The time has come
Hermione's thoughts were so light, as she gazed into the starry night beyond the realm of fear. And she wondered why he left. Why he thought he could win and live. And even as Ron holds her, she still doubts she'll ever be whole. What is this feeling within? This unbreakable sorrow that not even Ron could shatter. And she remembered when Harry swore, they would make it to see the sun, and as she watched the fading sky, she wondered if had glimpsed before he had died. And the tears of the bodies around could not ever be shed away. The silence from her heartbeat, tells her everything she needs to know. Why did he think, he could fight alone? Without them… without her… Hermione couldn't forget his face, when there was danger and he said he' be okay. Then why was the golden trio down to two and why was the world so blue..? No matter how hard this girl tried, she couldn't forget the time, when she helped him through on that darkened noon when his Godfather had met his doom. And she wondered where he was now. If they were finally somewhere together. And she pulls away, from Ron's warmth and those haunting shades of gray, and walks to Harry's tomb alone. But as she approached, she saw, she wasn't standing alone in the chilly, cemetery fog. There was a crowd upon their knees, by his resting stone as though they were respecting a king. Candles were upon their hands, and some of them hummed in their white dresses, a sweet song of the dead. Hermione didn't know what was happening, but she followed her mind and she kneeled at their side and gazed at the tomb that lay before her. With it's brightly etched words and it marble glare against the fiery stare on the candles. Some of the white-cloaked beings were crying so hard, whether in happiness or in sorrow, for this soul-saving king with a name she knew only to well. And she didn't know whether to dance and hum in this boy's heavenly grace, or weep and his withering shadow. So she watched the tombstone reflect in the eyes on the figures around her. Then she closed her weary eyes, wishing she could fall into the sky, and when she opened them she thought she'd die. But there was someone tapping her shoulder. Little pale fingers of a small pretty girl who smiled and fiddled with her little torn dress, that was not white like the others but deep red, as though a crimson sun had melted upon it. The little girl smiled and Hermione noticed her skin was burnt as though licked by the deadly tip of a flame. But the girl just stood there and smiled. Then she walked through the crowd of kneeling people and walked to the icy tombstone. She etched one small finger on the engraved words: Potter. And then pointed to her self. Hermione didn't understand, what the little girl wanted to say, for she wouldn't speak as though he voice had been taken away. And she walked back to Hermione and took her hand and placed upon the small girl's very own heart. And with tears in her eyes, she realized it wasn't beating. Then the little burned girl placed her tiny palm to the older girl's head. And Hermione's vision flashed. She saw a terrible fire and woeful screams, as deatheaters burned the home… and family. And there was the little girl, not yet burned in her small satin dress, crying for someone to save her. But time grew to late, it does not favor some so small, so the little girl died with them all. And the deatheater's laughed and vanished away and Hermione's sight returned. And when she opened her eyes, she realized all the other figures were now standing and gazing at her with sad smiles covering their faces, some still had tears in their eyes. And then Hermione understood, it all seemed to fit as the little burned girl looked deep in her eyes trying to tell her, 'that is why.' And Hermione knew that Voldemort had burned her and she was here tonight in her torn satin dress to pay respects to the boy that had stopped her murderer.
And finally the small girl spoke as soft as a dream and whispered, "I came here to greet my hero. So did you, only, you came to say goodbye. He misses you, so please don't cry."
And Hermione wept for all the souls who had been killed by the dark side that had come to give thanks to their fallen hero. And then a familiar green-eyed, redheaded woman whispered, "The time has come." And all the white clothed beings bid Hermione goodbye and began to walk upon stairs of air, into the pale moon light as they hummed and held their candles until they had vanished into the stars, all going to greet Harry personally. The little girl was last to go. Before she descended, her small lips kissed the tombstone and all her burn marks had vanished without a trace, and her torn satin dress was now whole and white as though it had been dipped in a pool of moonlight. And she waved goodbye and walked upon air until she was out of sight. And after what seemed like hours of Hermione gazing up at the stars, a warm hand touched her shoulder. Ron knelt down beside her and together they looked at Harry's grave in peace, hand in hand. Ron looked as though he couldn't think of what to say. But he didn't need to say anything at all. Hermione understood now. And she smiled to herself and the heartbreaking sacrifice her best friend had made and she shed one last tear for his beloved memory. She knew now…he had to die…he had to die for love.
…Love had saved them all…