Chapter. 2

Farewell little soldier boy

Hermione's notes: Ron you killed Neville. How could you kill Neville? Would you kill me? Do i even care anymore?

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Neville Longbottom died on a Wednesday.

Usually Hermione wouldn't have known the day of the week, but it had been 2 days before his 20th birthday, and she had baked him a cake.

July 28th, 1999 took with it a part of Hermione she would never get back.

Harry let her sob into his cloak until she fell asleep in his bed, that night.

Neville's gran had died already, and so there wasn't anyone else to make the funeral decisions in her stead. Neville wasn't buried in a mass grave. Not like most of their soldiers ended up. No. Harry insisted despite his direct orders, that Neville would receive a proper send off.

Hermione shared in the insubordination, effort he had planned. She had been glad to.

The order hadn't been meant indecently. Certainly. It had been Minerva Mcgonagall herself who gave Harry the order, to add Neville to the pile of bodies bound for the nearest mass grave. She had cared for Neville as much as any mother would a child, but as their leader she couldn't spare the resources. She couldn't risk her 2 best assets, getting killed for the sake of a single funeral even if it was for Neville.

Harry and Hermione were reminded almost daily, of their duty in this war, of the fact that they were no longer just themselves. They were glorified military property. The Order of the Phoenix clothed them, fed them, and so they owned them.

Under the cover of darkness, Hermione and Harry ferried Neville's corpse out of base camp. There was a muggle cemetery 4 miles to the east. They walked the whole way. Hermione levitating the body under the invisibility cloak, and Harry constantly scanning the area around them for any threats.

When they arrived at their destination they found a patch of dirt, and set to work making it suitable for Neville's final resting place. They didn't speak, the entire affair was solemn. Hermione didn't know if they reached 6 feet exactly, but Harry's brow was covered in sweat by the time they finished moving dirt.

Harry slid the invisibility cloak off of the body, and tossed it over his own back. She let Neville hover for a moment, and Harry fished an old school tie out of his pocket to bury him in. Hermione quite thought, Neville would like that. But she also hated that they didn't have more to offer their friend than an unmarked grave, and a ratty old tie.

Neville had been a fellow Gryffindor, a longtime confidant, and a proper friend. He deserved better. He had been there for it all. All 6 years of their time at Hogwarts. He remembered when Ron was still fighting for the Order. He'd witnessed the fallout when Ron turned on them. Neville was there when Voldemort's side had begun to call Harry and Hermione the dull duo.

The daily prophet called them that now to, it was an insult, but Hermione didn't mind. It was fitting, somehow, she didn't think they were golden anymore.

The point was, that now that Neville was dead, it was like all the memories they had in common had died to. There was no one else who could recall the precise shade of purple Professor Snape's face would turn when Seamus blew something up in his cauldron. There was no one else to bring up the fact that the 7 secret passageways, all though impractically dangerous in a school for children, had been the saving grace of the war. Who would recount the salacious bits of school gossip they'd heard a thousand times over, now?

It was all down to Harry, and Hermione. There was no one else. The dull duo lived on to fight another day. For a war they'd lost almost all hope in winning. For a long while now, since they'd begun to incur mass casualties, the war stopped being about changing the world and the prejudiced governments. The war was now solely about survival.

It was no secret that the Order of the Phoenix was losing.

Hogwarts was still standing, but it wasn't a school anymore. It was where the death eaters trained their recruits.

The ministry was chock full of pureblooded figure heads, and everyone knew they worked solely at the bidding of Voldemort. His word was law.

Neville Longbottom died a hero, and that was the best way to go in Hermione's opinion. If she truly thought there wasn't anything left to fight for she would have turned her wand on herself a long time ago.

There was Harry. She still had Harry. Until she physically couldn't anymore, she would fight with him, for him, she would never abandon him.

Neville was lowered gently into the hole. Once it was filled in, Hermione charmed a flower to grow atop it. It was a single Dahlia, that would never wilt. Hermione had read somewhere that they symbolized an everlasting bond. It was a nod to his love of botany.

Harry had turned around to say something to her, but he stopped when he looked at her face. Before she knew it, he had wrapped her in a crushing hug. One of his hands came around to swipe at her cheeks, she hadn't even realized she was crying.

Harry kept his hair shorter now, but he tended to let the scruff on his chin grow wild. It tickled her forehead as he held her.

"I miss Gin." Harry admitted.

"Me to."

Ginny Weasley had died in the early months of the war somewhere along the french border. Ron had seen her go down. It was a cruel twist of fate that her body couldn't be recovered. Having a grave to visit for her would be nice.

Hermione still wondered, if that had been part of it. Surely Ginny's death had been a factor in Ron's betrayal. The more Hermione seemed to think of what his reasons might have been the more Hermione found that nothing made sense. She would try to summon memories, like the last time she'd physically seen Ron, or the last conversation she had with Ginny but it was like grasping at air they floated right through her fingers.

PTSD. One of the Orders healers told her at some point. In it's effort to protect itself, a mind will rid itself of painful memories. Like the delete button on a computer.

"It's not fair. She never got to see you like this." Hermione said pulling back from him to look at his face.

"See me dirty, and tired?" Harry was definitely dirty, certainly tired but it hadn't been what she meant.

"No. She never got to see you grown. You're a man now."

It hadn't escaped Hermione's notice that a 17 year old Harry and a 20 year old Harry were entirely different beings. 17 year old Harry's voice squeaked some of the time, but 20 year old Harry's voice was so deep and booming he never needed his wand to amplify it when they held meetings. Harry must have grown at least another foot since Ginny had died. Hermione used to match him in height but now the top of her head could fit tucked entirely under Harry's chin

"I'm jealous of Neville."

Hermione cringed.

"He gets to be with the love of my life, wherever it is we go when we die. And i'm stuck here. Breathing but drowning. Awake but asleep."

"Oh. Harry."

Hermione hated it when he said these kinds of things. She never seemed to say the right thing. Ron always knew what to say, when Harry needed a shoulder to lean on. He had a way of knowing exactly what Harry needed every time he faltered.

"I'm here." Don't you dare leave me to, she wanted to scream.

Hermione just pulled him as close as she could and held him. Together they cried. Tears for Neville. Tears for Ginny. Tears for soldiers they'd lost, who's names they didn't even know.

Hermione was quite sure though that the tears she spilled for Ron Weasley she did so entirely alone. She couldn't blame Harry. After all if it wasn't for Ron they wouldn't be sitting at Neville's grave sobbing in a huddled mess.

Author's note: Did you guys catch the chapter title? Neville's a lover of all things plants, and the earth. I wanted to give a nod to leaves from the vine. (if you've watched Avatar the last Airbender, you know)