Lingering Remnants
Hermione felt like she was drowning.
The room buzzed around her in a haze of muted sounds—sobs, murmured words, the shuffling of feet as people moved to offer comfort where there was none to give. But it was all distant, as if she were separated from it by a thick wall of glass. Her world had narrowed to a single, devastating point: Ron's still, lifeless face.
His hand, once warm and strong, was cold in her grasp. It felt wrong, holding it now, when he wasn't there to clasp it back, to smile at her with that lopsided grin, his ears flushing red in embarrassment or affection. The Ron she knew was gone—gone forever—and all that remained was this empty shell.
Guilt and sorrow twisted in her chest, squeezing tighter and tighter until she thought she might break apart. She should have saved him. She should havefeltmore for him—should have given him the love he deserved.
But she hadn't. And now it was too late.
"I'm sorry, Ron," she whispered brokenly, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I—I should have—I should have loved you better. I should have…"
But her words trailed off into silence, the admission hanging in the air like a weight that threatened to crush her.
Ron had always been there for her. Always. From the moment they'd met at Hogwarts, he'd been at her side—fighting for her, protecting her, caring for her. He'd given everything, and she… she hadn't been able to return his feelings in the same way. There had always been something holding her back, some barrier she couldn't quite cross.
But now… now she wished she had. Wished she could have given him that, at least. Wishing she could have told him, made him feel like he wasn't alone, even in those final moments.
A hand on her shoulder made her start. She blinked, looking up through blurred vision to see Theo standing beside her. His face was pale and drawn, his dark eyes shadowed with grief and something else—something softer.
"Granger," he murmured quietly. "Come on. You shouldn't—" He gestured vaguely toward Ron's body, his expression torn between sympathy and discomfort. "It's… it's not going to change anything."
"I know that!" Hermione snapped, more harshly than she intended. Theo flinched, but didn't pull away. "Iknowit won't change anything, but…" Her voice cracked, and she shook her head helplessly. "I have to be here. I have to… he… he loved me."
The words tasted bitter on her tongue, thick and heavy with regret. Ron had loved her. And she—she had never been able to give him that love in return. Not really. Not in the way he deserved. And now he was dead, and all she could feel was this awful, gnawing guilt.
"Granger…" Theo shifted awkwardly, glancing around the room before looking back at her with an intensity that made her breath hitch. "Don't do this to yourself. You didn't do anything wrong."
"Didn't I?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "He—helovedme, Theo. And I—" She shook her head, tears spilling over. "I should have—I should have loved him back. I should have—"
"Stop," Theo cut her off, his voice firm but gentle. He crouched down beside her, his eyes locking onto hers. "You can't make yourself feel something you don't. That's not your fault. You cared about him—anyone could see that."
"But not enough," Hermione choked out. "Not enough to—"
"It'snotyour fault," Theo repeated fiercely. He reached out hesitantly, then took her hand in his. It was warm and steady, a small anchor in the storm of her emotions. "You didn't cause this. And you being with him—out of guilt or obligation—that wouldn't have made a difference. It wouldn't have saved him."
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, her shoulders shaking. "But it would have made him happy."
"Maybe," Theo conceded quietly. "But he died doing what he believed in. He died protecting the people he loved. That's what would have made him happy, Granger. Not… not you pretending to feel something you don't."
His words hurt, but they were true. Deep down, Hermione knew that. But it didn't make the pain any less sharp, the regret any less suffocating.
"What are we going to do now?" she whispered after a long moment, her voice small and broken. "We—we lost him. And Neville. Hannah." She shook her head helplessly. "How are we supposed to keep going?"
Theo's gaze turned hard, determined. He squeezed her hand gently, his grip reassuring. "We keep going because we have to," he said quietly. "Because if we don't, then their deaths really were for nothing."
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1 Year Later:
Theo was saying something. Hermione had been staring away in space, tears silently falling down her face. That seemed to be her constant state in this year. She couldn't stop crying, no matter how hard she tried.
"Hermione?" Theo murmured.
Hermione looked up at him, blinking away her tears. There was something fierce and unyielding in his expression, a fire that reminded her painfully of Ron, though everything seemed to remind her of Ron. It hurt to see it, but it also gave her a tiny flicker of hopeful nostalgia.
"Sorry what were you saying? I lost you for a sec." she admitted softly.
"what I was saying is," Theo said slowly, lowering his voice so that only she could hear, "I still have contacts. People who—who didn't choose this war, but were forced into it. Death Eaters who… who might be willing to work with us. To be double agents."
Hermione stared at him, her heart pounding. "You… you know Death Eaters who would turn against Voldemort?" her brain immediately thought of the boy who shed desperately wanted to save back at the manor.
"Yes," he murmured, seeming to understand where her mind went. "Not many. And it's dangerous—they'd be risking everything. But there are some who are… less loyal than they seem. People who could help us track attacks on Muggle villages. People who could help us… get to Nagini."
Hermione sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes widening. "Nagini… Voldemort's snake. She's a Horcrux. She has to be"
"Exactly." Theo's expression was grim. "If we can get to her… destroy her… that's one more step toward ending this war. And if we can track the Death Eaters' movements, we can stop them from attacking more villages. Save lives. Buy ourselves time to hunt down the rest of the Horcruxes."
The enormity of what he was suggesting hit Hermione like a punch to the gut. It was dangerous—incrediblydangerous. They would be dealing with people who were just as likely to betray them as they were to help. But… it could work. It could actuallywork.
"But… why would they help us?" she asked, frowning. "Why would they risk everything to betray Voldemort?"
"Because not all of them are like Bellatrix or the Carrows," Theo said quietly. "Some of them have families. People they want to protect. Some of them don't believe in this war—they just don't see a way out. If we offer them one… they might take it."
Hermione bit her lip, her mind racing. It was a slim chance, a desperate gamble… but it was more than they'd had before. And right now, they needed every advantage they could get.
"Do you think you can convince them?" she whispered.
Theo's jaw tightened, his eyes darkening. "I have to," he said simply. "For Ron. For Neville. For everyone."
Hermione swallowed hard, nodding slowly. "Then… then we'll do it. We'll make contact. And we'll—"
"Finish the war," Theo finished softly. His grip on her hand tightened, his gaze fierce and unrelenting. "For them."
And as Hermione looked into his eyes, she felt a small, fragile spark of hope flicker to life in her chest. They were broken, battered, and bleeding—but they weren't done yet.
They would end this war.
And they would make sure that no one else had to die for them again.