Bound
By Angel Of Music

Epilogue

Pain. Encompassing the now deft life in a fate of solitude. It was over, and had concluded with triumph, yet somehow, she did not feel triumphant. Everything she'd learned, everything she'd experienced, everything she'd promised: dead. The end had been cinematic, almost, played as if not reality in front of Hermione Granger's pure eyes. Little could she believe that her lover had perished just before her viewing; mocking, decietful. She silently cursed everything in the name of the dark lord, more then she had ever before. She would not allow herself to be strong. She would grieve, and never let the grief become dissolute, for, although this would not have been what the boy would have wanted, she felt it appropriate. After all, it seemed now that she knew nothing but solemn, morbid attitudes.

She sat slouched over, a shaky hand fingering the handle of a goblet that sat before her. Had she the motive to take a swig of pumpkin juice, she would have, but it seemed she had many more things on her mind. She felt eyes on her; eyes from all about the open hall, and instead of greeting the stares, she allowed her head to fall back and focus on the enchanted sky above her. It was so peaceful, so rectifying. Her lips twitched ever so slightly into a greatful smile, but instead the pain that was inside of her burned through, and turned her expression grim. No one fought it. No one really knew even, but they did think well enough to realize that Hermione could not be made more joyous with any number of words, and so they therefore kept silent. Her gaze broke away from the ceiling, and finally landed on the agèd man whom had begun to speak.

"I do not believe, that even if I tried, I could find words for the events that occurred this evening. For these were events of bravery, justice, caring, determination, and righteousness. What's more, they were performed by two of the most disalike people Hogwarts has ever known. One of muggle heritage, one of pure blood. One of Gryffindor, one of Slytherin. One female, one male. One was book-smart, the other informed of the world. But combining their completely different forces made a single, strong bond that has once and for all shown us all that age, blood, race, or gender does not really matter. Can Miss Hermione Granger please rise?" As more eyes darted over the the Gryffindor table, which was not cheering or hooting as it usually would have, Hermione, looking taken aback, got to her feet. "I think I, as well as the rest of the wizarding world, would like to thank you. And thank you deeply. For if it were not for Miss Granger and her companion, Voldemort would still be roaming the earth, free. But, no, they both worked together to defeat him, and his heir." Albus Dumbledore sighed, and fiddled with his ivory beard for a moment.

"I do regret to inform you, however, that Miss Blaise Zambini was that heir. Her heritage does trace back to that of Tom Riddles, and for that, she perished. We will now have a moment of silence for both Blaise and Tom, whose evil deeds brought the world so much deluge, suffering and pain. But, though they were immoral beings, they still were BEINGS, and so therefore I feel it respectful to give them each the bit of respect they deserve." Hogwarts did not seem to like this very much, for a few groans escaped passing students. Especially from the Hufflepuff table. "If you do not feel this appropriate, please do not participate." But they did. They hall was completely silent for a moment, more quiet then anyone had ever heard it. Dumbledore nodded and began again.

"Determination can come in all forms. As most realize, rumors and false facades are created of our fellow students, the Slytherins. Most believe them to be horrid people whom side with the Dark Lord. Well tonight, those people have been proven terribly wrong. The boy whom has been said to be cruel, evil, and sinister, has shown us all that he is nothing to that respect whatsoever. In fact, he himself was the one whom's touch incinerated both Blaise and Voldemort. And though Mister Draco Malfoy has moved on to passing, hopefully somewhere in a better place, where feilds of dasies and strange fantasies take the better of him, I believe he deserves more then a moment of silence. I would like to ask everyone to raise their glasses to Draco Malfoy." Hermione looked upward, her grip suddenly tightening about her goblet. A few students looked skeptically about, obviously doubting whether they should do so. It seemed, although he had killed the Dark Lord, some of them still held certain grudges against him. Then of course, Hermione figured, Harry and Ron would not want to do such a stupid task. Her eyes fell upon them as both Ron and Harry returned the stare, and winking, both held their pewter goblets high in the air. And, following Dumbledores initiation of "To Draco Malfoy!" The rest of the people in the hall threw their glasses into the air, and, with both Harry and Ron included, shouted,

"To Draco Malfoy!"