With thanks to heartmom88 and ofankoma for all their help and encouragement.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Hermione dressed in the smart silk skirt and embroidered top that she had been saving for the long awaited memorial service, wishing that she had chosen something less pretty and more covering. The curse scar from her fifth year showed slightly above the neckline and if she removed the outer robe then the marks from Bella's knife would be on display, although everyone knew about them anyway. Somehow the Prophet had got hold of the medical details of the survivors and she had almost become accustomed to peoples' gazes wandering below her neckline or along her arms. She had watched Harry long enough to know that you never got used to that sort of silent invasiveness. She had carried the same scars the entire time she had been with Severus but, like the dark tattoo on his forearm, they just hadn't seemed important.

She pulled her mind back to the present. She wasn't going to think about him, at least not tonight. Tonight was for those that she could still be with.

The Memorial Ball was supposed to mark the recovery of the wizarding world after the war and the beginning of a new era of prosperity and hope. Hogwarts, though in a usable state before the school year had begun, was to be declared finally restored to its former glory and a separate ceremony was to follow in a few days' time. Hermione had been looking forward to the evening for months, as desperate as the rest of the wizarding world to finally have a chance to move forwards. In the days following her release from the spell the thought of any celebration had sickened her. Now, appraising herself in the mirror of the wardrobe door, her feelings were much harder to pin down. It seemed disingenuous to believe that one night of revelry could heal the still-fresh wounds of war, yet at the same time it seemed important that they at least try.

She smoothed her hands over the luxurious material of her robe one last time before heading downstairs to Dissaparate.

-x-

Hermione had never been inside the Ministry Ballroom before, although considering that her only really experience of the Ministry of Magic before this had generally involved sneaking around hiding from Death Eaters, she imagined there was a lot of the prestigious building that would be new to her. She scanned the crowd and was relieved to see Ron and Harry chatting to several of their friends over by the buffet table. She hugged them both, perhaps more fiercely than they might have expected, but they hugged her back happily. Losing so many friends had meant none of them were shy about expressing affection any more. Harry kept his arm linked with hers and Ron smiled at her cheerfully, obviously grateful that the tension that had followed them both after their short relationship seemed to have finally dissipated.

Her heart was almost full to bursting with love for these two boys. They had seen one another at their worst but had emerged from all of it stronger than ever. It was monstrous to think that the entire time she had been caught in the spell she had not thought about them once. It was worse still that she had hidden away from them since her return. They were such a huge part of her life.

The crowds grew heavier as more and more people filed into the hall. It seemed as if anybody with the slightest connection to the war or the Ministry had been invited. Ginny arrived, pulling Hermione into a warm hug and pointing her in the direction of the Weasley table next to one of the Doric columns, before taking her place by Harry's side.

It took her several minutes to squeeze her way through the crowds but the area near the tables was less packed and it was with relief that she greeted the family that had done its best to adopt her and Harry.

Mrs. Weasley hugged her tightly before pulling her down into the chair next to hers and treating her to an appraising stare. "You look better," she decided. "Not completely back to how you were, but definitely better than you have been for the last year now."

"I don't think I'll ever feel quite the way I did before this time a year ago, but I'm definitely starting to move forwards."

"You're too thin you know."

"I know."

"Good girl. You should come round for dinner more often. Oh, I know you have your own life but we miss you. Ginny tries to come home as often as she can but I don't like to think that she's missing out on time spent with her friends. You and Harry are both a part of the family. Maybe now you and Ron have put that silliness behind you you'll be round more often."

"I didn't mean to hurt him,"

"Oh, shush. The war turned everything upside down and inside out. Maybe if it hadn't been for everything that had happened you might have stayed together or maybe never have got together in the first place. I'm just glad you didn't lose each other completely. We all lost far too much as it is." She reached inside her sleeve for her handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. "I was hoping I'd at least get to the speeches before I started crying."

Hermione remembered the subdued smiles of the Weasley family and realised with a start that it was almost the anniversary, not only of the battle, but of Fred's death. "Oh, Molly. I'm so sorry."

"It's alright, dear. It gets easier after a while but sometimes it just sneaks up on you. I don't think it will ever lose its edge."

With that George was at her side. "Don't worry, Mum. I've got a few things planned that should cheer you up," he assured her. "It'll be as if Fred never left."

"You will not play any silly pranks at a Ministry function, George! Your Father will have to come back in on Monday morning knowing that whatever happened was your fault! And Percy's being considered for a promotion! The last thing he needs is you making him look bad,"

"Honestly, I think he can manage that all on his own," muttered a voice beside her. She turned to find Ron holding out a glass of punch. "Best have a glass now before George manages to spike it," he advised, sinking into the chair next to hers. "You seen Harry?"

"Not for a while," she admitted, sipping the drink. "He's probably with Ginny."

"Don't remind me," Ron grumbled, good-naturedly. "Those two still have the ability to make me feel vaguely nauseous. You know, the way he talks about her, it's like they're married or something."

She laughed, glancing round the table at the extended family she had somehow acquired, and beyond them into the flow of people still filling the hall. She waved happily back to a group of Gryffindors by the bar and felt the last of the tension that threatened to mar the evening flow from her.

-x-

Hermione was listening with interest as Percy explained the plans to devolve certain Ministry powers to independently elected bodies when she felt Ron stiffen beside her and sigh theatrically. She turned to see Harry striding towards them, his face as black as thunder, Ginny following resignedly behind.

"They're going to knock down his house!"

"Whose house, mate?"

"Snape's!" Harry hissed. "The Muggles are knocking down his house and the Ministry isn't going to do anything about it. We're going to speak to Kingsley, right now!"

"Harry, I don't know-" Hermione began. The last thing she wanted to do was to be reminded of the few terrifying minutes she had spent searching the dusty building for a sign of Severus that just wasn't there. It haunted her even now.

"Is not as if he needs it anymore, is it?" Ron reasoned, snapping her from her thoughts.

"Ronald, that isn't the point and you know it!"

"Good, then you'll come!" Harry stalked away through the crowd, ignoring the stares that followed him across the room. Hermione threw an irritated glare in Ron's direction before following.

They had almost reached Minister Kingsley where he stood talking softly to Mr Weasley, when Ginny caught her arm. "Are you alright?"

"Why did he have to find out about this tonight?" Hermione could hear the petulance in her own voice but it didn't stop her feeling personally aggrieved. She had been genuinely enjoying herself. Tonight was supposed to be about finally letting the past rest, not digging over all the painful memories.

Ginny looked confused. "You knew?" she queried before Harry's opening salvo had her rushing to his side.

Well of course she knew. Surely it must be common knowledge by now? Given that the war had ended almost a year ago exactly the tired little street must have been condemned for a good twelve or more months by now. What shocked her most was that it hadn't been torn down already. She probably wouldn't have been able to resist returning one last time had she thought any part of her time with Severus remained.

Taking her place next to Ron she listened uncomfortably to Kinsley's slow, conciliatory reply.

"We wanted to preserve it, maybe like your parents' house in Godrick's Hollow," he assured his audience. "But public sentiment still doesn't favour Snape. We were worried such a site might attract the darker elements still left in our society."

"He always kept his home a secret, Harry. He wouldn't have wanted people to see it, anyway. He was a very private man," Arthur added, reasonably.

Hermione bit down hard on the inside of her cheek and stared determinedly at the muted purple collar on Kingsley's robes. She had been afraid that she might be forced to listen to Harry talk about Snape; to be caught in a discussion about the man and his demise was every bit as painful as she had feared.

She forced her attention to wander. Glancing up at the raised dais behind them she noticed the large portrait that had been hung to follow the proceedings. Its animated face seemed to watch over the crowd with an air of benign munificence while its richly embroidered robes seemed to somehow glint and shimmer in the candle-light.

"What is he doing here?" she hissed.

Ron glanced up and followed her line of vision to where another well-wisher had stepped forward to talk to Dumbledore's portrait. "A lot of people still love him," he shrugged. "He did help Harry defeat Voldemort."

"He sent Harry to his death!"

"He knew what he was doing." It was an old argument and she sensed Ron only took his side out of habit.

"No he didn't. All he had was conjecture. It takes remorse to remove your soul from a Horcrux, not someone else's willing sacrifice. He had no way of knowing Harry could survive."

"But he did. He lived."

"But how many people died, Ron? And even if they loved the man, that up there is still just a portrait. What right does a portrait have to be invited to official Ministry gatherings? Does it get to sit in on Ministry meetings, too?"

Ron sighed and opened his mouth to speak but Hermione's attention was caught by the sound of her name.

"-how long it took for her wand to be released from evidence from the Lestrange case. Dealing with Muggles takes longer still. Had the demolition order not been granted just before Christmas there might have been more we could do. As it was we found out too late and most of our resources were already focussed on planning tonight. Once Muggles get things onto computers it becomes much harder to change them."

Harry ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "We at least owe it to him to try, don't we? Can't-"

"Christmas?" Hermione interrupted. "Christmas after the war?"

Kingsley turned to her, apparently resigned that the rest of the Golden Trio were about to wade in to the argument. He looked tired but Hermione was too intent upon his reply to care.

"Yes. We didn't find out until late December. The Ministry barely operates over Christmas and from what I can understand, local Muggle government is much the same," he sighed. "We've managed to slow them this far but we couldn't undo their decision without seriously compromising the Statute of Secrecy."

"Damn the Statute of Secrecy!" Harry spat. "If Muggles haven't figured out about us after everything that happened under Voldemort then I don't think a few Obliviates and some missing computer files are going to expose our world!"

The argument carried on around her but Hermione was no longer listening. She wasn't even aware of Ron's arm around her until he spoke, his hushed voice soft with concern.

"Are you alright, Hermione? You've gone awfully pale."

"Yes," she replied, distracted. "Yes, I'm fine." Glancing up she could see Ginny watching her with concern, one conciliatory hand still placed on Harry's arm. "Actually, I think I could use a little air."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, it's alright. See if you can calm Harry down before he starts shouting. I'll just be a little while."

She worked her way through the crowd, edging towards the double doors with frustrating slowness. People stopped to shake her hand and press words of greeting upon her. She wasn't sure what she replied as she pushed her way inexorably towards the exit. There were people crowded in the cooler air just beyond the door so she forced herself to walk calmly until she turned the corner when she began to run.

Her impractical shoes clattered loudly on the marble floor as she raced towards the Apparition points at the far end of the Atrium. It felt as if the white noise of the crowd was still filling her head, making it impossible to think clearly. She wasn't even certain that she could Apparate without risk of splinching.

She forced herself to stop beside the scaffolding and heavy white curtains that covered the latest fountain to calm herself down. The new design was meant to be unveiled later in the evening but there was already a general consensus about the trite symbols of peace and unity that were likely to be depicted. She glared at the hidden monument, wondering where the funding for all the post war celebrations was coming from and ignoring the roaring in her ears lest it separate out into the desperate, hopeful questions that would stop her from being able to think, to focus.

The trouble was, nothing could abate the growing certainty burning inside her chest. She tried to ignore it, tried to be calm and rational, to be realistic. Severus had shown her first-hand the pain of dying hope. She wasn't sure she was strong enough to have her heart broken again.

-x-

She Apparated to the narrow street that ran behind the houses and carefully stowed her wand away before moving cautiously down the side alley to the main street. In the late Spring evening it looked much the same as it had the last time she was here. The end of the street was cordoned off by a high metal fence and the smell of building dust was heavy in the air.

She walked slowly up to the faded black door and knocked. It was so quiet on the street that the sound of traffic drifting across from the other side of town seemed unnaturally loud.

The door clicked open and she stepped inside, raising her wand to light the dark corners of the tiny room. It was unchanged; the only sign of movement was the partially obliterated footprints she had left in the dust when she had frantically charged from room to room. It was impossible to gauge how long ago that was. Had it been months as she had believed? Weeks? Maybe only days?

She didn't bother searching the other rooms. One glance around the little sitting room was enough to convince her that the rest of the house would be just as derelict. Instead she crossed the room to the lopsided sofa and allowed herself to sink down into its threadbare cushions, heedless of the dust that marked her fine clothes.

The tears she had been stubbornly fighting ever since Harry had mentioned Snape's name were finally allowed to fall unchecked.

It was as she feared.