A/N: Okay. So this was supposed to be the last chapter. But I got a little carried away, and as I wrote it, I found myself drawing towards a natural close. So I'm afraid that this is not the last chapter. There is still at least one more to go (hopefully just one, assuming that I don't get carried away again).

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, there certainly would have been no epilogue in DH. Also, all the pictures in this chapter are mine from my time studying abroad.

Moments of Sanity

Chapter Twenty-Four

"Rest not! Life is sweeping by;

Go and dare before you die.

Something mighty and sublime,

Leave behind to conquer time."

-Wolfgang von Goethe

She was doing exactly as he had asked.

His body had slackened immediately upon the casting of her spell. She had held his limp body as she cried, knowing that it would be the hardest moment of her short life, and was sure to eclipse any sorrow she might face in the future. It was suffering if she had ever felt it. It had been like feeling all the pain of death, of loss, of war, all concentrated in a lethal pinprick, but it had been necessary.

She had peered into his eyes, and though they'd showed no recognition, there had also been no pain, and the dull lifelessness that was characteristic of the spell was gone. She had placed a final kiss upon his temple, and exited his ward for the last time. She may not have changed where he would spend his future, but she changed how he would live it—without agony, in a world of unknowing peace.

She had asked Luna to take her to her supervisor, where she had resigned, barely able to hold herself together.

She'd spent three days holed up in her flat refusing all visitors, Floo calls, and life outside of her memories. And on the fourth day she'd boarded a flight to Berlin, with no plans to return anytime soon. She'd left a note for friends explaining as much as she could bear to detail, and promising that she'd be back as soon as she pieced herself back together.

So that was why she was walking here next to one of the massive columns of the Brandenburg Gate. Numerous people of immeasurable greatness had accomplished impressive feats in order to walk this walk—a walk intended for victory.

She walked here because there was a Starbucks down the way where she started every morning.

She wasn't sure if this is what he intended when he'd told her to live… how had he put it?

Live splendidly.

She wasn't sure if this qualified as splendid, but she was trying. She was trying to find some meaning in this world, in her life. She was trying to find meaning outside of his charcoal eyes. And she had been trying for nearly four months now. Sometimes she wondered if it was even possible. Everything about her life had somehow become so interwoven with Draco that she wasn't sure it could be separated, or if she even wanted that. Would she ever get over this? Ever succeed? And how much longer would it take? She'd only made small advances in the last four months. Would she be wandering around trying to find herself for years into the future?

That was another reason she'd chosen this particular Starbucks even though she'd had to take two different metro lines to get here. She walked under the imposing architecture of the gate every day, seeing the bullet holes left from the war—the literal mark of history, hoping that one day it would be for her as it was originally intended—a walk of triumph. She was hoping for all the symbolism of starting over, walking through the gate into a new life. But she'd found that symbolism didn't quite work out the same way in real life. It took time. So she kept returning. And she guessed that that was a type of victory in a way—that she was still going, that she hadn't locked herself away and given in to the desolation. She got her usual order and sat near the window watching a group of tourists huddled together preparing to start a walking tour. The wind whipped around the group, causing a few people to lose their scarves. She remembered her first day in Berlin, and the way the icy wind had seemed to dull the pain.

She quickly downed the rest of her cup, thanked the barista, and set off walking. That was what she did here. She walked. She discovered. She opened herself up to a new place, to new things. Some days were more productive than others. Sometimes she'd find herself walking a path she'd already walked just for comfort's sake.

Today was one of those days.

It was drizzling now, and judging by how the weather had been the past few days, it would be raining steadily soon. Hermione pulled her hood up over her mess of curls, and ducked her head slightly. She never bothered with bringing along an umbrella anymore. The wind was too strong for them to do much good. She'd had four umbrellas broken before she'd finally gone out and bought herself a hooded coat.

She let the wind carry her forward, not bothering to fight it. The invisible force was much stronger than she, especially today.

It was a quick walk to today's destination, just about a block before she saw the uneven concrete pieces that were at once so simple and so complex. She'd felt a particular closeness to this place since she first discovered it on her second day in Berlin. There wasn't much grandeur to it. Just 19,000 square meters of concrete slabs of varying heights arranged in a grid.

The Memorial for the Murdered Jews of Europe.

She stood outside the grid watching the rain splatter on top of the slabs, before entering into the memorial and walking down one of the aisles. The blocks around her were small at first, coming to around her calves, then her waist, then towering several feet over her head. The ground on which the memorial was built contained several slopes, so that one had to walk into small valleys and up hills before reaching the other side. It reminded her a bit of a maze, not unlike the hedge maze built for the TriWizard Tournament. But at the same time it was very different. There were no plants here and no magic, only heavy, solid concrete—grim, immoveable, and honest. This was not a game. This was life. And the loss of so many lives was not something to be memorialized with grand gestures and beautiful statues. Instead, the great stone slabs acknowledged that the past could not be changed. It was there, planted firmly in the ground with no way to beautify it or make it elegant.

Walking through the maze, she watched as the droplets of rain slid down the stone pillar like tears. It was moving, standing here in a valley, eyes seeing nothing but grey. She felt small, like a mere pawn in a worldwide game of chess.

She may not have been able to come to terms with the way things were with Draco, but her time here in Berlin had helped her come to terms with her memories of the war—memories she'd buried deeply in an effort to move on quickly.

There was something about Berlin that gave her hope. After the second World War, the city had been in such chaos, such ruins, that they had considered not even rebuilding. And to see it now was breathtaking. It was a unique blend of modern and historical, and represented man's ability to overcome hate. She admired the people of Berlin, too. They'd been through so much, pulled in so many directions, and they were surviving still—more than surviving, they were living! She'd met people in her time here, who bore distinct scars down their forearms—scars received from barbed wire while trying to climb over the wall. She'd always considered herself brave until she'd met people like that. She couldn't imagine having to climb over barbed wire, knowing that there was another ninety-one meters of the death strip to cross while dodging men with guns, before coming to a second wall that had to be scaled in order to reach the West side of Berlin. She thought you'd have to have a lot to live for or not much at all to face such a nearly certain death.

She thought about Draco and how truly brave he was. He never would have admitted to it, far too Gryffindor for his liking, but he'd faced everything with such courage—the spell, his father, the war. He'd survived three years on the run with very little money or help, with only his own intellect to keep him alive. She both admired and pitied him for it. It had made him into the person she loved, but she wished he hadn't had to endure all that hardship. At least it couldn't haunt him anymore.

She wondered for what seemed like the millionth time if she'd done the right thing by Obliviating Draco. She'd done the only thing she could think of to keep him from feeling pain, to help him survive. But at the same time she'd taken everything from him, not just the bad memories. Perhaps she'd only prolonged his suffering. But at the same time, he wouldn't remember enough to know that he was missing anything. She sometimes wished that she could do the same to herself.

She felt that she had quite a bit in common with the city of Berlin. They'd both been pulled in too many directions. She'd been divided with each different part of her going to a different group of people or purpose. And she could only handle the division for so long before the walls holding her up collapsed. It was the reunification bit with which she was having difficulty. But Germany had done it, and she would too.

She finished walking through the memorial, and exited the opposite side. She waited until the walk light was green, and then crossed the street to a small parking lot, dodging puddles as she went. The parking lot was nearly empty and the only evidence of the people around her was a bright blue umbrella in the distance.

She kicked a small stone, watching it skid across the pavement.

She never would have found this place on her own because it wasn't exactly advertised or highlighted in any travel books. She'd actually learned about it from another Brit she'd met on the metro, but nearly fifty feet below her muddied trainers was the very bunker where Adolf Hitler had spent his last months and the place where he took his own life. She could see an intersection in the distance, which she now knew to be the place where a few SS officers set fire to the body of Hitler and his companion, Eva Braun. The underground bunker was actually quite large, and stretched beyond the simple parking lot of the eight-story,1980's, Communist-era apartment building which it serviced, but there were no grand memorials—only cars, an apartment building, and a Chinese restaurant. In the last few years, the government had finally agreed to place a small plaque identifying the grounds and supplying a small amount of information about the Nazi leader's shelter, but no matter how many times she came here, she rarely saw any tourists.

She wished that the Ministry had handled Voldemort's downfall in the same way. Instead, they'd used nearly everything involving Voldemort as some sort of propaganda to make the Ministry look better. The memorial to his first defeat by the boy who lived at Godric's Hollow was just the beginning. The Riddle House had practically become a flocking ground for those fascinated with the maniac. She was glad at least that Hogwarts was still closed to those not attending school or specifically invited to visit. She could only imagine the crowds that the location of the final battle would draw.

She looked back to the memorial, and watched the people weaving through the rows, a few carrying umbrellas that looked like bright jewels among the massive expanse of concrete.

She walked back towards the memorial, heading towards the center where the blocks were the highest. She lowered herself to the ground and leaned against the nearest block. It was cold against her back, and she could feel the rain against the back of her neck. She raised her face to the sky, only a few drops of rain managing to reach her where she sat. The raindrops were quickly joined by her own teardrops, and she found herself struggling to breathe normally. She was beginning to think that she'd feel this broken forever. She looked the same when she looked into the mirror. Her body was the same, perhaps a little thinner. She felt as though just one piece of her had shifted, but still enough to keep all the rest of her from fitting together correctly. It made it all the more frustrating that she felt as though she were only a few inches away from everything falling into place. In the wide expanse of her life, Draco had only occupied her heart for a few months, like a mere pebble on a long road. It reminded her a bit of a rockslide—one small change sends everything crashing down. Now she just had to dig her way out of the rubble. But at the moment, she felt as though she were buried too deep and years away from seeing the light of day.

She slumped against the concrete behind her, wishing that it were slightly softer and curved around her with long pale arms to wrap around her middle. She'd always thought that life seemed so short, but knowing how much of it she still had to live without him, it now seemed impossibly long, unending even.

She missed him. But this wasn't the kind of missing that could be cured. She couldn't see him again to ease the ache in her chest. It would only make things worse. Because he would never again be the Draco she knew. He would be little more than a shell. Though at the moment, she felt oddly similar. She could hear a group of tourists speaking in Chinese a few rows away. She pulled herself to her feet, and rubbed away the rain and tears on her cheeks.

She made a quick retreat, heading towards the nearest U-Bahn station. She could see the famous Potsdamer Platz in the distance before she descended the stairs. She took the U6 line for one stop, then switched over to the U2. She stayed on the U2 line for another twenty minutes, taking it all the way to the end stop at Pankow. Her apartment, or rather the bedroom she was renting in the apartment of an older German woman, was only a two minute walk from the station. She'd been lucky to find the room. It was in a residential area of town, but not too far out of the way. Mrs. Schoepke had been widowed during the Communist Era of Berlin and had been renting out rooms ever since. She spoke only a handful of words in English, but she was kind and tried very hard to be helpful. Hermione knew she could have just cast a translation charm to help her cope with the language barrier, but she felt as though she might be cheating herself if she did that. The challenge was part of the experience after all.

"Guten Tag!" she called as she entered the apartment. "Frau Schoepke? Ich bin Heim!"

The woman came bustling into view, a dish towel thrown over her shoulder, a wide smile on her face.

"Gut! Gut!" she called. Hermione smiled because she at least understood their exchange so far. Gut meant good… that much she could follow. But the string of words that followed were completely lost on her. She did manage to understand the words "telefon," "freund" (meaning "friend), and "baby."

It took a moment for her to process the words and then she gasped, "Luna!"

The woman was holding out a small sheet of lined paper with several sentences written in German. Hermione didn't know who could have called that would have been able to communicate with her landlord in German, but perhaps they had cast a translation charm. Knowing she had to be sure, she reached into her coat pocket and wrapped her fingers around the handle of her wand. She cast the charm silently, hoping that Frau Schoepke wouldn't think her sudden knowledge of German too bizarre.

She read the words on the paper quickly, confirming easily that Luna had gone into labor about two hours ago. She lost track of the time while she'd been here. Could Luna really be having her baby already? How far along had she been when Hermione had left? She'd been showing certainly. What was it… four? Five months? That would definitely fit the right time frame. Merlin, Ron was going to be a father! He might already be a father. How the world had changed!

She didn't stop to think about whether or not she was ready to return to London. She had to be there. She owed it to Luna.

She called a quick goodbye to the German woman, thanking her and telling her she would be gone for a few days, all in fluent German.

She grabbed her purse, not even stopping to pack a bag, and ran all the way back to the station. She took the U-Bahn to Alexanderplatz, and then jumped on the first line she saw heading to Friedrichstrasse, where Berlin's International Portkey Office was located.

She couldn't breathe as she ran into the alley that led to the entrance, masked much like Platform 9 3/4 by the illusion of a brick wall. She slowed briefly to make sure there was no one around before pushing through the wall.

Her heart beat erratically in her chest. She could hear it in her ears, so loud that she couldn't hear anything else.

Her body was shaking so strongly that she could barely fill out the travel forms. She was scared. Terrified, actually. She was barely holding up here, hundreds of miles away from her pain. How could she be expected to keep herself together back where it had all started? In St. Mungo's of all places! As she placed her hand on a rounded disk along with an older man and a young teen, she tried to clear her thoughts. She couldn't be afraid. She had to be stronger than this. He had wanted her to be better, braver.

Moments before she felt that familiar tug behind her navel, she whispered to herself.

"Live splendidly."

A/N: Only one chapter left! My own pictures of the Brandenburg Gate, the Memorial for the Murdered Jews of Europe, and the parking lot over Hitler's Bunker can be found on my profile!