A/N: I am not JKR! I own none of this!

Hermione watched the boys she loved the most saunter off in different directions. Harry was heading towards the lake, head tilted up towards the castle. It was too far to see his face, but she bet there was a small smile upon it. His love for Hogwarts was no secret. The idea that he wouldn't come back, that he might never see it again after today made her ache. Ron meanwhile, who thought he was hiding his surprise that Harry wasn't planning on returning, had acquiesced to Harry's silent plea for solitude by taking off in the direction of his brother. For once he hadn't insisted on Hermione coming with him. Perhaps he was hoping without her nagging he might actually be able to harm Percy. Or at the very least insult him to his face.

She didn't mind. After all, she still had packing to do. Turning back to the castle, she tried her best not to think about what was to come next. The unknowns she couldn't control. The terrible things that were within her grasp. Shaking her head, she made her way into the silence of the castle.

There was none of the usual pandemonium that accompanied an end of year departure. Hagrid was caught up with the final funeral duties and so was not waiting near the entrance hall with his usual grin to take the seventh years back to the Hogwarts Express for the final time. Nobody was calling out for lost pets, or rapidly scribbling addresses for Owls. Ernie wasn't boasting about his exam scores. Prefects were not reminding anybody about protocols. The halls were hushed. The corridors quiet. The portraits were sombre. For once, Hermione had a direct path up the staircases to the common room. It was as if Hogwarts was mourning its headmaster as well.

Some of the sorrow of knowing she wasn't going to complete her education was lessened with the knowledge that Dumbledore was gone. What was Hogwarts without him? Though Ginny and Ron had discussed what they considered to be the likely choice that McGonagall would take over, Hermione had read too many Board of Governor meeting minutes from the last few centuries to trust that this would be the end of their misogynistic decisions. Or that Dumbledore hadn't named another successor ahead of his death. There was no end to his cryptic decisions. Even if it were a female headmaster, there was no guarantee another spate of anti-Muggleborn legislation would pass over the summer, thereby making it impossible for her to attend. No, the writing was on the wall. Regardless of her friendship with Harry, there was no way she'd be able to come back to Hogwarts. At least she'd be fighting for future generations to enjoy its education.

Her feet had carried her to the common room without noticing. Crookshanks weaved around her legs and she bent to scratch his head. He soon would be frustrated at being enclosed in his basket. She made a note to keep some treats in her purse before heading up to her dormitory.

As she went to push open the door, Lavender was already coming through it. Hermione sent her gaze to the floor, hoping to avoid a conversation.

'Are you still on this?' Lavender asked. Her voice sounded weary. Hermione looked up. The blonde witch's makeup was immaculate. If she'd cried at the funeral, she showed no trace of it.

'Sorry,' Hermione muttered in reply. 'I didn't mean to bother you.'

Lavender stared at her for a moment. The sear of her anger seemed to have abated. Her expression was one of anxious fatigue.

'No,' Lavender finally said. 'I imagine you didn't.'

She made no move to leave. Hermione stood in the doorway, unsure of what to say next.

'We're on the same side here.' The words were unexpected, coming from Lavender, who had seemed determined to torment Hermione this past year.

Hermione felt her mouth open, ready to respond. Lavender put her hand up, quelling it.

'It doesn't change you ruining my relationship, or the fact that for the past six years you have never bothered to learn anything about me, or acting holier than us because you couldn't tell a brush from a broomstick if it bit you in the arse.'

'Oh for merlin's sake,' Hermione fought back, the careful consideration she'd been giving Lavender over the last few weeks dissipating. 'You can't brush curly hair, it would just make it even frizzier!'

Lavender chuckled. 'This is what I'm talking about. It's not about the brush, Hermione. You could have made an effort with me and Parvati. Not everything needed to be a competition.'

Hermione shut her mouth tightly, fighting the urge to retort once more. Lavender sighed.

'Look, I just mean, good luck.'

'Excuse me?'

'With whatever you'll be doing with Harry.'

Hermione blinked at her, and Lavender chuckled once more. 'You stick to him like a wart plaster. It doesn't take a genius to figure out you'll go wherever he asks. No matter how dangerous. And I'm betting it's not here.'

Hermione stayed silent.

'So good luck. Fight You-Know-Who and all of that. Do what you need to do.'

Her throat grew tight. Had Lavender seen the book she'd "borrowed" from the library?

With another tight smile, and without waiting for a response, Lavender pushed past Hermione and went down the stairs. Panic bloomed inside of her, and Hermione rushed towards her four-poster. Her trunk was open beside her crisply-made bed. No sign of disruption. Carefully she pulled out the dress she'd worn for Slughorn's party, unwinding it to reveal a leather-bound book. Memory Modifications for the Meddling. She forced herself to take a breath. It didn't appear that Lavender had found it. But her last comment had her wondering…

It had come to her as Fawkes sang his lament. The keening for Dumbledore ringing in the truth that they were no longer safe. Harry no longer had Dumbledore's protection, and soon would no longer have the Dursleys. The moment he turned of age, Hermione recognized that Harry's family might be in danger. Whether Harry would go to rescue them was irrelevant. You-Know-Who would be going after those closest to Harry, and he wasn't above harming family members to get what he wanted. Which meant that Hermione's parents, whom she had successfully kept in the dark for the past two years about the turmoil of the wizarding world, were in danger. How long would it be before Death Eaters sought out their St. Alban's home in an effort to get to Hermione? Even if they did, her parents could tell them nothing, because they knew next to nothing. Nothing about her times at the Burrow. Nothing about the emotional upheaval of the past few months. Nothing about their ill-fated journey to the Ministry last year, or Cedric's death, or that You-Know-Who had returned. She hadn't told them that Sirius was gone, or that she was a member of the Order of the Phoenix in all but name. Not that Ron had nearly died, or that she'd seen Dumbledore plummet to his death. As far as they were concerned, she was off studying her kooky little magic, which sometimes could cause bodily harm.

In fact, it was their disdain for magic that made her abundantly grateful that she hadn't told them anything. It meant that they could be safe. As Harry looked to the Phoenix with grief in his eyes, Hermione realized that she had to send her parents away. But not just away, but with new identities. As a childless couple. People who had no idea that magic existed. Or that she herself existed. It was the only way she knew to keep them safe.

Yet, taking the book from the library under cover of the cloak and beginning to practice the incantation did nothing to help ease the knot in her stomach. She would be modifiying her parents' memories without their consent, which made her a terrible person. No matter how noble the reasoning, it did nothing to change the facts. So she breathed not a word of it to Harry or Ron. They didn't need to see her any differently.

She re-wrapped the book and carefully set it back in her trunk. Sitting on her four-poster, aware it was the last time, she admired the sliver of sky from the window. It was incredible how the sky could remain so blue, when the day was so sad. It seemed incongruous with all the emotions she had swirling inside of her.

Crookshanks came bounding through the open doorway, meowing for attention. He hopped up and nuzzled against her leg. Once more she scratched his head idly. Would her parents take the cat? Would Crookshanks even allow himself to stay with them? It's not like they had a particularly warm relationship. Still…

She glanced once more around the empty room. Gone were the makeup containers of Lavender and Parvati. The copies of Witch Weekly were no longer strewn across the floor. No towels or dressing gowns hung on the sides of the beds. And perhaps for the first time, Hermione missed them. Lavender's words rebounded in her brain. Hermione had never thought she was better than them. Well alright, perhaps she did think it was better to be focused on academics than makeup, and certainly she'd never given the time of day to their myriad discussions about Divination, but she never felt competitive towards them.

Had she been jealous of Lavender and Ron? Certainly. But she'd never breathed a word of it to Lavender. Hadn't she been the one to sit through all the loud conversations between Lavender and Parvati about Ron's exploits? She'd never once tried to hex her, had slept in the Common Room to avoid confrontation sometimes. She hadn't done anything wrong.

She could remember the pair of them giggling as they got ready to go to the Yule Ball. Parvati had asked her for advice about Harry, but Hermione had been far too busy trying to understand the Sleekeasy directions. In hindsight, perhaps it had been cruel of her to tell Parvati that Harry wasn't interested in her at all. But the truth never hurt. No, Hermione was the one who felt like an outsider, intruding on their friendship.

Then why did it make her feel so rotten?

With a huff, she stood up. Now was not the time for reminiscing. There were things to be done. Namely, she had one more shot at trying to find these darned Horcrux books. She'd ticked off all the places in Hogwarts she thought that they might be hiding, after Dumbledore's cryptic words. No luck. Yet another cryptic clue from the Headmaster. It was as if he was determined to make it difficult for her to find on her own! Hermione had never resorted to asking for help with books.

Unbidden, she remembered Dumbledore's phrase to Harry. Perhaps the castle might help her in this situation as well?

Feeling rather foolish, she pulled out her wand and made her way to the window.

'Accio Horcrux books!'

A breeze wafted in. A bird chirped in the forest. Far below, she could hear the sounds of dozens of chairs being stacked together. No sign of the books.

Useless, she thought to herself, cheeks burning with embarrassment. How silly to think it would be that easy.

She'd turned around to begin changing into muggle clothes for the journey back to London when something hit her in the back of the head.

'Ouch!' she exclaimed, raising a hand to the sore spot on her skull. 'What the-'

Looking down at what had hit her, she managed to miss being hit by the subsequent three books zooming in through the window.

Staring at the cover of Secrets of the Darkest Art, she began to laugh. Merlin only knew where they came from. She suspected Dumbledore's study. Tucking the books into her trunk, she began to strip off her robes. Once they were off, she placed them carefully over the contraband books, hoping that Filch would be too deep in grief to check trunks. After pulling on some muggle clothes, she shut her trunk, and walked out onto the landing, Crookshanks bounding behind her. This time she narrowly avoided hitting Ginny, who was slowly making her way up to her own room.

It might have been because Ginny never went anywhere slowly, but Hermione knew something was wrong.

'Ginny?' she asked softly. 'Are you alright?'

Ginny lifted her face, greeting Hermione with red-rimmed eyes and a runny nose.

'Course,' she said, giving a small sniff, and dabbing at her eyes with the corner of her sleeve. 'I…' she trailed off. Hermione looked at her anxiously. It wasn't like Ginny to be emotional like this. Yes, she'd cried at the funeral, but that was to be expected. Grief manifested in different ways.

'The funeral was tough.' Hermione tried to sound comforting, unsure of what to do.

'I wish it was just the funeral,' Ginny grumbled, another tear sliding down her cheek.

Hermione was stumped. 'Did Percy say something to you?'

Ginny looked at her, and a laugh burst out unexpectedly. 'That dunce? No, he knew to stay clear.'

The small smile she had at the thought disappeared quickly.

'Harry left me.'

It took a moment for Hermione to process the words. She thought at first that Ginny was upset that Harry had left her to go walk around the castle, and wasn't sure why it brought out such strong feelings. Then the truth hit her.

'Oh Ginny,' she breathed. 'I'm so sorry.'

Ginny nodded. 'You know what the worst of it is?'

Hermione shook her head.

'I can't even be mad at him for it. He's doing it to protect me. Like the stupid, noble, git that he is.'

Stupid noble git did seem pretty fitting words for Harry at this moment.

'That's what he said to you?' Hermione asked. Ginny nodded again.

'Said he didn't want Voldemort to use me to get to him. Didn't want me to get hurt. Like being dumped isn't hurtful.'

Hermione immediately thought of Sirius, of Harry's dark days after his death. She remembered the whispered conversations with Ron about how to cheer him up, how to make sure he was okay. Given how inordinately happy she'd seen Ginny make Harry these past few weeks, it struck her that Harry might lose his mind if Ginny was in any danger.

'Doing it probably hurt him as well,' Hermione told Ginny. 'It's not like he chucked you aside because he was tired of you.'

Ginny looked up at her. 'But it's not like he's telling you and Ron to stay away from him, is it?'

Hermione frowned. Ginny continued. 'I saw the three of you conspiring after the funeral!'

'Ginny,' Hermione began, 'that's different. We-'

'Of course it's different,' Ginny spat, anger now burning in her eyes. 'It's always the trio first. Guess I was just deluding myself these past few weeks. You'll always be the ones he turns to.'

'Ginny, that's not true. He's doing his best. With Dumbledore gone-'

'I know.' Ginny put up her hand to stop her. 'I know he's doing his best. I know Dumbledore left him instructions. I know there are things he can't tell me. I know, Hermione!' Tears sparkled in her eyes. 'But it doesn't change the fact that I'm scared for him and hurting at the same time.' Another wave of tears cascaded down her cheeks.

'Promise you'll keep him safe?' she asked, eyes fluttering shut. Hermione felt her insides go cold. She could do no such thing. There was a massive possibility that Harry might die, even if she didn't want it to happen. She would do everything in her power to keep him and Ron alive, but it didn't mean it was going to be successful. Who even knew if the stupid prophecy was right, or if it were open to interpretation?

'Hermione, please.' Ginny rarely begged. All Hermione could do was nod. 'Thank you.'

She swallowed and pushed past Hermione. Closing the door to her room behind her, Hermione heard a sharp inhale. Part of her wondered if she should go comfort her friend. She wasn't sure how to go about doing that. So instead, she grabbed her trunk and headed down to the common room. At the very least, she needed to tackle getting Crookshanks into his carrier. One thing at a time.

As she tried to coax the yowling cat, she couldn't help but fixate that she was a terrible human after all.