Rain. The forecast for the following day was rain.

"It's not fair!" Hermione cried.

Since her rescue from Bellatrix Lestrange for days ago, she had been crying.

When she had woken up in St. Mungo's, Harry and the Weasley family had been by her side.

Well, the Weasley family minus one very important person: Ginny.

Mrs. Weasley had been the one to tell her: Ginny was dead, killed in the same battle that Hermione had been stolen from.

"Ginny saved me!" Hermione had protested.

"No. I did," Ron had told her. "I'm sorry."

Now, sitting alone in the apartment she and Ginny had once shared, she cried. "It was Ginny! Ginny saved me!" she proclaimed to no one.

"No.." Hermione shook her head. "No, they told me. Ron saved me. Ginny is dead."

"It's not fair!" Hermione repeated, throwing her half-full teacup at the wall.

"Ginny's dead. Ronald saved me."

Hermione stared at the floorboards wishing, not for the first time, that Ronald had been minutes later. "I would be with Ginny."

Hermione sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted.

Hermione through a maze of half-packed boxes, having already decided to move. This place had far too many memories. She checked a clock as she walked to the kitchen. Nine in the evening. The funeral wasn't until tomorrow. After, she knew, she would have to decide what to do with Ginny's clothes.

Filling a new teacup, Hermione left the kitchen to return to the den to get ready to sleep. She hadn't slept in their bed since Ginny had died and left her.

Sitting on the couch, Hermione pulled the closest box to her lap.

This one was full of Ginny's gifts to her throughout their relationship: Love notes, stuffed animals, books of love poems, and the like. Rummaging through the box, Hermione fought back tears.

Hermione took out a love poem Ginny had written for her during the Triwizard Tournament all those years ago.

They had been semi-dating then, neither girl really sure of her sexuality. When Viktor Krum had come along, Hermione had become infatuated. Ginny had quickly grown jealous, though. Hermione had thought Ginny's jealousy had been so cute: so very alike, and yet, so startlingly different from her brother's.

Hermione's hands shook so badly, she couldn't read the poem.

The shaking, she had been told, was a side-effect of the torture and trauma she had been through. It would likely wear off in a week or so. She was lucky that Ron had arrived when he did, she had been told, or she may have tragically lost her mind. Like the Longbottoms.

Hermione smoothed the poem on the end-table so she could read it but her eyes were too blurry from the tears that had yet to stop falling. She bitterly put it back in the box.

Hermione sat her teacup on the end-table, only to be splashed with hot tea. "Bloody hell!" She looked and saw that her teacup had been on an angle. Without looking, Hermione knew what had caused her teacup to tilt: a pamphlet of Paris.

"Ginny," Hermione said, picking up the pamphlet stained with tea and holding it to her heart. "You promised me a trip to Paris… Away from all this."

"Have I ever gone back on a promise?" Hermione heard a familiar voice ask from the door to the kitchen.

"Ginny?" she asked, not daring to check and have her brief hopes shattered.

"Who else?"

Hermione jumped to her feet and ran to the kitchen. "They told me you died," Hermione said breathlessly, raising her hand to touch Ginny's cheek.

"I faked my death. I wanted to ensure our future together and I knew my mother didn't approve. Now we don't have to worry about her interfering."

Hermione closed her eyes and felt Ginny kissing hr palm and up her arm. Hermione could barely believe it. She began crying again.

"What's wrong, baby?" Hermione heard Ginny croon in a soothing tone.

"Your funeral is tomorrow," Hermione half-sobbed.

"I know. You need to attend. No one can know the truth if the plan is to work."

Hermione cried harder, "Why? Why did you do this? Why did you put me through all this? I went through mental and physical torture!"

"I know! I saved you! I was the one who tackled Bella and beat the crap out of her- no one touches my girl. I just apparated before Ron arrived and apparated you to St. Mungo's. I visited you there, too. In disguise. Do you understand? I had to fake my death! Don't you see, it's the only way for us to be free! You're already planning to move! When you move, you can claim that you cannot speak with anyone from the past because the memories are too painful and no one will bother us!"

"But the viewing!" Hermione argued.

"Closed-casket."

"I can't do this, Ginny. I still don't understand. How can all this be true? I saw the spell hit you! I caught you as you fell!" Hermione choked out.

Someone knocked on the front door. Hermione turned to face it, surprised.

"Who is it?" Hermione called.

"Mrs. Weasley!" the woman answered.

Hermione whipped back toward the kitchen to tell Ginny to go, but the kitchen was empty.

"Hermione, dear, are you alright? I came to check on you," Molly Weasley called through the door.

"I'm coming!"

Hermione opened the door and Molly enveloped her in a hug.

"How are you holding up, dear? You've been through a lot this week. Poor dear, you look as if you haven't stopped crying!"

Hermione wiped fervently at her cheeks. "I'm… Okay."

"You're lying, dear, a mother knows. You're so pale! How's that muggle saying go that Arthur always laughs at? You look as if you've…" Molly paused, trying to remember.

"Seen a ghost." Hermione grinned for the first time since the battle several days ago.