Author: Masqued

Title: Falling in Arms

Rating: PG-13

Summary: The war took lives from both sides, and all were accounted for but one. Hermione Granger is determined to find out why one mystery disappearance remains.

Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever, own Harry Potter. It's J.K.'s, and I don't really think I could handle its hotness in my hands.

Author's Notes: This is going to be romantic. But in a very odd, strange, eerie sort of way… and will be romantic in the future. It's really just going to start out randomly… so, yeah! Enjoy!

– Prologue –

--

First, there were beams of discolored magic shooting in every direction, zipping passed ears, arms, legs, and, every so often hitting a desired target. Bodies slumped to the ground as blood-curdling screams penetrated the otherwise silent battlefield. Some bodies convulsed, their limbs twisting in the most unimaginable directions, breaking every bone before the seizures stopped their hearts. Other bodies simply fell, empty shells, eyes wide with shock, lips parted with a gasp that left them dead.

Next, there were fists flying. The sounds previously described filled the air: screams of agony, screams for help, and screams of names in hopes of not having lost a loved one in battle. Each scream, every single cry of pain had its consequences in someone's death – the agony eventually led to another empty vessel; the help would usually call attention from the opposing side, only aiding agony in coming; and names often left the screamer to his own demise, or to the heart-wrenching sight of his loved one limp and lifeless on the muddy ground.

Then, there were people limping to their tents, downing potions, whispering healing charms, crying over unconscious and injured friends and family, and mourning the loss of those they held so dear. Strategies were exchanged, friends banded together to encourage themselves, and family members embraced those still living.

And finally, at long last, after treacherous and unbelievable trials, after indescribable tribulations and tests of bravery and loyalty, the end of the war was seen in the lifeless, bloody head of Voldemort, dangling in a net at the end of a stick that Harry Potter carried as he walked toward the tents that housed the survivors. Hermione Granger stood at his left, blood smeared across her cheeks and mud caking her arms. Ron Weasley stood at his right, wand still pointed at the ready and body worn and weary from battle.

The shouts of praise and approval barely reached the Trio's ears as they happened upon the camp. Harry stepped ahead of Ron and Hermione, utterly silent, holding the stick in hand. Parents, friends, and family members clung to the Trio, showering them with praise and worries and unrequited jests of detentions and groundings for being so far away for so long without word. Still the Trio remained silent, taking solace in each other's eyes as they looked away from the joyous group of Order members, Ministry members, and Aurors who decorated the camp grounds.

With a silent nod to each other, they excused themselves from the festivities and entered the tent they'd shared for the passed seven months. As soon as they were out of sight and were positive there would be no intrusions, they collapsed into each other's arms.

"It's over…" Hermione found herself the first to speak. Ron and Harry had both simultaneously wrapped their arms around their friend, attempting to comfort her, and she burrowed into Ron's chest, clutching at his shirt.

"It is… bloody hell… how'd we do that?" Hermione looked up at Ron, whose mirth had almost returned in full, and felt a soft hint of a smile pull at her lips. Harry's smile was evident as he spoke.

"With perseverance, I only assume… And maybe a little bit of luck." He rubbed his scar as he spoke, letting out a gentle murmur of thanks to whatever deity it was that had watched over them the passed seven months.

Hermione's body let out a wracking shiver as she clung to her boys.

"I love you, Harry. I love you, Ron." She muttered, gasping between tears, not sure where they'd leaked from. The two boys lost all sentiment of humor and gripped their best friend from front and back, whispering reassuring words in her ears and brushing their fingers through her hair.

"We love you too, Hermione… you know that," Ron soothed, placing a gentle, brotherly kiss on her cheek. Harry did the same, and then he let out a sigh.

"This war… it's been seven months, and we've lost so many good souls." Harry seemed to sober up completely as he spoke and strode to one of the cots set up. Hermione and Ron soon followed, sitting on either side of their friend, each taking his hands into their own.

"Too many good souls. Souls that will be remembered forever… we'll have a memorial," Hermione reassured through her own still flowing tears.

"And a yearly remembrance. A holiday of sorts, though it sounds far too bland and unpromising that way." Ron's comment seemed to make the war droll and meaningless, though it would never be as such, and didn't ease the discomfort the Trio suffered.

"I know," Harry muttered regardless, somehow finding the light in the truth. "I know. That's why we can't let it keep us down. We know that we've been hurt… and that we have to move on, because the ones we loved would want us to." Hermione agreed by nodding her head, and then suggested that they get some rest like they said they would.

Almost immediately, Ron was snoring, and Harry was curled against his pillow, finally having a restful sleep. It was only Hermione who lay awake, thinking about what had happened in the last few moments before Voldemort's final demise. It was only Hermione who allowed herself to be completely and utterly shaken by what she'd seen.

Miss Granger, remove yourself from this vicinity at this very moment.

Hermione's glare seemed to do nothing to the man crouched beside her.

I'm not leaving you alone, you daft fool.

Severus Snape let out a hiss of anger.

If you do not leave this very moment, I will force you out.

Her eyes widened mildly in shock as she tried to understand the logic behind his pushing her away.

You can't make me.

He sneered with narrowed eyes, tongue clicking maddeningly against his teeth as he tried to find a proper way to get her away.

I can, I don't want to, but I will if I have to. Now, if you do not get out of my sight this very second, I will have to kill you. You cannot jeopardize the success of this last mission. Go!

Hermione's eyes grew cold.

I can't leave you here, alone, Professor.

Still, he seemed undaunted.

I care not for what you think, Miss Granger. Leave.

She realized there was no winning with him, and the blast of purple rays that shot through a nearby door proved to her that maybe what he was saying was right. Sending him one last chilled glare, she continued to crouch and stole away.

Why did she leave him? What possessed her to let him sit there, awaiting the return of the Dark Lord? She had all but scanned the welcoming crowd for him when they returned… but knew it would be far too good to be true if he were around. Her heart sank even further as fresh tears pricked her eyes.

She'd left him, and there was nearly nothing – nothing she could do about it.

"I'm sorry," she murmured gently, staring between the flaps of her tent at the brightly lit, starry sky. She emitted a last, shaky breath from her lips before she sank beneath her sleeping bag and fell into a restful sleep.

Tomorrow, they'd be free.