15 November 1998

Hermione was quiet as she bent to gather her cat, but he was bad tempered ginger and spite, and she yelped as he drew his claws against the back of her hands.

"Damn it, beast, I need you."

Crookshanks curled into a tighter ball and looked pointedly at her door. She couldn't begin to fathom the source of his irritation - it might have been the constant rotation of bodies in and out of Grimmauld Place, and it might have been the rain that kept him inside the house - but he was sullen and he wanted nothing to do with her. For a moment she was bitterly angry, but she was too fragile to maintain feeling something that strong. Across the hall someone dropped a cardboard box and the thud it made against the hardwood floors sounded too much like someone falling to the ground, and she fled from her room with wet hair and pajama pants that dragged on the floor suddenly desperate to not be alone.

She met them on the porch and Harry threw a half-smoked cigarette into the mud while Ron lurched unsteadily to his feet. He drank enough whiskey to kill a hippogriff, but he drank so much so often that on nights like this one, he could still function. Ron was closest to her and she clung to him. He tangled his hands in the back of her shirt and when his fingers touched her skin, they sparked, and she was jolted, and she cried.

He held her like that day didn't matter, and tomorrow wouldn't either. He held her like a father holds his daughter when she wakes up in the night. He held her like a man who holds a woman he has loved for all his life. She heard Harry's voice, more sound than words, and he held her too, like everything would be okay.

Minutes (hours?) fell away as they stood together in their solitude. Slowly, Hermione's shoulders quit shaking and Ron's fingers lost their death grip on her shirt. Harry let her go.

They could have said things like I'm sorry, it's okay, you did what you have to, the end justifies the means, time heals all wounds… but those were empty sentiments at best and blatant lies at worst, and they all knew it. It was hard to learn that sometimes words just get in the way, but War was a harsh teacher and they'd all learned that lesson quickly. Hermione turned her lips up in a brief half-smile when Ron lifted an eyebrow and stared hard at the bruise on her neck.

"What is that?"

"Cheap whiskey and nicotine." Her voice was rough and she met his frown with stiff shoulders and defiant eyes.

Maybe it was the alcohol that made him slump or sway just a bit as he sat down again; maybe it was more than that. If he were disappointed, he didn't say anything and if he were hurt, he didn't show it. Harry's eyes flickered from Ron to Hermione, and then back again. Ron shrugged almost imperceptibly and raised his bottle to her. In his salute she read his understanding and when Harry pulled out another cigarette, she knew he understood too. Some of the tension left her shoulders as she leaned against the rail. Even from the side they could see fire in her eyes, and they relaxed a little more knowing she'd make it through the night and maybe, someday she could even be okay.

Their tentative peace was broken as a second Order team limped through the doors. Tonks was bleeding but her hair was magenta, her eyes were bright, and all three members of the team she lead were more than just alive - they were animated. They were loud, but it was beautiful, because they were sound of victory, and Hermione didn't think she could ever grow tired of it. She gave a half-wave to the boys and left them on the porch to join Madam Pomfrey in healing superficial injuries.

"Off," in reference to Tonks' shirt. She was abrupt, brief at best, but she wasn't unkind and Tonks had been there one too many times to take offense behind the medical screen. Hermione cleaned the blood from the Auror's shoulder but she hesitated as her wand hovered to staunch the flow and cleanse the incision.

For a moment she froze. YOU KNOW THIS. You have done this every day for months. This is elementary. This is simple. This is textbook, this is easy. This is hypocrisy. I killed someone. I can't take lives and save others. I can't. I can't. I can. I have to. And she took a deep breath and stopped the bleeding, and then performed a charm to prevent infection as she knit the skin back together with such care that it wouldn't leave a scar. Tonks kept talking and never noticed the conflict written in the lines between Hermione's eyes.

"..Avery, well, the bastard fought to the death and tried to take me with him." She gestured to her shoulder. "Eddie Carmichael and Zacharias Smith decided to live a few more days, and they're being held at Azkaban. We interrupted the attack on the Creeveys. Got there in time, they're shaken up but fine. They've already been moved."

Hermione nodded, smiled her congratulations, and was quite nearly trampled when Tonks tripped over a bump in the rug and scrambled to keep her feet in her haste to make the official report. Madam Pomfrey bore witness to the event and saw the quick spasm of pain flash across Hermione's eyes when Tonks' elbow collided with her unhealed ribs. With a quick admonishment for Charlie and the rest of the team to rest, she was at Hermione's side with a gentle touch of her wand and a vial of Dreamless Sleep.

"Sit, Miss Granger, before you become my patient again."

Wordlessly, Hermione complied and took the vial, rolling it between her fingers and staring at silhouettes beyond the screen.

"I know you know how to heal a simple bruise. Tonks didn't notice, but I saw you hesitate before you healed an injury you have fixed nearly every day of this wretched war. What happened?"

"I killed someone."

Poppy softened, and she drew the haunted girl into embrace. For a long moment Hermione was unyielding, but when the stiffness broke and she clung to the Mediwitch with all the desperation of a drowning man thrown a life preserver.

"Hermione, I can't tell you everything will be okay, or that it won't happen again. It wasn't right for you to have been thrown into combat like that, but even Healers are soldiers, love - we have our orders, too. Today yours took you into battle, and when you came home, those same orders brought a member of the Order of the Phoenix to you to heal. Until you are called elsewhere, I need you here - you know that. Your hands are good, your hands are gentle, and your hands are healing hands. Events of today do not change that, Hermione. Do not forget that. Take this tonight, and only tonight. Tomorrow is another day."

And she closed Hermione's fingers around the vial. She nodded, sliding from the table in the makeshift hospital room, and as she turned to leave, she paused.

"..thank you."

It was enough as she crawled up the stairs to her room. She downed the potion with a savage thirst, and for a few hours, she ceased to exist, and it was wonderful.

I just wanted to take a brief moment and say thank you to everyone leaving reviews, favoriting the story, favoriting me as the author (!), setting Fireshy up for alerts - your kindness and encouragement is blowing me away. This is amazing to me, and I truly appreciate it. I respond to every review that I can - if you leave an anonymous review but desire a response and are comfortable leaving an email - I'd love to be able to thank you personally. That there are people that have found me after an entire YEAR who are still following the story is absolutely incredible to me, and I cannot thank you enough. That so many new people have found this story is so exciting. I really hope that I don't disappoint any of you.

Love always,
xThrenody