A/N: After many long weeks of toil, I have finally finished writing this (second to) last chapter of my story. I will probably say this next time, but thank you, readers, you are the only thing that really gives writing meaning. What would be the point if no one read it but me? I can tell you, I would not have written this, were that the case.
Certain parts of this chapter were much more difficult than others, and so obviously there are sections that I am unhappy with. Hopefully, you won't be able to tell which; that means I've done my job right. At least I figured out how to end this chapter… it was bugging me for a while.
If you have any questions about this story, I suggest you ask them now. It's your last chance… (well, not really. If you're smart enough to look at my profile, you can get my email and ask your questions that way.) But I may be able to address certain questions in the writing of the next chapter. Now, forward march!
The Negative Side
A Little More Pain
Ginny's second scream was worse. The first had been simple shock. This one came from a place deep in the soul, a wound that had been rent by the loss of someone she deeply loved. Hermione could feel the sound of it resonating throughout the room, throughout her body. It caused her knees to buckle and her eyes roll back into her head momentarily. Otherwise, there was total silence.
Hermione did not realize right away that Draco's arms were not around her. He was not comforting her, and she could not fathom why. When she had recovered from the effects of Ginny's scream, she made herself look at him. He stood a few feet away, his face twisted in pain but his eyes blank with shock.
"Not again," a voice said to her right. She looked for the source of it and found Harry shaking his head. He had shut his eyes against the sight of Ginny grasping at the lifeless body that had been Blaise.
Finally, Hermione noticed that there were others in the room. Narcissa Malfoy, the benevolent mother of Draco, hovered between Remus Lupin and her son. Tonks seemed to be checking the bodies of Death Eaters for pulses using a spell that made the tip of her wand light up red.
Feeling a presence that comforted her slightly, Hermione looked toward the stairs. Dumbledore descended, a sympathetically sad look on his face. "Voldemort and his followers are gone. I'm afraid I could not follow them. Narcissa, please call the Ministry and tell them that there are a number of incapacitated Death Eaters in your ballroom. They will remove them."
"Yes, Albus," Narcissa answered. She exited, supposedly making for the Floo hearth. Draco watched his mother leave.
"Ennervate!" a calm, deep voice proclaimed, and when Hermione turned to see who was being revived, a dazed Ron was just sitting up. He allowed the wizard to help him up, but waved his arms away once he was standing. Without delay, he scanned the ballroom, taking in the unconscious or dead Death Eaters on the floor, the familiar faces who seemed to be all right.
Ron was visibly thankful when he laid eyes on Harry and Hermione, alive and well. He could not see Ginny or Blaise from where he stood. With an expression of fear, he followed the sound of sobbing until he was level with Harry. He observed his sister weeping over Blaise for a moment, his face showing mingled relief and empathy. Slowly, he walked toward them. He reached out to place his hand on Ginny's shoulder. She twitched a bit, but showed no other sign that she had noticed. Ron knelt behind her.
"Ginny," he began. "I'm sorry. Please, don't cry."
Ron did not understand that crying was the only thing Ginny could do for Blaise.
"We have to go back to Hogwarts, Ginny. Come on. I won't leave you, but you have to come with me."
"I'm not leaving him, Ron." Ginny's voice was laden with tears, both fallen and unshed. "Unless someone is going to bring Blaise back to Hogwarts with us, I won't go."
"Ginny, look at me," Ron told her. She refused. She stroked back Blaise's hair from his forehead. Her face crinkled and new tears flowed. "Don't do this, Gin. It's not going to help. Dumbledore is going to take us back to the school, we have to go."
"He would stay with me," said Ginny desperately. "I have to do the same."
"He's not there, Ginny," Harry said quietly. She looked up at last, facing Harry. "It's not him anymore. He's not there."
This seemed to awaken a new pain within Ginny. She collapsed against her brother, who held her as she sobbed. As she let out these fresh tears, Draco finally reached for Hermione. She looked away from Ginny reluctantly to find that Draco was offering her his hand. He lifted her from the floor and enfolded her in an embrace that was more for him than for her.
At last, Ginny's weeping subsided. She gazed at Blaise a moment longer. She looked tired and emptied. With a sigh, she leaned over him to kiss his still-warm lips. Then she stood. "I'm ready," she said simply.
"Very well." It was Dumbledore who spoke. He held out a scrap of curtain to them – it must have been torn off in the fight. "This Portkey will take you all directly to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey will check you for damage and take care of you. In the morning, once you've rested, I will ask you all for your accounts of what took place here."
They gathered around the Portkey, each making sure they were touching it before it activated. As it started to transport them back to Hogwarts, Draco, Hermione, and Ginny were staring at Blaise. Ron was watching his sister closely. Harry eyes looked in the opposite direction of Blaise – he was deliberately avoiding the sight of him.
Madame Pomfrey bustled out of her office the moment they landed in the middle of the hospital wing. No other students were present. Madame Pomfrey brandished her wand at them and said, "Dumbledore's sent me a note ahead, I already know. Everyone take a bed, I'll get to you when I get to you."
Each of them sat on consecutive beds and waited in silence as Madame Pomfrey hovered between them, administering potions and spells. When she reached Hermione, she ran her wand over her, harrumphed, handed her several potions and told her to lie down. Hermione did as she was asked robotically. She almost felt like she was floating above herself but hiding at the same time. It was the part of her that comprehended and questioned things that had left her. She knew that by all rights Draco should be next to her, but he was not, and she ignored it. She slid between the blankets of the bed – she felt quite cold – and fell asleep at once.
Voldemort and his followers had retreated to one of their many secret gathering places. Lucius stood motionless amid the small crowd below Voldemort's chair. The others were all talking – or, more accurately, grumbling – about their defeat at the Malfoy mansion. Many of them cast disgusted glances at Lucius while muttering that he should have had better precautions in place against such an uprising. Lucius glared in no particular direction as he listened to their criticisms.
Only Zabini did not comment on the night's backfired plan; he was stoic in his exceeding smugness instead.
"Lucius," Voldemort spoke suddenly. Not only Lucius but all of the Death Eaters turned to their Dark Lord at the sound of his voice. Voldemort raised a hand lazily and beckoned. "Come before me."
Silence engulfed the room as Lucius approached. He knelt before his master in the makeshift throne. He began to stand, but Voldemort said, "I did not tell you to rise."
Lucius did not flinch visibly, but his heart faltered for a moment. Voldemort was obviously displeased with him, and it was no wonder – everyone seemed to be blaming him for the fiasco that had begun with Draco. Lucius bowed lower. Voldemort contemplated the top of Lucius' head for several minutes with just the hint of a menacing smile while Lucius stared at the floor in front of Voldemort's feet.
"What do you have to say for yourself?" the Dark wizard asked. Instead of breaking the tension, the question increased it.
Chancing a glanced up, Lucius responded, "My Lord, forgive me. I should have anticipated a problem like this."
"You might have anticipated that I was unhappy, Lucius, and attempted to run." Several Death Eaters snickered in the background. Both Lucius and Voldemort ignored then. "Six children, and you could not even manage to keep them from causing trouble."
"My Lord, when my son attacked me, you could easily have stopped him. I hardly saw you use any spells during the confrontation-"
"Do you dare to suggest that Harry Potter's escape was my doing!"
"No, Master, of course not. I was merely wondering why you did not immediately use the Killing Curse on the boy." Lucius had concocted this excuse from midair.
"That was quite transparent, Lucius. I am a bit disappointed." Voldemort sat back with a twisted imitation of a smile. "Yet I will answer. As to Harry Potter, I admit that I enjoy gloating once I have him in my grasp. To simply kill him would not be as satisfying."
Lucius imagined that it would be more satisfying than being continuously foiled, but he kept his mouth shut.
"I did nothing against your son because he was not my responsibility," Voldemort said. "You let him get out of hand, and I must say it was entertaining to witness him pummeling you. And there is still another reason why I did not help you. This is that I did not deem you worthy of my help."
Lucius swallowed; he tried to keep it inaudible. "My Lord," he began tentatively. "I have always been loyal to you. From the very beginning I have never dreamed of anything but serving you. No other fate could be desirable, master. You must know that I never faltered in my faith."
Voldemort stroked his chin as he pretended to consider Lucius' words. "It's true that when I first began to gain power, you were more valuable to me than any other follower. Your finances, knowledge of Dark Arts, and willingness to perform them put you at my right hand. Yes, Lucius, I know how well you did for me."
The relief Lucius felt did not last long.
"In those years, I had no need to turn to anyone else. However, recently it seems that you do not bring anything but failure. Not only by feigning innocence when I had disappeared, but from the moment you planted my Horcrux on that girl in an attempt to open the Chamber of Secrets, it seems that nothing you try has succeeded. The old Lucius was a priceless asset. You, I have no use for."
Lucius's eyes widened as Voldemort raised his wand with malicious glee. No one relished killing more than he. "Avada Kedavra!" came the voice, and the light came green, and Lucius was dead.
The Death Eaters had laughed when they were sure that Lucius was getting a strong set of the Cruciatus. Looking at his shocked, lifeless face gave them pause. If Voldemort would murder Lucius without thinking twice, what did that mean for the rest of them?
Voldemort put their fears into words as though they had asked aloud. "I want a foolproof plan out of someone soon, or you will receive the same." He emphasized his words with a threatening wand movement. With a sneer, he swept out of the room.
The Death Eaters did not need to ask exactly whom he had meant by "you".
Hermione would have been horrified with herself, had she been herself. It was the second class of the day and she had not managed to pay attention in either. She brought herself out of her uncharacteristic reverie to copy down the homework. Lupin dismissed the class and she began to pack her things.
"Hermione, could I have a word with you?" he asked.
Draco was at her side in seconds. She attempted to smile up at him. "Go ahead," she said to him and Harry. "I'll catch up at lunch."
She saw Ron pause at the door, but he did not wait long. As soon as Harry and Draco had reached the doorway, the three of them exited. Hermione slung her bag over her shoulder and approached Lupin's desk.
"I'm sorry, Professor," she said automatically. "I don't know why I can't focus today."
"Hermione," Lupin interjected. "I'm not going to reprimand you. I completely understand. You and Blaise grew close this year. Yes, I noticed. I'm amazed that you even came to class today."
Hermione nodded but said nothing. Her throat felt tight. Lupin continued.
"If your work is a little less excellent than usual for a while, Hermione, I will not hold it against you. I wanted to speak with you about the remaining partner assignments. I would not expect you to do them alone. Under the circumstances, I would like you to attach yourself to one of the existing pairs. A group of three will be fine."
Hermione cleared her throat surreptitiously. "I think I'll work with Harry and Draco, if that's all right."
"That will be fine." The professor reached a hand up to rest it on her shoulder comfortingly. "You've been standing this with incredible strength. I'm proud of you. All of you – Draco, Harry, especially Ginny. I know you were all close to Blaise."
Hermione was almost angered by his words, until she remembered that he had lost all of his best friends from school, one way or another. Suddenly, she felt a burst of sadness for him, and was able to smile sympathetically. He probably did not realize the manner of it, but he seemed glad for her smile all the same.
Out in the hall, Draco was waiting for her. "Don't say anything," she told him. "I know you were listening." They linked hands as they made their way to the Great Hall. They had spoken less in the few days since they had lost Blaise, and touched more.
Draco sat with Hermione at the Gryffindor table, where they all picked at their food for a while, hardly eating a bite. Ginny stared into her goblet of pumpkin juice as though it might answer her hardest questions. Hermione tried to think of a conversation topic, something to keep them busy, but she did not want to talk any more than the others. A distraction arrived about halfway through lunch and sat with them; Fred next to Ginny, George right across the table, next to Hermione.
"We heard what happened," Fred said bluntly. They never were exactly delicate around difficult subjects. He put an arm around Ginny's shoulders, almost casually. "Ron owled us. We had to make arrangements to close the shop before we came up here."
"We had a hell of a time getting here, too," George put in. "The Hogwarts' Express doesn't run often during term, and they had elevated security between Hogsmeade and the school. Guess Dumbledore's being a bit cautious, isn't he?"
"Hi, boys," Ginny said once her brother had stopped talking. She finally took a bite of food, Hermione noted with relief. Ginny was eating less than any of them lately.
Fred cleared his throat and stated, "We've got a gift for you, Ginny." He gestured to his twin, who presented a box from under his coat. It was unrealistic that it would have fit there, but Hermione knew enough about magic by then not to be surprised. She peered at the writing on the box and saw that it was one of the twins' daydream spells.
Ginny gazed at the gift with her eyes teary. No one spoke for a moment. Just as Fred had done, George cleared his throat. "We just thought… if you wanted to see him again." He ended flatly, and Hermione turned her head to look at him. She saw in his face a grimness she could only remember seeing when Arthur Weasley had been in the hospital, nearly dead with snake venom. He caught her looking and winked; the glimpse of seriousness had passed.
"Thank you," Ginny said suddenly. She took the box in her hands and stood. "You know, I don't think I'm going to eat any more. I'll be in my room, if anyone wants me." She walked off. Hermione wanted to follow her and comfort her, but knew that it would be useless.
When Ginny had left, Fred and George leaned in. "We didn't want to talk about this much when she was here," George said quietly. "What exactly happened? Ron didn't give us all the details, just the basic stuff. He told us that you were friends with Zabini and Malfoy, and that something had happened at the Malfoy mansion. But he didn't tell us everything. Did you, Ronnie?"
Ron had spotted Fred and George and approached them. He took a seat next to Harry. "If I'd put everything in that letter, Pig wouldn't have been able to carry it."
"Why didn't you use a school owl, then?" Fred pointed out. Ron shrugged.
Taking turns, the four of them unwound the story. It had gone much the same when they had told Dumbledore. They had all filled in the parts they knew, until the details had been exhausted. Minutes passed and then they were done. Hermione was sure they had told them everything, but Fred had another question.
"Do you know who actually did it? Who killed Blaise?"
Hermione felt her heart drop a little before it returned to its rightful place. She had seen. She had witnessed the spell cast and had somehow forgotten until the question was actually asked. Harry was shaking his head. "None of us saw it."
"I did," Hermione spoke up. "I saw it. I-"
Draco squeezed her hand. "It's all right, Hermione. Who was it?"
"It was his father," she said in a choked whisper. "Blaise's father killed him."
For too long after the second she spoke it aloud, that was all she could think of. Her schoolwork suffered, she had trouble getting food down, and every time Draco looked at her she could only see the concern in his eyes. Nothing else was able to break through. About a week before N.E.W.T.s were to start, Hermione sat with Draco and Harry in the library, attempting to complete the Defense review assignment that Lupin had given them, and mentally berated her lack of concentration.
"Dammit," she said, rifling through the books piled three thick on the table. "I can't find Theory of Countercurse again. Why does that dratted book keep disappearing? Do you have it over on the other end, Draco?"
He handed it to her wordlessly. "The funny thing is, I wasn't even using that book."
"Why is that funny?" Hermione retorted.
Draco shrugged and went back to his work. Hermione leafed through the pages of the book, trying to remember the question she had wanted to answer. When that failed, she looked up from the words that seemed to have lost all meaning in time to see Ginny approaching. She waved to her. Ginny gave her a wan smile and made her way toward them.
"Cramming for N.E.W.T.s?" she asked nonchalantly.
"I suppose," Hermione answered. "Would you like to sit down with us? I could use some fresh conversation. These two have barely spoken a word between them."
Ginny glanced around the library. Her eyes paused beyond anything Hermione saw for a moment before she responded. "You know, I think I'll go sit with Colin."
As Ginny passed by, Hermione turned in her seat. Colin Creevey sat at a table by himself in the back of the room. She had nearly forgotten about him over the past few weeks. When Ginny reached him, they exchanged a few words and each of them produced a true smile. She set her books down. Afterward, Hermione was sure they did nothing but study in silence, but they both seemed the better for each other's company.
A student Hermione did not know came up behind Draco and timidly cleared his throat. "Draco Malfoy?" Draco looked at the boy and nodded. "Professor Dumbledore wants to see you in his office."
Draco exchanged looks with Harry and Hermione. "I suppose that means we've finished for now. I have, at least. Hermione, you haven't even written half a page. Just stop for now. I'll see you both later, once I've found out what Dumbledore wants."
"I wish he would stop telling me what to do," Hermione said once Draco had left.
"Even when he's right?" Harry wondered.
"Especially when he's right. It's infuriating."
"He loves you, Hermione. He gives you advice sometimes; you should follow it when it's good." Harry shook his head at her. "You didn't have a problem with it before. Since Blaise died, you-"
"I'll see you later, Harry," she said abruptly, pushing her chair out. She collected her things into her schoolbag. For the first time that she could remember, she left Harry to put away the numerous books on his own. She could not stay in the library. It felt stuffy suddenly, the air was stale, and too many people were watching her.
In the corridor, she immediately felt better, and guilty for being so curt and cold to Harry. But she knew that he would forgive her, and she could not stand the library just then. She decided to go for a walk outside. It might clear her head.
She wandered without any particular direction through the grounds, here and there passing small groups of younger students lounging or playing in the sun. A few had books open and quills poised, and she almost smiled when she was reminded of herself. It was not enough to provoke a smile, and instead she simply continued walking.
Standing with his back to a tree at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Draco did not even notice her approach. He stared out over the lake with a look that was both blank and perplexed. When Hermione reached him, she took his hand. He finally glanced at her. She did not ask, but he told her. "My mother was in Dumbledore's office. Lucius is dead."
Hermione was speechless at first. It was hard to know what to say. On one hand, she had never held the slightest good feeling for Lucius Malfoy, and knew that Draco had not either. On the other hand, her boyfriend's father had died. At last, words came – though not the best she could have mustered. "Are they sure? How did it happen?"
"His body turned up at the front door of Malfoy Manor last night. He was murdered. Presumably by Voldemort himself. They are almost positive that he's been dead since the night – after the last time we saw him."
Hermione almost said I'm sorry, but she was still not sure whether he expected her to be sympathetic. She held her tongue and waited for Draco to speak again.
"I don't feel anything," he told her, his voice… pained? "I couldn't feel grief for someone I hated so much, but I don't feel glad either. I know that the world is a better place without him. He never did me any favors. But I don't feel anything." With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself off from the tree and stepped a few paces away. "The man was my father, but he was never a father to me. If that makes any sense. The only emotional connection I had with him was loathing. I should be dancing a bloody jig on his grave!"
She pictured Harry's grim nod of satisfaction when he found out. She could see Ron desperately restraining an outright cheer. But when Hermione tried to imagine how she would expect Draco to react, nothing happened. "I don't know what to say, Draco."
"You're happy for it, aren't you? You think it's a right happy ending."
"No, Draco. It's death, no matter how you look at it. Murder, no less. It was a crime and it's horrible. I can't say I'll miss him, though."
Draco laughed; it sounded quite absurd to Hermione. "It's funny… now I could say that I know what it feels like to have a family member murdered by Voldemort. He killed my father – that's half of what he first did to Harry. But I didn't care for Lucius and he definitely didn't care for me. I don't know what it feels like, because it doesn't feel like anything at all."
Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck. "Draco…" she whispered.
"The bastard deserved it," Draco spoke into her shoulder.
Hermione agreed, but she chose not to say so. "Draco, let's go back inside. We can go to my room or yours – it doesn't matter which. I want to get away from other people for a little while."
"My room," Draco said without hesitation. "But I want to stop in Blaise's room first."
She did not ask why. Their hands remained entwined together as they journeyed to the Slytherin dorms. Thankfully, Snape was elsewhere and could not question her presence. In Blaise's room, Draco opened a drawer and began to pull out bottles. Hermione's eyebrows drew down suddenly. "What are you doing?"
"This is Blaise's alcohol collection. He wouldn't want it to go to waste. You don't have to have any if you don't want to, but this is what I'm doing tonight." He pulled Blaise's schoolbag out from a corner and began to stuff it. The sounds of the glass bottles clinking together as Draco packed them were a kind of music Hermione had never heard.
"Let me help you with that," she said abruptly, conjuring another medium-sized bag for the rest of the bottles. Draco briefly closed his eyes, as though he had wanted her to make the other choice. She cared so little at that moment; it was her decision, and if there were ever an opportune time to drink herself into a stupor… Blaise had a surprising amount of alcohol stashed, and Draco would be the only other person around. She could think of no better circumstances – except perhaps that they were celebrating, instead of mourning.
Draco poured the contents of one bottle into two cups, to begin with. He handed one of them to Hermione. "Well," he said, sounding defeated, "what are we waiting for?" Simultaneously, they tipped their cups and emptied the contents into their mouths.
The headache Hermione experienced upon waking was, without a doubt, the most painful headache in history. She groaned and twisted onto her stomach. At least we ended up on the bed, she thought.
"Draco," she called groggily. She had almost managed to open her eyes.
"Yeah."
"How much did you drink last night?" She was too tired and pained to realize that this was a strange question to start the morning with.
"A bit more than you did."
There was a pause as Hermione's mind processed this. "How much did I drink?"
Draco answered slowly, "I don't know."
Something else occurred to Hermione, and she had to ask right away. "Did we have sex last night?"
There was another pause before the response came. "I don't know."
Hermione made a nervous sound and shifted her head on the pillow. "I hope we used contraceptives if we did."
A rustling sounded next to her as Draco moved. She felt something gently touch her forehead as he muttered a word and her headache was gone. She opened her eyes. Draco lay close to her, propped up on his elbow, a bit higher on the bed than she was. It looked like he had been awake for a while. "Is that better?" he asked.
"What did you do?"
"It's a spell specifically for hangovers. Blaise taught it to me."
The silence that followed was awkward. Hermione felt exhausted, most likely from whatever they had done the previous night. Far too exhausted to feel grief. But to hear Blaise's name still cut; the image that it brought was always of him lying dead on the ballroom floor. She had never lost anyone so important to her, and had no idea how long this would last.
"Are you okay?"
"No," she mumbled. "Are you?"
Draco shook his head with the tiniest hint of a smirk. "Not really."
Hermione pushed herself out of the bed and inspected her reflection in Draco's mahogany-framed full length mirror. It was an interesting sight. "I need to go back to my room and get cleaned up," she said matter-of-factly. Without waiting for an answer, she fixed the state of her clothes and smoothed her hair. She wanted to look as presentable as possible on the walk through the castle.
Draco walked her to his bedroom door. They shared a brief kiss before she left. Just as she reached the common room, Snape passed her. He paused with a pronounced sneer but said nothing. She was long past embarrassment – and he did not take any points from her house. She continued on; the rest of the walk went without incident.
The Gryffindor common room looked as cozy as ever. The fire was blazing even though it was late May. The couches and soft armchairs were dotted with students. She did not look at their faces as she made her way toward the girls' dormitories. Before she had reached the stairs, someone called her name.
"Hermione, where have you been? We missed you at dinner. Breakfast, too," Ron said.
"I was with Draco," she replied shortly. After a glance at the clock, she realized that it was nearly time for lunch.
"It's not important. Listen, can you do me a favor? Ginny disappeared after dinner and we haven't seen her since then. Can you check her room and make sure she is all right?"
Hermione nodded. "Of course. I'll do that on my way to my room."
Ron patted her arm. "Thanks."
Ginny's door was shut. A light shone through the cracks, shifting colors every few seconds. Hermione knocked hesitantly. She heard Ginny's voice say, "Come in."
Hermione found Ginny lying face up on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She shut the door behind her and crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed near Ginny's head. She placed her right hand on Ginny's hair, gently smoothing it. "How are you?" she asked.
Ginny briefly met Hermione's eyes with an annoyed look. "Do you have any idea how stupid that question sounds?"
"Yes, I do. I don't mean that. I just meant that Ron said you haven't been seen since dinner last night. You haven't eaten anything today, have you?"
"You weren't even at dinner last night, but he didn't say anything about you. I doubt you've eaten since lunch yesterday, when you had nothing but a small slice of steak-and-kidney pie."
"Draco and I were busy with other things."
"Were you?"
"Not sex, Ginny. We were…forgetting."
Ginny took a few moments before she said anything. "You drank, didn't you?"
Hermione chose not to answer. She returned to stroking Ginny's fiery hair. "Ginny, you're going to have to come out. You have to eat, talk to people…"
"I was having a slow start this morning, Hermione. I've not lost all sense yet. I think that will take a little longer – a little more pain."
Ginny fell silent as one of her dormmates entered momentarily; when she left, the door remained open a few inches. With an eyeroll and a sigh, Hermione slid off the bed to remedy this. She turned and spotted the corner of a box peeking out from under Ginny's bed. Curious, she knelt to inspect it, and was surprised to find that it was the daydream spell the twins had given her.
Her hand resting on the box, Hermione asked, "You haven't used it?"
"No," Ginny answered immediately, emphasizing it with a shake of her head. "They were right, though – I would want to use it to see him again. I need to wait before I do that. Right now all I want to do is scream at him and blame him. I want to tell him that I hate him, that he is cruel for making me love him and then leaving me."
"It's natural for you to be angry, Ginny. Losing him hurt you deeply."
"But I know that these feelings aren't going to last. Anger has to be part of grief; it wouldn't make sense if it wasn't. I'm angry now, but if I spent my daydream on that, I would realize later that what I really wanted to say was something else entirely. I'm never going to buy one of those, Hermione, because if I get into the habit of using these spells to be with Blaise, I'll become addicted. I know it. That's just how much I love him. I need to use this one when the wounds aren't so fresh, when I can be rational and know what to say to him."
"I guess that'll take a while, eh?" Hermione responded. She was shocked at how much Ginny understood of her feelings. Hermione never felt like she knew anything of her own experience until she was reviewing it later on.
Ginny resumed staring at the ceiling. "I guess it will."
"Can I ask you something, Ginny?" She did not answer, but Hermione went on because she had not refused. "What do you imagine happening with you and Colin?"
Ginny whipped her gaze down in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"It's just… when girls and boys start spending time together, things happen. Gods, I don't know exactly what I'm saying. It's just that if anything does happen, it will seem that you're both using the other for comfort because you both understand grief."
"What if that's what is happening right now, and we eventually come to be quite fond of each other because of that understanding? Everyone uses people, and everyone gets used. It's the way of the world. But if we're using each other at the moment and after a time we aren't anymore, who's to say that it's so wrong?"
"Are you?"
"What?"
"Using him."
Ginny made a sighing sound. "No. To be honest, I feel a bit guilty that I haven't put more effort toward Colin before this. We were never very close, but always friendly. He's been in pain and I've hardly cared. Now, I can at least partly understand how he feels. I realized that we both need someone. I've got to spend some more time with people in my year, anyway. I've been with Blaise and the rest of you so much that some of the sixth years almost forgot about me."
Hermione gave a short, breathy laugh, but sobered quickly. "Do you think, maybe, that he's using you?"
"He doesn't have it in him," Ginny answered. "He never did, really, but less so now. He's in pretty bad shape, you know. It makes sense – if any of my brothers died…"
"I know." Hermione left the bed. "I have to get cleaned up before lunch. I'll come back on my way down and we can go to the Great Hall together."
"All right."
Hermione's room (as always; perk of being Head Girl) was blissfully empty and warm. She headed into her private bathroom for a long shower. Once she had turned the water on, however, she changed her mind and opted for a bath. As she sat soaking in the water, her body hidden beneath a layer of soapy foam, she felt all her muscles relax. For the first time in too long, she was completely at ease.
She had let grief take her over for a time, but now she was in the frame of mind to make the decision for herself. "I will not give in to my pain," she told herself. She had to say it aloud; it was the only way she would believe it.
The loss of Blaise would hurt for the rest of her life. She knew this without a doubt. So let it hurt. She did not have to compromise her life because of that loss. She could channel her grief into productivity – and she would. Whatever she did from that moment in the bathtub on, she vowed to do just slightly better to make Blaise's death mean something.
N.E.W.T.s would be the first obstacle between her and success. She knew one thing, as she slid a little lower in the perfectly temperate water. She would blow them all away.
Five older students stepped off the Hogwarts Express together. The brown-haired girl and the tall boy who was almost white-blond were holding hands; they were obviously a couple. Two red-haired students, a boy and girl, were certainly related. The last was a boy with very dark, very messy hair and glasses – everyone would know him on sight. He was Harry Potter.
They gathered their trunks, three of them with animal atop their luggage carts. Before they went their separate ways, they stood together on Platform nine-and-three-quarters, unsure how to proceed. One could tell, without knowing how, that they had spent most of the train ride from Hogwarts in awkward but agreeable silence.
"Well," began the red-haired boy, Ronald Weasley.
Hermione Granger, the brunette, spoke next. "When will we see each other again?"
"We'll write," Ginny Weasley, Ronald's sister, said quickly. "As soon as it can be arranged we'll all meet up."
"Oh, Ginny, I'm going to miss you," Hermione sniffed. The two girls hugged … for quite a while. The males in the group stood looking at them as they embraced, wondering whether they should begin their goodbyes as well.
"Hermione, what are you doing now? Are you going back to your parents'?" Harry wanted to know.
Hermione drew away from Ginny. "For a bit. I'm going to spend some time at Draco's this summer. I'll be going there in a few weeks. Why, you're not going back to the Dursleys, are you?"
Harry shook his head. "I don't think they'd take me this time, even if I did want to. I'm going to stay at the Burrow for a while."
"Maybe Draco and I will visit you there. What do you think, Draco?"
The blond boy nodded. "That sounds like an easy way to get together. Or the three of you could come to the mansion, but…"
"It's a little soon," Ginny said. "And by a little soon, I mean much too soon. I can't go there again."
"Even if you stayed away from the ballroom?" Draco asked.
"Let's not broach that subject just now," replied Ginny, almost hissing.
Another uncomfortable silence filled in the time. At last, Hermione said, "We ought to say our goodbyes. I should find my parents." She moved toward Harry and Ron and hugged both of them tightly, one by one.
Draco held out his hand to Ginny, but she did not seem to think that adequate. She wrapped her arms around him. Surprised, he returned her hug, rubbing her back a little in comfort. When they were done, Ginny took note of Draco's unsure countenance and smirked slightly. "Don't make a big thing of it," she said.
"Of course not," he answered. "It's just unexpected, is all."
Draco shook hands with Harry and Ron. The latter two and Ginny went off in one direction while Draco and Hermione, once again linked by their hands, walked another way. A moment passed. Many more students dragged their luggage over that same section of the platform on their way back to their parents, and in no time it looked indistinguishable from any other section of the platform. But that spot would always hold a little of that moment's sweet sorrow – a parting of very close friends.
Very close friends who would always remain so, and would meet again many times in the future.
That spot saw the end of something, but more importantly, it saw the beginning.
"Life after Hogwarts," Harry Potter murmured to himself.
"I know," Ron said. "Who would've guessed we'd make it through, eh? We're luckier than we thought, I suppose." He clapped Harry on the back, and in doing so lost some control of his luggage cart.
"Speak for yourself," his younger sister interjected. "I still have a year left."
"Let's just think about getting to the Burrow, okay?" suggested Harry. The others nodded and they scanned the crowd for Mr. or Mrs. Weasley.
A voice called out, "'Bye, Harry!"
He turned. He could not tell who had spoken, but he waved anyway.
An End
A/N: I did not say The End because there will be an Epilogue. However, it probably won't be anything like you think. Honestly – take a guess in your review. I bet you'll be wrong.
