"I can't light no more of your darkness
All my pictures seem to fade to black and white
I'm growing tired and time stands still before me."

"Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me," Elton John

It was dark.

And that was all he knew for sure.

"Do it."

"No."

"Do it."

"No."

"Do it, dammit. It'll be easier for all of us without the Cruciatus, just do it."

Silence. A shiver. A moan from somewhere in front of him.

"Are you going to do it?"

"No."

"Very well. You picked your own fate, and suffer you will."

And the screams started.

*****

The morning was blossoming in beautiful fashion.

She dressed with purpose this beautiful morning; there were no dark circles under her eyes as there had been a few months ago. There was no feeling of helplessness. She conjured up her morning coffee and looking out the window, she knew that things would work out. While perhaps not work out for the best, issues would be resolved, and she would be better for having experienced the conflict.

As she did the morning dishes, she called her mother to confirm their lunch plans at a little café on the outskirts of London. One of her mother's favorites. And she created a to-do list.

Hermione was slowly adjusting to a life without Harry. He was alive, she had told herself time and time again. He was alive, and whether he wanted her to be apart of his life or not, he was alive, and she could adapt to a life without him knowing that he was okay, living, breathing in some part of the world.

It was almost mourning a death - but no death had taken place. A case of mourning what was, perhaps, but she had done her penance. She would make it through this as she had somehow made it through that dark period thinking he was dead.

If she could deal with that, she could deal with anything.

A number of things changed with that visit to Remus' flat. Hermione saw what he was, and in comparison to the jolly professor she had known pre-Severus, the contrast was startling. It was the same path she was heading down. If Hermione Granger could save herself from that bleak fate, she would.

Hermione would trade her dedication to Harry Potter for her own sanity. A difficult choice, no doubt, but she was tired of playing the martyr.

She would show her dedication to him - she continued to visit the hospital daily - but her life did not depend on whether he allowed her to see him today. She spent an hour there in the waiting room, just long enough for Madam Bocagrande to ask Harry if he wanted to see her, and when the request would be declined, she'd continue on with her day.

After months of being turned down day in and day out, she took Ron's advice and did something else. ("Anything else, Hermione! You won't do anybody good sitting in that waiting room… and I've heard Mrs. Hopkins is almost without her left arm since you've been gone.")

There was a sort of liberation in that: in knowing that she was doing the world some good by working with her beloved toddlers again.

In knowing that she could sleep a fitful night under the same moon as her husband.

In knowing that she was stronger than she ever imagined.

In knowing that sometimes faith lay not in holding on, but in letting go.

*****

"Mrs. Hopkins, I'm leaving now!" Hermione shouted, straightening her overalls over the wails of Topiary Moppelton, bucket lodged on his head as he screamed bloody murder.

The old witch scrambled over to the child as he started to hit the bucket with a plastic shovel. "Have a good time, darling, and thanks so much for the help. Remember tomorrow's payday! G'bye, dear. Tope, now, Tope, please be q-" And Hermione shut the door behind her, eyeing the Tube schedule as she trekked off to meet her mother for lunch.

"Where are you heading in such a hurry, witch?" came a voice from behind her.

She grabbed her wand lodged in her many, many pockets before turning around slowly. "W-witch?"

Seeing the goofy smile and red hair, she laughed as she saw Ron appear from behind a bush that hid the window on Mrs. Hopkins' property. "Ronald Weasley! What kind of stupidity is that - Apparating in broad daylight into Muggle territory? For shame!"

"Please, Hermione, this lane is totally empty. How else do you explain how Mrs. Hopkins keeps her witch status a secret?" he asked coyly.

"Ron, shhhh!" she hushed, as if he had used every four-letter word in the book. "Have you no subtlety? Oh, wait, I forgot who I was talking to." She cracked a smile and hugged him. "I swear, Weasley, if the Hollyhocks pay you a Knut a year, it's too much because you have way too much free time during the day."

"Oh, but Ms. Granger, don't you know they pay me to stand around all day to look pretty?" He modeled a little in the spirit of Pansy Parkinson from their schooldays. "I swear, I'm all beauty, no brains."

"You can say that again, Ron," she said as they walked towards the gated white-picketed fence that enclosed the property, kept the children in, and was charmed with an anti-Dark Arts spell which would alert Mrs. Hopkins if any Dark Forces attempted to cross the boundary.

"So, where are you headed?" he questioned as he buffed his nails. "St. Mungo's, Remus', perhaps La Casa de Granger-slash-Potter?"

"Surprisingly, none of the above. I was actually going to lunch with my mother. Would you like to come too? She'd love to see you."

"I think I'll decline. Far be it from me to interrupt a Granger mother-daughter bonding session. I actually came here playing messenger. Perce sent me here with a purpose."

"You and purpose in the same sentence? Will wonders never cease?" she asked wryly, as they approached the Tube stop.

"Shut up. He needs to talk to you. He said he'd meet you in Dr. Boonyfetter's office at St. Mungo's tomorrow at 7 p.m. - that's if you're free of course. If you aren't free, he instructed me to tell you to please send your decline in written form with your signature by owl to give him at least twenty-four hours to make other plans." He took a deep breath as if that last speech had tired him.

"I'm free. Harry's not seeing me, so I'm free."

"Tell Mr. Decorum that, then. Glad to see you're making a go of it, though. You couldn't wait around St. Mungo's forever," he said quietly, taking off his blue Hoopington Hollyhocks windbreaker.

"Are you still seeing him? Occasionally?" she asked quietly. " Dr. Boonyfetter owls me with updates regularly. They've started unstrapping his wrists during the afternoons now and they are allowing him to feed himself, but how's he doing? Really?"

He looked up at her, licking his lips. "He's doing good, really good. We've shared a couple of really good talks when he's willing to talk at all. I saw the Longbottoms there last week - the little guy was crawling all over him and he seemed to take it all well, even with the high pitched 'Unca Harry, Unca Harry!' Neville and him were playing Exploding Snap."

"He hasn't played Exploding Snap in ages."

"That's a throwback to our days at Hogwarts, isn't it?" he reminisced. "And I'll be damned if Frankie doesn't look taller and more like her mother each and every time I see her. I swear, our goddaughter is going to be some kind of heartbreaker when she grows up."

"And Parkinson? Any of that seething anger still directed toward my husband even in his state?" she queried, putting her knapsack on the floor outside the stop and fishing for a token.

"Please, Hermione. She's a Slytherin. Harry could save her from a parcel load of acromantulas, and she'd still stare daggers at him. No, she was just sitting in the corner, looking as bored as could be, filing her nails."

"I still don't know how we - you, me, Harry - how we ended up godparents to both her children. Neville must have done some real buttering up."

"It was odd, though, when I visited Harry with the Longbottoms. At one point, Frankie was sort of roughhousing with Trevor and Trevor was pounding on the bed. You know Harry, he's unflappable for the most part - nothing really gets him mad - but Trevor was pounding on the bed right by his head and Harry started… I mean, I can't describe the wailing that Harry emitted."

Hermione looked concerned. "Wailing?"

"So Boonyfetter comes running in to sedate Harry - the Longbottoms are huddled in a corner a little scared, Trevor and Frankie crying at this point, of course, watching their uncle - and he tells us that he's never seen Harry make this sound when he's awake before. It was something about Trevor slapping by his ear. . .triggered something. . . I just don't know. . ."

She was scared - but she wasn't going to let Ron see her fear. Not when she had her friends thinking that she was, if not over him, then occupied with other things in her life. "I've got a train to catch in a minute and a half, Ron. Sorry to cut this short, but Mum awaits."

"Fair enough, but just to let you know, you are a witch and you are allowed to Apparate from place to place. Not only is it fun, it's also free!" he informed, pointing to the token in her left hand.

She smiled. "Go back to work, Ron. Please. Who else is going to bring the beauty to Hoopington?"

"Why, Higgs, of course, with those sexy teeth."

Hermione laughed again. "Get lost, Weasley."

"Will do, Granger."

"And, Weasley?"

"Yeah, Hermione?"

"Mountain trolls are not invincible," she reminded, her eyes misting, truly appreciating him in this moment as being her rock throughout this ordeal. An allusion to the incident that bonded them, it was code amongst the Golden Trio for "You are my best friend in the whole wide world, I adore you, I love you, but I'm not comfortable saying it so clearly right now."

"I love you, too," he whispered as she walked down the steps towards the subway.

A/N If you're reading this, welcome back to TWDNKM. After a four-month hiatus, I finally figured out what I want to do with this story.

Special thanks to those reviewers who read it during the hiatus and asked whether this story was dead. I thought it was, but OotP's damned inspirational.

I am going to try and finish this story before I return to my university in late August, hopefully posting a new chapter every week or so. I have a direction.

Dedicated to Isa, who I hope will read OotP soon and to her adopted son, Benjamin, the bunny. Benny, oh, Benny boy, the time has come to say that I am your real mother, conceived of a secret liaison between me and Frank the Bunny. If you've seen Donnie Darko, you know what I'm talking about.