A/N: Title for this chapter is not a song, but it is a lyric from the song "this is me trying" by from Folklore. I also forgot to include the obligatory "i'm not JK Rowling and none of the characters or copyrightable things belong to me" at the beginning of my other chapter, but it seems obvious as I'm publishing on instead of a book. If the situation ever changes (and I do become JK), you know I'll be rewriting the epilogue and making some changes to who the characters end up with. And with the AN out of the way, lets get right into it:)
The rest of the funerals after Fred's passed Hermione by like a flurry of leaves in the wind. The last funerals Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys attended were those of Tonks and Remus. The rain that had plagued greater British wizarding community since the Battle of Hogwarts was present at both funerals which were held back to back on the same day. Andromeda, as the only living adult family of either Tonks or Remus, gave both eulogies. They were short, but powerful. Throughout the services Harry held Teddy. He spent the services squirming and sobbing, his normally bright blue hair a dull mousy brown. Though Hermione was certain the boy could not know, logically, that the two people they'd buried were his parents, she believed he must have somehow recognized that his life would never be the same as it could have been.
Tonks' and Remus' funerals were, Hermione believed, almost harder than Fred's to get through without crying. It was particularly difficult for her to watch Teddy scream and cry for the loss of parents he would never really know. She wondered if Harry had been present at his parents' funeral. She wondered if he had been, had he known in some subconscious way that those were his parents being buried, too? The image of two people entered her mind. A man with a severe but kind face, deep chestnut hair peppered with grey, and a woman with big curly light brown hair and kind cinnamon eyes, smiled at her from her subconscious. She pushed them down. She wouldn't think about them. The funeral alone was hard enough to endure without shedding the tears she was so desperately holding in.
Hermione wouldn't cry. Not in public, anyway, with the eyes of the entire wizarding world on the golden girl. The brightest witch of her age was bright enough to know that any tear she spilt outside of the privacy of her nighttime bed would likely be the next big headline for the Daily Prophet. She could see it now, a large picture of her just under the paper's name, The Daily Prophet, swaying slightly next to the graves of her friends as she cried silently. It would have some kind of ridiculous headline like, "Golden Girl: where's that Gryffindor bravery hiding?" or something of the sort. The paper, in Hermione's opinion, was nothing short of one long gossip column masquerading as real journalism.
It might sound conceded to most, that Hermione would think a few tears of hers would be front page worthy, but the Daily Prophet had printed a story over less. Over the month that had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts, almost no Daily Prophet printed without at least one member of the golden trio gracing the front page. Hermione couldn't stop them from writing stories, but she could stop herself from giving them any additional material which they could write about. Hermione wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her weakness, her pain, or her scars. Her vulnerabilities spread out on the front page of that rubbish for the entire wizarding world to witness was the last thing she needed right now.
After Hermione, Harry, and the Weasleys left Tonks and Remus' funeral, they went to the Burrow for Sunday dinner. It had become somewhat of an unspoken agreement that every Sunday since the Battle, each living Weasley, plus Harry and Hermione, would return to the Burrow on Sundays for dinner, in order to spend time together. Even Charlie port-keyed back from Romania every week after he'd gone back to work at the Dragon sanctuary, though most of the Sunday night dinner participants weren't commuting that far. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and George had all been living at the Burrow.
After the food was prepared, and placed family style at the center of the table, the Weasleys and Harry and Hermione began making their way to their seats. As the Sunday night dinner members sat down at the magically lengthened kitchen table light conversation began between different groups around the table. Harry nudged Ron in the side with his elbow and sent him a knowing look. Taking the hint, Ron tentatively announced, "Hey, everyone I have a bit of news," as the group quieted down in order to hear Ron he began, "Harry and I have … erm, well we've decided to take Kingsley up on his offer to start the Auror training program right away instead of going back to redo our NEWT level courses." The last bit of his announcement came out in sort of a garbled fast clump of words, but the other people at the table all got the gist. The Weasleys greeted the news, mostly, with a round of congratulations. Mrs. Weasley sniffed and noticeably stayed silent. She had been a vocal advocate for the trio's option of returning to Hogwarts to finish their NEWT courses.
"At least one of you three has the sense to return to complete your education," Mrs. Weasley replied, "congratulations, Hermione. Maybe you and Ginny will even get to be roommates now." She sent a soft smile towards the younger witch.
The table turned to look at Hermione. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and responded shyly, "er, well Mrs. Weasley, it is true I decided not to join the Auror training program—I feel like I've seen enough battles to last a lifetime—but I don't think I'm going back to Hogwarts either…" She ended her confession by looking down at her plate, using her fork to move the food around, but not taking any bites.
The table all but erupted after the news that Hermione, who had always been such a dedicated and talented student, would not be returning to Hogwarts to complete her education. Harry and Ron exchanged confused glances. The table heard several responses at once after Hermione's admission.
"But why not, dear!" Came from Mrs. Weasley.
"Bu 'ermione, 'e thought you 'ere gonna go back?" Ron responded, fighting to get the words out over the large mouthful of food he had. Harry added, "What he said!"
"Well what are you going to do then, if you're not going to be an Auror and you're not going to go back to Hogwarts?" Ginny asked, reasonably.
Hermione paused for a beat to collect her thoughts, and find an eloquent way to express them, before she answered. Addressing all of the questions at once she began, "well, I'm not going to do the Auror program because I'm tired of fighting. We've been fighting for years and I just don't think I can do it anymore. I don't think I want to do it anymore. But there are other job offers too, other things I can do without having to go back to get my NEWTs. I just … need to figure out what it is that I want to do."
Hermione hadn't lied, she was sick of fighting, and there were other jobs, but she hadn't totally told the full truth either. The truth of the matter was, that going back to school seemed trivial, compared to what Hermione had witnessed over the past year. She'd spent her whole childhood studying, being the resident bookworm, the know-it-all. She'd gotten every gold star there was to get in school. But what would those things have mattered to anyone if things had turned out differently, and she'd died in the war? Her stomach churned and bubbled at the thought of having to sit through another DADA class, knowing now what she did. Or another Potions class, thinking of how she'd watched the life drain out of her former Potions professor, Snape. At that thought, Hermione suffered an onslaught of many of the horrible images that had been plaguing her mind since the Battle had been won. They came in flashes.
She stumbled through the tunnel under the whomping willow … she saw Voldemort's giant snake strike once, twice, three times … there was blood everywhere … life was seeping from the wounds in Snapes neck …
She was screaming … a searing pain in her left arm made her writhe … she wished she was dead, rather than endure the pain … her chest clenched with fear … she was sure she would die on the cold dark floor …
She screamed as she saw her roommate of 6 years under the animal that had almost touched her the same way … "NO" ripped from her throat like a freight train as she blew the monster off of Lavender. The girl's cold, dead, dark eyes stared unseeing…
She picked through rubble to find the body of Colin Creevey, once so small—somehow even smaller in death…Harry held her back, both sobbing silently, as they stood, feet away from the Weasleys as they crowded, sobbing, around the fallen red head … The hands of her former DADA teacher, Remus, and her friend, Tonks, were inches apart as if they were reaching out to one another in death …
Hermione wasn't able to control when the images came. They would come when they wanted, pushing their way into her conscious thoughts. The images came like a sort of wave which Hermione was forced to ride down, down, down as her thoughts spiraled into darker places and ever worse images. Some days she thought it was like pulling the thread of a sweater, it would unwind endlessly if she let it. She'd held it together—just barely—until after they'd won the Battle. Hermione supposed the reason for the time of her unraveling was the fight or flight instinct that came with constantly being under threat of a lethal act had finally left. But now that all her senses weren't solely devoted to keeping her alive, they seemed to betray her. She'd been having a hard time adjusting since the Battle of Hogwarts.
Hermione felt the cool metal of a fork under her palm. Slowly, she heard whispers around her turn into words she could make out. She pulled on the little bits of reality she could sense, until she'd found her way fully out of the spiral she'd been falling through. When Hermione was finally able to push back the thoughts that threatened to overcome her, she found she was still sitting at the Weasley's kitchen table. Light chattering could be heard around her. Everyone seemed to have moved on from her. Everyone except a very quiet George, who sat directly across from her. Hermione loosened the grip she had on her fork and lifted her head from where it had been angled at her plate. Her warm, brown eyes met deep blue ones. George's gaze was piercing as he searched her eyes for answers to where Hermione had just gone. Hermione wrenched her gaze from George's, breaking the eye contact that threatened to expose her and she turned to Ginny, who sat to her right.
"So, Gin," Hermione began, "what do you think you'll do with the rest of your Summer before you go back to school?" She finished her question, and stared at the youngest Weasley, perhaps more intently than she would have if she weren't trying to avoid that piercing blue gaze she'd met only moments ago.
Ginny finished chewing the bite of food she'd just taken, swallowed, then responded to her friend. "I'm not sure yet, probably start practicing for the quidditch season for sure. I'm a bit rusty since we didn't have it last year because … well, you know. Usually I help out George and—" Ginny coughed to cover up her mistake, "—at the shop on breaks to keep busy but, well it's still closed so …" she trailed off.
Mrs. Weasley, who sat to Ginny's right at the head of the table, heard her daughter and turned to George. "George dear," she began cautiously, speaking like she was afraid to wake a sleeping person, "have you begun to think about whether you'll open the shop back up?"
George started a bit at the question. He took a deep breath before he responded to his mother, "I think … well I'd like to before Hogwarts begins again in September. But I haven't been back since we closed the shop when …" George trailed off, lost in thought for a moment. He caught himself and began again, "Well anyway, I'm not sure what the shop looks like now, so I'm not sure if I'll be able to get it done by then. Verity left the country and Fred … so now it's just me to get things going again. It's a lot of work for one person in such a short amount of time."
Ginny's eyes brightened at her brother's revelation, "Oh George!" she began excitedly, "I didn't know you wanted to open the shop this Summer or I'd have volunteered to help earlier! Hermione can help too since she's not starting Auror training in two weeks with Harry and Ron." Ginny's eyes sparkled at the thought of a Summer spent at the joke shop instead of at the Burrow, with her mother inevitably hovering over her as she'd done for the past month after the Battle.
"You'll help, won't you, Hermione?" Ginny asked, spinning to look at Hermione expectantly.
George seemed initially surprised at his sister's enthusiasm. He accepted it, however, and turned to the bushy haired witch next to Ginny. "Do you want to help, Hermione? You don't have to if you don't want to."
Blinking her eyes, Hermione showed her surprise at the proposition. She took a moment to consider it. It was true that Hermione didn't have much else to spend her summer doing. As Ginny had said, she wouldn't be starting Auror training with Ron and Harry in two weeks. And since she wasn't going back to Hogwarts this year, she didn't have to begin preparing for the Fall term like she usually would. Hermione supposed she should begin considering the other job offers that had poured in, but she was too tempted by the idea of pushing off such a big decision. Especially since it was in favor of helping a friend.
Drawing in a breath she replied, "Yes, I could help you too, George." George stared at Hermione before giving her a small nod of acceptance. "Oh Hermione!" Ginny threw her arms around her best friend, "We're gonna have so much fun!"
"Y'know 'eorge," Ron addressed his brother as he ate, "'arry and I could 'elp before training starts." Ron always seemed to be eating as he spoke during meals.
"We definitely can." Harry nodded in affirmation of his friend's suggestion.
The ghost of a smile haunted George's lips when he said, "Thank you, everyone. I supposed there's no use in putting it off anymore. We could start tomorrow if you all want?" The group all agreed they'd begin on Monday at 10 AM, and the chatter at the table rose as the Weasleys and Harry and Hermione went back to their side conversations.
Ginny began talking to Hermione about her final year at Hogwarts, if she'd be made Gryffindor quidditch captain this year, and if she were made quidditch captain what kinds of things she'd like to do for the team. Hermione listened half-heartedly as she finished her meal, having never been a huge fan of the sport. As Ginny spoke, she stole a glance across the table at George, who appeared to be only half-listening to Percy's report on the changes the Ministry of Magic had been implementing since the War.
"—and of course Kingsley has been made Minister for Magic and as I work in the Minister's office, he's really been relying–" Percy rambled on as Hermione studied George. He seemed to have aged a lot in the past month. The red hair that George had worn slightly long at the Battle due to the months he'd been on the run was cut short, showing off the ear—or lack thereof—that Snape had cursed almost a year ago. His face sported the beginnings of a beard, too, as if George hadn't shaved for several weeks. Hermione considered the changes to George's appearance. He looked much different than the George she'd known for the past seven years. He looked older. She supposed that was inevitable, after everything they'd been through.
"—Hermione are you listening?" Hermione's head snapped back to looking at the witch next to her. "Of course, Gin." She sent her friend a small smile.
"I was saying I'm going to send an owl to Neville and Luna and ask if they want to meet us for a drink at the Leaky Cauldron after we leave the shop tomorrow afternoon. How's that sound?"
"Sounds great, Gin."
The rest of the meal passed in relative peace. The conversation died down and the Weasleys finished their meal. Bill, Fleur and Charlie all left shortly after they finished their meal, thanking their mother for the lovely dinner, as always. Hermione retired to the room she shared with Ginny. As she ascended the stairs, she thought about the news shared at tonight's dinner table. She tried to feel as though she'd be missing something by not going back to Hogwarts, or by not joining Harry and Ron at Auror training, but her attempts were futile. She couldn't bring herself to care about the things she did before the War, like school or her future career. On days like this, Hermione believed she might be the only one of her friends who was having a hard time adjusting to life after the Battle.