Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related subjects/characters belong to JK Rowling. Some ideas for speeches came from Angel. And the initial idea for this fic came from my Economics prof. Weird.

Author's Notes: Right, well, this is my first fic I've written in a long while. It was a bit of a rush job, and I'm the only one who's looked over it at all. So, sorry if it's inconsistent anywhere. I'm thinking that I might do a prequel to this. Just to go into detail about a lot of things that are briefly mentioned here. If that does happen, it'll be quite a while off. Well, hope you enjoy.

"Hermione. We're leaving in ten minutes, and you aren't even dressed yet."

Mrs. Granger stood in the doorway to the living room and looked in on her daughter, who was lying on the couch in her nightclothes, staring up at the ceiling.

"I'm not going."

Mrs. Granger sighed, "Hermione, we've been over this. You have to go. You'll hate yourself forever if you don't. And don't you owe it to him?"

"That's just it!" She sat up in triumph, "Going there would be betraying him. It would be like saying he's dead."

"Harry is dead, Hermione."

Mrs. Granger winced at the finality in her words. But Hermione, who had always been clever, was having trouble grasping this simple fact.

"He is not!" Hermione glared at her mother, "I've worked it all out. You see, Voldemort – Harry always called him that, so I figure I ought to, now that Voldemort's dead and all – everyone thought that he was dead. But since he was a really powerful wizard, he came back to life. And then Harry beat him. Which means that Harry is more powerful than Voldemort ever was. So, follow that through to conclusion and Harry will come back too. Don't look so sad for me, Mum. I know it will take him some ten years, but I'll wait for him. I'd wait forever for Harry."

Hermione gave a smile without any pain and she genuinely looked like she believed it. Mrs. Granger would have cried, if she had ever really known Harry. But she hadn't. To him, she was just some boy who died before his time. Who died saving her daughter. And for that she was grateful, but his death didn't mean anything to her. Not really. Their conversation was interrupted as Molly Weasley flooed in through the fireplace.

Mrs. Granger let relief flood into her face, "Molly! Thank goodness you're here. Talk some sense into Hermione. She thinks that Harry is going to come back, because that other wizard did."

Mrs. Weasley's face broke from the calm façade she had taken an hour to glue into place as she broke into tears. She knelt beside Hermione and tried to think of a way to explain to a 17-year-old girl that her best friend was gone, forever. That there was no rhyme or reason for it. That destiny had chosen a boy who could have been one of the most beautiful souls she had ever known and turned him into a hardened murderer. Maybe she could have explained it, if she understood it herself.

"You-Know-Who used dark magic to stay alive after Harry nearly killed him the first time. Harry may have killed him for sure this time, but he didn't have an ounce of dark magic in him. He was too good for that. There's no way that Harry can have survived. You found his body, Hermione. You know he's gone. Harry would have done anything to stay with us. With you. But there was nothing he could do, except protect us."

Hermione's smile faded as she stared into Mrs. Weasley's face. It was easy to tell herself that her mom didn't know what she was talking about. But if Mrs. Weasley knew one thing, it was magic.

"He can't be gone. He just can't. Because I don't think that I can keep going without him. It's hard to explain. It's like, I have two lives. One, as a muggle. And Harry isn't part of that. The other, as a witch. And Harry is that part. It can't exist without him. I don't know how to be without him."

Mrs. Weasley embraced Hermione tightly, "No one does. Harry has always been there for most of us. And before him, there was his parents. The three of them always stood for what was right. We have to be strong and take over for them now. Everyone will survive. We have to. You shouldn't just stay holed up in here. Ron needs you. And it will help you to see other witches and wizards. Everyone is going to the funeral. You won't let them down, will you?"

Hermione drew away and shook her head. Without a word, she ran upstairs to get changed.

Mrs. Granger was grateful to Mrs. Weasley for helping, but she felt so left out of her daughter's life. There was a whole part of it that she just knew nothing about. Hermione tried to explain things, but she just got flustered and usually gave up. So Mrs. Granger decided not to go to the funeral. She shouldn't have wanted to go with Hermione in the first place. She had no justification to go there. It had nothing to do with her, and Hermione would be better off with others who actually understood what his death had meant. Because it had to mean something.

The weather was dismal. It was like the whole earth was rebelling because Harry was dead. Fog covered the area and rain was splattering down on the small crowd gathered for the funeral. So many people had wanted to attend, but this wasn't a funeral for Harry, the hero. It was for Harry, the boy.

The funeral wasn't anything fancy. Anyone who knew anything about Harry knew that he hated fancy ceremonies. A third gravestone was added to Godric's Hollow, and Harry was buried there, less than twenty years after his parents had been. This thought alone brought tears to Hermione's eyes. It just wasn't fair. Everyone seemed to have something to add, and everyone was allowed to say something.

Snape was the first to the podium, to everyone's surprise. It seemed that his hatred for the Potters had died along with Harry, on that fateful day. There were a few other Slytherins present, as well. Blaise Zabini could be seen lurking out of sight. And Draco had shown up with Ginny Weasley, to more than a few people's surprise. Not only was he dating a Weasley, but he was just one of many who were grateful that the Dark Lord was gone. It didn't seem to matter who had served him, and who hadn't, everyone had wanted him dead.

The Dursleys weren't quite as hateful as they had once been. Since the day that Harry had protected them, as he had for so many others, they had become almost civil. They hadn't been able to bring themselves to come to the funeral though. Which was probably for the best. Hermione didn't think she could have stood seeing them there. Harry had had two lives, just like her. His muggle life, in which he was a nobody. A boy who was useless and pitied by everyone. And his wizard life, in which he was a hero, loved or envied by all. But not only was he a hero, he was now a martyr.

All the Weasleys spoke, except for Ron, who didn't look like he could have talked right then. His face was ashen throughout the ceremony and he just stared at the coffin until it was lowered into the ground. Afterwards, even Hermione couldn't get him to talk. All he would say was that he would be all right and that he knew it was coming and when had life ever been fair? Hermione was pretty sure that he was in shock. It had only been a few days. Although he said he would be alright, she didn't think he would be alright for a very long time. Hermione wasn't sure how she felt. An hour ago she'd thought that Harry was still alive. Now that she had been convinced that he was gone, she wasn't as upset as she felt she ought to be. Death was what he had wanted. Those last few weeks…they had been horrible. Harry had walked around with a cloud over his head. At long last he had the peace that he had always lacked. She had no idea what it felt like to be the direct cause for the death of every person that had ever loved you. She shuddered. No one but him knew what that felt like. And he had persevered until the very end. The last time she talked to him, he told her he wouldn't survive, but she hadn't believed him. She hadn't thought there was any way he could have known that, but he did. He had told her that he couldn't bear to lose another person he loved. Hermione had told him that that was awfully selfish, because she wasn't about to lose him. It was easier to hate Harry, than to have to think about losing him.

The last person to speak was Dumbledore. It made sense. He had been the most like a father to Harry. Everyone else was dead. James, Lily, Sirius, and Remus had all died to protect him.

"It's hard to know what to say about Harry. He'd hate for me to tell all of you the truth. For me to say that Harry was a hero. For that's what he was. I could stand up here and recount all of the things he did for all of us. But that would be futile. These are things that everyone knows. Let the rest of the world remember his heroic deeds. Most of us here have been touched by him in many more important ways. He's been a friend and a teacher. He's taught us to find the courage within each one of us, that even the smallest act of kindness changes lives and that every life has a right to be lived. I don't think Harry would want me to say any of these things either. He always was modest. He always felt that there was nothing special about him. This one thing each of us knows to be true: even if his heritage hadn't been enough to make him remarkable, every day he lived he gave us something new to admire about him. He stood up for the downtrodden. He saved us all. And even though some of you don't like him, perhaps even hate him, you are here because you have respect for him. The Boy-Who-Lived may be gone, but he will live forever in our memories."

And that was all there was to the ceremony. No one remained untouched by Dumbledore's moving speech and they slowly left with glistening eyes. When the time came for her to leave with the Weasley's, she told them to go on without her.

Hermione sat down gently beside the gravestone that now belonged to Harry. She slowly traced the engraved words with her finger as she lay down a red rose on the fresh earth.

"I'm sorry, Harry." She said softly, "I told Mrs. Weasley that I can't go on without you. But that was a great lie. The problem is that I can go on. I had one little cry and now I'm fine. Ron's devastated. All the Weasleys are. Even Draco looked a little sad. It's not that I don't miss you. I do! And it hurts. But I'll survive. I feel like I ought to die, because you have. But I want to live. I shouldn't want that. So, please forgive me."

"Harry would be happy."

Hermione turned to see Dumbledore behind her.

He smiled gravely, "Harry didn't die so you would stop living. He died so you could have the freedom to live."

Hermione looked down, "I know. I just feel so…"

"Guilty?"

She nodded.

"Everyone does. Including me. Everyone says, 'I should have died, instead.' He could have done so much good. But you can't change what happened. You'll see him again some day. I'm sure, wherever he is, he's happy now."

Hermione smiled, a little, "I bet he's with everyone who loves him. That's why I feel like I ought to be there too. But, you're right. He wouldn't want that. Do you think everyone will be alright, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore smiled, "Yes, I think everyone's going to be just fine."

He offered a hand, which Hermione took. They walked into the fog, and for the first time in a long while, Hermione really did have the feeling that everything would be okay. Someday.

Harry James Potter

The Boy-Who-Lived Died

So We Could Live

Author's Notes: I know I probably shouldn't have done the gravestone inscription at the end. I'm sorry! I couldn't help it. I think that went rather well, myself. Haven't done anything like this before, so I thought I'd give it a shot. I'd tell you to review, but either you will anyway, or me asking you to won't make a difference. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it.