29/05/2007 08:22:00

Hermione couldn't sleep. How could she? It was her husband's funeral just that morning. She tried to recapture every detail in her mind, hoping it would help her drift off.

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She sat in her new corridors, the scent of fresh paint still present. She was wearing her favorite Oxford University sweatshirt, the collage her mother had attended. Paired with her most comfortable old jeans, it almost could've passed as shabby chic, had it not been for her obviously swollen face. She looked down at her chipping nail polish, which she had been subconsciously picking off. Five minutes. She thought. Professor McGonagall said it would only be five minutes until she'd be back. That's not nearly enough time to write a note, or else I'd just leave one and apperate away. No, I couldn't do that anyway. Harry would've wanted me to be brave. Harry…

At just the thought of her fallen love, she burst into a new onslaught of tears. "Hermione, dear?" A voice called. Standing in the door was Molly Weasley, who looked as if her own heart had been torn as well. It probably has, Harry was a son to her. Hermione considered. Compassionately, Molly came to the side of the sate Hermione was on and sat beside her, a motherly arm wrapped around the grieving widow. "How are you, sweetheart?"

"Not too good." She managed to croak.

"Minerva just told me; everything. Poor baby, we had no idea. You two certainly did do a good job of keeping it a secret. Why, even Ron didn't know."

"I feel horrible." She muttered, very much under her breath.

"What was that?"

"I said I feel horrible. We should've at least told Ron. Now he's going to think we were shoving him out of our lives."

"Oh… You don't need to feel guilty at all, Hermione. Ronald will understand, I promise."

Hermione sighed, looking up at Molly's face. "Thanks, Mrs. Weasley. I have to get moving now, though. There are people to call, things to do, things to… write."

"Do you need help with anything?"

Hermione was about to graciously refuse, but then realized the one favor she needed to ask. "Actually yes. I was wondering, could you tell Ron about the marriage? I have a feeling he's already mad at me, and you know, you're his mom."

"Hermione dear, you know I'll help with anything, but I really do believe you should do that. I'll stay in the room, though, if that helps."

Understanding what Molly meant, Hermione accepted her offer. "I think that would help a lot, thanks. Can you wait here for just a sec? I'll go find him."

"I kind of suspected that you'd ask me that, so I brought Ron with me. He's outside the door, waiting for me to let him in."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, and the faint memory of a smile graced her lips for about half a second. Her frown immediately returned as she pulled her sweatshirt cuffs over her knuckles and tread over to the great brass knob. "Hey, Ron."

He tripped, he had clearly been leaning us against the door and lost his balance for a moment. "Hey, 'Mione."

"Come in." She said, gesturing to the sparsely furnished room. He helped himself into one of the two wooden chairs in the kitchen, and Hermione sat in the other one. With a reassuring nod from Molly, Hermione began to talk.

"So, Ron. I guess there's something I should've told you before, but it was never the right time. And, um, I guess that I should like, um tell you now, so err, here it goes. Wait, will you be mad?" She said in one breath.

"Tell me, Hermione." He demanded, his eyes narrowing.

With a deep breath, she spilled. "I was married to Harry."

Ron's jaw dropped. For a while he looked as though he was about to say something, but nothing came out. "Ron?" She asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. He immediately jumped back, shooting out of his chair and running out the door. "Ron, wait!" She called, but he was long gone.

Molly's jaw dropped as well, but her crossed eyebrows showed that she was no deer in headlights. "Stoupium Wrencharnia!" She cried, attempting to stop her son, but he was simply too far. She turned to console Hermione, only to find she wasn't there. As she was about to yell her name, Minerva wandered in.

"Hello, Molly. Would you like to inform me of why Ronald is sprinting through the castle like a chicken with it's head cut off?"

"Hermione just told him."

"Oh. I see. Well, where is she?"

"I haven't the faintest. I was trying to stop Ron after he burst off, and when I turned by attention back to Hermione, she was gon…"

"Shh!" Minerva quietly exclaimed. "Listen."

There were whimpering sounds coming from the master bedroom. The two women stealthily tiptoed over, getting views from the smallest crack in the door. Hermione was leaning against the headboard of her bed, with her knees brought to her chest. Her face was buried in a plush pillow, soaking in her tears.

"Hermione?" Molly solicited, entering the room. Minerva followed of course, though unsure of what to do. She stood awkwardly beside Hermione as Molly knelt down next to her. "It's okay, baby, it's okay." Molly cooed.

"Ah can beweve es, ahm sorray. Ahm ain lie uh damuh geen." Hermione sobbed.

"What was that, dear?" Molly asked, pulling up her surrogate daughter's chin in her hand, exposing her inflated face.

"I said, I can't believe this, I'm sorry. I'm acting like a drama queen."

Molly's face fell, in pity and compassion. "No, no, no dearie. Ronald is being a drama queen. Please, it's alright to cry."

Why is she so good at this? Hermione thought about Molly. "Thanks, Molly. I guess I should get ready, the fu… fu… it's starting in twenty minutes. I should be there before the rest of the mourners, right?"

"Of course, Hermione. I'll go fetch, and maybe kill Ron." Molly replied. "Minerva will stay and keep you company."

Both Hermione and Minerva gave Molly confused glances. "Minerva, you will stay with Hermione, right?" Molly demanded, rather than asked.

"Yes."

"Alright. See you soon, baby." Molly called as she apperated away.

Hermione stood in front of her mirror, McGonagall standing in the corner, praying that it would not be this continuous awkward silence. Hermione answered this prayer by beginning to speak. "Professor, I apologize in advance for my anticipated behavior on the way from my room to the cemetery. I don't know if I've made this obvious, but letting people see me so… out of control… is what I hate the most."

"Hermione, why do you apologize so much? I promise, nobody's judging you."

Minerva was surprised by her own voice. It was so comforting, so motherly. It was helping, though, so she decided not to think twice about it.

"Thank you, Professor." Hermione sighed, pulling out her wand and zapping on a similar outfit to the one she'd worn the prior day. "Are you ready to go down?"

"Sure."

Well, there goes that motherly thing. Minerva thought as she responded to Hermione. She let her student slightly lead as they walked out and down many of Hogwarts' confusing staircases. When they stood in the Great Hall, the doors exposing the massive crowd and the black roses, Hermione gave way to her emotions. Falling to her knees, her hands, tightly clenched on her face, leaked tears. Minerva went back into her newfound comforting mode as she knelt next to Hermione, an arm around her.

"See…" Hermione gasped. "I knew this was going to happen."

"It's okay Hermione. You're not expected to hold yourself together in a situation like this."

As Minerva was comforting her, they herd careful footsteps approaching. "Professor, can I have a second with Hermione?"

They looked up to see Ron, standing in a black suit. "Of course." Minerva agreed, getting up and retreating to the crowd. Ron lifted Hermione by her hands, and pulled her into a hug.

"Hermione, I'm really sorry. I'm really happy for what you two had, honest. I was just a little… offended. That you guys didn't even tell me."

"Ron, we were going to. I don't know, it was just, never the right time."

"Yeah, my mom tried to explain it to me."

"Are you just here because your mother made you?"

"No, I'm here because I care about you and I loved Harry like my brother."

She looked up at him with tear filled eyes, her face still red. "Thanks, Ron."

Taking her arm in his, he escorted her out to the shores of the lake, where an elaborately carved red and golden coffin laid, on a stage before the assembly. A podium was beside it, Professor Dumbledore standing behind it. Hermione took a moment to look over the crowd. The Weasley family, all grieving in their own ways. Molly's tears were obvious, but she looked up when Hermione had entered and acknowledged her. Arthur was staring at the hat on his lap, not letting his attention falter for the fear that he'd break down. George sat with his arms crossed, only moving to shake the hair out of his eyes every so often. Fred was constantly wiping his eyes, so that no tears would fall. Ginny's face wasn't even visible, only the tears that seeped through her palms were. Alongside them were two empty chairs, presumably where Ron and Dumbledore would sit. Professor McGonagall sat in the last seat of the row, ferociously dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. The next row was Professor Snape, who had indeed been a spy for the Order. His expression was that of stone, waiting for Dumbledore to begin. To his left began the long procession of students, continuing on for several rows. Farther back were ministry officials, looking sick that Dumbledore and Harry had actually been right about Voldemort. In the rearmost seats sat an overweight man, an underweight woman, and a disturbingly muscular boy, all of whom looked ghastly out of place. Hermione instantly knew who they must've, overhearing their conversation.

"Can't believe it."

"All those years."

"Didn't have his head screwed on quite right, but wasn't his fault."

Yes, those must've been the Dursleys. Ron walked Hermione up to the front, occupying the two seats that Hermione had noted were empty. Professor McGonagall turned to whisper to her.

"When Albus is finished with his small part, he'll come sit here and you'll go deliver the eulogy."

"Ron's got a few words too."

"He can go between Albus and you, then."

"Alright." Hermione managed to murmur before Dumbledore began.

"This," He began, his voice booming over the throng, silencing them. "Is, without a doubt, the saddest event I've ever attended. Today, we mourn and remember the life of the greatest wizard the world has ever seen, Harry James Potter. A fighter, a believer, a dreamer. All that there is to be said about him cannot be done by one person alone. Therefore, I invite up the person that he considered his brother up to continue. Mr. Ron Weasley."

Ron slowly ascended the stage, biting his lower lip. He took Dumbledore's place at the podium, beginning his part.

"Well, when I started to write this, I didn't really know what to say. 'Yeah, Harry Potter. We'll miss him. He was my best friend. Blah, blah, blah.' I actually had a couple drafts that sounded like that. I was working on this for what seemed like forever, before I finally looked up. I saw mine and Harry's other best friend, Hermione, who was in mourning like me. I saw my parents, who loved Harry just as much as the rest of us kids, crying like a couple who had just lost their son. I saw my brothers and sister, who were all dealing with it their own way. What I'm trying to get to is; Harry, my worst fear is that in your death you wouldn't realize how much you mean to everybody. You're more important than anybody's ever, ever been. We'll miss you, Harry. And look at this crowd. We love you."

If every woman, (excluding Aunt Petunia, of course) wasn't crying by that point, they were now torn apart by Ron's poignant speech. It was now time for the official eulogy, which would of course be delivered by Hermione. Walking up to her place, she kissed her now exposed wedding band and engagement ring for good luck. The horde was more grandiose than she thought, but reminding herself that they all were there for Harry calmed her.

"Um, Hello. Most of you are probably wondering why I'm making the official eulogy, while very few of you know. For the majority, I'd like to make this announcement that myself and Harry were planning on making after the demise of Voldemort, but we were obviously not able to do. Harry Potter and I were married."

A hush fell over the crowd, as they waited for her to elaborate.

"Don't think I'm trying to turn this into something about me, I just think everybody deserved an explanation. But now, the rest of this is just about Harry. I was privileged to know a side of him that many people didn't see; his humanity. He laughed, cried, fell asleep during Transfiguration once, to a ghoulish effect," A chuckle waved over those who could relate, and Professor McGonagall blushed slightly, though she herself was laughing, too. "and he studied hard for his OWLs. Harry cared about people, and sometimes considered giving up when it got too hard, but he never did. That, it the saddest thing about his death. He wasn't this gallant hero who shoved aside all other thoughts for his patriotism, but rather a being who was destined to and became much more than anybody will ever be. This is, and forevermore will be, the legacy of Harry Potter. And one more thing. Harry? If there's any time you'll be listening it's right now. I wanted to tell you that I love you."

A roar of applause swept over as Hermione climbed down. Taking her place, Dumbledore returned to lead them all to the procession, where Harry would be laid to rest on Hogwarts grounds, in the shade of the castle herself. Though Hermione stood between Molly and Professor McGonagall with silent tears dripping down her face, she couldn't help but let her thoughts stray for a moment. Oh, dear Merlin, I really feel horrid. And she knew it was more than the expected nauseous-ness from laying her husband to rest. She was the last to drop a rose on his coffin, the only red one in the midst of all the black. Returning to her spot, she noticed Professor McGonagall's mouth open slightly, and she turned to Hermione, whispering.

"Hermione dear, are you alright? You're terribly pale and your face is flushed."

"I'm okay. Just… overwhelmed."

Yes. Hermione thought. That's what it must be. I'm overwhelmed.

However, just as they'd finished covering the coffin, Hermione began to violently sway.

"Professor," She quietly asked, "Have they casted a spell of some sort? Everything is getting much dimmer."

McGonagall grabbed Molly's sleeve and the two managed to subtly slide Hermione away, a distance far enough so that they could apperate without causing too much noise. In a matter of minutes they were in the hospital wing, which was empty but still lit, setting Hermione on a bed. The young girl was now frantic. "Oh, Merlin, Professor! Molly! I can't see! Have I gone blind?"

All McGonagall could do was reassuringly hold her hand, while she instructed Molly to apperate back down and fetch Madame Pomfry. The two came back up in under thirty seconds, Madame Pomfry discarding her cloak so that she was back in her white robes.

"It's okay, Hermione. Can't be anything too bad. Let's see."

She waved her wand and murmured a diagnostic charm. "Ahh, yes, it seems that you're just dehydrated."

As she reached for a potion however, an orb above Hermione formed and slowly turned a metallic silver.

"What's this? It's warning me about your condition. But… Hermione, is there anything at all that you can think of? Are you anemic? Diabetic?"

"No, no."

"Well, it could be… no… well it never hurts to test…"

Madame Pomfry changed her reach and propped Hermione up, forcing her to down a sweet pastel orange liquid. Instantly, her sight was back, and she noticed three dots of the same orange appear above her stomach. Madame Pomfry gasped in shock, then turned to Hermione with a big smile across her face. "Seems the Potter line hasn't ended just yet. Hermione, you're pregnant!"