A/N: I'm not saying anything, really, except: this isn't over nearly yet. And don't worry, dancing in rain, there'll be more Hermione/Remus. Tons more. But now is Hermione time.

Disclaimer: I forget these most of the time. I don't own Harry Potter, nor his little friends.

2 A/N: Snape would like to register his protest at being called a friend of Potter. I will not repeat the exact words, nor his remarks concerning being called "little".

Chapter 7

It was amazing. It was incredible. It had fallen right into her lap (or, perhaps more accurately, out of her bed). It was more than she'd even dared to hope for, and, best of all, it was possible.

Oh, but there was so much she could do with this. And, just as she'd felt all along, the answer was ridiculously simplistic. One word, just one word, and the whole world righted itself again. Five letters – four, if you didn't count the plural…

"Oh! I swear I'll never mind another four-letter word so long as I live. Boat! Boats! Haha! Boat, boat, boat!" Hermione chanted, dancing.

Everything was suddenly so much brighter, so much better. A plan could follow, but the barest bones were already there; all she had to do was strand herself in the ocean, too far away to swim back. She wouldn't harm anyone, her soul wouldn't be sucked out, and 'Bell could sleep out the moon unconscious. Best case scenario, she'd give everyone an extra month, or perhaps several by doing this again and again; however long it took to find a solution. They'd find a solution for 'Bell, as well, maybe one that used the curse in such a way that she and Lupin gained control of it, a mated pair, but without the side-effect of 'Bell losing her will.

Come to that, Harry would defeat Voldemort easily, with few extra losses on the side of light, marry Ginny, and spend the rest of his life in contented normality. Ron would … be a Chudley Cannon, and wear horrid orange every day for the rest of his life. They'd all live happily ever after, the few people Hermione loved best given everything she'd ever hoped for them. She herself would go on with her education, perhaps teach one day. No matter the outcome, her friends would be at her side, and all would be well.

Hermione snorted. That was rather unrealistic, but still, it was the "Best Case Scenario." More realistically, she'd give them an extra month. Maybe nothing would really change, but at least they could all feel like they'd really given it a go. Perhaps she could talk Lupin out of it, and be sour and horrid enough to everyone that they'd send her off to the Ministry, instead. Lupin would live, 'Bell would live, but they would both be cursed by the moon to the end of their days. She would… likely face worse-than-death by Dementor, but possibly face a little ministry corruption instead, exchanging her integrity for three more years to watch over her friends.

Worst case scenario, the wolf would exhaust itself on the way back, and she'd drown. It was a risk she was perfectly willing to take. Honestly; it would have been ridiculous to even hope for a solution that didn't involve any risk.

Shaking off her sober mood, she snatched the text back up from her bed, and kissed it. She wouldn't let what might be bother her. Hermione had found hope, and hope was a great deal more than she'd had an hour ago. Hugging the tome to her chest, she closed her eyes, and breathed a huge sigh of relief, forming what might be called a prayer of thanks, and letting it out with her breath. To whomever or whatever had brought this about, she was truly grateful.

Boats, of all things, the only subject she'd ever purposefully avoided studying, were the answer to every question that had so long haunted her. Feeling rather bad about previously ignoring the subject, she attempted to make amends by waxing poetic. "Oh, how under appreciated, floating wood upon the water! Water, sweet water! Breath of life and living!" Assuming a mockingly Shakespearian pose, she nearly shouted (only remembering at the very last minute that she didn't wish to be heard). "Salvation of the cursed beast!"

Worried someone might have heard her and decided to come looking, she tucked the book into her trunk, right at the bottom beside the odd wolven love story. The story seemed entirely unfrightening just now, nothing more than someone's foolish, optimistic sentimentality. Collapsing back onto her bed, she dissolved into giggles. Everything would be fine. All she had to do was form a nice, orderly plan, get hold of a great deal of money, and pack everything. Considering her former predicament, it was little more than child's play.

Breakfast was noisier than it had been in ages. Hermione was busy trying to pretend to not be as happy as she was, right alongside trying to pretend to be feeling better than she had been. She really didn't think she was doing a very good job, and thought sure that someone would notice how cheerful she was (relatively, of course; she was still facing the prospect of dying, even if she couldn't be bothered by the thought of it just now). Oddly enough, however, even Remus was simply smiling right back at her; she couldn't figure it out – shouldn't "the wolf" be "telling" him that something wasn't right with her? Perhaps he could only sense the fact that she truly was feeling better. After all, the nagging guilt in the back of her mind wasn't really an emotion…technically.

Whatever it was, Hermione was the happier for it. Tonks and Ginny were cracking jokes, Harry was sitting happily beside her, and the rest of the Order were chattering on about inconsequential things. Even Mrs. Weasley looked happier – though it was that soppy sort of happy that mothers get; tears in the corner of slightly-puffy, too-bright eyes, grin trembling as though it was a thousand other expressions as well. It was the sort of moment that nearly glittered in its intensity, where time seemed almost tied up, flying past and stretching out – the sort of moment one carries with them all their life. She couldn't help but be glad she was here to experience it, couldn't imagine a better way to… finish things out.

The only person missing was Bell, but Hermione knew she was tucked away someplace swapping tricks of the trade with Snape. She was glad her friend was getting along with someone and enjoying herself, even if she couldn't understand why anyone would want to get along with him. Of all people, really, for Snape and Ambell to be enjoying each others company… But she wouldn't stand in the way of anything that made her friends happy today. Well, except for once. One little thing she had to do, to interrupt Bell, but it was all for a good cause.

Today had to be good. Today was the last.

There wouldn't be another. If her plan worked, it would only be a short time; she'd see some sights, run about town, and come back. They'd be angry with her, but they'd get over it. And if a solution couldn't be found in the next month, either… their anger would be useful as well. And if her plan didn't work, well, at least they'd all have these good memories.

Speaking of which… "Harry" she poked her friend. He turned to her, suddenly serious, his eyes questioning. "Can I ask you a favor?" She asked.

"Anything." He responded, looking dead serious. Hermione had to hold back a flinch at her choice of adjectives, but still, she appreciated his sincerity.

"Do you have your Firebolt with you?"

"Um, yeah, I do." Harry said, looking confused. "Professor Dumbledore got it back for me at the end of –"

"Nevermind that." Hermione interrupted, waving off the explanation. "Would you take Ambell up, once? The yard out back is as hidden as the house, and I already asked for permission to fly there. It's been a dream of hers, ever since we learned about the wizarding world. And I've never been a good enough flier to trust myself with a passenger."

Harry's face lit up. "Sure, Hermione, of course I will. You sure she wants to?"

"Positive."

He looked contemplative for a moment. "You know… I bet we could alter a broom so she could ride it. For herself, I mean. I don't even know if they use the riders' magic to begin with."

Hermione was rather impressed. It was rather unlike Harry to make an unobvious connection like that, or even to be interested enough to try. Unfortunately, he was wrong. "Actually, they do. Not a great deal of your magic, mind, but that's why you start your first lesson by calling the broom. It develops a pattern of calling out with your magic – mimicked by calling out with words - in order to fly. The broom's actual magic is drawn from outside natural sources, but it's activated, and kept active, by your own."

She stopped, and thought a minute. "But you might have something, there; if you gave the broom some other trigger, it might be able to be flown by a muggle as well." Shaking herself from her musings, she continued. "But that's neither here nor there, and certainly not for today. We can work on the theory later. For now, let's fly." She grinned.

Harry grinned right back at her. "Books later, flying now? Who are you, and what have you done with Hermione?"

Harry was having the time of his life.

Hermione could tell that much quite plainly, even from where she was sitting, safe on the ground. And Ambell was, if possible, even happier. For every trick, every stunt, Harry had a slightly better way, could cut it just that much closer, make it just that more intense. And Bell, though she'd laughed and cheered in the beginning, had settled into a blissful sort of expression that was only matched by the brooms other rider. She didn't have to cheer, anymore, though; Harry'd landed, once, and she'd begged him to take her back up. Surprised, even after all the cheering, he'd looked her square in the eye, and realized she felt as he did. Not another word was needed after that.

And Hermione's happiness, though muted in comparison to theirs, was complete. Remus had come out, perhaps three hours ago, looking as though he meant to call them in. One look at the fliers, and he'd merely settled down beside her to watch. The only comment he'd made, after sitting there and watching Harry do another complicated-looking twisting loop, was "No book?" To which she'd answered, never taking her eyes off the sky, "No. Not this time." His hand had slipped over hers, which was propping her up in the grass, and he gave it a warm sort of half-squeeze. He'd resumed watching the sky with her, but he hadn't removed his hand, not until he got up to leave, without a word, at least an hour after. Lunch, perhaps even dinner, might have come and gone by now, but it was truly unimportant.

And then the garden door slammed behind her, and an angry voice bit out. "What in hell do you think you're doing!"

Hermione flinched, and felt immediately like a terrible friend. She'd intended to spend some time with Ron, playing chess, or whatever else he wanted, but she'd been too absorbed in watching her other friends. Why she'd wondered about Remus, earlier, before he'd come out, and not Ron, was entirely beyond her. Really, the smartest thing would have been to invite Ron to this from the beginning – he liked flying pretty well, even if he liked it more for Quidditch than for its own sake. Really, though, he hadn't been at breakfast… and after that, she'd forgotten.

"The entire Order is inside, working on half nights of sleep and too much coffee, and you three are flying?" Ron ranted.

Harry drifted towards the ground, obviously feeling guilty as well, for neglecting his best mate. Now, Hermione really did feel like an arse. She'd acted just as she'd accused him of, so many other times; rashly, childishly. Worse, there was no way she could explain why she'd done as she had. No way to make him understand. And when she left – oh, this wasn't how she wanted him to remember her. Not only that, but it would likely leave a rift between him and Harry, and if she didn't come back, it might not ever heal.

"I cant believe you, any of you! And you Hermione. I thought you had more sense!" Spinning on his heel, Ron stormed back into the house.

Bell stared awkwardly between Hermione and Harry. "I… should go."

Clearing her throat, she continued, somewhat stronger, "There is a lot of work that needs doing. Professor Snape said he was going to come back after dinner, and might even be here now." She started towards the door, but turned halfway, addressing Harry "Thanks so much for this. It meant … a lot. More than I can even say."

And then she left, and the courtyard fell quiet, as the remaining two stared in silence.

Harry gave Hermione a sad half-smile. "He's just worried about you, you know. He's upset, and he's frustrated, because there's nothing he can do to help."

Tears threatened at the edges of her eyes. Today was supposed to be perfect. "When did we all trade roles?" Shutting her eyes to keep from crying, she whispered. "I'm supposed to be the one who understands, and who keeps us from fighting, and who keeps the two of you out of trouble."

Harry clasped a hand on her shoulder. "I only know what he's thinking, because I feel the same, Hermione. I just express it differently, and you taught me that."

He gently squeezed her shoulder, and then followed Bell into the house.

Hermione fell to her knees, and sobbed.