AN: Thank you to my reviewers…:) I like criticism... especially the kind I can explain. Some of you (Fuego) were wondering how Hermione knew Harry's scar was hurting when he was only thinking of how badly it hurt. It's mentioned that he does rub it, probably with a pained expression like he usually does. And he most likely looks ill, but we can't see that from his POV.

Also, for purpose of plot smoothness and… pure interest… I have decided to do Switching Perspectives. Whenever you see a breaker, it means the perspective is changing to a different character (Hermione to Draco, most likely!). It should be pretty easy to pick up, if isn't stupid about it. I'll stop rambling now:P

Chapter One: A White Lamb in a Sea of Black Sheep

Even though it was awful, and I still had red puffy eyes, the Logical Hermione in me kept with the mantra that it was a suitable end to his suffering. Harry no longer had to deal with the pain of losing just about everyone he really loved, nor the anxiety that Voldemort would somehow come back. I dabbed at my eyes with a black handkerchief. The more Human Hermione argued back that it wasn't fair—I lost my two best friends in a nasty war. How was I to do deal with the aftermath alone?

Mrs. Weasley put an arm around my shoulder. She was draped in a rather raggedy velvet dressing robe, with a pointed black witch's hat. Tears leaked silently down her face—she mourned the loss of an extended son. We were sitting in the front row in his Wizard funeral; a stone monument holding his ashes in a private field within the outskirts of Godric's Hollow. It housed large willow trees; Harry's marble monument stood in the middle of a small clearing, so the sunlight shone brilliantly upon the white masterpiece.

I choked back a sob, Pull yourself together, Hermione; you're stronger than this. You are not a blubbering mess of a little girl; you are a full-grown woman and can deal with death. I put the black cloth to my eyes again, and then covered my mouth with it to steady my breathing. Ginny was on my other side, her long red hair pulled up in a bun, wearing a long lacy Muggle dress that was somehow appropriate for Harry's funeral service. Her head was tilted to face the ground, her tiny frame shaking with silent sobs as she hugged herself for support. I sighed, glancing back to Remus and Tonks who had opted to stay in the last row (there were only three rows) for safety reasons. Tonks was pale with long black hair and a dark robe, and Remus looked just as depressed and stricken.

It was a really small funeral, like Harry would have wanted. People who really knew him and cared about him were invited. While he reached the entire Wizarding community, and the entire world simply cared for him, there were few that he let in. I have always hoped he felt I was dependable and a good, smart friend. We were such an amazing trio, we worked together. Really worked.

"…and I just want to wrap this little speech up and say what we all have always wished Harry would know. Harry, you were a good man, and we all love you. Unconditionally." Mr. Weasley, clad in a black suit with gray pinstripes, coughed in a masculine cover-up of bawling, and stepped off the little platform to his seat next to Molly. Since there were so few here, we didn't even bother with the microphone charms.

The little wizard holding the ceremony stood up again and cleared his throat. He was Harry's appointed lawyer of sorts, as Harry did not leave a written out will or anything. His death was almost completely surprising—if he weren't the Boy Who Lived to Die… The little wizard had conjured up a Spiritual Contract where, moments before his soul slipped away, explained how he would like his funeral and how to split up his fortune. Hermione would never understand how that piece of intense magic worked, but it did and she was here… so it must be foolproof.

"Now, we all may step up, one by one to pay last respects to Harry James Potter." He cleared his throat nervously again, picked up his black robes that were much too long for his short frame, and stepped to the side.

Ginny was first, gliding slowly to the marble stone block. She let her fingers caress slowly over the engraved letters, before resting her head on it. I looked away, sniffling. I heard her choke out his name, before beginning to walk back to her seat. Slowly, I stood up.

"Harry," I whispered touching the stone. "Harry… I'm so sorry I failed you. None of this makes sense. It just had to be… I… I'm so sorry."

With that, I placed a kiss to the cold stone and walked away, seeing that the first row was standing to pay their respects behind me. "Good-bye," I thought one last time, with a glance over my shoulder.

I sat down and felt numbness settle in. Good, there's no better feeling than not feeling at all, I thought bitterly. I stared blankly at the patches of sunlight in the distance, let my eyes blur over. Peripherally, I could see the line of black suits, dresses, and robes slowly march along up the aisle. Bill, Charlie, Fred, Luna…

I ran it through my mind for the sixty-eighth time

I was sitting there, mentioning how Harry's scar shouldn't hurt at all. Voldemort is dead, therefore the power in his scar was dead too. It was just a scar now. Harry looked bug-eyed, he was shrieking. Everyone was silenced or crying in confusion. Luna couldn't move, she looked slightly frightened but her eyes were wide and glassy as she stared. Everyone in the room, looking this way and that, trying to point there finger on what had set off Harry. I scanned everyone, but no one seemed to be suspicious. It was then that my eyes reached the corridor that was roped off. It was closed because of a magical failure—too much medicine in one small area had caused a collapse in the fields of magic. I memorized the faces in the room, various classmates and older witches and wizards. There, in the darkness, someone shrouded and just barely out of sight. A blinding red light flashed around the room. I shielded my face, trying not to blink and stare at the figure in the hallway. My eyes watered, but the flash illuminated only to the tip of a wand. A wand—there was a Witch or Wizard cursing Harry! I squinted and tried to keep my eyes open, but it was futile. The light burnt at my eyes, and my skin, until I was forced to shut them and cry to myself for my failure. When the red light ceased, I opened my eyes in time to see the wand fall to the ground. I looked around, but no one was in the darkness anymore.

…Neville, McGonagall, Moody, Remus, Tonks…

My heart stopped, the trail of black was abruptly stopped. I glanced up, in astonishment, to see a man in a white Muggle suit and one of those hats you see in 1920's movies. Everyone else barely noticed, which shocked me even more when I saw the sun gleam off of the hair beneath that suave white hat. It was platinum blond.

The man knelt before the monument, before standing and kissing the spot which I had kissed. He ran his long, manicured hands alone the white stone before slowly sauntering to the very last seat set up for this funeral. Malfoy? This was absurd. Of course, after Dumbledore died, he would have volunteered to be a spy… that would make sense, right? Harry had told me all about Malfoy's betrayal to Voldemort by not killing… No, that wouldn't make sense. Malfoy would never betray his father for all that is good and righteous.

I blinked several times, and spun around to capture his form again. In all of the black robes, there he was, wearing pristine white. Muggle clothes, too! My mouth hung open a little, but I quickly faced forward once again. Well, how else could he have gotten an invitation to come to Harry's funeral? Harry would have known something, even in his partial-ghost form.

I rolled the idea over and over in my head, thinking of my last year at Hogwarts. Could Draco Malfoy really have been playing the role of spy? It was unbelievable! Everyone was dismissed at last, and I left the Weasleys (those unclaimed by death) to mourn alone. I rushed to the back of the twenty-chair gathering.

The man in the white suit, presumably Malfoy, had already begun walking towards the exit of the Godric's Hollow memorial site. I rushed, damning myself for wearing heels but thanking myself for at least wearing a looser black Muggle dress. I reached out, finally, grabbing the shoulder of the man. "Wait!" I shouted, out of breath.

He stopped, and slowly turned to face me. I took in the tipped and tilted white hat, and white ribbon around it. I gazed and noticed that the white suit had tiny pin stripes in an even brighter white, and took in his carefully pressed oxford shirt and white tie. I heaved for a second longer, before calming myself as I drank in the image of his sharp features and piercing eyes. "Yes?"

"Malfoy?" I blinked to make sure this wasn't some nasty illusion.

"Granger," he said dully, as if amusing himself was too tiresome at the moment.

"What are you doing here? How…? I mean," I stuttered, and finally trailed off at my loss of speech.

"I knew Harry too," he said softly. Then, the typical Malfoy persona took over, putting up his usual guard. "I got an invitation, didn't I? And I'm here, aren't I? What else matters?"

He whirled around, took a few more steps, and was at the boundary of the Apparition field. He looked back at me, before… was it a sigh? I could only sense something in his stature, but in a split-second it was gone. He turned to face the other way, and with a crack he was gone.

What was this? I knew that the war had put a new light on many people—sometimes not the nicest one either. Percy turned out evil, trying to take down Neville with a Cruciatus curse! But, putting a nice light on Malfoy? He was too much of an arrogant, prejudiced prat to go under a conversion!

It still didn't explain why Harry would want him at his memorial service funeral. And, on top of that, what was he doing wearing all white? Surely that was a sign of disrespect—we came here to mourn, not to saunter off happily.

My mind wouldn't let me accuse that of Draco Malfoy. Something pulled at the back of my thoughts, whispering: He didn't seem so pompous when he knelt before Harry Potter's memorial stone. He didn't seem so high and happy when he kissed Harry's engraved last name…

I shook my head in disbelief. This was absurd; I kicked that small voice out of my mind and turned back to the nice numbness that was left inside of me. I couldn't think about this now.

I strolled silently back to my chair. This was the aftermath. The part where I am supposed to be thinking of my new life, the part where I should be in the Three Broomsticks cheering Ron and Harry on a job well done. Instead, I picked up my black clutch and took one last look at the shiny marble stone—it stood four feet tall and about two feet wide. The sun hit it just perfectly at four in the afternoon—a photographer's orgy of perfect "God Rays" coming through the lazy trees.

Sighing, I turned my back to it and begun the walk back down and out of the park. The Weasleys were entering a black Ministry car, but mostly everyone else had cleared out of this peaceful woodland. I caught a glimpse of Luna Apparating, before I spotted Remus and Tonks quietly talking against a tree in the distance, near the dirt road. Tonks pulled her hair behind her ears, leaning her back further against the orange tree. Remus put an arm against the tree behind her in a distinctly intimate position. I watched candidly as Tonks' hair slowly turned a deep chestnut, shining cherry red in places. Her skin livened up a bit from its ghostly white, as Remus leaned in. He smiled, and she laughed quietly. The noise drifted back to my ears, tickling softly through the leaves, traveling along the breeze. They gently kissed. I looked away, making a loud shuffle as I neared the boundaries of the park.

They broke apart and Tonks blushed, her hair turning pink and shortening to a pixie cut. "Hi, Hermione, you want us to come with you?" Remus cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"There's no need," I heard myself replying automatically. "I'm a big girl now, Remus. I'll see you two around, though."

"Keep in touch!" I heard Remus shout as I took out my wand and disappeared. Six funerals in six days—the last being Ron's and then Harry's.

Without you, the ground thaws

The rain falls

The grass grows

Without you, the seeds root

The flowers bloom

The children play

The stars gleam

The poets dream

The eagles fly

Without you

The Earth turns

The sun burns

But I die, without you


AN: That's it for this chapter… We only saw Hermione! Sorry guys! Heh, but we should get into Draco's mind soon. ; ) And, yes, please do leave a review. I really love 'em. I know this chapter was kind of morbid, but I was trying not to be hugely angsty where we get a scene of Hermione sitting in the shower cutting herself or attempting suicide… I hope this was a good balance? There was also a lot of background information still going on. If you couldn't tell already, this is a while after Harry died—around two or three weeks. People are in various stages of mourning. Hermione is still struggling to reach numbness and then to rationalize things…

DRC