"It's four o'clock in the morning
Damn it listen to me good
I'm sleeping with myself tonight
Saved in time, thank God my music's still alive"

            ~Elton John, "Someone Saved My Life Tonight"

Hermione was jerked awake by the sound of something large thudding as it hit her floor. Her wand firmly in hand, she jumped up and drew it before she even had time to look up and see what it was standing in front of her.

"Ron Weasley, you do not Apparate into this flat without so much as an owl beforehand! You scared me half to death!" she shouted at him, stamping her foot in frustration.

"Sorry, sorry, Hermione," he apologized, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. "I just wanted to see you." He moved closer to her and enveloped her in a hug. "How's it going?"

"About as well as you'd expect. . . considering the circumstances," she revealed quietly.

He reached over and wiped a tear from her eye. "It'll be fine. And I love you." He backed away from her and assumed a Sir Cadogan-like stance. "My love for you, fair maiden, is like diarrhea. I just can't keep it inside."

She laughed in the midst of a sob. "I miss him so much." She melted into him and as his arms grabbed tighter, she felt a sense of comfort for the first time in the two months since the deaths of her husband and her child.

"I know, I know," he acknowledged, smoothing her hair down. She sniffed against his shirt. "Oh, Hermione, please don't start crying. You know how I get when you cry." His voice started wobbling as he finished.

"You were always such a softie, Weasley," she laughed through her tears. "Harry always said you were just a big sissy. I never quite believed him. . ."

"He was my best friend, Hermione. He knew."

"Stop crying, Ron," she commanded teasingly. "That's my job."

"Trust me, Herm, since Harry died, that's been a lot of people's job. All the Hollyhocks have been passing their condolences onto me. A whole lot people cared about him." Ron was an administrator for a new minor-league Quidditch team, the Hoopington Hollyhocks.

"It's been hard for a lot of people, but he was my husband. I know a lot of people have felt his loss, but sometimes I think this little fantasy I set up with him. . . It was stupidity, wasn't it?" she asked him, turning her back to him, leaving his embrace. "I had planned out our whole life." Her hands went to her midsection instinctually. "Me, Harry, the baby – the babies. We were going to have a life. That was stupid of me, wasn't it? Planning a life with Harry? Trouble followed him around like a devoted little puppy dog. I just never thought it would ever catch up. . ."

"Hermione, you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. I mean, I know you're on sabbatical from Mrs. Hopkins School for Gifted Tots, but maybe you should do yourself a favor and go stay with your parents for a bit." A bitter look crossed her face momentarily, causing him to offer another suggestion. "Better yet, come to the Burrow. Mum's been clucking after me, asking how you are. You know she loves you to pieces, and it would be better for her, for me, for you to be around people who love you. . . in the wizarding world." He looked around the bedroom. "It can't be safe. You, here in the Muggle world, by yourself. I'd really like it if you came back with me."

A determined glint twinkled in her eye. "I need to stay here- by myself for awhile." Her face softened. "I don't think the Burrow would be the best place for me to stay right now, Ron. Thank you for the offer, though, Ron. I do love you for it."

A look of understanding crossed his face at her words. She had been at the Burrow when Percy had broken the news about Harry's death at the Burrow. He reverted to his previous suggestion. "Your folks' house then, Hermione? Please, go somewhere safe – with people there with you. Not here, reliving memories."

"My last memories of Harry are here, so here is where I'll be," she answered with a hint of finality.

"He's not coming back, you know," Ron whispered. "Maybe you might do yourself a favor, sell this place, start afresh somewhere closer to the Ministry. I have no doubt that Ginny can find you a place near Ottery St. Catchpole."

She patted his hand. "Thanks, Ron, for the offer, but no, I think I need to be here for awhile. I think my husband needs me here."

Ron look defeated. "I just popped in here on my lunch hour, so I think I am going to Apparate back to Hollyhock headquarters. The offer still stands though. Look for Mum to send you a care package in the next few days. I dunno if Errol can handle it, but we will try to have Pig assist him." He kissed her as he prepared to leave.

"I'm fine, Ron, really. Please don't look at me as if I am the most pathetic thing in Britain at this moment. I just can't take it," she said pleadingly.

"You're not pathetic, Hermione. Just in love."

*****

The odd thing about Harry's death was that she never quite believed he was dead. In Hermione's head, she knew he was dead, but in her heart, that connection that had existed amongst the Golden Trio had never died.

She was perhaps in denial for the first days after Percy had come to the doorstep at the Burrow and told her about it. About how all the Death Eaters had been killed – their bodies found. About how Lucius Malfoy's dying words had been about killing Harry (he had actually said "tortured Harry to death," but Percy was kind enough to gloss over that). About how nobody at Ministry Search and Rescue could find her husband's body.

She had miscarried in that moment, she knew. They had taken her to St. Mungo's, immediately cushioning the loss by saying the baby had not died as soon as Percy had utter the words, but she would know in her heart that that child had died in utero exactly in that minute. They could tell her until the end of time that her baby had put up a good fight in her womb before letting go, but the results were still the same, weren't they? Here she was, by herself, no baby, no Harry.

There were times when she could almost feel him. Not tangibly, mind you. Just feel the essence of him. Hear his laugh in the laughter of a stranger in a café. See his green eyes on the man who presented the weather on Channel 4. Catch his profile out of the corner of her eye coming off the Tube, on the man who played the guitar outside the station.

He was everywhere and nowhere at all.

She was sick of people constantly telling her to get over it. Be over it. Leave it behind her.

As if she had just stubbed her toe instead of losing her soulmate. Did they expect her to just move on? Did they just expect her to move on?

How do you move on where you've no idea where you're going?

She saw the pile of dishes sitting in the sink and made a move to wash them, her wand firmly in hand so they could charm them into self-cleaning.  The kitchen was so far from the living room. Everything was so far this apartment nowadays, she'd noticed. Was this depression, an extended period of mourning she was going through? Would she ever be over it? She was not kidding when she'd told her mother earlier in the day, "I'm worried about me as well."

The knocking on her front door was loud and immediate. Quite frankly, she did not want to deal with any Muggle solicitors right now. And she was in no mood for sympathetic company bringing her food.

Damn the world right now, she was not going to answer her door. She continued to whirl her wand, the soapy sponge follow its path as it scrubbed the dirty plate.

"Hermione Granger! I know you're in there! You answer this door this instant before I Apparate into that flat of your's!"

She stopped, the plate falling gently into the soapy water with the sponge as Hermione's wand fell to the floor. Walking to the door, she questioned, "Percy? Percy? Is that you?"

"Yes, Hermione, now will you please open the door?" he asked breathlessly as she let him in. "I'm here on official Ministry business."

"What is the emergency, Perce? Why the loud voice? You could have awakened the dead with your yelling!"

"I fear that's already been done," Percy said quietly. He walked towards the sofa.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"Mind if I sit down? You should join me." He patted the seat next to him.

Hermione was thoroughly confused and scared. The last time Percy had showed up unexpectedly, he had broken the most horrible news in the world. If possible, he was more intense this time. What more news could he possibly break now?

"What, Percy? Do tell me."

"Search and Rescue have been trying to gather evidence against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. All the Death Eaters are dead, but he is still very much alive – alive enough to be put on trial for his offenses. Once we catch him, of course." At Hermione's befuddled expression, he painstakingly skipped many details (details which dealt with his many decorations as lead investigator of Search and Rescue). "We were searching Lucius Malfoy's mansion, Malfoy Manor. He had many, many hidden caverns underneath the Manor, twisting paths, too numerous to follow or map in any quick amount of time. Some lead to Pits of Death, some lead to large Troll reserves, some lead to places we have yet to imagine. I can't believe Malfoy got away with constructing such a debacle without so much as the Ministry catch on. Search and Rescue has finally gotten into some of the deeper caverns. Followed the paths, and such." He took in a deep breath and Hermione's hand into his. "One of the paths led to a room. . ."

As the tears welled up, there was a certain feeling of momentary finality in her heart. "You found his body, did you, Percy?" she asked. "Now I have something to bury."

He shook his head quite violently, his exceptionally kempt hair floating out from the edges. "Not his body."

Hermione was getting frustrated at Percy's attempted compassion. He was taking so long. What? Did he want her to pull her hair out before he told her? She got up, taking her hand from Percy's firm grip. "What, Percy? What did you find?" she shouted, her face red. "I can take it! I'm a big girl! Take off the kid gloves and tell me!"

"We didn't find his body, Hermione," he revealed slowly. "We found him."

She gasped.

"We found Harry. Alive, but barely. He's at St. Mungo's."