Keep Holding On

by ChoCedric

AU. Albus Dumbledore told Sirius Black to lie low at Lupin's for a while, and then go and rally the old crowd. But Sirius, feeling more resolute than he ever had in his life, looked the Headmaster straight in the eye and said, "No. I'm staying with Harry. I'm not leaving him alone." A story of hardship and tragedy, but also of unconditional love.

69. Chapter 69

Disclaimer: Nope.

Author's Note: Thank you all so much for the awesome reviews. I'm really glad you enjoyed the last chapter. Yes, it was pretty heavy, and it was a long time coming. I've always wanted to explore what it would be like if Harry found out about the prophecy from Sirius. And I'm glad you liked Sturgis's advice, too, that Harry should focus on the lives he was able to save rather than the ones he couldn't.

As for Dumbledore, I take your points about him. He is, indeed, very difficult to write. There are so many different interpretations of him as well. I was very saddened to hear about the recent passing of Michael Gambon. I think that both he and Richard Harris had very different portrayals of Dumbledore, and I don't think that either of them were wrong, considering all the different sides of him that we learned about.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. We haven't seen Hogwarts in quite a while.

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There were many things that Hermione Granger would always remember about her life. She'd always felt quite alone before she learned she was a witch, with most of her peer group thinking she was nothing more than an annoyance. Instead of having human companionship, her friends were books. In her Muggle school, she could constantly be found in the library, getting lost in the pages of another adventure.

Looking back, she could now say that everything and nothing had changed. At Hogwarts, she was a very frequent visitor of the library, discovering so much that magic had to offer. There were times she preferred the company of books rather than a lot of humans.

But there were major exceptions now, and that was what had changed. This was her fifth year of magical education, and when she really thought about it, the fact that she was a witch still downright amazed her. And real witchcraft was very different from how it was portrayed in Muggle stories. True, they brewed incredibly strange concoctions, rode on broomsticks, and wore crazy hats. But they weren't all evil beings who cackled, called people "my pretty" in a sinister voice, and constantly turned their enemies into insects.

And - she had friends. She finally had friends. There were plenty of children at Hogwarts who had the same opinion of her as those in her Muggle school had. But there were two amazing boys who had learned to look deeper and see the person that was truly inside her.

There were times, at first, when she'd thought them too good to be true. They were always asking her to help them with their homework, and she was known for the amount of knowledge she possessed, and her ability to absorb it like a sponge. So what if they'd saved her from a troll? Harry Potter was the savior of the wizarding world, and Ron was his best friend. In her old Muggle stories, saviors rescued even those they didn't like.

But it hadn't really mattered, had it? What did she care, as long as they were willing to hang around with her? She didn't want to be alone anymore, because in all honesty, it had hurt when she was younger. Even though she told herself that the fall would be all the greater if she found out Harry and Ron only wanted her for her brains, she still lapped up all the time with them that she got. This was precious, and she wasn't about to waste a single minute.

There were times she had worried that her conjecture was right. Sometimes, the boys would say something insensitive, especially Ron. He could be so blockheaded. But other times, they were both so sweet that all her annoyance was forgotten, and once again, it was more extreme in Ron's case than in Harry's. There was something so completely infuriating, yet so endearing, about Ronald Weasley. He exhilarated her as well as exasperated her. Whenever she talked about the boys, especially Ron, to her mother, she got this odd, knowing look on her face that Hermione didn't understand. This was infuriating, too, in its own way.

Harry and Ron had proven their friendship to her over and over again. She had eventually realized that her cynical outlook on it had been very wrong. Yes, they certainly asked her to help them with their schoolwork, but it couldn't be clearer that they cared about her as a person. She'd never forget the looks on their faces when she'd woken up after being Petrified. The naked relief in their expressions said it all. That was the moment when Hermione Granger realized she had two incredible best friends that she would do anything for.

They'd had their rows, their disagreements, their hard times. It had hurt immensely when both Harry and Ron wouldn't talk to her after she'd informed McGonagall about the Firebolt. She was incredibly grateful to Hagrid during that time period - he'd been her source of comfort, and in turn, she'd tried her best to help him with Buckbeak's appeal. Then, there had been her blazing rows with Ron regarding Scabbers. It wasn't long after his true identity was uncovered that Ron had apologized, in such a Ron way that it had made Hermione smile in spite of herself. "Blimey, Hermione, I reckon Crookshanks had the right idea after all," he'd said, looking rather guiltily at Hermione. "I wish he actually HAD eaten Pettigrew."

Indeed, Hermione's friendship with the boys had stood the test of time, and she'd had an odd feeling that it was all leading to something enormous. She felt like her life was going in a similar direction to many of the heroines she'd once admired in her storybooks growing up. It was a rather surreal feeling, because she knew she was no heroine. The heroines she'd read about didn't have unmanageable, bushy, ridiculous hair and buck teeth. Well - she didn't have buck teeth anymore - but that wasn't really her doing, was it? It was because Malfoy had made them look insane, and Madam Pomfrey had fixed them.

But, the biggest difference was that the heroines in her storybooks weren't scared. They didn't cry themselves to sleep at night because one of their best friends was currently forbidden from walking the castle's corridors. And her storybook heroines also weren't convinced they were going to die.

It was yet another night when Hermione and Ron were walking the hallways on Prefect patrol. It had been several weeks since the term began, and they had just finished discussing the latest Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson with Professor Giddens. Ever since that first class where the new teacher had made a great impression on so many of her students, they had only continued in the same vein. Giddens went over the finer points of duelling, and everyone practiced during every lesson.

Ron was grinning at her as he reiterated for what seemed like the thousandth time, "I still can't believe I beat you, of all people, in a duel. That should be written in the history books, you know? The unbeatable, unshakeable Hermione Granger is actually beaten by her best friend in a duel."

Hermione felt her heart twist at Ron's grin. It seemed as though she barely saw him smile these days, so anything that got one out of him was all right, even if it was at her expense. Hermione knew that Ron never felt that he was good enough, so any major accomplishment on his part always felt a whole lot bigger. And Hermione would give him this one - he had beaten her fair and square.

Ron had changed from the gangly, Quidditch-obsessed boy who slacked off from his homework and teased her mercilessly about her studying habits. In his place was a much more serious boy who stuck by Hermione more than ever as they both tried to navigate Hogwarts without Harry. There had been so many times when Ron had exasperated Hermione to no end, and right now, she wanted nothing more than to have those times back. She wanted to glare at him as he played Exploding Snap with Harry, Fred, and George in the common room, completely ignoring her when she told him he had to get his work done. She wanted to place her hands on her hips and scowl at him as he and Harry went on and on and on about Quidditch, a subject she couldn't care less about.

If Hermione could pinpoint the moment when everything in the world had changed, it was the instant when Harry and Cedric had each grabbed a handle of the Triwizard Cup and promptly disappeared out of sight. So many others in the stands were wide-eyed with confusion, not understanding what had just happened. Some had even thought it was part of the task, a surprise obstacle the two boys would have to get past together. Hermione and Ron, however ... they were afraid they knew what it meant. Hermione's heart had plummeted down to her stomach, but the worst sight of all was Ron's face. It had gone bone-white, and he'd looked like the world had just been ripped out from right under their feet.

The events thereafter had changed both him and Hermione from who they once were. Had they had brushes with evil before? Yes, absolutely. But this ... this was somehow very, very different. Hermione would never forget the terrified, lifeless face of Cedric or the broken, grief-stricken one of Harry. She vividly recalled the screams and sobs of the students, and the haunted looks of all the staff.

She thought back to all the previous times she faced evil. Hermione would always remember the moment when she'd seen the basilisk's reflection, and the next moment, she was waking up in the hospital wing, having missed what seemed like an entire chunk of her life. It had disconcerted and frightened her more than she'd let on to anyone, even Ron and Harry.

The following year, when she'd faced her boggart, it was all too easy to get the two boys to believe she'd seen McGonagall furious with her, telling her she'd failed everything. They'd laughed and teased her, and she'd let them. She hadn't minded their insensitivity about the whole affair, because she'd much rather have that than reveal to them what her real fear had been.

"You're so stupid, Hermione," Ron sneered at her. "It's all your fault. You messed up and you got Harry killed." His face was red, his eyes bloodshot from crying and his voice raw with grief and fury. "Malfoy was right, after all. Your kind shouldn't be in this school."

"Never have I been more disappointed in a student." Albus Dumbledore's eyes were not the kind, twinkling ones that normally shone out at her from the staff table. Instead, they were blue chips of ice as they judged Hermione for her failure. "A young boy is dead because you didn't try hard enough."

"I am ashamed that I considered you one of my prized pupils," McGonagall barked, her Scottish brogue coming out more than ever in her anger. "You are hereby expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Miss Granger."

Well, Hermione had thought as she cried herself to sleep that night, at least there was a tiny grain of truth to what I told the boys. McGonagall was part of the boggart - but what she'd said went far beyond just being disappointed.

Because, honestly, although she knew that Harry and Ron didn't just want to be her friend because of her brains and her thirst for knowledge, she knew that she was the one who was playing that role. And she was terrified that one misstep, one wrong move, would be the end of everything. Because she'd realized early on that she'd fallen into something that was incredibly enormous.

She'd been all too happy to let the boys tease her about her boggart because it gave her justification not to think about what it had truly revealed, but she could only hide for so long. When she lay in the dormitory that night, the anger and grief from boggart-Ron, the pure hatred and condemnation from boggart-Dumbledore, and the sheer revulsion radiating from boggart-McGonagall consumed her entire being, making her feel like the most worthless person in existence.

She knew, logically, that a boggart drew out your worst fear and, at times, could make it look unreasonable. She also knew that it was pretty egotistical to think she could be solely responsible for whether or not Harry lived or died. She had only been a fourteen-year-old girl when she'd confronted that boggart, and there were adults much wiser and more experienced that could save Harry from the clutches of evil.

Still, the panic and fear she felt only pushed her to work harder. Desperation and anxiety fuelled her actions as she attempted to help Harry through the Triwizard Tournament. She had always known that he had never entered his own name, unlike Ron, who had taken a while to figure it out. Her annoyance with her redheaded friend had known no bounds during that period - how could he have been so blind? How could he have ever thought Harry wanted this?

But that time had long passed now. Ron had realized his immaturity and his mistake, and what they were living through now, what they'd seen Harry going through ... it had changed them irrevocably. Ron's blue eyes looked much different now, and Hermione's need to study, to gain knowledge, had only intensified. It wasn't an exam she was stressed about now - it was war.

Harry. There wasn't a moment that passed when Harry wasn't on her mind. His situation was so completely and utterly unfair. He had done absolutely nothing to deserve the hand he had been dealt. How was it his fault that a madman and his supporters were after him? She was so disgusted by the blatant lies that so many had believed about him for so long. To think him capable of murder ... it enraged her so much that anyone could think that of one of her best friends. And it disgusted her even more that although everyone knew the truth now, the people who had accused him walked around with their heads down, some of them not even apologizing for their assumptions.

The last few weeks had been exceedingly difficult, to say the least. Hermione and Ron had fallen into a pattern of get up, eat breakfast, go to class, eat lunch, go back to class, do homework, eat dinner, do more homework, do Prefect patrol on days when they were supposed to, and go to bed. It had become a rhythm, but a rather monotonous one.

Ron wasn't faring much better than she was. His temper was a lot shorter than it had been before - but then, so was hers, although, these days, it was exceedingly rare that they took their anger out on each other. In fact, they had pulled together, becoming closer than ever through the storm that was invading their world. Harry used to look at them with exasperation whenever they rowed. Their bickering was so very ... them. It wasn't that she missed arguing with Ron, but it almost seemed ... abnormal not to do so. She wondered what Harry would think if he knew they rarely rowed anymore. Merlin, it was so ... wrong without him.

"Hermione?" Ron's gentle voice pulled her out of her thoughts as they walked down the corridor. She realized that it had been several minutes since he'd stopped teasing her about the duel she'd lost to him. "What's wrong?" he asked as he noticed he'd gotten her attention. "I didn't upset you, did I? I was only teasing."

In truth, it wasn't Ron who had upset her, not intentionally at least. Merlin, she knew he was only having fun, and it certainly did her heart good to see him smile again. She wouldn't have changed that for anything.

It was just that ... Hermione Granger had always known she wasn't a fighter. She was a researcher, she was a hoarder of knowledge, she was the one that her boys, as she affectionately called them, went to when they needed help. She was their support system, she was their rock, she was the one they went to when they needed a sympathetic ear to listen to them rant.

But now, her role had grown bigger, and it terrified her more than anything in the world - and, yet, she would fill it a million times over if it meant protecting the people she loved. But as she'd grown up reading stories of heroines who saved the day and won extraordinary battles, she knew she could never achieve what they had. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to go up against a villain and fight until her last breath.

But she would do it. She would be a warrior, even though she was terrified. She'd do it because it was the right thing - the only thing - to do. She'd do it because she'd once read that courage didn't mean not being afraid. It meant facing your fear and doing the thing you were afraid of because it was right. And Hermione had found out what the meaning of true friendship was, and she would do whatever it took to protect the world she hadn't known existed, but now knew she could never leave. Hermione belonged to this world, and no monstrous villain with his vile pureblood bigotry could take that away from her.

But Ron's teasing words about the fact that she'd lost that duel brought home the stark, inescapable fact of her mortality. Ron was one of her best friends - he'd never hurt her, and yet, she had still lost to him. She might be good at research - she might be good at gaining knowledge - but she wasn't good at fighting, and she knew it. She didn't resent the fact that Ron and Harry were far better at Defense Against the Dark Arts, although many probably thought it was true. No, it wasn't that simple - not at all.

Hermione had once entertained big dreams, rather egotistical ones if she really thought about it. She'd imagined becoming a world-famous researcher, her name being known all over the world. The mean, bullying children who had once made fun of her in primary school would stare at her name and be sorry for every nasty thing they'd ever said to her. They'd boil with envy at the fact that the bushy-haired, buck-toothed monstrosity they used to mock had risen so far above them.

She'd given up those dreams a long time ago, and now, they seemed so childish and stupid. She knew what she wanted to do with her life - but this, inevitably, would cut it short. But she knew, in her heart where her love for these two amazing boys resided, that to see You-Know-Who defeated was worth anything. It was worth it to give other Muggle-borns the chance to live in a world where they wouldn't be discriminated against for something they had no control over. It was worth it if it meant Ron, Ginny, and the other Weasleys weren't ridiculed by the Draco Malfoys of the world. And it was worth giving up her own life if it meant that Harry, the brother she never had, could go on to live a safe, peaceful life surrounded by loved ones, no pain or fear hanging over him.

But how could she put this all into words? How could she possibly tell Ron what emotions and truths his words had evoked? He'd only been attempting to lighten the mood during a dark time. How could she blame him for that?

"No, Ron," Hermione answered softly, feeling a surge of deep affection for the boy beside her. "No, you didn't upset me. You did win that duel, after all." She smiled at him. "I'm just thinking about ... the war and everything," she whispered.

Ron's blue eyes were dark with emotion. "Yeah," he muttered. "Yeah ... me too. I can't stop thinking about those Muggles who were attacked two nights ago."

Hermione shuddered as the Daily Prophet headlines materialized in her mind's eye. "It's just so horrible," she murmured as they turned and began walking down another corridor.

Ron's face twisted in disgust. "It's just like last time," he said with anger in his voice. "I heard Mum and Dad say once that You-Know-Who loved killing Muggles just because he felt like it."

Hermione nodded, honestly unable to imagine the horror they must have felt. "I wonder who it was that stopped the attacks," she said as more of the article came back to her. Apparently, some Aurors and members of the Order had shown up, and You-Know-Who had retreated like the coward he was. There had been a battle with the Death Eaters, but by the grace of Merlin, no other good people had died. Whoever this was had probably saved the lives of many families.

"Dunno," said Ron, his face scrunched in thought. Everyone had been discussing this over the last two days, and there was much wild speculation about who had done it.

Hermione and Ron both knew what Snape was currently doing for the Order. Had he somehow told McGonagall the information? He would have been taking an enormous risk by doing so.

Suddenly, Ron stopped in his tracks, eyes wide. "Merlin," he exclaimed, letting out a low whistle.

"What? What is it?" Hermione asked, looking around the corridor. Had Ron seen something out of the ordinary? If he had, then she certainly hadn't.

"Harry." Their best friend's name was spoken softly, with reverence Hermione had never heard before. She knew that Ron's and Harry's friendship had only grown and solidified since Sirius's trial, where he had stunned the entire courtroom with his impassioned plea that godfather and godson should stay together as a family. But the way Ron had said Harry's name with such awe in his voice touched something deep within Hermione.

"Harry ... what?" she whispered as the two best friends stood together in the dark corridor, no other sounds penetrating the night.

"Remember the night before Sirius's trial?" Ron asked as his eyes only seemed to grow wider in realization. "You-Know-Who sent him that dream of ... of Diggory being murdered by ... by Harry." He still couldn't speak of that memory without fury and heartbreak coming through in his voice. Hermione shuddered at the horrible, fake image of her best friend that had been shown to everyone at Fudge's trial.

"What ... what are you saying?" she whispered, an icy feeling gripping her body.

"I'm saying, what if it was Harry who saw You-Know-Who doing those things? What if he was the one who ..." His voice cracked.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat as a bolt of clarity hit her. "Remember the owl we got from him a few days after term started?" she breathed. "He seemed ... more distant in his letter somehow. We thought at the time that he was obviously upset and horrified by the attacks You-Know-Who carried out. But what if ..." She felt nauseous at what her imagination was conjuring up.

Ron looked just as sick as she felt. "What if he saw those, too?" he asked quietly. "And if he saw what happened two nights ago ... how was he able to make sure the Aurors stopped the attacks this time?"

Ron and Hermione, the two people who loved Harry so much that it hurt, stood in a profound silence as they tried to come to grips with their realization. "No," Hermione said finally. "It's not ... it's not true. Harry didn't ... couldn't ... have gone through something that horrible."

Ron shook his head, his eyes dark with something unfathomable. "No, Hermione - it's true. I don't want to believe it either, but I can feel it," he said in a heartsick voice.

Hermione resumed walking down the corridor, but her steps were much slower than they had been. Ron followed, looking ready to collapse. "This is so ... so wrong," she murmured as they walked. "I want to help him so much. And Hogwarts ... it's not the same. Harry should be here."

Ron looked shattered. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. "He should be."

They walked for several minutes, neither of them saying anything more. They only had fifteen minutes left of Prefect patrol, and Hermione couldn't be more grateful for it. If times were better, Ron would undoubtedly tease her if she told him she wanted to give this up for tonight. "But I thought you lived for telling students off for breaking the rules," she imagined him saying, and her heart ached for old times.

They were moments away from making a turn and heading down the next corridor when Hermione thought she heard something. There was an empty classroom in front of them, and the door was closed. She thought she'd heard a faint noise from inside.

Ron heard it too. "You reckon someone's in there?" he queried.

"Let's investigate," said Hermione promptly as she and Ron quietly walked right up to the door, and Hermione opened it quickly.

There was someone inside the classroom - two people, in fact. Hermione immediately felt a cold anger pump through her veins as she saw Melissa, one of the ringleaders of the "Harry murdered Cedric" club. Ron's eyes instantly grew hard, his mouth twisting in rage as soon as he saw her and her boyfriend, Jacob. They were locked in a passionate embrace.

Hermione couldn't help but wonder why Jake was still with her. It had gone around Hogwarts that they'd gotten into some blazing rows over whether Harry was guilty - he, apparently, had more sense than she did. But they'd obviously made up now, she thought with disgust, feeling a sense of satisfaction as they immediately pulled apart, Melissa looking scared.

Hermione thought of her new friend, Cho, at that moment. She remembered how the older girl had confessed to blaming Harry for Cedric's death at first, but she'd never thought him capable of murder. Hermione could see how much that confession had taken out of Cho, and it had been very brave of her to admit it to Hermione, of all people. She couldn't help but feel compassion at the lost, haunted look in Cho's eyes, and she was angered by the fact that almost all of the other girl's friends had deserted her when she was at her lowest point in her life and needed them the most.

That was why Hermione could forgive Cho. She, at least, had the maturity to realize that what she'd felt was wrong, and Harry was in no way responsible for what had happened to Cedric. As she got to know the other girl better, she liked her more and more. They had made a habit of studying together over the past week, and though Cho's smile was wan and barely ever there, Hermione could see that she was making an effort to live again. Hermione hadn't been lying when she told Cho that she thought Cedric would be proud of her.

Melissa, though ... she had endlessly ranted at the end of last year about how Harry deserved Azkaban, how Harry deserved the Dementor's Kiss, how Harry was nothing more than a criminal and a murderer. She couldn't bear to look at the other girl's scared expression now.

"You'd better get out of here now," Ron snarled, his fists clenched and his blue eyes bright with rage. "Five more seconds and we're sending you to McGonagall. Am I understood?"

Hermione didn't think she'd ever seen Ron so angry, and she couldn't blame him. She was furious herself as she felt like her body was encased in ice. To be in the same room as this girl who didn't know Harry at all, who didn't know that he had undoubtedly been the one to save lives two nights ago rather than take them. She glowered so hard at Melissa that she thought her face might freeze that way.

Jake stood his ground while Melissa cowered back from Ron and Hermione's wrath. But the seconds passed, yet they still didn't leave the room.

"Did you hear me, you disgusting cow?" Ron bellowed, losing his temper completely. "Have you lost your hearing as well as your mind?"

Hermione put a restraining hand on Ron's shoulder, although she was itching to grab her wand and put a nasty hex on the stupid girl. She was desperate to put that tooth-enlarging curse on her that Malfoy had had the gall to throw at Hermione the year before. The girl couldn't shut her mouth - perhaps if her teeth were too big for it, she'd finally stop spouting venom every time she spoke.

"I'm sorry."

The words were so quiet that at first, Hermione had thought she'd imagined them. Melissa's bottom lip trembled as tears began to fall down her face, the deepest shame coloring her features.

Ron wasn't having any of it - Melissa's apology only seemed to make his rage spike. "Sorry? You're sorry?" he roared at her, spit practically flying from his mouth.

"Do you have any idea of the damage you've done?" Hermione asked. Her voice was quiet, the complete opposite of Ron's, but it was shaking with anger. Ron's rage was boiling, but hers was ice-cold and even more dangerous. "Do you think we're not aware of the vile, disgusting things you said last year? That you thought Harry deserved to die or get Kissed for something he didn't even do?" She literally had to force herself not to go for her wand at that moment.

"I know." Melissa sounded so lost and vulnerable. "Believe me ... I know."

That tone would have normally brought compassion out of Hermione. After all, Cedric had been Melissa's best friend, and she had lost him. But the empathy that would usually fill her was absent as she thought of Harry, who she missed terribly. Harry, a boy whose eyes were too old for his age. Harry, who she was positive had stopped You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters from attacking random, innocent Muggles two nights ago.

"We've all been scared," Jake said, his eyes solemn as he looked at Ron and Hermione. "And I know that's not an excuse for the things Melissa has said and done." He gave his girlfriend a meaningful look, and she stared up at him with obvious guilt in her eyes. "But she wants to make up for it now. Please give her a chance to do that."

"It's too late," Ron growled, his eyes no less hard. "You've got no idea what Harry's been through. You don't have a clue because you're too ignorant. You've never looked evil in the face before."

"I saw Cedric's body," Melissa whispered, tears sliding down her face. "What happened to him was evil."

"And you thought it was Harry who was," Hermione whispered back, a rush of sadness replacing the anger. "Please," she added softly. "Please leave."

Melissa opened her mouth, but Jake spoke before she could. "I think we should listen to them, love," he said softly as he took Melissa's hand. "I don't think this is the right time to talk to them."

Ron sneered at them as they walked out of the room. "Thirty points from Hufflepuff for breaking curfew," he barked.

If this was anyone else, Hermione might have gotten on Ron's case about how many points he had taken - that was a bit harsh. But she did no such thing - in fact, she would probably have been harsher if she had been the one to dock points. She didn't care that her anger towards Melissa was making her biased, blinding her to what was right.

Ron looked at her as she blew out a breath. "You're not going to tell me off?" he asked softly, obviously thinking along the same lines as her.

"No," Hermione replied just as softly. "I'm bloody sick of following the rules."

Ron let out a laugh, but the sound was so sad that it broke her heart. Here they were, two teenagers standing in an empty classroom, but they didn't feel like teenagers at all. Hermione was no longer the bossy little girl who felt the need to correct Ron on his pronunciation of the Levitation Charm. Ron was no longer the immature little boy with dirt on his nose who called Hermione a nightmare. They were two best friends, trying to navigate a world where a war had started, and their other best friend, a boy who they wanted nothing more than to take care of, was right in the thick of it.

Ron stared at Hermione, his eyes so tired. "Do you ... do you reckon we'd be friends, if not for Harry?" he asked quietly.

It was something Hermione had thought about, too. If not for the mountain troll attack, she honestly didn't think she and Ron would have come together the way they had. Hermione was a studyholic who had only recently learned that not all of life's questions could be answered in books. She couldn't care less about Quidditch or Exploding Snap. She and Ron were complete opposites in many ways, the biggest thing they had in common being Harry.

But honestly, she now couldn't imagine her life without Ron. Harry had brought them together, with his bravery, his heroism, and sometimes, his pure recklessness. "No," she told Ron bluntly, and the boy nodded in agreement. "But we are friends, Ron, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Me neither." Ron suddenly took Hermione's hand in his own, and she could feel something inside her uncoiling. The anger she felt towards Melissa evaporated as she stared into Ron's intense blue eyes. The moment stretched into eternity as two of Harry Potter's most devoted supporters lost themselves in each other's eyes.

"I'm glad we have each other," Ron whispered, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. "You're the only thing that's making this at all bearable, you know?"

Hermione looked back at Ron, her heart full to bursting with affection for this gawky, gangly redhead whose emotions were so easy to read on his face. Ronald Weasley had always been an open book - and of all the books Hermione Granger had ever read, this just might be her favorite one.

Hermione couldn't help herself. She pulled Ron into an embrace as all the fear she'd been feeling the past few months momentarily left her. "I feel the same way," she whispered in Ron's ear. They pulled away, smiling sadly at each other.

And Hermione thought that if she did end up giving her life in this war, it would all be worth it. Maybe she wouldn't grow old, fulfilling her younger self's dreams of being a world-famous researcher. But it didn't matter - she had two best friends she'd give up the entire world for.

They were living through a war where tomorrow was never guaranteed to anyone. And she knew it wouldn't end like her old storybooks, where the heroines lived happily ever after and all was right with the world.

But protecting the people she loved most - perhaps that was a better, more meaningful ending than any author could come up with. Perhaps there was a different meaning to "happily ever after", she thought as she and Ron walked out of the classroom hand in hand, ready for all that was to come.