A/N: Hello folks! Whether you're here after reading my first fic, The Bright Green Blanket, or are stumbling on my writing for the first time, welcome. This is my second multi-chapter Harry Potter fic. My last was very contained and more for character exploration purposes, but I am going full-in on this one, and I'm so excited to share it with you all. It will be Dramione, but we will all need to be patient as we get there.

Potential trigger warnings for the fic: There will be violence and character death (and keep in mind this is still Hogwarts, so it will include children.) Anything other than these things will be included in chapter notes. However, there will be no non-con or sexual violence of any kind, which I see a lot of in Voldemort-wins fics. It can and has been used smartly and beautiful stories have come from plots containing those elements, but this will not be one of them.

I am hoping to post a new chapter every two weeks, but please be patient during the first few chapter releases as I figure out what works best for me.

Happy reading!

They couldn't kill the snake. Hermione and Ron were lucky to have survived when the attack turned against them. Ron's shield charm could barely hold off Nagini long enough for her to lose interest and slither elsewhere. Despite their survival, they didn't have time to warn Harry.

Hermione had tried sending a Patronus to carry their message of failure, but a Weakening Hex had been sent her way and interrupted the spell. Ron had tried rushing them to a quiet corner so she could try again, but the hex had made it harder to cast. Whatever memories she tried to summon failed, and it was too hard to conjure up another moment of happiness. By the time she could cast the counter-hex, it was too late.

Meanwhile, Harry stood up against Voldemort with confidence. After all, the Dark Wizard looked so weak. They were meant to win, and the Boy Who Lived could feel how close they were to victory when he raised his wand, throwing every last bit of hope into his spell. But no matter how close they'd come, it wasn't enough. Harry Potter was dead and had left this life thinking he was saving it. For some, there was comfort in knowing that he would never be able to learn the truth. He would be spared of what was to come.

With Harry dead, there was nothing to hold Voldemort back from absolute power. People lost the momentum to keep fighting, while others succumbed to grief too quickly to realise the advantage it had given Voldemort and his army of Death Eaters. Chaos broke out the second Harry's body hit the ground.

So many were already dead. Shacklebolt, Lupin, Fred, and Percy's corpses were strewn amongst the rubble, adding to the death toll that nobody was prepared to count. Everybody in the Resistance knew that stepping forward meant certain death. The Wizarding World was redefined in those moments, and so was Hogwarts.

It didn't take long for the dust to settle. The adults who fought in the battle knew that their options were limited. Some chose to kill themselves. Their spells almost went unnoticed amongst the crowd. Had it not been for the witnesses, the world might have believed that they simply died during the battle. Others were clever enough to sneak off as soon as Harry fell, like Nymphadora Tonks. Molly and Arthur Weasley had run, too, after watching their son, George, choose the final option: joining the Death Eaters.

Ron blamed himself for all of it. If he had only tried harder, been faster, or succeeded in casting his own Patronus, they might not have lost their best friend. Wouldn't have lost the war. But the damage had been done, and even though Hermione didn't share the same guilt, they could at least find solace in each other.

The first few days after the battle was perhaps the easiest, though nobody knew then. Voldemort and his army withdrew from Hogwarts to plan their next steps, leaving the rest to deal with the rubble. There were no instructions or voices to follow. It was as if they had been forgotten. So, some did nothing. Dozens of students sat around, wondering if they would be allowed to go home. Others huddled together in secret, whispering ways that they could still win. We could pretend to be Death Eaters and get close enough to Voldemort to kill him, somebody had suggested. We could find out where they're staying and burn it to the ground with Fiendfyre, said another. But they all knew it was just talk. They barely had the strength to eat, let alone form another resistance.

Minerva McGonagall used what little fight she had left to ensure that the injured were healed and the corpses were respectfully disposed of. She and Madam Pomfrey did their best to heal the physical wounds, leaving their own for last.

Hagrid dug rows of graves on the school's grounds, carrying the bodies one by one as everybody watched through tears. It was only at the end, when Harry's grave had been filled, that he broke down, weeping so loud that the trees seemed to shake, sending the birds off in a hurry. Looking uncomfortable by the inconsolable half-giant, the students rushed off to give him privacy. Ginny Weasley lingered the longest, staying so that she could place a single lily atop Harry's fresh grave.

Hermione spent a lot of time with Ron in those first few days, not knowing where else she could turn and knowing that Ron had nowhere else. Aside from Ginny, everybody in Ron's family was either dead, missing, or had betrayed them. The two remaining siblings weren't sure how to talk to one another, not that Ron had ever been the best conversationalist. But even Ginny held back, knowing their combined grief might have been too much for either of them to handle.

Ron and Hermione ignored the dragon in the room – their kiss, stolen in a moment of passion during the battle. It had been magnificent, toe-curling, and the climax of years spent pining. But now, with so many fallen and an outlook too grim, Hermione worried that Ron would carry guilt from it, too. How could he have enjoyed something while so many others were suffering in the corridors above them? Despite not acknowledging the meaning of the kiss, the two would not be separated. Their hands never unglued themselves, and they even fell asleep together on whatever bed or sofa hadn't already been taken. It was as if a string had been tied to each of them, and even the slightest distance would cause it to unravel.

Eventually, time started to move again, albeit slowly. The days that followed were so jumbled together, with nobody keeping track of time. It was all the same. Ginny would wake up, grab a broom, and fly off with a speed that grew faster each day. She didn't talk about where she had gone off to when she would return, but it wasn't like anybody was asking. Luna explored the castle grounds, coming back each night with handfuls of trinkets that she was eager to talk about, and she would spend the next day returning them to their rightful hiding spots. Neville would bring packs of younger students to the greenhouses, teaching them about Herbology to distract them from everything else.

Some people tried to leave. The Floo networks within the castle were all closed off, so anybody who had a home to go back to would have to walk to Hogsmeade to disapparate. There were so many risks that went beyond being splinched, as Death Eaters were constantly patrolling the village. It was mostly the older Pureblood students who left, crossing their fingers that their families were still safe thanks to their status. The post continued to arrive at the castle, but so much of it was filled with warnings to stay put. So, everybody else stayed, assuming they would be safer together.

Ron spent his days sitting in front of an open window, looking out at the grounds, his head likely swirling with different scenarios of how things could have been different. Hermione was always nearby just in case, analysing the different expressions he would wear and making guesses as to which horrors he was reliving. She began using her fear of a possible breakdown from Ron as an encouragement to keep her own head high. If she could not stay sane for herself, she would do it for somebody she loved.

While she was there when he might need her, she eventually started sneaking off to what was left of the library after Ron fell asleep. She was always back before morning when he would rise with the sun, tucking herself back into his arms as if she had never left. But those dark and quiet hours were just what she needed to lose herself in whatever book she came across first. She re-read old spell books, magical history tomes, and the odd fictional tale. Her thoughts would always shut off by the time she finished the first sentence, opening a window for the hours to whizz by. Hermione wasn't always alone, either. Other students, like Padma Patil, also found solace in the library. They rarely spoke but shared couches or reading nooks whenever they came across the other and traded books whenever they noticed that the other was almost done.

The adults grieved in their own time. There were still enough house-elves in the castle to keep everybody fed. Still, Hermione often spotted Minerva walking around the Great Hall tables, ensuring that the students were all eating enough. She, along with the others, was always present throughout the day. The students would whisper between themselves, theorising what they did in the evenings. Some wondered if they were privy to more than they let on. Were they keeping the students here for Voldemort? Had it all been a part of his plan all along? Hermione defended them whenever she could, insisting they were just trying to keep them safe. Though, as she listened to Ron fall asleep every night, she wondered what wasn't being said. She tried to speak with Minerva in private on more than one occasion but was always told the same thing: Miss Granger, I assure you that you will know when something changes.

One morning in the middle of June, everybody seemed to wake up with the same thought. It is time to rebuild Hogwarts. There weren't coordinated plans or targeted spaces. But everybody started finding their own ways to contribute after breakfast that day. The teachers began by rebuilding the structural components of the castle. There had been so many walls blown out and towers brought down, and it took weeks to put all the pieces back in place or conjure new materials. The Astronomy Tower took the longest, and dozens of students were recruited to help re-create the space. Not that they minded, considering the history that the tower held. It may have been where Dumbledore had taken his last breath, but it was also home to countless stories about late nights hiding from prefects or quiet moments between classes.

The rest of the students worked to clear out the near-endless rubble, clean classrooms, and dormitories, and rebuild windows. There were many broken windows, but some took delight in crafting their own colourful designs on the glass panes. Luna created a rainbow mosaic that fell directly into the sun's path, and every morning it would fill one of the halls with beautiful colours and a shimmer that made her smile return. It was the first beautiful thing that Hogwarts had seen in months. What students didn't know – including Luna – was that Hermione had charmed it to continue letting the sunlight in, even on the darkest, dreariest days.

Unsurprisingly, Hermione took to working in the library. Her reading nights were surrounded by debris and ruined books, so it only felt natural that it would be the place for her to start. Ron came with her for the first few days. He would walk around at a snail's pace, helping to banish some of the dust from the shelves or eliminate small piles of rubble. He only seemed to do so when Hermione would glance in his direction, using her gaze to summon all of his strength for a bit of magic. Then, one morning, he stuck behind in the Great Hall and left her to work on her own. It was as if the string holding them together had finally fallen without the painful break that they both may have feared. They didn't discuss the change in pattern, and it stayed that way for the remaining mornings. She never bothered to ask, which he assumed was done out of respect for his sadness. Truthfully, her lack of questioning was more for her benefit. Without Ron, she didn't have to feel like she had to keep up with mending the pair of broken hearts. It was just hers, left alone in the library, with the privacy to shed tears when they came or take breaks when the weight of it all felt like too much.

Hermione would frequently turn corners or walk down a hall and see visions of the past creeping into her line of sight. Students bloodied on the ground, wounded from the worst hexes. Wizards against Death Eaters, blasting curses into the air without regard for where they might land if they miss their intended targets.

She would later find proof of magical horrors that had gone unseen while working in the restricted section, which would be the last of her library touch-ups. The all too familiar crimson dried blood splattered across the golden windowpane, perfectly angled to have come from somebody's throat. Without thinking, Granger pulled her fingers up to the liquid that was once proof of life, delicately tracing the curves it made as it dripped lower to the ground. It could have come from anybody. It could have been Remus, or Fred, or somebody that she had sat next to in school. As sorrow began creeping into her lungs, Hermione remembered that it could just as well have been the blood of a fallen Death Eater. The thought left her smirking for a second longer than she would ever admit to herself.

"Scourgify," she whispered, erasing the reminder of death. As the blood was cleaned from the window, Hermione buried the thought of it with all the rest, wishing that she had bothered to learn Occlumency so that she could put the happier memories above the rest. She couldn't let herself be like Ron. No, she had to be strong for him and everybody else who would no doubt need her as the initial shock of their shared loss continued to wear off. Instead of letting depression take over, she allowed her body to slowly hollow itself out from the inside.

She felt calmed by the speed at which her general sadness disappeared like it was never really there. Hermione decided to use the steadiness within to good use. It had been weeks since she had a proper conversation about the future or the past, and it was as good a time as any to do her best and try.

"Ron," Hermione whispered, gently nudging the redhead who had fallen asleep on the sofa in Gryffindor Tower in the middle of the afternoon. "Wake up."

"Harr," he started, stopping himself short. "Hermione?"

Rather than answer, Hermione gave him a moment to let reality come flooding back to him, as it did every time he woke up. She had seen him rise with tired eyes, ready to take on the day, only for his expression to instantly come crashing down with the memory that the day left to take on would never be in his favour. She had to wonder if it was part of why she was constantly rising before him. She knew that his presence might offer some peace to him, like a reminder that not all was lost. Not that he looked much more hopeful when he caught her gaze.

"I was thinking we could go for a walk tonight," Hermione finally asked as he stood, stretching his long limbs until they cracked.

"What for?"

"Some fresh air, I suppose."

"Alright," Ron answered quickly as if he were afraid of changing his mind. "We can go after dinner."

Neither contributed to a single conversation in the Great Hall that night. The room was growing louder every evening, with new voices finally eager to talk things through or continue theorising about the future of Hogwarts. Now it was filled with rumors of what was happening at the Ministry. According to Harper Robbins, the latest news was that the Dark Lord had been seen at the Ministry on half a dozen occasions in the past two weeks. Pius Thicknesse remained the Minister of Magic, despite the world knowing Voldemort controlled all his strings. Harper openly questioned if this meant Voldemort would be taking over the position, acting at the forefront of the Wizarding World instead of just amongst the shadows.

Robbins, a Ravenclaw, who had been two years below Hermione, was making quite the name for herself in the gossip department. She had shared many tales from outside the school walls and prided herself in knowing things before they had made their way to the front pages of The Daily Prophet. Hermione was suspicious at first, wondering if she had mingled in dark circles. Eventually, she learned that Harper's uncle worked in the paper's print department. He started mailing her letters shortly before the Battle of Hogwarts began when her parents had died. He was officially her only remaining family member. Harper admitted that the updates were just a way for them to have something to talk about, as it helped them avoid the topic of her orphaning. Hermione felt guilty for ever suspecting otherwise, even if she had never uttered her thoughts aloud.

More students joined Harper in wondering what Voldemort's presence at the Ministry could mean. Hermione had found her thoughts clouded before she could hear any of the guesses, which also helped speed up time. Soon enough, everybody was getting up from their seats and heading back to their respective common rooms. It was the first day that all four had been rebuilt and were ready for sleeping in.

"Are we still going on that walk?" Ron asked, pulling Hermione to the side as she started walking back to Gryffindor Tower out of habit.

"Oh, yes. Of course."

They started walking toward the castle's entrance, abruptly stopping in their tracks as soon as the fresh air hit their faces.

"Have you… Have you gone outside since?" Hermione whispered into the air, suddenly realising how long it had been.

Ron just shook his head.

"Me neither."

Their hands found each other, with Hermione gripping tightly against Ron's sweaty palm, reconnecting the string. They summoned the strength to move forward now that they could hold on to the other for support. Their bodies took them in the direction of the Great Lake, where they walked along the edge of the water, placing as much distance between them and the fresh graves scattered along the back of the castle and near the Forbidden Forest.

They walked more than a kilometer in silence.

Hermione wanted to ask Ron about his feelings for her. She had actually wanted to ask him immediately after their kiss, fearing that he might change his mind. Had he thought about kissing her before they finally did? Did his crush grow over the years at Hogwarts as hers had? And now that they had lost the war, and their best friend in the process, would they still move forward as boyfriend and girlfriend? But before she could open her mouth and ask all the questions that had been bubbling up over the weeks, she noticed just how tense his entire body had been. She feared that making him think too hard about anything would make him explode, and it was a reminder of why she had waited so long to bring it up in the first place.

After walking even further away, when they could see the castle in its entirety, along with the sprawling waters in front of it, she dared to ask at least one thing.

"What do you think is going to happen next?"

"I don't know, Hermione."

He paused and kept walking forward. After another minute, he opened his mouth to speak again but quickly closed it.

"I guess we'll just keep moving forward. Like we always do," he finally answered.

She wanted him to ask her the question, too. It wasn't as if she had rehearsed an answer. Hers would likely be as non-committal as Ron's had been. But he could have at least asked. Still, she was just grateful that he had not entirely given up on a future for himself, even if he didn't know what it might look like.

They said very little as they walked back to the castle. Harry's absence wasn't entirely new to the pair, who had spent many weeks together at The Burrow without him, along with their uncountable nights together at Hogwarts as friends and nothing more. It shouldn't have felt like something was missing now that they were even closer, tied together by tragedy. She was in love with him, after all. It was a fact that she had been repeating to herself every night when she fell asleep with him as she tried to ignore the fact that he hadn't said goodnight, asked her how she was doing or seemed to notice when she didn't eat dinner. It wasn't that she wasn't willing to wait for him to grieve, especially considering how much more he had lost than her. She just wished he would let her in as he did it, no matter how hard it might be.

The moonlight was shining on them in full force by the time they returned to the castle. She took a moment to look up at it before they went inside, closing her eyes and letting its light warm her from the inside out, grounding her in place. Before she could open her eyes and face another night of sleeplessness, Hermione felt a warm breath against her cheek and then a pair of cold lips pressing down on hers. Slowly, her hands gravitated upward, and her fingers wrapped around Ron's cheeks, holding on to them in fear that he would rip himself away within seconds.

Their first kiss had felt like fireworks had gone off and danced around their entwined bodies. Her lips hummed for hours afterward until things started crashing down around them. He had tasted like warm honey had been poured across her lips and down her throat. It was the energy she needed to stay alert for battle, and she was left thinking that a second kiss, or maybe even more, would be her reward for getting to the finish line.

But now, weeks later, she could have been kissing a stranger.

Instead of honey, she started tasting salt against skin as the kiss came to an end, and she couldn't tell whose tears had made their way to her lips.

All the students could return to their dormitories for bed now that they had finished being rebuilt. Hermione technically hadn't been a student anymore, but there were more than enough empty beds thanks to the decreasing number of students at Hogwarts that year and the few who had gone back home. She didn't stop to think about if the bed she had taken residence in had belonged to someone who would never be around to sleep in it again.

It felt odd for Hermione not to end her night with Ronald. It had been his suggestion to return to separate dormitories, which had pleasantly surprised her. It was a good idea if they were ever going to find a new normal. And so, she traded one Weasley for another, hopping into a bed only feet away from Ginny, who looked like she had been on a similarly lacking sleep schedule. Hermione silently cursed herself for not checking in with her old friend as often as she should have.

"You don't have to ask. It's okay," Ginny said into the darkness as Hermione wracked her brain about how she could even broach the topic of their shared loss.

"What if I want to?"

"I still wouldn't know where to begin," Ginny trailed off, rolling to face the direction of Hermione's bed.

Hermione woke the following day after the longest stretch of sleep she had found in recent memory. No nightmares had come to her, but no dreams did, either. Feeling simultaneously groggy and rested, she turned to see Ginny sitting in her four-poster bed. The younger witch's eyes looked so focused that, had Hermione not known that Ginny didn't possess the skill, she could have been walls deep in Occlumency.

"Ginny?"

Her call went unanswered.

"Ginny?" She tried again and again.

The youngest Weasley eventually closed her eyes as if numerous wheels were turning behind the lids.

There had no way of knowing if this was normal for Ginny. Nobody had kept up with where she was sleeping at night, even though some of the meaner girls shared rumours that Ginny had been spending each night sleeping next to Harry's grave. Hermione never believed it, even though she wouldn't have checked for herself. It would have been too hard to accept if it had been true.

After a final attempt at snapping her out of a trance, Hermione cast the Aguamenti Charm at Ginny's torso, hoping to bring her back to the present.

"Blimey, Hermione! What'd you do that for?" Ginny shrieked.

"Sorry for being alarmed that you ignored me for at least five minutes! You were scaring me, Gin."

"Sorry," Ginny started as she cast a drying spell on her pyjamas. "I was just thinking."

"About what?"

Ginny looked back, staring into her eyes as if Hermione should have already known. Images of Harry popped into Hermione's head, causing a smile to form on her lips. She remembered how fondly he had always spoken of Ginny, even if he was often quiet about his growing feelings for her. It was one of the first times that she had remembered him being happy since he had died.

"No, Hermione," Ginny snapped, returning the favour of snapping another witch out of a trance. "How to avenge him."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Ginny… We lost."

"Yeah, and we have also been sitting in an empty castle for almost three months. Think of what we could have done in that time if we hadn't stopped fighting!"

"W-We had… bodies to bury. We had to rebuild the castle. We had students to send home to their families," Hermione listed, suddenly feeling self-conscious as Ginny stared at her.

"The Hermione that I know would never put those things above fighting for justice," she said, matter-of-factly, and Hermione sighed, knowing she was right.

There had not been a head table in the Great Hall since it had been rebuilt. The remaining teachers sat amongst the younger witches and wizards, taking their meals while entertaining students with tales of their youth. On an evening in the early days of August, Minerva McGonagall rose from her seat amongst a gaggle of young Hufflepuffs and made her way to the front of the hall, casting the Sonorus Charm as she walked.

"May I have everyone's attention, please?" McGonagall asked, giving everybody a moment to drop their food on the table, surprised by the sudden intrusion of noise.

"Thank you. Many of you have dedicated your time to rebuilding our home here at Hogwarts. Others have patiently waited for news about where they will go next. While the Dark Lord's plans remain unknown, we have received word that Hogwarts will resume another year of schooling on the 1st of September."

The professor paused to give everybody a chance to gasp. The sounds of surprise and delight echoed through the hall until McGonagall cleared her throat, still holding on to the Amplification Charm.

"We do not know what will happen or how many new students will be joining us. The Ministry will be sending in a new headmaster as well." Whispers erupted around the Great Hall again, sending names of potential headmasters into the air. "But we will all do our best to ensure that the academic year goes as smooth and safe as possible. You have all been through a great deal this year. Still, I must ask you one final favour. The castle will need to be fully repaired by the end of the month, and we will all need to see to it that these reparations are completed."

A wave of nods looked back at Minerva, who looked overcome with pride for her students.

"Finally, I ask you to prepare yourselves. Use these coming weeks to remind yourselves of your strengths. No matter what House you may represent, we will all need to summon the courage of Godric Gryffindor, the loyalty and dedication of Helga Hufflepuff, the intelligence and curiosity of Rowena Ravenclaw, and finally, the resourcefulness and determination of… of some of the many noble Slytherin House members."

Hermione noticed the change in the tone used by Minerva McGonagall, usually the epitome of class and fairness. Her refusal to name Salazar Slytherin, remembered for his hatred of Muggle-borns, indicated that she had not lost all of the fight within. Even though it was a small act, Hermione caught Ginny glancing in her direction, giving her a knowing nod when their eyes met.

"We could still leave. We could both hop on brooms and fly until we find something…."

"And what would we find, Ginny?"

"I don't know. A way to communicate with the Order? I could even cast a Patronus! I still can. I've tried."

Ron's face paled, reminding Hermione about what happened the last time they had tried to send a Patronus. If it had worked, then this conversation would never have been needed.

"Who do you think is still out there?" Hermione asked, not wanting to discourage Ginny's eagerness but also not wanting to feed into the blind hope that she was displaying. She knew that casting a Patronus would be risky, especially since the Death Eaters were smart enough not to stop keeping tabs on all known members of the Order.

"My parents are out there… George is out there!"

"Don't say that name," said Ron, who had been mostly quiet as a handful of students sat around the Gryffindor Common Room. "Don't ever say that name again."

"He is our brother!"

"He's a traitor, is what he is! A right traitor! And Mum and Dad wouldn't have left us if they hadn't been so ashamed," Ron yelled, standing up and kicking over his chair for effect. Hermione debated whether to chase after him as he returned to his dormitory but decided against it until she could get a better sense of how serious Ginny was.

"Gin, Ron is right. He might be your brother, but he chose to switch sides. While I don't doubt that it was purely for survival, he isn't exactly trustworthy right now."

"See! You know that he didn't do it to betray us. He has to be working from the inside. He has to be," Ginny started repeating, tears welling in her eyes. "He wouldn't do that to Mum and Dad, or, or Fred."

"I know, Ginny, I know," Hermione hushed, rubbing circles into her friend's back while silently pleading with everybody else to leave them alone. She had not seen Ginny lose herself yet and feared it could happen at any moment.

But Ginny shut her eyes with force, as if willing her tears to return to the source, and rose to her feet, stepping away from Hermione's comforting hands. She remained the embodiment of her house, proving that her courage and bravery would not die out with the loss of her family. Hermione knew that these traits could work against her, too. It was as if she had absorbed the recklessness that Harry had once had, willing to do whatever was needed to save their friends. And as much as Hermione wishes she could fly to the nearest apparition point and help take down the Ministry and Voldemort, she also knew that now was not the time. Not when they were outnumbered and had no intelligence to act on.

"We won't stay down forever, Ginny. It's just not the right time."

"But it will be, eventually."

"You're right. Eventually."

"And I'll be ready."

"I know you will be, Gin."

I just hope I am, too, she thought.

Ginny's insistence on acting ahead of the school reopening caused quite the stir amongst the remaining students. It was as if they were reminded of the Hell that was happening outside of the safety of their walls.

Everybody seemed to gossip as they worked, putting the final patches on the once destroyed castle. Some reserved their rumour-spreading to political talk. They continued to wonder what would happen to the remaining Muggle-born wizards, if Death Eaters would make more of a move on the Muggle community, and what part the Ministry would play in it.

Others started thinking about what their lives would look like now that they would be staying at Hogwarts for the foreseeable future. Some said they wouldn't be surprised if all the regular classes were dismissed in favour of learning the Dark Arts. One rumour suggested that Voldemort himself would be the new Headmaster, but few believed it. Hermione had tried to uncover who started that one, thinking they were trying to incite fear, but she was unsuccessful.

The first few months of that summer had been filled with sorrow and uncertainty. But as the days before them seemed more certain, they finally had something to plan for. It was as if new life had been breathed into the group. The few dozen witches and wizards, student and professor, were forever bonded by their closeness since the final battle. There was an understanding that no matter what challenges they faced in the coming months, they would do it together.

Hogwarts was rebuilt with a day to spare. As a way to celebrate the small achievement and to put an official end to the summer, the older students all went down to a secluded part of the lake on August 31st. They had snagged some Butterbeer from the kitchens and even some Firewhisky from a hidden compartment in Gryffindor Tower that only Ginny had known about, presumably because it had been left there by Fred and George.

The girls, which included Ginny, Luna Lovegood, and Padma Patil, conjured towels and laid on sun-drenched patches of grass, clearly eager to expose their skin to the warmth after so many months of being inside the grim castle walls. Hermione had decided to do the same. While the others transfigured their robes into swimsuits so they could tan, Hermione pulled out a book to read, while Ginny handed out bottles of Butterbeer, eager to distract herself from making unsupported plans to fight back.

Ron joined the other boys as they pulled off their shoes and walked ankle-deep into the water, kicking it in splashes toward each other. Hermione watched as Dennis Munslow, a Hufflepuff in Ginny's year, playfully tackled Justin Finch-Fletchley as the two fell into the water, soaking everyone close to them. She redirected her gaze to Ron, who allowed himself to smile at the boy's shenanigans. A warmth she hadn't felt in months crept into Hermione's heart, and the thought of rushing into the water and kissing that smile passed through the many others swimming around in her head. Ultimately, she decided against it, watching as the boys found Butterbeer of their own. Ron deserved to have time with friends who didn't make him think about his failures. And maybe that was what Hermione would have to be for a little while: A reminder of their inability to kill the snake and end the war.

The girls eventually wandered into the water, too. Hermione was forced to transfigure her swimsuit when it became evident that she would not be immune to reckless splashing. She couldn't help but blush, knowing that Ron would be looking at her pale skin in the sunlight, and she silently wondered if it would make him think about her in ways that she used to dream about. If it did, he did not indicate it.

While the rest of the group somehow began a rock skipping contest, Hermione swam further out, joining Luna, who had also decided to separate from the group.

"Hermione! Have you come to fetch stones with me?"

"Er, stones?"

"Yes! Look, I've already found this beautiful syenite!" The girl, who had been diving down to the sand that was now deeper than they could stand, pulled out an almost pink-coloured rock. "Isn't it lovely?"

"Yes," Hermione started. Before finishing her sentence, Luna handed her the rock and dove back down under the water. She was under for so long that Hermione was convinced that she had to have been using the Bubble-Head Charm, but it was clear that no such spell had been cast when the blonde returned to the surface with half a dozen rocks in her palm, almost completing the rainbow in their colouring.

Luna took turns with the rocks, holding each one to the sunlight and making approving hums before handing them to Hermione so that she could do the same. After they had gone through each one, Luna gently took them back from Hermione.

"Now, if you'll excuse me for just a moment, I have to return them. There are a few Aquavirus Maggots down there who might miss them if I don't take them back," she said before disappearing underneath the water again.

Hermione took the solitude as a chance to float in peace. She felt the cold water against her back, the front of her soaked in the sun's rays. It was… peaceful. Something that she had not felt in a long time. But upon identifying the feeling, Hermione started to feel a sense of guilt wash over her, as if she should not be the one experiencing it. Before being swept away by the feeling, Luna reappeared with a ripple and turned to float next to her.

"The clouds are quite beautiful today, aren't they?"

Hermione looked back up, bringing her hand to her face to shield her eyes from the sun. There were no clouds in the sky.

"Describe them to me," Hermione asked, closing her eyes.

Luna's soothing voice began to tell Hermione a story about the clouds in the sky, which resembled two witches. The curious witch crafted a tale of their journey together, and it was so detailed that the clouds could have been performing an entire play for her that Hermione would never see.

Instead of listening, Hermione let her mind swim back to thoughts of her own future, which she had been trying too hard to avoid facing. If she were Luna, then perhaps she would imagine what things would look like if they all worked out. Maybe she and Ron would stay in love and use each other's strength to graduate and find happiness together. She and her friends would be safe from here on out, and whatever Hogwarts had in store for them would be easy compared to their last handful of years.

But things would never work that way. Harry had died, and the Wizarding World would be working against Hermione and her friends, most of whom were either blood traitors or Muggle-born themselves. What waited for her was more war and probable death. And even if Ginny was right, and there was hope to keep fighting, they had already lost too much for things to feel like they had worked out at all.

Suddenly, Hermione realised that the air was quiet. Luna was no longer telling her story. A brief panic spread through Hermione before she heard a crackle of laughter in the distance. She turned her head to see Ginny and Neville charming the water to look like a fountain while the rest took turns jumping through it.

Harry would have loved today, Hermione thought, focusing on the sounds of Ginny's laughter and knowing how happy she and Ron would have been if he were with them. She looked at the sky one last time before returning to her friends and feeling the absence of the boy who was the best of them.