A/N: I had written this as a present for a friend, because she's a hardcore HHr shipper, and of course, HBP dashed her hopes out the windows. I don't have a 'ship, so I was fairly unsympathetic to her loss… this was a way for me to make it up to her. This takes place sometime between The Phoenix Lament and The White Tomb (the last two chapters).

Again, major spoilers for HBP.

Harry could not sleep. He replayed Dumbledore's murder over and over again in his mind. If only he'd learn how to do nonverbal spells! Angry at himself, and even more so at Snape, he slipped from bed with his Invisibility Cloak, hoping the night air will help him cool off.

As he climbed down the stairs to the Gryffindor common room, however, his ears picked up a quiet sobbing. Probably someone who couldn't sleep either, he thought, and put on his Invisibility Cloak to leave the person his – or her – privacy. As it turned out, however, the person – a she – was not just anyone.

"Hermione?" Harry whispered quietly. He took off his cloak and tossed it over one of the overstuffed chairs as he approached the weeping girl.

Hermione started, looking up. "Oh, Harry!" she cried in a whisper, rising and throwing her arms around him. "Oh, Harry!" she cried again, sobbing with greater intensity.

"What's wrong?" he inquired, wrapping his arms around her. But even as he asked, he knew the answer.

"Everything!" she exclaimed. "How could Professor Dumbledore die? He wasn't supposed to die!"

"I know." Harry sighed sadly. "I feel the same way. First Sirius, and now the professor… I don't know, I feel like I could have done something… if only I knew how to do nonverbal spells!" he exploded, coming back to that particular failure of his with a vengeance. "You should have been there, Hermione. You could've saved Dumbledore!"

Hermione pulled back to look at Harry in the face. Though slightly hoarse from her crying, she said firmly, "No, no… Harry, it isn't your fault! You wouldn't have been able to do much, even if you had known how to perform nonverbal spells… I wouldn't have, either. It was Profes – it was Snape we would've been up against. Only the older members of the Order would've been able to stop him… don't blame yourself, Harry. Oh," she laughed with a slight hitch, "here I am, comforting you, when you should've been comforting me." The small smile on Hermione's face informed Harry that she was not truly angry with him. Suddenly she looked hopeful. "You don't think – maybe Professor Dumbledore's not really gone… I mean, he's the greatest wizard of our time! Maybe – maybe he did something, or – or took some kind of potion before – before…?" She ended in a questioning note, staring at Harry with bright, expectant eyes.

Harry had to look away before answering softly, "No… I'm afraid he didn't. I didn't see anything like that. I'm sorry, Hermione." But the word potion rang in his head. What was that potion Dumbledore had drunk? No… he shook his head mentally. It wouldn't do to cling to false hopes. Besides, it had been protecting one of Voldemort's horcruxes. Whatever it was, it couldn't have been good…

"Oh," she said quietly, her eyes downcast. "But still, maybe… maybe…" A sob escaped her. "But that wouldn't explain Fawkes's song, would it…?" she trailed off. Harry had been thinking the same thing, and he knew she hated herself for casting that bit of hope into the fire, just as he hated himself for doing the same thing.

"Don't worry," he reassured her, as much as he was reassuring himself. "We'll always have Dumbledore with us, in some way. When I was up at the Headmaster's Office with Professor McGonagall, I saw Dumbledore's portrait with the rest of the previous headmasters. He was sleeping, but I'm sure he'd be awake soon, and we'd always be able to talk to him there."

"I suppose you're right," Hermione sighed. "Oh, Harry," she said, burying her face into his chest, "the cost of this war's too high, too high. I don't want to lose any more friends. I don't want to lose Ron, or you." And she began sobbing again.

Somewhat embarrassed, Harry smoothed Hermione's hair in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, keeping one arm wrapped around her shoulders. "There, there," he said, feeling extremely silly, "you won't lose either of us. I'll kill Voldemort. And Snape, too," he added fiercely.

"I know," she said, her reply a bit muffled. "I just…"

"… I know."

They held each other for the rest of the night.

A/N: I apologize for the abruptness of the ending, but they were in mourning, so I figured I had some poetic license :).