Disclaimer: Not mine. Everything is Rowling's. This fic was inspired by 'The Last Unicorn' from In-Mood feat. Juliette.

I hope you enjoy it. I'm not happy with the title, though.

The last Unicorn

The memories hurt the most.

She could ignore the icy wind that seemed to chill her to the bone, or the painful stinging of her back. She could ignore the pain in her legs from standing too long.

She couldn't ignore the memories.

They were a part of this landscape, of the old trees and the cold lake, of the ruins that once made up the most famous magical school of the world.

Sometimes, she could hear children's laughter coming from it.

It was easy to imagine children walking around the lake, holding their winter cloaks tightly closed around them. She could almost hear their conversations, about which shop in Hogsmeade to visit first, about how much they disliked a professor, about how they'd fallen in love with someone... If she closed her eyes halfway, she saw the students around the ruins, around the castle... She could see them going towards the greenhouses, or to Hagrid's hut. She heard the sound of the bell that signaled the beginning of class.

And yet... She was imagining all of this. Because it was not possible, not anymore. Hogwarts held no ghosts.

How she wished it did. Oh, if only she could talk to the ones she'd lost, it would make bearing this so much easier...

Every year she came here. Every year she hoped that something would have changed, something, anything. But it never did.

Hogwarts was dead.

A hand took hers, and she looked into the face of her husband. Even after all these years his hair was still the same violent orange, now a bit tempered with the streaks of grey in it. He softly squeezed her hand, and then helped her into her cloak.

"You shouldn't go outside without your cloak in this kind of weather," he remarked. "Hermione, you remember what the doctor said. You're still not fully recovered from that cold you had."

"We used to just take a Pepper-up Potion to get rid of a cold."

He smiled sadly. "I know."

Hermione stared at the cloudy sky. "Do you remember the last days? After Headmaster Dumbledore's death?"

"As if they were only yesterday," her husband whispered.

She closed her eyes. "It all went so fast. Everything was going the way it was supposed to, Headmistress McGonagall kept the school open, and we went on a search for the Horcruxes."

"And we found them."

"Yes. Yes, we did." She stared at the forest, without really seeing anything. "It all seemed to go so well for our side. Yes, there were battles and deaths and casualties, but... we all knew there was only one way it could end. We all believed in... in..."

"In Harry." He squeezed her hand again. She fought a losing battle with the sobs that threatened to overtake her. It didn't take long before she was crying in his arms.

He patted her back. "Hush... It's alright..."

But it wasn't. And nothing he said could change that.

The Final Battle between Harry and Voldemort had been located at Hogwarts. That, too, had been the only way the story could go.

They had duelled.

Death Eaters and Aurors alike had stopped fighting to see the two most powerful wizards ever duel. Light and Dark had held their breath, waiting for the outcome.

A moment, Voldemort had appeared to be winning.

"There was only one way this story could go," Hermione whispered, to the cold wind and the echos of the dead.

She could remember the light in Harry's eyes when the sword of Gryffindor materialized in his hands. She saw the split second wherein Voldemort's superior smile changed into a fearful curse, his wand raised as a last defence, his other hand searching for something in his cloak.

Magic clashed with magic. Light met Dark in a final explosion of colorful sparks. Everyone in the world who had even only a bit of magical power could feel the shockwave.

For one perfect moment everyone's magic sang in tune, soared up into the skies, they were one with all that was magical. One moment...

Before it all went crashing down.

Gryffindor's sword decapitated the Dark Lord. Harry, sweaty and covered in blood, turned to them with a smile on his face.

She could remember the dagger that glinted between his ribs. The serpent-shaped handle, the red that leaked to the ground. The surprise that barely had a chance to reach his eyes as Harry fell to the ground.

The relieved smile that still lit his face, even in death.

And Magic died with him.

They had all felt it. She would have expected thunder, or at least some lightening effects, but none of those. Rather, it felt as if something faded away, a warmth they'd felt all their lives disappearing and leaving only cold ashes.

It had been difficult, learning to live as Muggles. They were forced to work together, Muggleborn, Halfblood and Pureblood, if they wanted to survive at least. Many places were completely destroyed by the backlash, like Diagon Alley or Beauxbatons. And Hogwarts... No spells worked any longer, no enchanted objects. Potions turned into muddy water. All Magical plants withered away slowly. Remains of magicals beings were found, before even those disappeared completely. The Muggle world was in an uproar about the sudden increase in "alien corpses" and citizens without legal papers.

Not an ounce of magic was left in the world.

They had searched. Everyone had hoped there was someplace, someone, not affected...

Hermione herself had searched the Forbidden Forest, then nothing more than a collection of dead trees. There were no acromantula's, no unicorns... After a while, some muggle plants had started to take root in the forest and soon squirrels and deer had replaced the Bowtruckles and centaurs. With Hogwarts crumbled to dust, the whole magical world seemed to have been nothing more than a dream.

They had tried to rebuild lives for themselves. And it had worked. They had settled in, and even if she still dreamed about Hogwarts, there was nothing anyone could do about it...

And yet she still found herself here, at Hogwart's ruins, every single year. She could not let go. Even when all hope was lost, she felt she needed to come here. It was her tribute to the fallen, to students and professors and everyone who gave their lives in that fateful battle.

This could be the last time she came here. For her, it could all be over soon. The wizarding longevity had faded away together with the rest of magic. She was ninety-three, and though her body was failing her, her mind was not. At least she had managed to keep that.

If only she hadn't lost nearly everything else... If only Harry had survived...

Ron, his hair still so surprisingly orange for his age, smiled softly at her. "C'mon, let's go home. You're freezing and my toes are about to fall off." He tried to lead her back to the car, where their granddaughter waited for them to drive them home, but she pulled her hand loose from his grasp. Her eyes had seen something that wasn't possible, that had to be another shadow of the past...

She heard Ron gasping silently when he saw what she was staring at.

Out of the Forest, a lonely shape had emerged. It trodded towards them, first shyly, then with a bit more confidence. A few metres from them it stopped, looking at them.

Its coat was the purest white. The horn could have cut glass, and its eyes... they were the purest of green. Hermione remembered those eyes.

The unicorn stared back at them for a few more moments. Then it suddenly reared, the horn catching the sunlight through a gap in the clouds, glittering.

The moment all four of the unicorn's hooves touched the ground again, it turned and ran away galloping.

Hermione touched her face and was surprised to find tears there. She turned to Ron, who was gaping at the white spot that disappeared in the distance. He embraced her, seeking her support as much as giving it.

She smiled in his arms. Her eyes shone with an emotion she had not expected to feel again, not on this day, not after all those years.

Hope.

"Do you believe in reïncarnation?"

At the other side of the ruins, the Womping Willow sprouted new leaves.

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