Disclaimer:- I own nothing and earn nothing from this story, J.K. Rowling and Associates own this world. However my imagination loves to play with the characters.

xox

Tears for the supposed dead

Tears, the battle is still ongoing and I'm standing here in tears. Hermione Granger looked with horror at the scene in front of her. Why do I care that he's dead? Would he have spared a thought for me, she stifled a tiny sob. Looking back out the passage where Harry and Ron had disappeared minutes before, they've already gone. Taken the memories and fled the horror. Why am I still standing here?

Her conscience answered for her, because you know, you care. Because he's not the monster everyone thinks he is, even if he did work hard to make everybody believe it.

The young woman wiped her eyes and forced herself to turn away. What was still left to be done was weighing heavily on her.

Uncertain as to why she couldn't tear herself away, Hermione took a reluctant step back. She caught a slight hand movement in her peripheral vision, "Merciful Merlin," she gasped, did his finger just move? Is he still alive?

Even though Hermione thought it may have been her imagination. That tiny glimmer of hope had her casting away her bravado, and she was instantly at his side on her knees in his blood. Placing two shaking fingers on the side of his throat that didn't have the gaping hole in it, her gasp was loud in the silent room, the charms employed to make it appear haunted must have broken with the main castle wards.

"Shit, shit, shit," her voice sounded loud, words ascending in pitch and impetus as she said them, "There's a pulse."

It might have been weak and thready, but it was definitely there. Searching through her trusted beaded bag, her tears turned into full blown sobs when she realised there was nothing left in it to help him.

Hermione had never said anything to anyone about the reason she was kneeling beside a man who supposedly hated her, blubbering like a baby.

The day before Bill and Fleur's wedding she had anonymously received a fully stocked potions kit. Each vial was carefully labelled in Severus Snape's spidery scrawl, even minute instructions on the vials of potions she didn't recognise. One of those had saved Harry's life after Godric's Hollow.

Hermione had known somehow that it had been her Potions Master who had provided it, who else could of? The man's keen intellect had fathomed what they were going to attempt.

Also that night in the forest of Dean, when Harry found the sword of Gryffindor, refills for the most used potions had mysteriously appeared in the kit, along with a new one. She'd known then who had delivered the sword to them.

However she kept her silence, knowing it would only cause another argument. Other things she had needed had also appeared in the same manner from time to time, the most convincing evidence among other books was one on Occlumency, which had saved their plans when Bellatrix had tortured her, no one had been able to break into her mind.

Now it came to saving the man who had obviously ensured their victory, there was nothing left to help him, for some reason this was the last straw for Hermione. She had hated the last year, pulled away from her studies, the one thing she loved in life, missing out on completing her N.E.W.T.S. in order to traipse around the country side with two over opinionated reckless hormone ridden idiot boys.

Attempting to keep them all alive, or at least from killing themselves because of their impulsiveness, or deserting the cause before they completed the task. She'd had such plans for herself. Leaving Hogwarts without finishing had been a bitter blow.

In the end she'd come out of the experience a much wiser woman. Harry Potter may still be her friend, but he was impetuous and reckless, and she realised now would never have survived without her constant badgering and support. He'd be dead as a dodo, Hermione had lost count of the number of times it had been her expertise or sheer gut churning courage that had saved his life, but did he recognise this? Hermione scoffed to herself, of course he didn't.

Then there was Ronald Weasley, she had no respect and little friendship left for him. He was a selfish and immature little twerp, too lazy to get out of his own way and too stupid to realise the fact.

Finally all these things came crashing down on top of her, and this was the one situation that pushed her over the edge. Exhaustion took over and her emotions stirred into desperation.

The young woman collapsed in a sobbing heap, her still untapped resources of elemental magic literally rippling out of her seeking help to solve this problem.

A sudden flash of shimmering red and gold filled the room. Initially she squealed in fright grabbing for the wand she currently used which had clattered to the floor. Shocked out of her tears, she sat erect, "Fawkes!"

The phoenix landed on her Professor's leg and held out his foot, there was a sizable missive attached. Hermione noticed that contact with the fiery bird instantly increased the deathly pale Professor's breathing rate.

Through her sheen of distress Hermione saw the bird's tears being offered to heal the gaping wound. However, as she took the offered letter, both Fawkes and the Potion Master shimmered away. Stunned into a standing position, she stared at the empty place they had just occupied, then vaguely down at the letter.

There was a message appearing on the front, she gasped in further amazement. The loopy script of Albus Dumbledore stared back at her, she was still gasping in surprise while she read.

"I knew you would be powerful enough to summon my familiar from such a distance Miss Granger. Victory is now assured. Keep this missive safe until the battle's won. Say nothing to anyone and read it in a private moment. I thank you for your discretion and in advance for following the enclosed instructions."

It wasn't signed, but she knew who had sent it. As the words disappeared into nothingness Hermione realised she'd just been handed another task. Sighing with fatigue, she stuffed the letter into her bag and took a moment to think.

It was then she noticed the blood on her, and something lying in the quickly drying gore on the rough wooden floor. Tapping it with her foot, she realised it was an ebony wand, his wand.

Hermione gasped, if he'd had his wand, why didn't he fight back. Did he think he was destined to die? Her emotions started to spiral out of control again at these thoughts. Especially when she realised how sad that was, he had thought his only way out was death.

Swallowing hard, she wondered, was he really that forsaken, so few knowing his worth? Sighing, she finally cleaned herself and the ebony wand before adding it to her bag.

She should be helping Harry, bugger bloody Ron, she thought heatedly, trying to take advantage of me like that was the last straw, and huffing she stalked back to the castle.

Unfortunately it was Ron who came across her first. Speaking with little respect in his voice, Ron accused roughly, "Where the fuck have you been?"

Her ire instantly rose further, "That Ronald Weasley is my business," Hermione stated imperiously, "Where's Harry?" she was still very annoyed with the red head.

Ron turned the same colour as his hair and his face screwed into a sneer, "You can't speak to me that way," he spat.

"I can speak to you any way I bloody well choose," she took a step closer to him threateningly, wand drawn and repeated more forcefully, "Now. Where. Is. Harry?"

Thankfully the man in question rounded the corner before they descended into fisticuffs or hexes."Hermione," he sighed, his voice flooded with relief.

xox

The battle raged hot, and just when they thought all was lost it was over. A glorious victory, and so it would go down in the next edition of Hogwarts A History, that the boy who lived had defeated Lord Voldemort.

However Hermione was just glad it was finished, she was finally free of her responsibility to her friends. She exhaled a breath that she seemed to have been holding in all year.

There were celebrations going on everywhere, but she couldn't bring herself to have fun, all she could think of were those who'd been lost. She was just numb, and she wanted to be as far away from here as possible.

Her thoughts turned unaccountably to The Potions Master once more, was he alive? Had he managed to survive? Even if it were a slim chance Fawkes got him to safety in time, Hermione felt better thinking he might still be here.

It was then that she remembered Dumbledore's letter, she'd been sitting alone in the great hall, watching people coming and going. Reconstruction was already underway, her so called friends had deserted her the second she was no longer of use to them. She did feel a little sorry for Ron now though, his family was in mourning over Fred. Harry had gone with them after being reunited with Ginny, but no one had invited her.

Resting her head back on the cool stone of the castle wall, she could feel the magic pulsing through it as the castle repaired itself. It was at that moment, Hermione made a decision.

The voice that whispered in her head was somehow elemental, and a plan formed in her mind. Rising she wandered the now deserted hallways, allowing the stairways their discretion.

xox

It was bliss to be finally alone and not in a tent with people that by the end of their time together irritated you every second you were with them. Laughing unaccountably, I'm actually relieved now they didn't want me. It's lovely just to wander along alone.

Her wand was ever ready though, the habits of the last year were now very ingrained. Finally finding herself opposite the prefect's bathroom and she felt drawn to enter.

After scouting every inch of the room and insuring she was actually alone she noticed it appeared undamaged and warded the door strongly.

It was time she took care of her needs for once, an immense feeling of relief washed over her as she plunged into her favourite jasmine and rose scented water as multicoloured bubbles wafted around the surface of the water.

Relaxing totally for the first time in recent memory, she took the longest bath, staying in until her skin didn't feel dusty anymore, and this took quite some time after merely making do with cleansing spells most of the time for almost a year. The simple luxury of washing her hair filled her with such pleasure, she did it twice.

In some ways the castle appeared to be taking care of her, Hermione knew there was no way anyone could find her in here. When she'd finally managed to pull herself from the water, she picked up one of the fluffy towels from the pile to dry herself.

A delicious thought entered her head. Looking at the seeming unending stack of towels she launched into them, sprawling naked, giggling fiercely.

Reaching for the scented lotion she knew would be close at hand like it always was here she started smoothing it all over herself.

Hermione Granger had always been forced by necessity to be very independent. From an early age, never relying on others for anything including her own pleasure. She hoped one day, she'd find someone she could trust in that way, however, until that happened she would take care of it herself.

Living in close quarters with two red blooded young men for the last year, had made it impossible for her to drop her guard for a second. She'd caught both Harry and Ron more than once mid wank.

She'd just looked the other way and found somewhere as far away as possible to have a good misery session. She was very grateful when this problem abruptly came to an end about three months into their escapade, when a new potion started arriving with her refills.

It was much better than the spell she used against them on occasion. She wondered if either of them was ever aware that they no longer felt the urge.

It finally dawned on her that as of this moment she could lower her guard, not having to worry about being caught in a compromising situation.

Reclining as she was in her decadent pile of fluffy towels, her now perfumed hand travelled down over her stomach. Caressing a path of light circles, and she revelled in the already glistening folds of her own femininity. After she came down from her third orgasm she sighed blissfully, and rolling over in the pile of towels covered, herself with them and went to sleep.

It felt like sleeping in a warm dry cloud, as the gentle lapping of the water in the pool lulled her to sleep. It was then that she knew the castle was caring for her, because the water in the pool should be still. Hermione also wondered if this was why the nightmares didn't assail her that night either.

However, the dream she did have was far more disturbing, but for a different reason. While she slept she dreamt of pale and skilful hands on her, but they were not her own. Although they were hands she knew, she was aware the owner of these hands would probably be mortified to touch, let alone caress her in the way she'd imagined. Never the less, she was surprised when she found it a pleasant dream on waking.

xox

For some reason on getting dressed Hermione chose lacy underwear and a blue dress from her bag. Twisting her copious curls into a French braid, she even applied a little make up. Finally feeling like a woman again, she felt ready to face another day with a much more peaceful attitude.

Leaving her sanctuary she ventured down to the great hall for breakfast. Not knowing how much longer she would be able to stay here while not a student, Hermione thought that today she should make plans.

Hoping to catch up with Professor McGonagall, she was disappointed to see the very woman she wished to speak to disappearing out the staff exit. This curiously reminded her of The Potions Masters robes billowing out the same exit, which in turn brought her thoughts back to the letter in her bag. Maybe it was time to read it.

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