A big thanks to everyone for their reviews. I'm so glad you're enjoying this story. The story is complete, just needing some more editing, so I'll be posting several times a week. I'll try and keep my posts close to this length, so when I have short chapters, I'll double them up. Of course, the world of Harry Potter is not mine, and in case you don't recognize a few lines out of this section, a parts of these two chapters are nearly verbatim from JK Rowling's book, with appropriate additions and subtractions of my own, in trying to keep the story as close to cannon as I could before DH was released. After this, it was all speculation!
Chapter 13: The Aftermath
Hermione sat in the hospital wing by Bill's bed and listened to Harry describe what had happened on the tower.
"And Snape did it. The Avada Kedavra," Harry said.
Hermione already had her hands clasped over her mouth, but now she understood the anger and hatred she had felt emanating from Severus during the last few minutes of the fight. Except she didn't understand. She couldn't. Hermione felt her whole world drop away. As the phoenix song filled the air around them, she felt the bond with Severus strain, felt the shields he had put up weaken so she felt the unrestrained pain, anger, disgust, worry, fear, anguish.
Anguish overpowering and unrelenting.
Silence surrounded the group until Professor McGonagall entered and Harry gave her the rundown of events. Every word impugning Severus's honor was acid in Hermione's stomach. Still, she couldn't protest, the events spoke for themselves. When she told them all what had happened at Flitwick's office door, and Remus told her Severus would have killed them if she or Luna had interfered, she wanted to scream out that they were wrong. Severus would never have hurt her.
Of course, he may have stupefied her. He certainly would have done all in his power to stop her from joining the fight. She wondered that he hadn't done so anyway. But then she would have been unable to protect herself from the other Death Eaters, and Flitwick—wasn't he a dueling champion? He would have been a formidable threat, indeed. If Severus was really fighting for Voldemort, he would want the Charms professor out of commission.
The thoughts flew through her mind as she tried to disassociate herself from her own feelings of anguish and those of her soul mate at the same time. Then the Weasleys and Fleur were running into the hospital room, conversation bantered back and forth and Tonks and Lupin's relationship came out. It was a blessed distraction, and Hermione fought to stay in the discussion. There would be time for her grief later.
When Harry accompanied Professor McGonagall out of the hospital room, Hermione paused for a moment with the others, then made her way to the Gryffindor common room with Ron and Ginny. They might not reopen the school, she thought. How will I get to my N.E.W.T.s? The worry was completely pointless at this time, but she had to have something to focus on besides the pain of betrayal in her chest.
She said goodbye to Ron and Ginny in the common room and went straight to her room. Thankfully, it was empty. The whole of Gryffindor house seemed to be gathered in the common room right now. Hermione stripped from her uniform and slid into a nightgown. Then she climbed onto her bed and pulled out her diary. Still, she only stared at the book on her lap. He said he would carry it on him, but did he grab it before leaving his rooms?
What would she say anyway? Why did you destroy my faith in you? You're right, I do hate you. How can I love a man who is so evil? Why the overwhelming anguish? What do you have to mourn?
She began sobbing, that last thought was all she needed to let loose as she tried to make sense of the night's events.
*****
Severus collapsed when he Apparated to the Dark Lord's side, his back and shoulders bleeding from hippogriff wounds. Hate and anger still flowed through him from the words Potter had thrown at him. Twice the boy had called Severus a coward, bringing out his innate hate of the word, his self loathing at what the word could bring him to do. He had to hold back the retching that threatened to overtake him—an illness brought on by his wounds and the self-loathing he felt for his actions against Dumbledore.
So much for the niggling hope Draco wouldn't get the others to the school. If only Draco's efforts had been complete failures. Then again, even a complete failure would have forced Severus to act. But then maybe he could have done so covertly, and not brought the rage of the Order—no, the entire wizarding world, on his head.
"Rise, Severus." The Dark Lord's voice brooked no argument, and Severus summoned his strength to stand, head bowed.
"Yes, my Lord."
The snake/man turned his gaze toward the white, frightened form of Draco and tapped his wand against his other hand. "Draco, report."
The whole story came out from the beginning of summer to that evening. Malfoy glossed over his own failures and inadequacies, but he was facing the second best Legilimens in the world. Or rather, the man who was the best Legilimens in the world, now that Albus was dead. Severus knew the boy's failure would be punished heavily, but hoped he would be allowed to live.
Each of the other Death Eaters were given a chance to report in turn. Severus was last—a fact for which he was thankful. It had taken all his strength to block Hermione from his head, to put up his Occlumency shields so carefully they wouldn't be detected.
"Severus, do you have anything to add? I wish to know why you completed the task I set for young Malfoy."
Keeping his eyes lowered, Severus slid into his guise of obsequious obedience. "My Lord, his mother feared he would not be strong enough. She and Bellatrix Lestrange requested I assist him if it turned out he was unable to complete the task. When I arrived at the top of the tower, it was clear his courage had failed. Since you wanted Dumbledore gone anyway, I took it upon myself. Without the old man, the Order of the Phoenix will turn to chaos. Potter will falter without his beloved leader." At this Severus sneered. The boy was far from ready to face the Dark Lord. Their fight on the school grounds that night had been more than adequate proof.
"Agreed. You have been forced to break your cover, however. For that the boy must pay. For that and his cowardice."
The fear coming from Draco was palpable. Severus wondered if the brat had ever realized what being a minion of the Dark Lord truly meant before this moment. Severus knew he had required a similar situation to open his own eyes.
Stoic, not allowing a bit of his emotion to show on his face, Severus watched the youngest Malfoy be punished for his weakness and disobedience. He didn't let down his guard, knowing the crazed leader was not finished with him either.
Finally the others were dismissed and Severus stood alone before his master. "Severusss. What does this mean for your project concerning the Mudblood?"
"She trusted me implicitly. Perhaps I can still convince her to trust me. If I am allowed to disclose the nature of my vow concerning Malfoy, perhaps her weak sympathies may be appealed to. She thinks herself in love with me and has told me she would choose me over Potter, should the decision be required of her. We do not want her to make such a clear choice yet; she is far more useful in Potter's camp for now."
"Very good. I am pleased with your progress with the chit. See what you can do to get back into her good graces."
Allowing his back and shoulder muscles to loosen a bit, Severus let out a low breath. It was a moment too soon to relax, however.
"But, as punishment for taking this vow without my consent or permission." The Dark Lord lifted his wand at Severus.
"My Lord, I had little choice, Bellatrix and Narcissa–"
"Silence! They will make their payment as well. Crucio!"
*****
In her dorm room, Hermione curled up in the middle of her bed, sobbing as she felt the pain coming across Severus, lasting on and on. She felt his agony and despair.
It seemed to go on forever, but when it stopped, Hermione realized it had only been a few minutes, maybe five. She lay in a ball, shaking, shuddering from the aftershocks, though the pain had been no more than a sensation of pervading discomfort. She knew Severus would suffer for a long while from the aftereffects. Even if he did have his potion.
She hoped he put a store away wherever he would be hiding from the Ministry.
In the next moment she realized again what an impossible situation she was in. How could she be so angry with him, feel so betrayed, and still worry about his comfort? It was those Weasley twins' fault. They would surely pay.
She waited for her breathing to slow to a normal rate, then wiped the tears from her face. Grabbing her wand from her nightstand, she charmed her curtains closed, then opened her diary.
Several minutes passed as she stared at the blank page before her. Finally she lifted the quill, dipped it in ink, and wrote one single word that summed it all up.
Why?
*****
"Why indeed, Hermione."
Severus had returned to his home at Spinner's End as soon as he was released from the Dark Lord's residence and immediately took healing draughts and his Cruciatus calmer, then took an excruciating shower to clean up after the hypogriff that attacked as he left school grounds. Now he was lying in bed with the journal open before him, his door warded against intrusion—in case the Dark Lord sent Wormtail to spy on him again.
"What answer do I give, love? The truth with a twist, cleaned up to be palatable? The truth unadulterated? A complete lie?" Not that he could lie to her. Not really. For this to work she had to have the truth, or a very close approximation thereof. Thankfully the truth was something that would calm her, not upset her more.
Probably.
Why what? Why did I take the Mark in the first place? Why did I turn from the Dark Lord? Why did I kill the Headmaster today? Why do I sit here with the diary open on my lap and hope you are still there, still waiting for an answer. That when I have told you everything, you will believe me? He sat back and hoped she would respond somehow, even an ink drop to let him know she was looking at the diary.
Yes. To all of it. But most especially the events of today, tonight, last night. The morning is near. I wrote my question forever ago, it seems. Lavender and Parvati have both come up since and fallen to sleep. I envy their ability to sleep after the night that has passed, or nearly passed.
There was an Unbreakable Vow—two actually. It is far too complex to use the valuable pages of this notebook on, but I was required to protect and aid Draco and to carry out the task he had been given if he couldn't do it. Both the vow I made to the Headmaster, and the one I made to Narcissa Malfoy required me to fulfill the task.
What do you mean the vow you made to Dumbledore? What vow?
If you want the answer to that, you must meet with me. Soon. Then we will discuss everything.
What? After everything that happened tonight, you expect me to trust you? Be alone with you? The words smeared slightly and he knew she was crying. He could feel her anger, confusion, mourning, and loss. He shared those emotions.
You trusted me this morning. You awoke in my arms this morning, warm and willing and pliant.
You weren't a murderer this morning.
He paused at that and considered again how much honesty was required. Then decided in for a penny, in for a pound. Yes, I was.
*****
Yes, he was? What was that supposed to mean? Hermione sat and stared at the words, unable to believe her eyes. Had her soul mate just admitted to having killed before tonight? Intellectually she had known it was likely, but that didn't stop it from being a shock hearing it from him now.
Apparently the pause was too long for him because words began appearing on the page again. I'm not proud of it, but I can't lie to you. I wasn't always reformed. The only difference between who I am now and who I was this morning is the bit of my soul that tore away on the Astronomy tower. I haven't been whole in a long time. Since before you were born. But again, that is a discussion for a face-to-face meeting. Wife.
Wife, that was right. She seemed to have forgotten that small detail. She was married to him. How can I be married to someone who is so— She paused, unsure what to write.
Evil, flawed, misguided, hateful, abusive, wasted,
Stop it! Stop denigrating yourself. Just stop! His words stared back at her on the page and she felt his torment. I love you, Severus Snape.
It's the potion talking. Don't worry, I know.
No, it's not just the potion talking. It's not. The potion saw something in you that was worthwhile. It wouldn't have paired me with the man you claim to be.
And why is that? I am a deeply horrible person, Hermione. I have always been deeply horrible. My first kill was my Muggle father. I still don't regret that one bit. He beat my mother, punished her for being a witch, as if beating her would take the evil presence from her. She was once a brilliant woman, but she died at his hands as a broken shell of herself. I don't regret killing him.
I don't believe you are irredeemable. The Headmaster trusted you, despite the fact that you hated the Potters and used their attack as a reason to return to the light. There must have been another reason he trusted you. Something more. Dumbledore may have just been a wizard, but he isn't a complete fool. Please, please tell me there was more. Can I be so horrible myself that I deserve and best identify with a murderer?
No. You are like a light in the darkness. I could never deserve you. Uggh, I hate this connection between us. I hate that I love you when life would be so much easier if it were only lust. Or better yet, if there were nothing between us at all. I hate this feeling of having lost control of my feelings. I hate that I feel compelled to see you, speak with you, hold you in my arms. And that because of that need, I had to share our relationship with the Dark Lord so he could share my memories of you.
She let a long pause pass while to she took in his last sentence. She didn't like the idea of the Dark Lord knowing anything about their private time together. It appears we really do need to get together to talk. When and where?
She felt his relief through the bond and they made plans for the evening the day after Dumbledore's funeral, whenever that was set. She didn't know how she would arrange to meet with him, but one way or another, she had to see him.
One more thing. You need to send a message to McGonagall. They need a new secret keeper for Headquarters right away. Thankfully the Dark Lord didn't think to ask me for the location tonight, but it won't be long before he realizes his error.
Of course. Right away. Goodnight.
Goodnight.
She waited another minute, watching to see if he might come up with something else to say. As much as anything, she didn't want to put the diary away, to close the lines of communication, even if her mind was shutting down after all.
She lifted her wand, thought of waking in Severus's arms that morning, and sent her Patronus shooting through the school to the Headmistress to remind her of Headquarters. In the morning, she would follow up.
She was asleep in minutes.
*****
"Thank you, Miss Granger, for your concern," the new Headmistress said when she came across Hermione in the Great Hall the next afternoon. "Lupin had the same concern and we had just completed it when your reminder arrived."
"Oh, good. I did try to think of the place this morning, and couldn't so I figured . . . When will we be told? And who?" Hermione wanted to keep things as cryptic as possible in case someone around them were to overhear. She was anxious to sit down to lunch, as she had slept through breakfast that morning, but the information was more important.
"You'll be told where before the train leaves." McGonagall looked as though she hadn't slept the previous night. There were circles under her eyes and her hair was a bit unsettled. Even her plaid tartan was a bit askew.
Hermione nodded and released the Headmistress to deal with the other hundred things that must have been on her mind. For herself, she was still reeling from the previous twenty-four hours' events and wanted more time to consider them. Parvati was already gone. Her parents had shown up that morning and pulled both twins from school. Many other students were sure to follow. Hermione hoped her parents missed their reading of the Daily Prophet today. They were bound to be sick at the news.
For once she wished her parents weren't so interested in her world. Hermione took a seat next to Ginny and began loading her plate.
"Decided to get up, then?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, I have some things to look up in the library."
"I have something more for you to check out. Since classes have been cancelled." Harry passed her a note that had been rolled up and scrunched tiny. She opened it and read the note that had come inside the locket he and Dumbledore had picked up the previous night. R.A.B. "We need to know who that is."
"I'll see what I can do." She would look into it, but she wanted to do some checking into another matter first.
Chapter 14: The Funeral
The next few days went by in a blur as everyone cried, talked, packed, cried some more, or just walked around the castle like zombies. Students were heading home left and right, and Hermione was starting to believe they really wouldn't open the school again the next year. At the current rate of attrition, there wouldn't be many left for the funeral. Well, that wasn't completely true, especially since Hogsmeade was filling up with witches and wizards who wanted to pay their last respects.
On the night before the funeral, Hermione was packing away the last of her things, envisioning what lay ahead for them all—but most especially for Harry. Somehow she doubted he would consider returning to school as important as hunting down the Horcruxes, and she couldn't blame him.
When there was a knock at her dorm door, Hermione called out, "Come in."
"Hey, I was wondering how your packing was coming along." Ginny's red mane of hair framed the face poking around the edge of the door.
"It's coming, but I could always use some companionship. Yours?"
"About done." She came in and sat on the edge of Hermione's bed, then slid herself up against the headboard. "I guess you're going home for the summer."
"At least for a while anyway. I haven't made any firm plans yet. My parents are frantic, of course. They must have owled me the moment the newspaper hit their table. I had to send an owl straight back to them yesterday to let them know I wasn't hurt and I would be home soon."
"Harry had to write the Dursleys to let them know he was coming home a bit earlier than expected. They probably went through the roof."
"Wish I could have seen it." Hermione's mouth twitched at the corners. She had heard enough about Harry's horrible relatives to have some idea of what their response might have been. "What about you? They going to let you take your O.W.L.s still?"
"Yeah. They'll set a date later this summer for the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T students to test. Tests seem a bit pointless at the moment."
"Yeah."
A long pause ensued before Ginny began to speak again, pulling her knees up to her chest. "He's going to dump me, you know. Harry. He loves me, but I can already feel him distancing himself from me. It's the strangest thing, it's as though I can feel his emotions lately, like we're so finely tuned to each other I can feel what he needs before he even knows it. Or at least without him saying so. And when I need a little more room, or a big hug, he seems to know that as well."
"That's because you're soul mates. You just needed a boost to know it." Hermione wondered if the red-head had figured it out yet. When Ginny gave her a funny look, Hermione realized it hadn't occurred to the younger girl. "Amoriata, chocolate chunk biscuits, your brothers. . . strange pairings in the school . . . "
Ginny's eyes grew wide. "They didn't. But it's exactly the kind of thing they would do. How did you figure it out? How did you know?"
"I did some research after our talk at dinner one day. I've learned more along the way: the emotion bond is one of the hallmarks. When you're kissing him and you're getting . . . excited—"
"It's like it starts to spiral out of control almost like we are feeding off each other. It can be hard to control sometimes." Ginny gave her a suspicious look. "How do you know so much? The twins didn't find this out, so it must have been rather obscure. How many hours did you dedicate to researching?"
Hermione evaded Ginny's gaze. "Not so long. My research skills are very good, you know. And your brothers—"
"Tend to act without doing all the research sometimes. Yeah, I know. But I think there's more."
"Harry won't be able to break things off with you completely. The potion, the enchantment, if you will, requires regular contact. He may try to separate himself from you, but if you don't at least pass letters, he'll be driven to come find you. And vice versa."
Ginny eyed her speculatively. "And who, exactly, is your soul mate? You've been very discreet."
Hermione bit her lip, then wet them as she tried to figure out what to say when the truth would never do. "Discretion, or rather, total secrecy, is still required." She looked Ginny in the eye. "I'd tell you if I could. I wish I could tell someone, but the time is utterly wrong."
"What, Draco Malfoy is it?" Ginny's tone was teasing.
"Eww, please, don't wish that prat on me."
Ginny smiled. "Fine, we all have our secrets. I can keep yours."
"I'd appreciate it. I'd rather not deal with questions from the boys when I can't tell them the answers."
"Then I'll expect a hand from you to nudge Harry back in my direction if he fights it too much."
"Done. I'd be happy to. Besides, he won't want to fight the enchantment when you've been apart for a few days. He'll start to pine." Hermione smiled at the thought, especially since Ginny had pined after Harry for so long. At least it would be mutual this time.
"And you? How will you keep in touch with your love?"
Hermione smiled secretively. "I'm of age and have a license to Apparate. I suppose we'll work something out."
Ginny left a few minutes later, and Hermione returned to her packing. Her mind switched to a conversation she'd had with the boys that afternoon where they talked about Severus, as the Half Blood Prince, anyway. Harry had collected the Potion book from the Room of Requirement that evening, and he, Ron and Hermione talked about the origin of the title. She couldn't forget the way Harry had described Severus. Murderer. Killer. Evil. She had denied the last. He wasn't evil. Traumatized, even deeply horrible—in his own words—but no, not even that. She couldn't believe it; there was too much good in him.
Certainly kindness wasn't overflowing. And he had more than his share of hate. Living with him in her head all this time had taught her that. But there were moments when she saw through all of that. She wondered if it was all real, or if he had played a role so long he was just confused about who he was, which parts of his personality were really him, and which he had cultivated in order to aid him in his duplicity. Then again, the very few memories of him that she had caught in their Occlumency sessions had shown even as a boy, he hadn't been happy and light. But then, he had grown up seeing his mother battered. And though she had never heard him say it, she wondered if he had shared his mother's punishments—all of those scars on his body couldn't have come from his adult years.
Murderer. Killer. Evil.
The words continued to circulate in her head.
*****
Hermione sat at the funeral, tears pouring down her face, more upset than she had been at her grandmother's funeral the summer before. Then again, Albus Dumbledore had always been a grandfatherly figure, and she had spent much more time with him over the past few years than she had her own family. Ron put an arm around her and pulled her close, and though she wished it was her husband's embrace, she welcomed the reassurance.
As she rested her head on Ron's shoulder, he tightened his arm around her, and she felt anger piercing through her. Severus's anger. She focused on him and realized he was here in the throng. Over the months she had practiced honing in on his presence, and now she could tell he wasn't far away, back behind and to the right. He was certainly not more than a hundred feet away. What was he doing here? Was he crazy?
Trying to look casual about it, Hermione lifted her head and turned a bit to look in the direction she knew Severus was. She scanned the faces but could not see him. Her eyes narrowed when she saw Fred and George sitting a couple rows back. They would pay for their tricks later, but this was not the time or place. She took a second look for Severus, then realized he wouldn't have come in his own body—not visibly anyway. It would be too dangerous.
Hermione returned her gaze to the front and, feeling her husband's jealousy, eased out of Ron's embrace. It didn't seem to matter to Severus that her feelings for Ron were strictly fraternal, so she decided to humor him. Finally, the funeral ended and she and Ron stayed in their seats to wait for the crowd to dissipate somewhat. She watched Harry and Ginny walk off and knew the talk Ginny was expecting was about the happen, so when Ron stood to follow, she held him back. As people milled about them, she turned her focus back on her husband, trying to sense his location in the crowd. She wondered if he were to walk past her, would she know it was him? If she had been alone she might have tried it just for fun.
After a few minutes she felt a hand brush her arm and a shiver went down her spine. She turned her head just in time to see a stooping man with graying hair walk past. So it was a disguise, and not invisibility that had rendered Severus able to attend. She wondered if it was a glamour or Polyjuice and made a mental note to ask him sometime.
When Hermione saw Harry and Ginny separate, she allowed Ron to walk her over in Harry's direction. They watched him hold a short, but unfriendly-looking conversation with Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, and then saw the minister stalk off. Ron kept up a steady stream of chatter as they passed not five feet from his brother Percy, not looking once in the prat's direction. Hermione had to admire his restraint.
When they caught up to Harry under the beech tree, the three of them abused the Minister and Percy for a moment. Hermione looked back at the castle, wistful, wondering what would happen next. "I can't bear the idea that we might never come back. How can Hogwarts close?"
"I'm not coming back even if it does reopen," Harry said.
Ron gaped, but Hermione understood. "I knew you were going to say that. But then, what will you do?"
"I'm going back to the Dursley's once more, because Dumbledore wanted me to," said Harry, "but it'll be a short visit, and then I'll be gone for good."
"But where will you go if you don't come back to school?"
"I thought I might go back to Godric's Hollow," Harry muttered. "For me it started there, all of it. I've just got a feeling I need to go there. And I can visit my parents' graves, I'd like that." He mentioned tracking down the Horcruxes and his fight against Voldemort. "And if I run into Severus Snape along the way, so much the better for me. So much the worse for him."
It pained Hermione to hear the words, but she couldn't argue over it. She still wasn't convinced Severus had any even moderately acceptable reasons for his actions. Besides, Harry's anger against her husband was so strong, he was past talking to anyway.
"We'll be there, Harry," said Ron.
"What?"
"At your aunt and uncle's house," said Ron. "And then we'll go with you wherever you're going."
"No—" Harry protested.
"You said to us once before," Hermione cut him off, "that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we?" Ron hadn't discussed this with her first, but for once the two of them were in perfect accord.
"We're with you whatever happens," Ron said. "But mate, you're going to have to come round my mum and dad's house before we do anything else, even Godric's Hollow."
"Why?"
"Bill and Fleur's wedding, remember?"
"Yeah, we wouldn't want to miss that."
Thoughts of Bill and Fleur's upcoming nuptials reminded Hermione of her own binding. No one could see her ring, she used only her maiden name, and rarely spent time with her husband. Yet they were bound no less than Bill and Fleur would soon be.
If only she felt a bit more married.
After a few more minutes of drowsing in the perfect weather, under the shade of their favorite tree, the three friends stood and walked back up to the castle. Without a word, they all turned toward the Headmistress's office when they entered the school and, using the password Dumbledore had last used, made their way upstairs.
The door stood open and Remus Lupin sat in a chair next to the window, looking out over the grounds.
"Remus, are you the Secret Keeper?" Harry asked, walking purposefully across the room.
The man turned his head and sent the three students a sad smile. "No, but I have a note for you." He handed over a scrawled message in a handwriting Hermione didn't recognize, but which was certainly not their old professor's. It read The headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix is Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.
"So, who is it?" Hermione asked as she passed the note on to Ron.
Looking at Harry apologetically, Remus answered, "We're not telling anyone. The consensus is, that the fewer people who know who the Secret Keeper is, the fewer who can have the truth wrested from them. Only Professor McGonagall, myself, and the Secret Keeper know who it is."
"But it's my house," Harry objected.
"I know the house belongs to you Harry, and as such, if you insist, we will tell you. However, we would really rather not."
"He does have a point," Hermione said after considering for a moment. "If Mundungus doesn't know, he can't let it slip while drunk. Ditto for Hagrid. Everyone is safer this way. Voldemort can't learn something from you if you don't know it." Especially me and Severus. If Voldemort knows of our relationship on any level, it is safer for him if I don't know who the Secret Keeper is.
Harry seemed torn for a moment between wanting to insist, and his better instinct wanting to agree with the chosen course of action. Finally he nodded. "You're probably right. Speaking of Mundungus . . ."
"Yeah, we thought we might hold back for a little while before showing him the note. Impress upon him the fact that the things in the house do actually belong to you, and not to him."
Harry smiled. "And in the mean time maybe we can come up with a more permanent solution."
"I'll work on that," Hermione offered.
"Good. Now you all best go get your trunks and things. The train will be leaving the station soon. Unless you're going home with your parents, Ron."
"No, I'll take the train. We've things to discuss." His face was flat, hiding any plans he may have in mind. Hermione was impressed.
After saying goodbye to Remus, the three of them made their way back to Gryffindor common room. Before hurrying up the stairs as the boys had done, Hermione took a moment to walk through the room touching pieces of furniture where she had sat and talked with the boys, the chair she knitted hats in, the fireplace mantel. She felt overcome with emotion at the thought of leaving this place forever. Even if a miracle happened and Voldemort was killed before August 31, there was no assurance the school would reopen anyway. The years had been difficult, dangerous, crazy and wonderful all at once. Other students milled about her, saying goodbye and talking of the funeral, but she tuned them out with barely a smile or goodbye to those who caught her attention. She didn't belong here anymore.
Holding back a sob, she hurried up the stairs to her room to collect her things. When she opened the door, Lavender was packing the last of her own items and looked over her shoulder at Hermione.
"So it was Ron, wasn't it?" Lavender asked.
"What was Ron?" Hermione's thoughts had drifted far from their conversation of only a few days earlier.
"The one who gave you those love bites. You said you thought he was like a brother, but you're nothing more than a liar." There was definite venom in her words. "It's disgusting the way you were cuddling in public at the funeral. Dumbledore would have been horrified."
"Sod off, Lavender. It wasn't Ron. You're welcome to him if you can hold him. He was only offering me comfort, and I seriously doubt the Head—Dumbledore would have disapproved. After the appalling display the two of you put on in the common room night after night for all those months, I can't believe you have the gall to be shocked at a hug."
"It isn't Ron? So you have a one-nighter with some bloke you don't even care about? If you were involved with someone, why wasn't he the one offering you comfort? You know what that makes you?" Lavender stood with a nightgown clasped in one hand, which was fisted at her hip.
"So glad I will never have to be your roommate again." Hermione was far too drained to fight anymore. "Have a nice life, Lav-Lav." She grasped her trunk and exited as quickly as possible. Lavender's frustrated scream followed her down the hall. "And good riddance."