A/N: Alright, here's a new chapter on The Art of Letting Go! I hope you enjoy. I'm sorry for my periods of absence here. I love my fanfics, but some days I just gotta work on my originals. And others I just can't work at all. :(

Ah well. You want info on updates and such? Check out my lj, it will usually be updated immediately after I post (you can find the link in my info).

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The Art of Letting Go

Chapter One: What Will We Do Without You, Now?

How could this happen? The words were weighing heavily on each of their minds, but none dared to speak in the moments that had passed.

How could we have let it? Words also occupying the minds of the witches and wizards assembled in The-Boy-Who-Lived's room, those too remaining silent.

She felt warm tears tracking her cheeks as she sat next to the boy she had for so long seen as a son. Molly Weasley had failed. She failed one of her son's to his death. She reached out a trembling hand to place on top of his head. The unruly hair felt soft under her fingers, unkempt like a wily child's, yet much less tamable.

She couldn't save him, not this time. She'd tried, oh Merlin she tried. But she wasn't a trained healer. How could she save a life when all she was trained to heal were minor injuries?

"Molly." Her name was said in a whisper, as if its speaker was afraid to break the silence of the room. She did not reply, simply running her hand through the dark black hair of the boy on the bed beside her.

"My child, why'd you have to go?" she sobbed, feeling the start in those around her. They had not expected her to speak. She almost recoiled when she felt her husbands arms circling around her, only relaxing into them when the pain became too much. More tears.

Her son was dead. She could not pinpoint the exact moment when the thought that he was her son had first crossed her mind. It had always been glaringly obvious that the pair were not related, that Harry was as independent as any adult. But she still felt it, the love one can only feel for their child. Molly had always tried to protect him, give him back the boyhood he had lost. He had never wanted it, not when it came down to it.

She had always hoped that he may have felt for her like he would his own mother. She knew the truth, though. Harry had a mother and she was dead. He could never love Molly in that way. She never blamed him for it, of course. She knew that he questioned her love in him. How couldn't he with the fact that she let him be sent to the Dursleys year after year?

When the bedroom door slammed open, revealing Albus Dumbledore and his healer no doubt, she began to laugh. A hysterical, barking laugh one can only obtain will under such deep stress as Molly was in. She felt Arthur's deep intake of breath, recognizing the worry emanating from him.

"Its too late, Albus," Moody said gruffly. Even he seemed near to tears.

One of her sons was dead. Her worst fear personified.

The laughter once again turned to tears.

-.-

"Dad, what's wrong?" Ron Weasley asked quickly upon seeing his distraught parents enter the kitchen of Twelve Grimmauld Place.

"Who was it this time?" his sister, Ginny, asked softly. The true fighting had begun over the past couple of weeks of the summer, escalating slowly. She had known it would only be a matter of time before one close to her family would be struck down.

Arthur looked at his two children while gently guiding his wife into a seat at the table. She stared out into the distance blankly, perhaps not even recognizing where she was. Ginny's father did not speak for some time, simply standing there, his hands resting on Molly's shoulders. "Dad?" Ginny prodded.

He hesitated, his stare alternating between her and her brother. Who is it? her mind desperately cried. She knew the truth would not be good. Tell me! Who was it this time?!?!

"Harry Potter." As if in answer to her thoughts, her father spoke. He said the words that the entire wizarding world was praying they never would her. Harry Potter is dead.

The thought seemed strange, incomprehensible. How is it that such a boy could die? He was Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, the boy who could face down the worst of all evils and come out of it unscathed. Harry Potter didn't die. Death was for lesser boys than he. And yet, yet, Harry Potter was dead. Ginny was suddenly glad that she was sitting down. Elsewise her legs would have buckled by now.

"H-how?" Ron's strangled voice slashed through her heart and mind, tearing to pieces the little bits of strength that she had retained after hearing of such news. She glanced over at him to see the silent tears streaming down his pale cheeks. She wanted to offer her brother something- anything that could take the pain away, but she could not even ease her own.

Her father was silent for a much longer interval this time. He did not cry, simply standing there as a stone figure, pain deeply etched into the lines of his face. The pair of them- her mum and dad- were silent as dolls placed into the kitchen for a strange decoration, neither moved, neither spoke, they simply were. The pain in them was more than Ginny thought she could bear. But she did not cry, she supposed she was much like a doll also.

After the silence had stretched among them for several minutes, the answer was spoken.

"Suicide. Harry Potter killed himself."

Ron's face paled considerably, his blue eyes widening in horror. Ginny winced in sympathy, ignoring for a moment her own pain at the words. This was his best pal. And he'd killed himself. It was enough to lose a friend, but to suicide...

Ginny stood from her seat, walking over to her brother. He was stock-still, the horror still all too present on his face. She pulled him from his chair and into her embrace. Both began to cry, letting go of the terrible grief. Holding on to each other, the brother and sister weathered together the storm of loss.

-.-

Hermione Granger laughed as her little cousin Jodi chased Crookshanks around her room. The little girl and her parents were staying with the Grangers for a couple of weeks while their house was fumigated. The family had discovered a cockroach in their basement and feared that more would come.

So for the next two weeks Hermione would be rooming with the seven year old Jodi. The Gangers only had one guestroom and that was where Hermione's aunt and uncle would be staying.

Jodi was an energetic blonde, taking after her mother in looks and her father in personality. She had quickly fallen for the half-kneazle, much to his chagrin. She'd been attempting to play with Crookshanks for the past half hour. The most she'd gotten out of him was a scratch on the hand.

She was about to save the poor cat when the doorbell rang. "I'll get it!" Jodi cried despite the fact that she really didn't live in this house. Hermione let out a giggle as she followed the bouncing girl out of her room and down the stairs towards the door.

The little girl flung the door open with relish, grinning at the visitor. Hermione felt her jaw drop as she stared into the face of the last person she would have ever expected a visit from, including but not limited to Orlando Bloom, the ice-cream man, Rudolph the red nosed reindeer and the president of the United States. "Hullo sir!" Jodi piped up at the dark haired man.

None other than Severus Snape stood in her doorway. He was wearing a black turtle neck, black slacks, combat boots and a black duster. She wondered briefly if was familiar with muggle movies, seeing as how he looked as if he'd stepped out of one. All he needed was the sunglasses and he could pass for an action hero.

"Hello, child," he spoke in a calm manner.

"Jodi, sweetheart," Hermione started, "I'll take care of it. Will you go and tell my mum that we have a visitor to attend to?" The girl smiled and nodded, bouncing away with a quick smile at Hermione's professor.

"Ms. Granger, you must pack. We will be leaving for Headquarters immediately," he spoke up, stepping forward to enter the home.

"How do I know you're truly who you appear to be?" she countered quickly, standing in his way.

"Ms. Granger, we do not have the time for this! Terrible things have happened and you must be moved to a safe place as soon as possible!" His eyes glowed with a mix between anger and determination.

"I'm sorry professor, but I must be sure before I risk the endangerment of my family." Hermione steeled herself, knowing full well that the man before her, Snape or not, could easily harm her if he wished.

"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

She stared at him for a second before it hit her. Of course! How could she forget that question? She stepped aside and let him in. "Quickly, Ms. Granger, time is not on our side!" She rushed past her mother- who had just entered the hall- and up the stairs to pack.

Snape's introduction of himself floated up the steps behind her, "Hello, I am Professor Severus Snape, one of Hermione's teachers. I'm afraid she must be moved to a safe-house, if you will. Terrible things have happened recently and your daughter is in grave danger." She had a sneaking suspicion that her mother would not like Severus Snape.

TBC....

A/N: I'd actually planned to finish Hermione's scene in this chapter, but it didn't work out that way. Shrug I hope you all had happy holidays!

Reviewer Responses

LizaGirl: Thank you. Harry would have had longer, if there had been at least one experienced healer there. The Order members that were there could do little to help him, since even Molly didn't know very much about healing such a terrible wound.

Potter4prez: It is rather fun killing him... Erm... I meant depressing, really I did.

colie: Thank you.

elvengirl: Heh. Heh. I did, didn't I?

Loki10125: Thanks!

The-Bass-Player312: Eyes pop. I'm loved! Hmm...

Meaghan: Thank you. More on why Harry did it will be explained later.

Don't forget to review!!