Thanks for all the reviews, you guys! More than I expected, to tell you
the truth.
Cynewulf: Wow! So far, you're the only one who commented on the improbability of my Minister! A cookie for you! Well, just to say, I had to make an antagonist and, being a little lazy, decided not to make up my own. It's easier this way. And yes, I will address the situation in more depth later. I also agree about the OOC-ness going on with Hermione, so I made a little explanation in the next chapter. I just wanted her not to be there for this fight. About making a companion fic, I hadn't thought about it, but I just might do that...eventually. I want to get out as much of this as I can first, but I'll get it out. Probably soon.
To all my other reviewers: thanks soooooo much! And you all said that you're pretty sure Hannah's a Muggleborn, so Muggleborn she stays! And read on!
Disclaimer: Well, it has to be said, I own Harry Potter. *beat* Just joking! *cricket chirps* Ah, well, I knew I was never that good at jokes.
~`~`~`~`~ Chapter 2: Grief and Bargains ~`~`~`~`~
The minutes passed, then an hour, then three hours. Before long, half of the day was gone and still the men hadn't returned. Hermione, in a fit of restlessness and anger, had paced around the entire flat 784 times, then had tried breaking a few dishes to vent out her overwhelming emotions. It hadn't helped much and only gave her more work to do repairing them. By the time she had finished, the sun had begun to set and the room was becoming darker and darker. Not for the first time would she curse her husband's desire to get her to stay home. He had begged and pleaded with Dumbledore for some way to keep her safe in their flat while he went off with the Order and faced who knew what kind of dangers. Eventually, after she'd nearly been killed in a minor battle against some of the younger Death Eaters due to her own foolishness, he'd agreed. He'd placed an enchantment on the door that gave Ron the explicit right to keep her in if he muttered the incantation as he left. At first she wouldn't mind, but after they were gone for about five minutes she would get restless and nervous and always felt like a caged animal. She flipped on some lights and looked around her through narrowed slits of eyes. Now, as the clock read 6:27, she sat down in frustration and fury.
'How dare they leave me here,' she thought to herself. 'How DARE they leave me here!' She beat her hands on the table as she stood and began to pace again. Each circulation gave way to increasingly angrier and angrier and more and more curious thoughts. Seven hundred and eighty-five...'I wonder what could be taking them so long? They ought to be home by now!'...Seven hundred and eighty-six...'Ooh, that Ron! I hate these damned spells that he has Dumbledore do. "I don't want you to get hurt," he says. Well, I don't like being bound to the flat anymore than they like going out there to get themselves killed!'...Seven hundred and eighty-seven...'What in HELL could be keeping them this long?! It was just a simple Death Eater meeting! There should've only been ten there at the most! It doesn't take nearly twelve hours to take care of ten uppity Death Eaters!'...Seven hundred and eighty-eight...
The numbers went on and Hermione's nerves became more and more frazzled. Outside there was no longer any light at all save a few streetlights and the occasional star. She stood beside the window and held the sill so tightly that she could feel the nails holding it to the wall begin to give way. With a howl of frustration she turned and began her rounds again.
By the time she'd reached 1028, the front door swung open. Without a thought to her appearance (she hadn't even bothered to shower in her worry or dress either, for that matter) ran to see who it was, her robe ties flying out behind her.
A shaken and scruffy looking Lupin stumbled in. She grabbed him by the elbow carefully and set him down in one of the threadbare chairs in her and Ron's sitting room. Her heart had begun beating painfully upon not seeing her husband or Harry enter with her old professor. He sat with his head resting in his trembling hands. She knelt beside him, feeling the adrenaline course through her veins all the way down to her toes.
"What happened, Professor?" she questioned softly. "Where're Ron and Harry? Where is Ron?"
He lifted his head from his hands to look her in the eyes. His long sandy hair seemed dirtier, stringier and far less like its usual perfectly groomed normal state. She noticed the dark veins in his eyes and how red rimmed they were. His face seemed more drawn and peaked, paler too, if that were possible. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Hermione's voice grew more frantic and insisting.
"Professor, where is my husband?"
The blood drained from his face even more. "I--Hermione, he's--oh, Gods. Hermione, it was a trap." He turned away from her. She gripped the seat of his chair tightly, half not wanting half needing to know.
"Professor," she began again, more sure of herself this time. "Where is my husband?"
"I--Hermione, it was a trap," he repeated. "They knew we were coming. We weren't prepared for them. There was so many, way more than we had anticipated. There wasn't enough of us. Only Dumbledore, Snape, Harry, the Longbottom boy, Ron and myself. We were outnumbered. They attacked. We were caught off guard. We were separated. We were captured." He turned back to her, pain and shock in his soulful eyes. "You wouldn't have believed it, Hermione. There were over a hundred there. I thought we had gotten pretty much the last of them at that battle in Wales. But they're even more than before. And--" his voice cracked. "And Hermione--if you'll believe it--I could have sworn that I saw Him."
There was no doubt in her mind who the "Him" was. "Voldemort?" she whispered. "But--you can't possibly mean?--He's dead, Professor! I saw him fall! I saw the burning of His body! He can't possibly be alive!"
The man shrugged. "I don't know how it could be, either, Hermione. But if it wasn't Him, then I don't know who else it could have been." He took a deep shuddering breath. "They took us; the Death Eaters did, to some place nearby. A house of some kind, or a mansion. I didn't even know if the others were still alive. I was put in some cell-like place and my wand was taken. I could see a little, there was a small window near the ceiling. And I could hear things. Mostly just some sort of drain, but after a few minutes I heard footsteps. One of them opened the door to my cell and threw in someone. After I was sure they had left, I went over to see who it was. It was Harry, but he was a little dazed. He'd been hit with some sort of curse that I've never heard of, but he was all right for the most part. He said that he'd been brought to me after they'd questioned him a bit. They were sour with him, he said. Most of them wanted to kill him, but the leader, the supposed Voldemort, wouldn't let them. They brought him to me and we were there for a few hours at least."
Hermione stared at him, mesmerized. She could feel the horrible ending coming, but was willing it not to. "Yes, Professor?"
Lupin took a shuddering breath. "While we were there, we realized something. Across the way Dumbledore, Snape, Ron, and Neville had been imprisoned. They heard Harry and I speaking and yelled at us. While the guards were gone we could hold conversations. We formed a plan. Snape, in all his greasy glory, had thought to bring with him a supply of potions, one of which was a Dematerializing Brew. I don't know how he got them past the guards. He drank it and became, er, less than solid, I suppose. I'm not really all that good with Potions," he added apologetically. "He went through the cell door and somehow managed to get the keys. I'm not really sure how he did it, but he got them. He unlocked our cells and at the moment we heard the guards return, we sprung out, attacked them, took their wands and apparated back to Headquarters." He sighed and averted his eyes.
She waited a moment before asking the question that had not yet been answered. "Professor, where is my husband?"
Returning his eyes to lock with hers, she could see the deep frown lines etched between his brows and near his mouth. His hands moved fluidly from his lap to rest on hers. "Hermione, I--I don't rightly know how to say this--" he floundered for words to say. "Hermione, he--he was attacked...from behind," he added for clarification. "He--he got hit with an Unforgivable." Her breath caught in her throat.
"What--what are you saying?" she struggled to get the words out of her mouth.
"Hermione, he--he fell; an Advada Kedavra right in the back. Dead before he even hit the ground."
His words seemed to echo through the room and her head spun. Ron. Fell. Avada Kedavra. Dead. Ron. Dead. She looked up at him with wide eyes. "No, it's not true," she managed to whisper. She stood up, anger filling her. "No!" she screamed at him. "It's not true! NO!"
"Hermione," he began pleadingly, reaching his arms out to her. "Hermione, please--"
She backed away from him. "No! You're lying! It's not true! It isn't!" She felt her back hit the wall. Ron. Dead. Ron. Unforgivable. Dead. Gone. Forever. The words didn't make sense. It was all too much, too much. She tried to hold on to the wall for support. Ron. Dead. Forever. There would be no more meals together. No more laughing about trivial things. No more night-time romps. No more holidays together. No more signing letters "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley." No more sitting up into the late hours of the night just looking at the stars. No more waking up together in the morning. No more little words of love every day. No more hugs, or kisses, or laughter, or vacations, or anything. And the future she'd planned. It was all a waste. No house in the country. No children to name after the aunts and uncles they'd never have. No watching their children go to Hogwarts for the first time. No growing old together to have grandchildren. No eternity together forever.
Lupin came up beside her on the ground and gathered her into his arms. She hadn't even noticed that she'd sat. He rubbed her back haltingly over the jumps it made as she breathed. She hadn't even noticed she'd begun crying. He rocked her back and forth on the floor in a soothing manner. She didn't even notice that her arms had found their way around him.
All that she could feel was the pain, the despair, the sinking, drowning, dying feeling. All she could understand was that the one man she'd ever truly loved had gone and left her without even a proper goodbye; just a promise that he had failed to keep. With that thought, she cried out somewhere between what could be called a scream and a sob. Her world had just fallen apart before her very eyes.
~`~`~`~`~
"We gather at this site to mourn the passing of our dear friend, Ronald Weasley."
Dumbledore stood at the head of a freshly dug and covered grave in the Weasley plot in the local Wizarding cemetery. A fine crowd had gathered; full of the Order, Aurors, Ministry workers, professors, and, of course, numerous Weasleys from all corners of the globe. Many stood stock still, holding down their hats in the traditional honoring manner. A few others cried softly into handkerchiefs held near their face. Hermione stood limp and bedraggled beside Harry and Molly Weasley.
Ever since the death of her husband the day before, she hadn't done much of anything. Her hair hung about her head like a brown bush, neither shining, nor soft, nor combed. Her skin looked greasy and unclean, her face was pale and damp, but whether it was from tears, sweat, or a combination of the two no one could tell. Her whole being was in ramshackle condition. The only reason she still wasn't in her same bathrobe was because Hannah, Harry's new wife, had managed to maneuver her into a dress for the service. But though she looked terrible, it was her eyes that caused people to pity her. They were listless and staring, but not seeing. They looked like two droopy pools of emptiness. She barely stood on two feet as Dumbledore spoke of her husband; spoke of his bravery, his valiance, his kindness, everything that had made him dear to so many. Hermione heard none of it.
The service ended finally and people walked solemnly past what was left of what was now left of the once happy and boisterous family Weasley: the dangerously thin and frail woman that had once been the plump and motherly Molly, a tall and lanky man with a sprinkling of freckles and horn rimmed glasses that shielded tired and sorrowful eyes of who had once been the pompous and overbearing Percy, and the stooped figure of a man called Fred who had lost his desire to laugh and play since the death of his twin. All were mere shadows of their former selves. The Weasleys were neither prosperous, nor happy, nor many any more.
Harry and his plump wife tried to escort Hermione back to her little old flat, but she kept shaking them off with a whispered, "I'm staying here. Leave me alone." Finally, after nearly ten minutes of trying to talk her into going home, they promised to leave her be. With one last glance over his shoulders at where his two best friends stayed, Harry left leaning heavily on the shoulder of a tearful Hannah.
As soon as Hermione was sure that Harry had left, she collapsed to the ground beside her husband's grave. The sun was harsh and unrelenting, but she didn't notice as she curled up beside the upturned earth. Her hand ran absently up and down the length of the grave. Her eyes welled up with tears that fell as quickly as they came. She began to speak in a strangled and shaky voice.
"You promised you wouldn't leave me," she sobbed. "You promised you'd be safe. Don't you remember? It was just yesterday. I told you to be safe. You said 'I will' and left. But you lied. You broke your promise. You weren't supposed to leave me. You lied, you..." Her voice trailed into broken weeping.
The hours passed until the sun was nearing the horizon. She hadn't moved from her position even after the tears had stopped to be replaced with a heartbroken ache. Her hand continued to go up and down the grave as though she were trying to remember the place of every grain. She couldn't remember ever feeling this bad. She couldn't remember ever feeling this sorrowful. She couldn't remember ever feeling this helpless. She couldn't remember ever feeling this lost. She was Hermione, the know-it-all, the one who always had a solution, the one who wouldn't allow herself to get caught unawares. But here she was now, Hermione, the one who has felt too much, the one who has heard too much, the one who has had to live through too much. This wasn't the way that Hermione was supposed to feel.
She was brought out of her reverie by a voice. "Hermione?"
She turned her head to gaze at that which had disturbed her. The uncertain eyes of Remus Lupin looked back down at her with sorrow. She stared at him for a moment before turning back to the dirt.
"Hermione, I--I wanted to say that I truly am sorry for your loss. Ron was a friend to us all. He--"
"Just go away, Professor," she whispered dully. "Just leave me alone."
He shifted from one foot to the other, turning his hat around nervously in his hands. "But, Hermione, I really need to speak with you."
A sob threatened to tear through her throat. "Can't you leave me alone, Professor? Just go away."
He hesitated for a moment, obviously thinking that over in his mind. "No, I--I can't, Hermione. You must listen to me. Tomorrow the Ministry will send you out of the Wizarding World never to return. You know the law that...the Minister...," his voice portrayed his distaste, "made concerning Muggleborns. You are no longer married to a wizard, nor do you have children. You'll be sent back to your parents to live the rest of your life as a Muggle."
Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn't thought about that stupid law since the owl had arrived. Why did it all have to happen now and all at once? Why did that law had to have been made now? Why had Ron had to die now? Why had she had to be alive right now? It all wasn't fair. She'd led a perfectly good life and now...everything was in ruin.
"Why do you tell me this now, Professor?" she asked through a sob. "Couldn't it have waited until tomorrow?"
He shifted uncomfortably. "I would have, Hermione, really, I would have, but you see, it can't wait. It may be too late to deal with tomorrow. You must stay here, Hermione. You must not leave."
She turned over to look at him. "And what can I do, Professor? I haven't got anything. No good solution. Like you said, I'm not married and I haven't got any children. It doesn't look good for old Hermione, does it?"
"But don't you see?" he cried. "That's the whole point! You're not married. But if you were, then they couldn't make you leave."
"You're not making sense, Professor. My husband's dead in case you haven't noticed. Who am I supposed to married to without a husband?"
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Me! Don't you get it? You marry me!"
She stared at him. "Marry you?"
"Yes! It's the perfect solution to both of our problems. I've got too much to take care of that I can't handle. Ever since Tonks was killed, I've been left all alone with little Evie to take care of and I don't know how to do it. I've tried, but I haven't the slightest clue how to handle a two-year-old girl. I need your help and you need mine. Right now, I don't see any other alternative."
Hermione had forgotten. He and Tonks had married before the war just as she and Ron had. But unlike herself and Ron, they had had a child. And then Tonks had died. She'd met little Evie a few times and seen how much like Tonks she was, but she didn't know if she could do what Professor Lupin was asking of her. It felt like a betrayal to Ron to marry someone else the day after he had died. It just felt wrong.
He fell to his knees beside her on the hard ground. "Listen, Hermione, I need you right now and you need me. Can't you see that it's the only way? I promise that you needn't love me." He laughed bitterly. "Hell, you won't even have to sleep in the same room as me. I don't care. I just don't want you to go. And neither does anyone else for that matter. We'll make it a bargain. You marry me, but the minute you meet someone else, someone who will love you the way you ought to be loved in marriage and you love in return, we'll divorce. In return, you merely help me take care of Evie. Is it a deal? Will you agree, Hermione?"
She looked at him with sad eyes. It was a difficult decision and she didn't know how to answer. On the one hand she felt guilty for considering the proposition of another man so soon after Ron's death, but on the other hand she had absolutely no desire to leave behind the only world that had ever really accepted her. When she thought of it that way there was really no decision to make.
She sat up and stared directly into her former Professor's eyes and saw only fear and sadness and a few faint traces of hope there. If anything else, it was the hope that made up her mind. She knew that he needed it as well as her and that everything that was to come before them would depend upon that little bit of hope. She reached out her hands and placed them on his.
"It's a deal," she whispered. He pulled her into a warm embrace and she burst into tears again, but she didn't know if this time she was crying for Ron, or for herself.
~`~`~`~`~
Another chapter! Well, I hope you'll review and tell me what you think. Until next time!
Cynewulf: Wow! So far, you're the only one who commented on the improbability of my Minister! A cookie for you! Well, just to say, I had to make an antagonist and, being a little lazy, decided not to make up my own. It's easier this way. And yes, I will address the situation in more depth later. I also agree about the OOC-ness going on with Hermione, so I made a little explanation in the next chapter. I just wanted her not to be there for this fight. About making a companion fic, I hadn't thought about it, but I just might do that...eventually. I want to get out as much of this as I can first, but I'll get it out. Probably soon.
To all my other reviewers: thanks soooooo much! And you all said that you're pretty sure Hannah's a Muggleborn, so Muggleborn she stays! And read on!
Disclaimer: Well, it has to be said, I own Harry Potter. *beat* Just joking! *cricket chirps* Ah, well, I knew I was never that good at jokes.
~`~`~`~`~ Chapter 2: Grief and Bargains ~`~`~`~`~
The minutes passed, then an hour, then three hours. Before long, half of the day was gone and still the men hadn't returned. Hermione, in a fit of restlessness and anger, had paced around the entire flat 784 times, then had tried breaking a few dishes to vent out her overwhelming emotions. It hadn't helped much and only gave her more work to do repairing them. By the time she had finished, the sun had begun to set and the room was becoming darker and darker. Not for the first time would she curse her husband's desire to get her to stay home. He had begged and pleaded with Dumbledore for some way to keep her safe in their flat while he went off with the Order and faced who knew what kind of dangers. Eventually, after she'd nearly been killed in a minor battle against some of the younger Death Eaters due to her own foolishness, he'd agreed. He'd placed an enchantment on the door that gave Ron the explicit right to keep her in if he muttered the incantation as he left. At first she wouldn't mind, but after they were gone for about five minutes she would get restless and nervous and always felt like a caged animal. She flipped on some lights and looked around her through narrowed slits of eyes. Now, as the clock read 6:27, she sat down in frustration and fury.
'How dare they leave me here,' she thought to herself. 'How DARE they leave me here!' She beat her hands on the table as she stood and began to pace again. Each circulation gave way to increasingly angrier and angrier and more and more curious thoughts. Seven hundred and eighty-five...'I wonder what could be taking them so long? They ought to be home by now!'...Seven hundred and eighty-six...'Ooh, that Ron! I hate these damned spells that he has Dumbledore do. "I don't want you to get hurt," he says. Well, I don't like being bound to the flat anymore than they like going out there to get themselves killed!'...Seven hundred and eighty-seven...'What in HELL could be keeping them this long?! It was just a simple Death Eater meeting! There should've only been ten there at the most! It doesn't take nearly twelve hours to take care of ten uppity Death Eaters!'...Seven hundred and eighty-eight...
The numbers went on and Hermione's nerves became more and more frazzled. Outside there was no longer any light at all save a few streetlights and the occasional star. She stood beside the window and held the sill so tightly that she could feel the nails holding it to the wall begin to give way. With a howl of frustration she turned and began her rounds again.
By the time she'd reached 1028, the front door swung open. Without a thought to her appearance (she hadn't even bothered to shower in her worry or dress either, for that matter) ran to see who it was, her robe ties flying out behind her.
A shaken and scruffy looking Lupin stumbled in. She grabbed him by the elbow carefully and set him down in one of the threadbare chairs in her and Ron's sitting room. Her heart had begun beating painfully upon not seeing her husband or Harry enter with her old professor. He sat with his head resting in his trembling hands. She knelt beside him, feeling the adrenaline course through her veins all the way down to her toes.
"What happened, Professor?" she questioned softly. "Where're Ron and Harry? Where is Ron?"
He lifted his head from his hands to look her in the eyes. His long sandy hair seemed dirtier, stringier and far less like its usual perfectly groomed normal state. She noticed the dark veins in his eyes and how red rimmed they were. His face seemed more drawn and peaked, paler too, if that were possible. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Hermione's voice grew more frantic and insisting.
"Professor, where is my husband?"
The blood drained from his face even more. "I--Hermione, he's--oh, Gods. Hermione, it was a trap." He turned away from her. She gripped the seat of his chair tightly, half not wanting half needing to know.
"Professor," she began again, more sure of herself this time. "Where is my husband?"
"I--Hermione, it was a trap," he repeated. "They knew we were coming. We weren't prepared for them. There was so many, way more than we had anticipated. There wasn't enough of us. Only Dumbledore, Snape, Harry, the Longbottom boy, Ron and myself. We were outnumbered. They attacked. We were caught off guard. We were separated. We were captured." He turned back to her, pain and shock in his soulful eyes. "You wouldn't have believed it, Hermione. There were over a hundred there. I thought we had gotten pretty much the last of them at that battle in Wales. But they're even more than before. And--" his voice cracked. "And Hermione--if you'll believe it--I could have sworn that I saw Him."
There was no doubt in her mind who the "Him" was. "Voldemort?" she whispered. "But--you can't possibly mean?--He's dead, Professor! I saw him fall! I saw the burning of His body! He can't possibly be alive!"
The man shrugged. "I don't know how it could be, either, Hermione. But if it wasn't Him, then I don't know who else it could have been." He took a deep shuddering breath. "They took us; the Death Eaters did, to some place nearby. A house of some kind, or a mansion. I didn't even know if the others were still alive. I was put in some cell-like place and my wand was taken. I could see a little, there was a small window near the ceiling. And I could hear things. Mostly just some sort of drain, but after a few minutes I heard footsteps. One of them opened the door to my cell and threw in someone. After I was sure they had left, I went over to see who it was. It was Harry, but he was a little dazed. He'd been hit with some sort of curse that I've never heard of, but he was all right for the most part. He said that he'd been brought to me after they'd questioned him a bit. They were sour with him, he said. Most of them wanted to kill him, but the leader, the supposed Voldemort, wouldn't let them. They brought him to me and we were there for a few hours at least."
Hermione stared at him, mesmerized. She could feel the horrible ending coming, but was willing it not to. "Yes, Professor?"
Lupin took a shuddering breath. "While we were there, we realized something. Across the way Dumbledore, Snape, Ron, and Neville had been imprisoned. They heard Harry and I speaking and yelled at us. While the guards were gone we could hold conversations. We formed a plan. Snape, in all his greasy glory, had thought to bring with him a supply of potions, one of which was a Dematerializing Brew. I don't know how he got them past the guards. He drank it and became, er, less than solid, I suppose. I'm not really all that good with Potions," he added apologetically. "He went through the cell door and somehow managed to get the keys. I'm not really sure how he did it, but he got them. He unlocked our cells and at the moment we heard the guards return, we sprung out, attacked them, took their wands and apparated back to Headquarters." He sighed and averted his eyes.
She waited a moment before asking the question that had not yet been answered. "Professor, where is my husband?"
Returning his eyes to lock with hers, she could see the deep frown lines etched between his brows and near his mouth. His hands moved fluidly from his lap to rest on hers. "Hermione, I--I don't rightly know how to say this--" he floundered for words to say. "Hermione, he--he was attacked...from behind," he added for clarification. "He--he got hit with an Unforgivable." Her breath caught in her throat.
"What--what are you saying?" she struggled to get the words out of her mouth.
"Hermione, he--he fell; an Advada Kedavra right in the back. Dead before he even hit the ground."
His words seemed to echo through the room and her head spun. Ron. Fell. Avada Kedavra. Dead. Ron. Dead. She looked up at him with wide eyes. "No, it's not true," she managed to whisper. She stood up, anger filling her. "No!" she screamed at him. "It's not true! NO!"
"Hermione," he began pleadingly, reaching his arms out to her. "Hermione, please--"
She backed away from him. "No! You're lying! It's not true! It isn't!" She felt her back hit the wall. Ron. Dead. Ron. Unforgivable. Dead. Gone. Forever. The words didn't make sense. It was all too much, too much. She tried to hold on to the wall for support. Ron. Dead. Forever. There would be no more meals together. No more laughing about trivial things. No more night-time romps. No more holidays together. No more signing letters "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley." No more sitting up into the late hours of the night just looking at the stars. No more waking up together in the morning. No more little words of love every day. No more hugs, or kisses, or laughter, or vacations, or anything. And the future she'd planned. It was all a waste. No house in the country. No children to name after the aunts and uncles they'd never have. No watching their children go to Hogwarts for the first time. No growing old together to have grandchildren. No eternity together forever.
Lupin came up beside her on the ground and gathered her into his arms. She hadn't even noticed that she'd sat. He rubbed her back haltingly over the jumps it made as she breathed. She hadn't even noticed she'd begun crying. He rocked her back and forth on the floor in a soothing manner. She didn't even notice that her arms had found their way around him.
All that she could feel was the pain, the despair, the sinking, drowning, dying feeling. All she could understand was that the one man she'd ever truly loved had gone and left her without even a proper goodbye; just a promise that he had failed to keep. With that thought, she cried out somewhere between what could be called a scream and a sob. Her world had just fallen apart before her very eyes.
~`~`~`~`~
"We gather at this site to mourn the passing of our dear friend, Ronald Weasley."
Dumbledore stood at the head of a freshly dug and covered grave in the Weasley plot in the local Wizarding cemetery. A fine crowd had gathered; full of the Order, Aurors, Ministry workers, professors, and, of course, numerous Weasleys from all corners of the globe. Many stood stock still, holding down their hats in the traditional honoring manner. A few others cried softly into handkerchiefs held near their face. Hermione stood limp and bedraggled beside Harry and Molly Weasley.
Ever since the death of her husband the day before, she hadn't done much of anything. Her hair hung about her head like a brown bush, neither shining, nor soft, nor combed. Her skin looked greasy and unclean, her face was pale and damp, but whether it was from tears, sweat, or a combination of the two no one could tell. Her whole being was in ramshackle condition. The only reason she still wasn't in her same bathrobe was because Hannah, Harry's new wife, had managed to maneuver her into a dress for the service. But though she looked terrible, it was her eyes that caused people to pity her. They were listless and staring, but not seeing. They looked like two droopy pools of emptiness. She barely stood on two feet as Dumbledore spoke of her husband; spoke of his bravery, his valiance, his kindness, everything that had made him dear to so many. Hermione heard none of it.
The service ended finally and people walked solemnly past what was left of what was now left of the once happy and boisterous family Weasley: the dangerously thin and frail woman that had once been the plump and motherly Molly, a tall and lanky man with a sprinkling of freckles and horn rimmed glasses that shielded tired and sorrowful eyes of who had once been the pompous and overbearing Percy, and the stooped figure of a man called Fred who had lost his desire to laugh and play since the death of his twin. All were mere shadows of their former selves. The Weasleys were neither prosperous, nor happy, nor many any more.
Harry and his plump wife tried to escort Hermione back to her little old flat, but she kept shaking them off with a whispered, "I'm staying here. Leave me alone." Finally, after nearly ten minutes of trying to talk her into going home, they promised to leave her be. With one last glance over his shoulders at where his two best friends stayed, Harry left leaning heavily on the shoulder of a tearful Hannah.
As soon as Hermione was sure that Harry had left, she collapsed to the ground beside her husband's grave. The sun was harsh and unrelenting, but she didn't notice as she curled up beside the upturned earth. Her hand ran absently up and down the length of the grave. Her eyes welled up with tears that fell as quickly as they came. She began to speak in a strangled and shaky voice.
"You promised you wouldn't leave me," she sobbed. "You promised you'd be safe. Don't you remember? It was just yesterday. I told you to be safe. You said 'I will' and left. But you lied. You broke your promise. You weren't supposed to leave me. You lied, you..." Her voice trailed into broken weeping.
The hours passed until the sun was nearing the horizon. She hadn't moved from her position even after the tears had stopped to be replaced with a heartbroken ache. Her hand continued to go up and down the grave as though she were trying to remember the place of every grain. She couldn't remember ever feeling this bad. She couldn't remember ever feeling this sorrowful. She couldn't remember ever feeling this helpless. She couldn't remember ever feeling this lost. She was Hermione, the know-it-all, the one who always had a solution, the one who wouldn't allow herself to get caught unawares. But here she was now, Hermione, the one who has felt too much, the one who has heard too much, the one who has had to live through too much. This wasn't the way that Hermione was supposed to feel.
She was brought out of her reverie by a voice. "Hermione?"
She turned her head to gaze at that which had disturbed her. The uncertain eyes of Remus Lupin looked back down at her with sorrow. She stared at him for a moment before turning back to the dirt.
"Hermione, I--I wanted to say that I truly am sorry for your loss. Ron was a friend to us all. He--"
"Just go away, Professor," she whispered dully. "Just leave me alone."
He shifted from one foot to the other, turning his hat around nervously in his hands. "But, Hermione, I really need to speak with you."
A sob threatened to tear through her throat. "Can't you leave me alone, Professor? Just go away."
He hesitated for a moment, obviously thinking that over in his mind. "No, I--I can't, Hermione. You must listen to me. Tomorrow the Ministry will send you out of the Wizarding World never to return. You know the law that...the Minister...," his voice portrayed his distaste, "made concerning Muggleborns. You are no longer married to a wizard, nor do you have children. You'll be sent back to your parents to live the rest of your life as a Muggle."
Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn't thought about that stupid law since the owl had arrived. Why did it all have to happen now and all at once? Why did that law had to have been made now? Why had Ron had to die now? Why had she had to be alive right now? It all wasn't fair. She'd led a perfectly good life and now...everything was in ruin.
"Why do you tell me this now, Professor?" she asked through a sob. "Couldn't it have waited until tomorrow?"
He shifted uncomfortably. "I would have, Hermione, really, I would have, but you see, it can't wait. It may be too late to deal with tomorrow. You must stay here, Hermione. You must not leave."
She turned over to look at him. "And what can I do, Professor? I haven't got anything. No good solution. Like you said, I'm not married and I haven't got any children. It doesn't look good for old Hermione, does it?"
"But don't you see?" he cried. "That's the whole point! You're not married. But if you were, then they couldn't make you leave."
"You're not making sense, Professor. My husband's dead in case you haven't noticed. Who am I supposed to married to without a husband?"
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Me! Don't you get it? You marry me!"
She stared at him. "Marry you?"
"Yes! It's the perfect solution to both of our problems. I've got too much to take care of that I can't handle. Ever since Tonks was killed, I've been left all alone with little Evie to take care of and I don't know how to do it. I've tried, but I haven't the slightest clue how to handle a two-year-old girl. I need your help and you need mine. Right now, I don't see any other alternative."
Hermione had forgotten. He and Tonks had married before the war just as she and Ron had. But unlike herself and Ron, they had had a child. And then Tonks had died. She'd met little Evie a few times and seen how much like Tonks she was, but she didn't know if she could do what Professor Lupin was asking of her. It felt like a betrayal to Ron to marry someone else the day after he had died. It just felt wrong.
He fell to his knees beside her on the hard ground. "Listen, Hermione, I need you right now and you need me. Can't you see that it's the only way? I promise that you needn't love me." He laughed bitterly. "Hell, you won't even have to sleep in the same room as me. I don't care. I just don't want you to go. And neither does anyone else for that matter. We'll make it a bargain. You marry me, but the minute you meet someone else, someone who will love you the way you ought to be loved in marriage and you love in return, we'll divorce. In return, you merely help me take care of Evie. Is it a deal? Will you agree, Hermione?"
She looked at him with sad eyes. It was a difficult decision and she didn't know how to answer. On the one hand she felt guilty for considering the proposition of another man so soon after Ron's death, but on the other hand she had absolutely no desire to leave behind the only world that had ever really accepted her. When she thought of it that way there was really no decision to make.
She sat up and stared directly into her former Professor's eyes and saw only fear and sadness and a few faint traces of hope there. If anything else, it was the hope that made up her mind. She knew that he needed it as well as her and that everything that was to come before them would depend upon that little bit of hope. She reached out her hands and placed them on his.
"It's a deal," she whispered. He pulled her into a warm embrace and she burst into tears again, but she didn't know if this time she was crying for Ron, or for herself.
~`~`~`~`~
Another chapter! Well, I hope you'll review and tell me what you think. Until next time!