Prologue

All dead all dead

All the dreams we had

And I wonder why I still live on

All dead all dead

And alone I'm spared

My sweeter half instead

All dead and gone all dead

-All dead, All dead. Brian May

It was dark and all was silent. Across the dark and charred earth nothing moved save for the leafless branches moving back and forth through a stale breeze. The wind picked up, and bits of dirt and debris floated across a bloody ground, hitting a limp figure in the middle of the desolate area. A solitary stone rolled across the ground and smacked against a pale, dirt stained cheek. Dark brown, wavy hair spilled into the dirt, it's once glossy sheen masked in blood, sweat and burnt earth.

Weak hands clawed into the raw earth and the body flinched as it suddenly came to life. A slight moan escaped through chapped and bloody lips as she struggled to lift her head. Heaving a soul rattling sigh, she managed to sit up and let herself take in the surroundings. A strong gust of wind picked up and she closed her eyes slightly – to stop the drifting dirt from penetrating her already sensitive eyes. Looking down at her hands, she saw that they were cut and bloody – a sign that hinted as to what had happened to her. She gently massaged her temple – and the pounding in her head escalated to colossal proportions. Closing her eyes, fully this time, she was greeted with flashing lights and the screams of a generation dying.

Her eyes flew open and she stifled a small gasp as a wall of dirt flew towards her. She put her hands up to protect her face – the dirt slapped into her hands as if punishing her. She cried out for help, but she already knew that help wouldn't come. She was all alone. There wasn't anyone there to hold her or to tell her that it would be alright. They were gone. If she had to envision her own hell, this would be it.

Struggling to her feet, she balked for a split second, reaching out for anything to steady her wavering figure. Once she had gained her balance, the girl began an ungainly and off center walk. Her left ankle was screaming in pain but she didn't stop to comfort it; she had to keep going or she would never find out who had survived.

She continued walking, wondering if she would be joined by anyone else. She didn't know what she would do if only she had survived. One more step and her left foot brushed up against a broken twig. Bending down, she picked up the bough and noticed that it wasn't a branch but a wand: her wand.

Clutching her broken wand, she remembered what had happened. It was as clear as if she was watching it happen right in front of her own eyes.

Curses were flying everywhere, yellow, red, blue, violet and, the one hue that made everyone in the melee pause – a blinding green. A yellow beam of wandlight flew towards her, but she was able to block the curse with ease.

"You destroyed him!" a snarling voice said right behind her, "He has nothing left! I'm going to enjoy watching you die!"

A clawed hand lodged into the side of her face, leaving long scratches in her face. She found herself being thrown to the ground, her wand leaving the protective grasp of her finger as she collided with the ground. She cried out as the palm of her hands slid across gravel, bits of skin flaking off, only to be replaced by small bits of stone and rubble.

"Now…I want you to scream…and beg for your life."

She saw her opponent's eyes alight with malice and hatred. For one of the first times in her life, she genuinely knew she was going to die. Keeping her hands up, a feeble attempt to protect herself, she stayed sprawled on the ground hoping that if the end did come, it would be quick and painless.

"Kill me, Bella," she said softly the blood on her face mixing with tears of sorrow and hate, "Kill me, but I will never beg for my life." Bellatrix Lestrange snarled once more as she stalked towards the young woman sprawled on the ground, wand raised. It was at that moment she knew the end was near.

"'MIONE, NO!" a hoarse voice cried out. Hermione looked up and saw Ron come dashing over, pushing aside people who were holding him back. It all happened in a blur – a blinding green light and she was blown away, tumbling head over heels unti herl body met the ground with a sickening crack.

Hermione gently put a hand up to her still-bleeding face. If she ever escaped this nightmare she knew that the scars would stay with her for the rest of her life. Her brown eyes searched the scene for any signs of life. There could be the slight chance that he had survived and then everything would be alright. But she couldn't get her hopes up if she did. If she did, and it turned out that he was dead, her head would explode.

She continued to walk around the area, noticing the crumpled form of Bellatrix Lestrange, finally defeated, lying stale in the red earth. Hermione had half a mind to spit on her, or to give her some informal send off to the one place where she belonged – but Hermione knew better. She was above Bellatrix and wouldn't stoop to the horrid woman's level. So she continued to walk until she came up to a fallen tree, a dead tree.

Hermione would have overlooked the tree had she not seen someone squashed beneath the tree, a mop of red hair matching the red dirt. "Oh, Merlin," Hermione whispered as she rushed forward, grabbing onto the tree. She grimaced as the bark cut into her tender hands but she tried her best to pull the trunk off the cowering figure that lay underneath the tree.

Surprisingly, she was able to lift the trunk off the figure and she pushed her hair away from her eyes as she got down on her hands and knees and crawled over to her fallen comrade. "Can you hear me?" she whispered as she grabbed her best friend, Ronald Weasley by the shoulders and hoisted him onto her lap, "Ron! Ron, can you hear me?" she whispered, her voice becoming more frantic by the minute.

She quickly checked for his pulse and let out a small sob when she realized that there wasn't a heartbeat. Hermione looked down at him and saw that everything was relaxed. There was no tension in his body – he was completely limp. "Ron," she whispered, as the tears fell down her cheeks, creating clear tear streaks down her face. He had a massive cut on his forehead and she could tell by the way his leg was positioned that it was broken. But that couldn't be what had killed him. It had been all Hermione's fault. If she had been more careful and had seen Bellatrix coming…Ron wouldn't be lying here – dead.

"Oh Ron," she cried hoarsely as she leaned down and hugged her best friend tightly. "Ron I'm so sorry." She brought her hand up and let it brush away a small piece of red hair from his eyes. Hermione shook him gently hoping that it would wake him from this trying slumber. "Ronald Weasley, open your eyes. Right now!" she commanded suddenly, giving him a hard shake.

It was impossible. He had sacrificed himself so that she could live. He was dead because of her lack of judgment in such a high-stakes environment. It was her fault that Ron Weasley, the love of her life, the one who made her feel complete no matter what the situation, was dead. She choked back a heart-wrenching sob as she hugged him tightly, silently wishing that he would wake up, or that she was running through a bad dream and would soon wake up to his comforting arms around her or his soft kiss.

"Hermione," a hoarse voice whispered. Hermione didn't hear it at first; she was busy wishing with all her might that Ron would wake up and laugh at her for being so daft. He always hated it when she got this way over things. It had been like that since they were fourteen when she had concocted S.P.E.W. and had made her two best friends join because she could find no one else to join. Now, thoughts of S.P.E.W. long gone, Hermione didn't have either of them. She had seen no sign of Harry since the start of the battle and Ron…Hermione didn't want to think about Ron…at least she didn't want to think about him as he was now, pressed against her body cold and not moving.

"HERMIONE!"

"What?" she shrieked loudly looking up quickly. Her mouth sagged open and she would have dropped Ron onto the ground if she hadn't been holding onto him so tightly. It looked like he had been through a meat grinder. His famous glasses were gone and a smudge of dirt covered his renowned lightning bolt scar. His shoulders were sagging and he had cuts and bruises all over his body. His clothes were in tatters and it seemed like he had aged twenty years. The spark of joy and passion that had once resided in Harry's brilliant green eyes was gone. His eyes now resembled a dark stone that had no luster or shine to it. His mouth fell in the corners, resulting in a permanent frown and his shoulders drooped forward as if he had been standing on his feet for a long time.

Hermione looked at him, her mouth agape. She had heard many of the Order members predicting in hushed voices in dark corridors and secluded crevices that he was supposed to die along with the Dark Lord. The third part of the prophecy had predicted that Harry would be killed along with his greatest enemy. So many people believed that he would have been killed. Hermione had even talked about it with Ron when he was…still alive.

Even now it was hard to think about Ron being gone. Breaking the gaze she held with the man that stood before her, she looked down at the lifeless body of Ronald Weasley. Could he really be gone?

"Hermione, I've been calling your name for the past five minutes," his voice came again, this time it was not only hoarse but Hermione could hear it crack with emotion. She looked back up at the man, who was little more than a scared seventeen-year old boy, and saw that his eyes were filled with tears. He had done it again, although this time it was supposed to be impossible. How was he able to escape while Ron had fallen and was never going to get up again? How could that be fair? "Would you please answer me?" he pleaded.

"You," Hermione started as she looked up at him, her lower lip trembling with emotion and malnutrition, "You're supposed to be dead," she said softly and she looked away ashamed that she had said such a horrible thing.

"I know. I don't know how I survived; I knew I wasn't supposed to," he said, voice shaking slightly. The next thing she knew he was down on his knees sitting next to her, breathing hard and looking in the face of his fallen friend, "This is all my fault," he murmured and he shook his head rubbing it with his left hand, covered in red scratches.

"I won't let you blame yourself this time," Hermione whispered, before she looked back up to her other best friend with a sad expression. Her eyes also began to brim with tears and she had to look away once again, her brown hair falling in front of her face. "This time it was my fault." They were greeted with an awkward silence except for the slight breeze that came through periodically ruffling their tattered and dirty clothes.

"Is everyone…" Hermione whispered, finally breaking the silence. She didn't want to think of everyone she ever knew and loved as finally gone. She had no one left except for this boy standing in front of her and at the moment it wasn't very comforting.

"Yeah…they're all…" It was apparent that not even the Boy Who Outlived Voldemort could finish that sentence but he was able to give a definite answer to Hermione's inquiry. She bowed her head and silently willed something, anything, to happen. She didn't want to believe it had all happened. Taking another look at Ron, Hermione took a quivering breath and brushed another lock out of his face.

"He saved me," she croaked as she let a finger connect his freckles together. It was a game they had played together before their lives had been turned upside down. She remembered they would make words and animals or odds and ends out of the freckles on his face. Now the tiny red dots that had once been the bane of his existence, and later a high form of entertainment stood out sickeningly against his pallid face void, of any signs of life.

"I know…and I did nothing," he responded before he put his head in his hands and began to cry – finally broken. Slowly, gently Hermione placed Ron down on the ground, puzzlingly afraid that if he were jostled she would disrupt his sleeping. Crawling over she placed a hand on her sobbing friend's shoulder. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the savior of the wizarding world looked up for a moment before flinging himself into her arms, body rigid with rigid sobs.

She willed herself not to cry. He needed someone else to be strong for once. Harry had been there for Hermione and Ron whenever they needed him the most. No matter what trouble she or Ron had managed to get into, Harry was always there to sort it out. Now he needed someone and Hermione couldn't turn him away. She gently soothed his sobs, until they became muffled whimpers and he was finally able to pull away and face her, his eyes red and puffy.

"Are you sure it's just us?" Hermione asked as she looked back over towards Ron. He still hadn't moved, 'Please wake up,' she silently thought hoping and praying that she was still in a bad dream.

"I looked and looked. We're the only ones left. Merlin knows why."

"The Order?" she inquired.

"Destroyed." Hermione blanched and put her head in her hands. It was impossible.

"Where are we?" she finally asked. They certainly weren't anywhere near Hogwarts. She couldn't see any sign of the castle and the Forbidden Forest and the Lake was nowhere to be seen.

"Hogwarts."

"What?" she asked incredulously. "We can't be – this place is…"

"A war zone," Harry finished for her, "Everything was destroyed. The forest was flattened, the lake dried up and the dirt and rubble you're standing on…the castle. It's all gone…and I helped him…I helped him do it," Harry's hands balled up into fists and he slammed them into the ground making puffs of dirt fly up.

"What will we do? Where will we go?" It was strange for her to be asking all these questions. She didn't like not knowing the answers to everything.

"I don't know, Hermione. I know that I have to get away or I'll go mad. You're an adult now; you can do what you please, but I can't stay here. I need to leave…" Hermione nodded. She knew how he felt. She very well couldn't stay here in England. Her parents were dead, the Order was gone, and Ron… her Ron… was dead and not coming back.

Harry had gotten to his feet and was looking down at Ron, his best friend, with tears in his eyes. Hermione got to her feet and stood next to her last friend staring down at the comatose figure of Ron Weasley. Hermione watched, flabbergasted, as Harry drew his wand from his pocket and whispered a few words. The next thing she knew, she was surrounded by floating bodies, all soaring above her head.

Her eyes followed Ron's body but they soon landed on Harry as he let out an anguished cry and his wand hand faltered. She watched as all the bodies wobbled in the air and Hermione had a foreboding feeling that Harry would drop them all.

Quickly, she walked over to him and grabbed his free hand, squeezing it tightly and watching the floating comatose figures of family, friends, and enemies fly towards the dried up lake bed, all landing side by side. Hermione could make out the different faces and she willed herself not to cry again.

Lupin, Moody, Tonks, Dumbledore, Neville, Wormtail, Fleur, Hagrid, Seamus, Parvati, McGonagall, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, so many faces and all with a look of extreme peace, as if they had gone to sleep after an extremely tiring day. She noticed that Ron was the last one to be placed in the grave and Hermione silently said her last goodbyes.

Looking over towards the far side of the lake and noticed the black robes and masks of the felled Death Eaters lying docile in a dirt strewn resting place. It was hard to imagine that hours earlier they were a squadron of well trained killing machines. Hermione let out a shaky sigh as Harry covered the graves with a level of dirt. She saw Harry lower his wand hand and he turned around abruptly and walked away, his free hand leaving hers.

Tears were flying down Hermione's face as the dust settled and she looked over at Harry who had bent over something in the dirt. By the time she had reached Harry, he was standing up with her newly-healed wand in his hands.

"Thank you," she whispered, as she took her renovated wand from his outstretched hands. "And I'll go with you, Harry – we only have each other." She noticed a wave of relief had come over his face and she smiled at him, as much as she could with all the pain settling in her heart. She knew it would be a great deal of time before either of them could smile without pain again.

"We'd better get going then. I can't bear being here much longer," he said with a small shiver. She nodded in agreement and gently guided him in the direction of Hogsmeade. She was sure that the town had been destroyed but she had a feeling that the very old spells on Hogwarts remained and she wasn't going to test them by suggesting an Apparition be executed on the grounds. They started to walk but Hermione stopped for a moment, turning back to the lake.

"Wait," she said, and left Harry standing at the base of a hill. She couldn't care if Harry followed her or not. Taking her wand out, she walked to the base of the grave and pointed the tip at the ground. Once she had finished with the incantation, she stood, and backed into Harry who had come up behind her.

Together they looked at the large stone that marked the start of the mass grave. Hermione's words stated simply:

We Remember

1998

"Couldn't word it better myself," Harry said quietly, before they turned towards the setting sun, pocketing their wands as they went. Hermione gave a quick, sad sigh as they rounded a corner, the lives they once knew settling behind them like a thin layer of dust.