumbledore noted grimly, but that would not help the situation now.
No-one had discussed the accusation that Potter had raped or impregnated Hermione, although it was clear to see that she was pregnant while Severus had carried her, at least not official. Neither had anyone discussed Severus's supposed part in this revenge killing Hermione had plotted, although the ministry, or rather Fudge, had requested that he be suspended from his post until the investigation had been completed. Dumbledore had of course complied, but had not had the heart to remove him from the school.
In truth, it would have taken an act of the gods to pry Severus away from Hermione's unconscious form. It was refreshing to see Severus showing such healthy, normal emotions; to show any emotions at all, other than self loathing in private or arrogance in public. He just hoped that Hermione would awake soon, because without her Severus was quickly falling apart, and this time he would surely descend even deeper than before.
The young lady in question had to wake up, if only to enjoy the life she had fought so bravely to earn, and to give her child a mother. The world had enough orphans already.
* * *
Severus was tired and grumpy. He was fed up of being watched and checked up on, and reminded to eat and sleep. The last time Dumbledore had tried, he had growled that should any of his actions come close to causing him fatal damage he would be required to desist by that 'damn charm', so he could stop fretting and go away.
Dumbledore had move away slightly to watch the two of them for some time, lost in silent contemplation, then to Severus's huge relief, left without further comment.
Now he thought about it, his whole back was aching from leaning on her bed, and for some reason so was his left shoulder. Sleeping sitting upright had been a blast from the past - the last three months had been spent in a bed with Hermione beside him - and he didn't regret stopping that habit.
His magic was just returning to full strength after six days, and he assumed Hermione had suffered the same drain on her strength, even if she had not realised it in her sleeping state. Looking down, he rolled back his left sleeve to look at the pale unblemished skin there, and was reminded what it was all for.
Damn the bigger picture, if I can't be happy. He thought. Forget the common good, what about me?
Because you're still paying the debt you can never write off, came his answer, you're paying, and she's paying, and it's still not enough.
He looked up, his face tight with pain, to find Hermione gazing up at him.
"Is it gone?" she whispered.
"Yes. It's gone. We did it. We actually did it and made it out alive." He was grinning, probably idiotically, but right now he didn't care.
All he cared about was gathering Hermione into his arms again and holding on in case she tried to slip away again. Which he did.
In return she wound her arms around his waist and squeezed against him. The moment didn't need any words, so none were wasted.
When Madame Pomfrey bustled in, neither broke away.
* * *
Poppy Pomfrey couldn't help herself, and when she considered it, didn't see why she should - this was her infirmary and the patients were her guests. If they wanted to keep their secrets, then they should keep their voices down.
After having walked in on the couple hugging, she had gone against her normal instincts of ending all physical contact immediately when it was not strictly platonic, and let them continue to hug. It seemed to be as far as they were going, and they clung to eachother with a desperation she had rarely seen.
Once it became apparent that Hermione had fallen asleep once again, she had wrestled her out of Severus's grip and checked her over, pronouncing her fit and the baby unharmed, and the sleep this time to be much lighter. Severus had remained stubbornly in his chair, if anything looking more worried than before, probably by the prospect of loosing her once again.
This was the point at which she had rejoined to her office, to call Dumbledore about her patient's recovery, and to escape the intensity of the emotions swirling around the room. He had told her that until Hermione was fit enough to face the inquisition, this development should not be told to anyone else.
Poppy had understood his meaning well enough.
So she had held her tongue, and it was maybe an hour or two later that the voices had started up:
"Hey, you're awake."
"Hmm."
"Is that a 'be quiet' ?"
"No."
"Good. I love you, Hermione, and I thought I'd lost you for a while."
"I love you too - but you know it'll take more than Voldemort to get me off your back."
"It certainly will. He's currently as influential as a pile of dust."
They had both laughed at that, and Poppy had privately wondered, but then maybe that was just their way of dealing with things.
"So it worked then?"
"Yes. What exactly do you remember?"
"I haven't tried to, I'm concentrating on now."
"That's okay; don't push yourself until you're ready."
"Was it that bad?"
"Yes."
"Then that must have been what I was hiding from . . ."
"Hiding?"
"Long story. So, I did my bit - but it didn't work as fully as it should have. I - I - what then?"
"You went to Potter."
"Yes - I went to Harry - told him how to fight - and then - oh gods - oh --- "
At which point her voice had cracked as the memory washed over her full force.
"Is he really dead?"
"I'm afraid so."
"And did Malfoy really say all that stuff to the minister of magic?"
"If you mean by stuff, give out a motive for you to murder Potter, and accuse you, us, of doing just that, then yes, he did, bastard that he is."
"Hmm. When do a get the chance to turn him into a ferret?"
Snape paused, perhaps fighting laughter, perhaps frowning. "That might not be the best of ideas right now."
"I know, but thinking about it makes me feel better."
"Still -"
His voice was cut off as Dumbledore himself entered her office, and she gave him her full attention.
"How is Miss Granger's condition now?"
"She seems to have improved dramatically - her prolonged sleep was a way of avoiding dealing with her troubles, I gather."
"Is there any chance of the situation recurring?"
"So long as she's not put under too much stress, I doubt it."
"Then I would like to see her, see them both. I need to inform them that the funeral is taking place tomorrow."
Poppy nodded, and gestured towards the room in which Hermione and Severus were to be found, but declined to join him.
This time, she shut her office door, which activated the silencing wards.
* * *
Hermione looked up as the door to her room opened, as did Severus, to see Dumbledore ease his way through it. He was smiling, but reservedly so. He looked both happy and sad at the same time, a feeling Hermione could easily relate to.
He inquired gently about her health, and her comfort, and had similar words for Severus. It was true Hermione noted, that Severus looked haggard and drawn, but he joy shining through his features had stopped her from noticing it thus far. He had seemed perfectly happy to carry on, and was capable of doing so, and said as much when asked.
It was at this point that Hermione noticed him become uncomfortable. He had evidently run out of safe topics, and was now faced with moving on to more difficult ones. Curiosity battled with a desire to shield herself from whatever could make Dumbledore uncomfortable.
Curiosity won. "Would you mind telling me what's being happening in the world since the solstice?"
"Well . . . Miss Granger . . . Hermione . . . quite frankly there's been a lot of trouble since that incident in the corridor. Cornelius Fudge has latched onto the accusations and is trying to use it to keep his position."
Both Hermione and Severus frowned at this, in confusion, not in anger. Anger was to come later.
"Fudge cannot let the scale of Voldemort's power or destruction become public knowledge, which it would if he told the truth about events. So rather than paint you two as heroes, he prefers to paint you as villains who killed Harry Potter with revenge in mind.
"There's currently a search for Voldemort's body going on, and it's more than likely that whoever finds the body will also be credited with having defeated him. The details will be classified of course, that being a quick fix for everything, and Fudge will be applauded as Minister, instead of the true cost of his refusal to believe becoming apparent.
"So at the moment I'm doing my best to keep them out of this school, and away from the two of you. There will be a full investigation and a trial, of course, but that's a worry for another day. No seriously, Hermione, we can and will protect you, and get Fudge out of office as well.
"But for now there is one more important matter. I came to see how you are because I wanted to know if you'd be well enough to leave the school tomorrow. Oh dear, that came out terribly, I don't mean for good, I mean for a day. . ."
Hermione had looked up with a sudden clarity in her eyes, and squeezed Severus's hand a little tighter. When she spoke, her voice was choked, but there were no tears in her eyes.
"You're burying him tomorrow, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Godric's Hollow, the plot next to his parents, to be exact."
"Of course. I'm not sure how welcome I'll be though."
Dumbledore smiled and inserted, "All his teachers are going; I would insist that you were there anyway."
"How . . . thoughtful . . . of you."
"I have my moments."
During this exchange, though, Hermione had drifted away with her thoughts. She had no idea what was going to happen to her, or how one night could reduce the structure of a carefully planned out future to ashes. The only thing she knew was that now Harry was dead, she couldn't blame him, or hate him.
In lieu of anything else to do, she studied the grain of wood in the door.
A/N:
Credit to MysticJedi for the Malfoy's mouth being sown shut quote - it was in her review, and I loved it!!!
Photis.
It was nice here. Safe. Unthreatening. No raised voices, no pain or death or pressure. These were the thoughts that filtered through to Hermione, as if sent from another mind, far away, corrupted by static. Though hers was the only mind here, she knew that. Still what she knew no longer mattered, thought processes were a distant memory; a worry for another day.
Virtually obscured by the intervening distance were the voices, snippets of which filtered through. They were much quieter. And it was easy to choose not to listen, feint as the words were. The temptation to do so was great. When she weighed the calm of her current state against the angst-ridden sounds of those words, the decision became much easier.
She chose to stay where she was, in the place that was not really there, but was the entirety of her reality for the moment. It was not a decision that she took without a certain amount of regret attached - the image of a dark-haired, dark-eyed man was the one thing that kept her from drifting further than she could currently perceive.
In this place, it was most likely possible to cross over the horizon. The way back would be complicated though.
To avoid the heart-ache that memory caused, blurry and incomplete as it was, she examined the place around her. This examination turned up some interesting conclusions. This was a place with no name. It was not a place of dreams or nightmares; it is not a place of good or bad; it is just a place. This was a place which had no name, nor could it ever have. It was the makings of free-fall, the aching of loneliness, boredom and loss; or maybe Hermione thought, maybe it was her emotions that were in free- fall; maybe she was unwilling to allow them to settle for fear of allowing the past to return.
As she made these discoveries, the voices faded away, and people shifted to an even further distance. The only thing that remained constant was that presence by her side, a presence she knew every intimate detail of, that haunted her mind in this empty place, calling her back.
And then, in an epiphany that was singularly undramatic, she realised what she had been struggling to find for so long. There was nothing here. No answers. Nothing more to find than was already within her. This was no way to face the world, or her problems, or past. She had to go back.
* * *
Severus Snape had sat by Hermione Granger's bedside for nearly the whole time she had been in the infirmary. After she had collapsed in the corridor, she had not regained consciousness, and showed little sign that she was aware of the world around her since. That had been four days ago, Dumbledore mused, and he had to confess he had no ideas what was going on in her head.
Neither did Poppy Pomfrey, who could say nothing more than her state was akin to that of a very deep sleep. Physically, she was unharmed. After it became clear that first day that she was not going to awaken, the ministry officials had left, demanding to be informed as soon as she awoke.
The aurors had left almost as soon as the details of what had happened had been explained, eager as they were to begin searching for a body. They were anxious to have that confirmation this time around, it seemed, and were currently storming all the haunts of his known followers. The way his death eaters were running scarred provided all the impetus they needed, and the assurance that they would not storm into one of his strongholds and meet the man himself in all his magnificence.
All celebration, in fact all mention of what would come to be known as a glorious victory, had be strictly forbidden. Dumbledore had happily complied with that; he too was searching for the words and the time to tell the school what happened and how, perhaps why, and having the body of Voldemort found to start with would definitely make it easier to begin.
At the moment, all Dumbledore knew for certain was that there had been no revels, no attacks, no raids of deaths in the magical community, and that the dark mark that had marred Severus's flesh was now gone. That, along with Severus's word and account of events, was good enough for him to believe.
However the lack of a body was not only suspending celebration and announcement, but the investigation that had been promised. Fudge, who was still in power despite his disastrous, short-sighted refusal to move against Voldemort at the end of the TriWizard Tournament, was being deliberately obtuse. This time there was no Barty Crouch to lead the purge of the magical society, no zealot on a mission to destroy dark wizards everywhere, just a man who wanted as little trouble as possible.
Dumbledore knew, without a doubt, that should he allow it Hermione and Severus would be the scapegoats for the events of four days previous. There was no way the ministry could condemn Harry Potter without revealing just how extensive Voldemort's power had become, something Fudge did not need.
For in this campaign Voldemort had taken a slightly different tack. He had not declared all out war on the magical world, preferring instead to target key people with fatal precision. The fodder for revels was drawn from the Muggle community world wide - apparition made it easy to spread the losses - instead of the children and family of witches and wizards on the side of good. It had been a master stroke, taking out the people who argued loudest that decisive action needed to be taken against Voldemort, whilst giving the rest little incentive (or personal vendetta)to make themselves targets.
That had given Voldemort the time he needed to establish himself once again, while allowing Fudge to play down the threat he posed, using the media to reassure people, and more importantly, retain his own position. It had been Dumbledore's actions, and those of the Order of the Phoenix, that had held the situation in check for as long as it had been. And now it was over.
He had seen in the way Fudge pushed through the crowd to listen to Malfoy's groundless accusations that Fudge was looking for anything to explain away the fact that Voldemort had nearly succeeding in killing Dumbledore and taking over Hogwarts to boot. The gleam in Fudge's eye as Malfoy had spoken, and his steady countenance thereafter confirmed that he was going to use that slander to his advantage.
Malfoy deserved to have his mouth sown shut, Dumbledore noted grimly, but that would not help the situation now.
No-one had discussed the accusation that Potter had raped or impregnated Hermione, although it was clear to see that she was pregnant while Severus had carried her, at least not official. Neither had anyone discussed Severus's supposed part in this revenge killing Hermione had plotted, although the ministry, or rather Fudge, had requested that he be suspended from his post until the investigation had been completed. Dumbledore had of course complied, but had not had the heart to remove him from the school.
In truth, it would have taken an act of the gods to pry Severus away from Hermione's unconscious form. It was refreshing to see Severus showing such healthy, normal emotions; to show any emotions at all, other than self loathing in private or arrogance in public. He just hoped that Hermione would awake soon, because without her Severus was quickly falling apart, and this time he would surely descend even deeper than before.
The young lady in question had to wake up, if only to enjoy the life she had fought so bravely to earn, and to give her child a mother. The world had enough orphans already.
* * *
Severus was tired and grumpy. He was fed up of being watched and checked up on, and reminded to eat and sleep. The last time Dumbledore had tried, he had growled that should any of his actions come close to causing him fatal damage he would be required to desist by that 'damn charm', so he could stop fretting and go away.
Dumbledore had move away slightly to watch the two of them for some time, lost in silent contemplation, then to Severus's huge relief, left without further comment.
Now he thought about it, his whole back was aching from leaning on her bed, and for some reason so was his left shoulder. Sleeping sitting upright had been a blast from the past - the last three months had been spent in a bed with Hermione beside him - and he didn't regret stopping that habit.
His magic was just returning to full strength after six days, and he assumed Hermione had suffered the same drain on her strength, even if she had not realised it in her sleeping state. Looking down, he rolled back his left sleeve to look at the pale unblemished skin there, and was reminded what it was all for.
Damn the bigger picture, if I can't be happy. He thought. Forget the common good, what about me?
Because you're still paying the debt you can never write off, came his answer, you're paying, and she's paying, and it's still not enough.
He looked up, his face tight with pain, to find Hermione gazing up at him.
"Is it gone?" she whispered.
"Yes. It's gone. We did it. We actually did it and made it out alive." He was grinning, probably idiotically, but right now he didn't care.
All he cared about was gathering Hermione into his arms again and holding on in case she tried to slip away again. Which he did.
In return she wound her arms around his waist and squeezed against him. The moment didn't need any words, so none were wasted.
When Madame Pomfrey bustled in, neither broke away.
* * *
Poppy Pomfrey couldn't help herself, and when she considered it, didn't see why she should - this was her infirmary and the patients were her guests. If they wanted to keep their secrets, then they should keep their voices down.
After having walked in on the couple hugging, she had gone against her normal instincts of ending all physical contact immediately when it was not strictly platonic, and let them continue to hug. It seemed to be as far as they were going, and they clung to eachother with a desperation she had rarely seen.
Once it became apparent that Hermione had fallen asleep once again, she had wrestled her out of Severus's grip and checked her over, pronouncing her fit and the baby unharmed, and the sleep this time to be much lighter. Severus had remained stubbornly in his chair, if anything looking more worried than before, probably by the prospect of loosing her once again.
This was the point at which she had rejoined to her office, to call Dumbledore about her patient's recovery, and to escape the intensity of the emotions swirling around the room. He had told her that until Hermione was fit enough to face the inquisition, this development should not be told to anyone else.
Poppy had understood his meaning well enough.
So she had held her tongue, and it was maybe an hour or two later that the voices had started up:
"Hey, you're awake."
"Hmm."
"Is that a 'be quiet' ?"
"No."
"Good. I love you, Hermione, and I thought I'd lost you for a while."
"I love you too - but you know it'll take more than Voldemort to get me off your back."
"It certainly will. He's currently as influential as a pile of dust."
They had both laughed at that, and Poppy had privately wondered, but then maybe that was just their way of dealing with things.
"So it worked then?"
"Yes. What exactly do you remember?"
"I haven't tried to, I'm concentrating on now."
"That's okay; don't push yourself until you're ready."
"Was it that bad?"
"Yes."
"Then that must have been what I was hiding from . . ."
"Hiding?"
"Long story. So, I did my bit - but it didn't work as fully as it should have. I - I - what then?"
"You went to Potter."
"Yes - I went to Harry - told him how to fight - and then - oh gods - oh --- "
At which point her voice had cracked as the memory washed over her full force.
"Is he really dead?"
"I'm afraid so."
"And did Malfoy really say all that stuff to the minister of magic?"
"If you mean by stuff, give out a motive for you to murder Potter, and accuse you, us, of doing just that, then yes, he did, bastard that he is."
"Hmm. When do a get the chance to turn him into a ferret?"
Snape paused, perhaps fighting laughter, perhaps frowning. "That might not be the best of ideas right now."
"I know, but thinking about it makes me feel better."
"Still -"
His voice was cut off as Dumbledore himself entered her office, and she gave him her full attention.
"How is Miss Granger's condition now?"
"She seems to have improved dramatically - her prolonged sleep was a way of avoiding dealing with her troubles, I gather."
"Is there any chance of the situation recurring?"
"So long as she's not put under too much stress, I doubt it."
"Then I would like to see her, see them both. I need to inform them that the funeral is taking place tomorrow."
Poppy nodded, and gestured towards the room in which Hermione and Severus were to be found, but declined to join him.
This time, she shut her office door, which activated the silencing wards.
* * *
Hermione looked up as the door to her room opened, as did Severus, to see Dumbledore ease his way through it. He was smiling, but reservedly so. He looked both happy and sad at the same time, a feeling Hermione could easily relate to.
He inquired gently about her health, and her comfort, and had similar words for Severus. It was true Hermione noted, that Severus looked haggard and drawn, but he joy shining through his features had stopped her from noticing it thus far. He had seemed perfectly happy to carry on, and was capable of doing so, and said as much when asked.
It was at this point that Hermione noticed him become uncomfortable. He had evidently run out of safe topics, and was now faced with moving on to more difficult ones. Curiosity battled with a desire to shield herself from whatever could make Dumbledore uncomfortable.
Curiosity won. "Would you mind telling me what's being happening in the world since the solstice?"
"Well . . . Miss Granger . . . Hermione . . . quite frankly there's been a lot of trouble since that incident in the corridor. Cornelius Fudge has latched onto the accusations and is trying to use it to keep his position."
Both Hermione and Severus frowned at this, in confusion, not in anger. Anger was to come later.
"Fudge cannot let the scale of Voldemort's power or destruction become public knowledge, which it would if he told the truth about events. So rather than paint you two as heroes, he prefers to paint you as villains who killed Harry Potter with revenge in mind.
"There's currently a search for Voldemort's body going on, and it's more than likely that whoever finds the body will also be credited with having defeated him. The details will be classified of course, that being a quick fix for everything, and Fudge will be applauded as Minister, instead of the true cost of his refusal to believe becoming apparent.
"So at the moment I'm doing my best to keep them out of this school, and away from the two of you. There will be a full investigation and a trial, of course, but that's a worry for another day. No seriously, Hermione, we can and will protect you, and get Fudge out of office as well.
"But for now there is one more important matter. I came to see how you are because I wanted to know if you'd be well enough to leave the school tomorrow. Oh dear, that came out terribly, I don't mean for good, I mean for a day. . ."
Hermione had looked up with a sudden clarity in her eyes, and squeezed Severus's hand a little tighter. When she spoke, her voice was choked, but there were no tears in her eyes.
"You're burying him tomorrow, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Godric's Hollow, the plot next to his parents, to be exact."
"Of course. I'm not sure how welcome I'll be though."
Dumbledore smiled and inserted, "All his teachers are going; I would insist that you were there anyway."
"How . . . thoughtful . . . of you."
"I have my moments."
During this exchange, though, Hermione had drifted away with her thoughts. She had no idea what was going to happen to her, or how one night could reduce the structure of a carefully planned out future to ashes. The only thing she knew was that now Harry was dead, she couldn't blame him, or hate him.
In lieu of anything else to do, she studied the grain of wood in the door.
A/N:
Credit to MysticJedi for the Malfoy's mouth being sown shut quote - it was in her review, and I loved it!!!
Photis.
