Disclaimer: The day I come into Harry Potter ownership rights is the day Percy becomes my hero.

A/N: I know, I know...everyone and their granny is writing a story about the aftermath and marriage proposals and trips to Australia and whatnot. I'm no different! The pairing is, of course, R/Hr. As always.

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Getting Through It

I. Letting It All Sink In

The bodies of the fallen warriors had been placed against one long wall of the Great Hall, beneath a cloudless, bloody-morning sky. Voldemort's body had been laid off in a separate chamber, apart from the goodness of those who died resisting him. Contrary to the stunned silence that had filled the Hall earlier, the occupants of Hogwarts were released from the spell that had held them; they were now free to mourn the loss of family and friends, the young lives that would never again see daylight.

Fred's body had been placed at the far right end of the Hall; upon returning from Dumbledore's office, Harry had made directly for the swarm of Weasley's...and Ginny. She immediately fell into his arms, her fiery red hair draped over his shoulders like a cape. She would be all right...there was time now for healing.

Hermione, however, could not force herself upon the family when they so obviously needed their time alone. She stood for a moment at the entrance of the Hall, staring around...the trio had become separated in the jumble of people jostling around the Entrance Hall, and she could only assume that Ron had headed for his family. She wanted so much to see him, to talk to him alone...but once again, there would be time for that. She mustn't push it.

Instead, she set off on the endless trip through the Great Hall, headed subconsciously for the opposite end of the table on which the victims were placed. She wound her way through the endless mass of students, teachers, and friends, feeling oddly calm and numb as she approached the last two bodies.

Lupin and Tonks were lying side by side; whether by accident or something higher than that, their fingers were slightly intertwined. Hermione reached out with a slightly shaking arm and gently touched Lupin's other hand. His young yet creased face seemed peaceful, framed by his prematurely grey hair. Unexpectedly, Hermione felt a single tear slide down her cheek. She had always felt the closest to Lupin...indeed, she mused with a small smile, she could see herself as a direct parallel of him. Quieter, studious, unable to exercise control over the two people they cared about most...

As she took a slow step back, her gaze fell upon Tonks...her hair was once again a bright, vibrant pink. So she had been happy at death...probably anticipating seeing Remus. Death would not have been so bleak for someone like Tonks...merely another obstacle to overcome, along with her husband...

Tears were now cascading down her face, uninhibited, and as Hermione spun on her heel, stumbling blindly to get away, she found herself face to face with Harry. "Oh...sorry, Harry," she stammered, swiping at her eyes with a hand. Harry mournfully reached out and squeezed her shoulder.

"It doesn't seem real, does it?" he asked quietly, staring past her at the body of his father's best friend. "Right after they'd had Teddy...I just can't believe they're both gone..."

She knew he wasn't doing it on purpose, but Hermione didn't feel very comforted by Harry at the moment. Still swiping at her eyes, she made a move to walk away...Harry, however, said something that stopped her. "Hermione, have you seen Ron? Mrs. Weasley sort of wants them all together right now."

She paused, staring up at him. "No...I thought he was with you."

Harry cast a sad glance around the Hall, although without any real hope of seeing his red-haired best friend. "Ah well...I guess we just have to give him time. Let him come to us, you know? He'll talk when he's ready." Harry paused here to run the palm of his hand up under his glasses, wiping away the tears that were threatening to form. "Anyway...I need to get back to Ginny." He turned his eyes to the small group huddled around Fred's body, and Hermione saw the muscles in his face tauten. Seemingly coming to himself a moment later, Harry looked back at her and attempted a smile. "Would you like to come along? I think Mrs. Weasley would want you there too."

And she wanted to be there, Hermione decided, but not just yet. She couldn't bring herself to look Molly Weasley in the face...much less George. What could she possibly say to any of them, to make things seem better? No, she would wait...besides, it was for another ginger-haired man that she really longed to see first.

"No thanks, Harry. But please tell them I'll be there in just a few minutes."

Harry nodded, understanding dawning in his warm green eyes. He grasped her arm briefly, and then disappeared into the milling crowd. Hermione watched him go; when he was out of sight, she too began to fight her way through the slew of witches and wizards, her face set. She was on a mission. She was going to find Ron if it killed her.

Neville was at the very heart of a knot of giggly girls...Hermione was outraged to see that Romilda Vane seemed to be the ringleader. Neville, of course, could do much better than the likes of her. Perhaps she ought to have a few words with Luna...

A few seats along sat the three Malfoys...as much as she hated them, as much hell as those bastards had put her through, Hermione could not help but feel a slight bit of pity. And after Harry had revealed all that had happened in the forest, she now knew that Narcissa had been a key element to Harry's success. Even if her witch of a sister had placed the still-visible scar on her throat. At the moment she walked past them, Draco looked up and caught her eye. Hermione paused, gazing steadily back...the pale boy's face flushed, and he gave her a brief nod before averting his gaze. She sighed and continued to push her way towards the door to the Entrance Hall...at the very least, the lack of hostility and use of the term Mudblood was a start.

All around her were the sounds of celebration. Even those who had suffered losses could not contain their excitement. Indignation was boiling in Hermione's chest, so intense that it frightened her. How could these people, no matter how relieved they may be, dare to express happiness at a time like this, when there were obviously so many others who could not fathom ever being happy again?

By the time she reached the Entrance Hall, Hermione was in a towering rage. She pushed moodily through the exuberant mob of people...ignoring their hurt looks and comments...heading for the solid oak doors. The further she got, the more worked up she became. There was not much point in searching for Ron in her current state, she decided. Perhaps Harry had been right; he would come to them when he was ready to talk.

Finally, she reached the front doors that led out onto the grounds. The horizon was tinged with a reddish hue, blended with a pale blue and lime-green, the colors intertwining together so beautifully that they were certainly brushed by the hand of God.

Even the fresh summer morning did not have the decency to seem heartbroken.

She descended the worn stone steps to the sloping lawn. The landscape here did not reflect the glorious beauty of the sky overhead: long strips of earth had been gouged from the ground, and there were several dents in the soil large enough to pass for craters. Remnants of splinters, shining emeralds and general debris littered the grass. She knew that although it would take countless hours, hard labor, and determination from many people, the castle would someday be as grand and elegant as it once had been. The damages, no matter how costly, could be repaired.

If only it would be as easy to restore human lives as it would be to restore the Slytherin hourglass.

Hermione set off thought the rubble in an almost-dreamlike state, her feet carrying her automatically. After a moment, she realized she was heading for the lake, as though her subconscious was drawing her towards it. The second she got within close range of the smooth, flat surface of the water, she realized that she'd been beaten to the punch.

A lone figure was sitting in the shelter of the large beech tree that the trio had so often sprawled beneath. His knees were pulled up to his chest, coppery-red hair swaying in the early-morning breeze. He had not seen her, for his blue gaze was locked on a spot out over the water, on a vision only he could see...perhaps a different time, a different place.

Damn her stupid subconscious.

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A/N: I know there's not much action starting off, but trust me, it's gonna get much better! I'd like a couple of reviews before I continue though...if you please!