Chapter 12: The Funeral

"Ready, Harry?" Hermione called up the stairs.

"Be right down," replied Harry, glancing at himself in the mirror once more and tightened his tie.

Harry was wearing a traditional black suit with a black tie, one he had purchased for the numerous funerals he had to attend over the summer. The Auror escorts were set to arrive at ten in the entrance to Hogwarts by portkey. Harry was glad Hermione was able to go with him and a bit surprised that Ginny had been so calm about it, though there was an odd sadness in her eyes that wasn't about the funeral.

"Harry! We're going to be late!"

Harry grabbed his wand off his bed, placed it in a pocket inside his suit jacket, and hurried down the stairs. Hermione stood by the portrait hole, tapping her foot impatiently. She was a wearing a strapless black dress that stopped just below her knees with a beautiful black shawl draped across her shoulders. Her usually bushy hair was pulled back in a tight bun. Harry had not been this in awe of her appearance since the Yule Ball.

"You look… amazing, Hermione," said Harry.

"Oh stop it, Harry," blushed Hermione. "Come on, let's head downstairs."

Hermione and Harry made their way quickly down to the entrance. They turned the corner towards the door just as Kingsley, in a Muggle suit, and a short, blonde woman in a black Muggle pantsuit, appeared clutching a rusty look pot.

"Minister? You didn't tell me that you were coming," said Harry, reaching forward to shake Kingsley's hand.

"Please, Harry, call me Kingsley," Kingsley's strong voice echoed in the entrance. "As it turned out, my morning meeting was cancelled and couldn't pass up on an excuse to leave the office."

Harry and Hermione laughed.

"Oh, Harry, Hermione, this is Juniper Poling," said Kingsley.

"Pleased to meet you both, though I am sorry it had to be under such circumstances," Juniper replied.

"We're pleased to meet you as well," Hermione replied.

Kingsley looked at his watched and motioned for Harry and Hermione to grab hold of the pot.

"The portkey will activate in a minute and transport us to a small wooded area across the street from the church," Kingsley quickly explained. "Harry, given the, uh, situation surrounding your uncle, aunt, and cousin's deaths, I think it would be wiser for us to sit in the back of the church."

Harry knew that Kingsley was worried the Death Eater's might be hiding in the crowd at the funeral or show up, believing Harry would be there. He wasn't too disappointed to be sitting in the back, though. What little interaction he had his relatives on uncle's side had not been pleasant. Harry couldn't help but smile when he thought back to the incident with Aunt Marge before his third year at Hogwarts. The smile quickly vanished when he realized she would probably not be pleased to see him at the funeral. Harry began to wonder if attending the funeral was a good idea.

"No, no, sitting in the back is fine," Harry replied. "It's better actually. Most of Uncle Vernon's family are not too … fond … of me."

Kingsley nodded, remembering his own encounters with the Dudleys. It wasn't hard to believe that the rest of the family would be the same. "I have Aurors monitoring the outside of the church from different areas. Should an attack happen, I want you and Hermione to Apparate to the Burrow right away. We'll take care of the attackers. I do not want you two fighting, do you understand?"

Harry was not pleased to hear this but knew better than to argue with Kingsley. He noticed Hermione did not look happy at the thought of fighting or running away.

"We promise," said Harry. Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Alright, make sure you've got a hold of the portkey… Ready … 3, 2, and 1," Juniper counted down and suddenly Harry felt his entire body being pulled, twisted, whirled and then dumped violently onto the ground. Standing with a groan, Harry dusted off his suit and looked around. Tall oak trees surrounded them. Kingsley, Juniper, and Hermione walked over to him. Harry nodded that he was ready and they casually walked out of the trees and crossed the street towards the church.

It was a small church with walls of grey, aged stone, and a cast iron steeple. The wooden doors at the entrance of the church reminded Harry of the doors to the Great Hall, only on a smaller scale. As they approached the church, Harry felt his stomach begin to churn. Kingsley held the door open as Harry and Hermione walked inside. The sanctuary was filled with mostly family members, most of whom Harry did not recognize. He also spotted a few men from his uncle's work who had dined with the Dursleys on occasion. Then Harry looked towards the front of the church and he let out a small gasp. The three coffins almost appeared to form a barrier between the altar and the congregation. To the left was a rather wide mahogany coffin that Harry knew must hold Uncle Vernon. In the middle was a slightly smaller oak coffin that was most likely Dudley's. Finally, a thin, white oak coffin was to the far right holding the body of Aunt Petunia. Harry stood in the back of the church, frozen, his mind unable to grasp the reality of the situation. The Dursleys were dead, killed by the very thing they had always fear and despised most in the world; the thing they had tried to stay as far away from as possible; the thing that had caused them to leave Number Four Privet Drive. Magic. Magic, which had been Harry's savior time and time again over the years, was the reason Harry was now staring at three coffins containing the remains of the people who had taken him in after his parents had been murdered. Suddenly, Harry realized that although the Dursleys had always treated him like the lowliest creature imaginable, they still took him in, clothed him, fed him, and kept him alive. Harry doubted they ever loved him, but they still took him in, and risked their lives, whether they knew it or not, by keeping him there. Tears silently rolled down Harry's cheeks as his gaze remained transfixed on the coffins. Guilt and grief wrapped themselves tightly around his chest, making it hard to breathe. He barely noticed when Hermione gently grabbed his hand and led him into the back pew.

"Come on, Harry," she whispered softly in his ear, "we'll get through this together."

Juniper sat beside Hermione, who was still holding Harry's hand, and Kingsley slid in beside Harry. The service was short but to Harry it felt like a lifetime. He did not hear much of what was sad. Instead, his eyes never left the front and his mind whirled with anger, fear, grief, and a deep desire to go out and find the murderous bastards who destroyed the final blood connection he had to his mother. Hermione, on the other hand, never took her eyes away from Harry and kept a close grip on his hand. She could see the pain in her best friend's eyes and knew that he was, once again, blaming himself for the Dursley's deaths. For every tear that rolled down Harry's cheek, reflecting his grief and anger, a tear rolled down Hermione's cheek, reflecting her anguish at not being able to comfort Harry. It was taking all she had not to pull Harry into a tight embrace.

When the service ended, Kingsley quickly motioned that they needed to leave. He knew Harry was in no condition to deal with any angry confrontations with one of the mourning Dursleys. Hermione helped Harry up and guided him out of the church. Harry numbly followed Kingsley. Right now, all he wanted was to get away from this place and find somewhere silent to think. Harry no longer felt like he was just mourning the deaths of the Dursleys but was instead mourning all of the deaths he had experienced over the years. His parents. Cedric. Sirius. Dumbledore. Mad Eye. Snape. Remus and Tonks. Fred. It was more than he could bear to think about and yet their images were seared into his mind's eye.

"Hermione. Harry," Kingsley said to them once they were back into the grove of trees, "The portkey will take you back to Hogwarts once you touch it. Juniper and I will head back to the Ministry once you've gone."

Hermione nodded but Harry was barely even registering where they were. Kingsley reached over and grabbed Harry firmly on the shoulders. Harry looked up and focused on Kingsley's face.

"Harry, I am truly sorry for your loss. Grieve. Be angry. But please, I beg you, do not leave Hogwarts to look for the Dursley's murderers. Now is the time for you to mourn and lean on your friends. It is not a time for fighting. There are many people who care for you Harry and need you. I promise, if I find out anything about these people, I will inform you first, but for now, I need you to trust me and trust the Ministry."

Harry tried to respond but his mouth was dry and his throat tight. He managed a jerky nod and conveyed his promise with his eyes.

Kingsley gave Harry a sad smile and then turned to Hermione, "Take care of him, Hermione. He will need you now more than ever. If anyone can keep him in line, it will be you."

"I will, sir. Don't worry," Hermione promised, giving Harry's hand a light squeeze. "Ready, Harry?"

Harry nodded once again. Together, they bent down and grabbed the rusty pot at the same time. After another bout of twisting and turning, Harry and Hermione found themselves standing at the entrance of Hogwarts. Harry sighed deeply.

"What do you want to do, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Huh?" Harry asked quizzically, finally finding his voice. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I didn't plan on attending any classes today and I assume you aren't planning on going to class or teaching either. And I imagine that you don't want to be around loads of people right now. So, what do you want to do? Go to our office? Walk around the grounds? You probably want to go somewhere quiet where you won't be disturbed so you can think. Your office, then?"

Harry looked at Hermione in amazement. She knew him perfectly.

"My office is actually exactly where I was thinking of going," Harry said. "And despite what Kingsley said, Hermione, don't feel like you need to babysit me. You've got loads of better things to do."

"Oh shut it, Harry. I swear, you've got to have the thickest head in all of Britain. You even beat out Ron at times. You're my best friend and I'm not going to leave you to handle this on your own. You need me, Harry and its not a sign of weakness to need someone," Hermione replied adamantly. She wasn't going to let Harry push her away.

Harry, relieved that Hermione wanted to stay with him, squeezed her hand. "Thanks, Hermione."

Hermione blushed. "Anytime, Harry. If we want to avoid the crowds between classes, we should probably head to your office now."

They reached the office and had just closed the door when the bell rang. Hermione locked the door and cast a silencing charm so that they would have some privacy. Harry loosened his tie and tossed his suit jacket on the back of his chair, before sitting down unceremoniously. Hermione brought her chair from behind her desk and sat it near Harry's.

"Talk to me, Harry," she said.

Harry, caught off guard by Hermione's blunt request, ran his hands through his hair.

"I dunno what to say. I'm not really feeling anything different from what I felt before. It's just more intense now. You'd think I'd be used to it after the battle. We lost so many friends, so many people we loved. But… But the loss never really leaves you… And every time another person dies, you feel the loss of all the other people who died before them… I-I-I just wish I could tell all of them I'm sorry… I'm sorry they died because of me."

This time, Hermione did not hold back. Immediately, she pulled Harry into a tight embrace and said, "Harry, this is not your fault. I know I've told you that a thousand times but its true. I wish – I wish with everything I have that I could make all your pain go away. I wish I could bring everyone back. I wish I could give you happiness and peace but all I can say is this. Harry Potter, you are the strongest, most courageous, and loving man I have ever met. You saved my life on so many occasions and have been the best friend I could ask for. I know it is hard right now. I know everything hurts. But eventually, it will lessen and, you're right, the loss never really leaves you, but we must use the feeling of loss as a reminder for us to recall the good times with those who have died… Oh Harry, I'm sorry. I'm rambling again."

"No, no Hermione, its okay. You're saying what I needed to hear." Harry could feel Hermione's tears on his neck. He hated that he was making her cry but, then again, he was crying too. Just like at the Burrow, the two friends held each other silently, each feeling a strange sense of comfort and peace in their embrace that they did not feel with their respective boyfriend and girlfriend. The serene moment quickly ended when Harry's stomach gave a loud gurgling rumble of hunger. Laughing, Hermione pulled away and said she would run to the kitchen and get them something to eat.

After Hermione left, Harry sat back in his chair and thought about what had just happened. Though his heart was still in pain, it was also feeling euphoric at the memory of his embrace with Hermione. In fact, Harry found his pulse quickening with just the thought of Hermione. Every moment with her, every small touch, felt right. He tried to convince himself that he loved Ginny using the same agreement that he had used for years – that he loved Hermione like a sister. Yet, he couldn't deny that he and Ginny had been drifting apart for a while now. He had a feeling Ginny realized that too as well.

The longer Harry thought about his relationship with Ginny and Hermione over the last 6 months, the more he realized that it was Hermione who had his heart and soul. She was the woman he loved and the one he wanted to be with. He still cared a great deal for Ginny but it was clear to him now that both of them had changed during the events of last year. It was not a bad thing. It was just the reality of being in a war. Sadly, Harry also knew that his epiphany of his love of Hermione was a bit pointless. She was with Ron and even if they were to break up, Harry wasn't sure that Ron would ever forgive him if he broke up with Ginny and started dating Hermione.

Harry's pondering was interrupted when Hermione reappeared carrying a basket. She had changed out of her dress and was now wearing jeans and a light blue blouse.

"Sorry it took me so long. I had to get out of those heels," said Hermione. Placing the basket on Harry's desk, she opened it and began pulling at some sandwiches and two bottles of butterbeer.

"Don't blame you," Harry said with a chuckle. He reached over and took a drink from one of the butterbeers. "Never understood how girls could walk around in those things." Hermione laughed. Harry had to concentrate to not stare at her. Even in Muggle clothes, Hermione still looked stunning. Her bun was not as tight as it had been this morning, and a few stray hairs had fallen, framing her face.

Hermione grabbed one of the sandwiches and started eating. "Is Harry staring at me?" she thought to herself. No, it wasn't possible. Harry was probably just in deep thought again. Hermione noticed her heart fluttered when she considered the possibility that Harry was staring at her. She enjoyed being with him, though she would have rather it not be under the current circumstances. It was so much easier for her to talk to Harry. He actually listened to her and didn't just dismiss her worries, like Ron often did. "No," she thought, "I love Ron. I love Harry too but it can't be in the same way… Can't it?"

For the rest of the day, Harry and Hermione stayed in their office talking about everything from the Dursleys to next weeks Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons to Quidditch to the Death Eaters. Despite the tears and painful memories, Harry felt like a new person when they finally left the office to get dinner in the Great Hall. He had been completely honest with Hermione about everything, his fears, his anger, his grief. He felt like he was walking taller now, that 18 years worth of emotional baggage had been miraculously lifted from his shoulder and he could finally see past the tragedies of his life and into the future. A future, he secretly wished, that would include Hermione.