A/N: Hopefully the chapters will be getting longer as I write them. Thanks again to Faith for BETA-ing this, and otherwise, happy reading. ^^
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Fall-coloured leaves crunched loudly under the trainers of one Hermione Granger-Weasley as she walked through the silent cemetery, silently searching for the Weasley plot. It was September 1st and the first year anniversary of the passing of her only real female confidant and her fiancé. She'd opted to come alone, afraid that she wouldn't be able to maintain her composure if she had to see the open grief that was still fresh in everyone else’s faces.
When she managed to find the tombstone, she simply knelt in front of it and stared at it for a moment before she placed a bouquet of roses onto the mound of earth she was kneeling on. After a moment's hesitation, she pulled out one of the flowers and laid it on the grave next to Ginevra's.
They'd been buried side by side, because Hermione had been sure that's what they'd wanted. It was in both of their wills drafted by the war, and since neither of them had updated it since, it was what was carried out. Molly and Arthur had refused to bury their daughter in the Malfoy's plot, and since Draco and Ginny hadn't decided to buy their own, they were rested with the other Weasleys. She was sure that if Draco was alive, he'd probably have died from the disgrace of a poor Weasley burying him under a modest headstone.
She rested her elbows on her knees and placed her fingers together under her chin, looking at both graves, as if she were trying to look through them, it was at times like this that she would allow herself to remember. She made sure she was too busy working to do so during other times.
No one had been sure exactly how the relationship between Ginny and Draco had started. The one story Hermione personally believed was that it had been a result of the war. Something about fighting together, about knowing that the other was always watching your back, even when they had an entirely different target, was probably what drew them together. Draco hadn't made it known publicly which side he had chosen, and for a long time, most assumed he hadn't. He had the mark but he answered to it not at every bidding, but only when the fancy struck him. It looked like he was playing both sides or playing neither at all, waiting for the weight to tip in one direction before he swore a loyalty.
After Lucius Malfoy's death, Draco was finally free to live life the way he wanted it. If Draco was unsure as to how that was, no one could tell. Hermione supposed that what had finally gotten him on their side had been Ginny. They'd never shared a mission, but when forced onto the same battlefield, they watched each other's backs as if they'd been assigned to do so. Whatever she personally thought of Draco Malfoy, Hermione couldn't deny that he was a much appreciated ally, and because of the insight he had into the Dark Arts due to his lifestyle, he turned quite a few battles in their favour.
Whether or not people suspected there was more to Ginny and Draco then what they'd shown in battle, all were surprised when the couple had finally announced their relationship and quickly got engaged. When your friends and loved ones dropped like flies around you everyday, you learned not to put any scrap of happiness you could have on hold. Just in case you never made it.
She was startled out of her remembrance by the appearance of a crow that had settled on Draco Malfoy's headstone. She didn't mind the company of something that was still alive to unsettle the silence, even if it was a bird. She fingered one of the white roses on the grave silently while going back to her musings. Ginny loved roses, but never the red ones. She could still remember fondly the one time Draco had made that mistake. Ginny had told him that red roses reminded her of death and mourning because they were the flowers used in almost every funeral she'd ever attended. And in their short lives, they'd all attended a lot. He'd simply quirked his brow in the way that suggested he thought her insane and didn't comment on it. One would have thought he hadn't really been listening if not for the fact that he'd never bought her another red rose again.
Hermione would have loved to have said that Ginny had made Draco a better person, had changed him, but then she'd be lying. He was still the cold, calculating bastard of a man he had always been. Nearly unnatural grace had still accompanied his every movement. She was sure he'd never done anything for anybody other than himself before the war, and only then had he ever looked out for someone else. No, he hadn't really changed. Whatever Ginny had seen in him had been lost to anyone else, even now. Her only consolation was that if he had a chance to escape his captors he'd never taken it. Ginny hadn't died alone, and she hoped she wasn't alone now.
Being the scholar that she was, she refuted most religions, especially now that she was a witch. And with everything that she'd seen, she couldn't imagine a better place after this life. There couldn't be, not with the way two innocent people had died - two people who had saved countless others. She furiously blinked back her tears and stood slowly, working out the kink in her leg that had formed from kneeling for so long.
The ruffle of the crow's wings had startled her momentarily. She gave it a slight smile. "Going to keep them company while I'm gone? I imagine they're lonely." The bird tilted its head and ruffled its wings again, letting out a loud caw almost as if responding to her question. She shook her head sharply. She was talking to a bird now? Ron was probably right: she was barking mad. She eyed the graves again for a moment before turning and walking out of the cemetery. She didn't notice the crow leave shortly after she did.
---
After two of the most prominent players in the war had been found in Diagon Alley, life had started again without a hitch. There weren't any more warning messages, there weren't any more unnatural deaths. Babies were born, and people got married. People went about their businesses without fear. It seemed like the attack had been a one-time thing, and the younger children who had witnessed it had pretty much forgotten. The memorial had become a place of quiet reminder and tribute once again.
The only people who still seemed very affected by it were the Weasleys. They'd lost people in the war like everyone else. Percy had been killed on a raid of the Ministry, Fred's Hogwarts sweetheart and wife Angelina had gone missing in action and a body had never been found. It was doubtful she was still alive. Bill had scars marring his once handsome face, and some argued it helped his bad boy look even more. Fleur had lost her sister Gabrielle and had named her first daughter with Bill after her.
Charlie Weasley walked with a constant limp. It was a slight one on good days, but besides the ailment he suffered very little. Other friends had fallen in combat or simply disappeared. Some hadn't been able to take the strain of war and went around the bend, admitted to Saint Mungo's and never coming out. Despite all that, one of the biggest blows had been to see Ginny hanging from the monument in Diagon Alley so brutally murdered.
Even now, a year later, the grief was still raw. After Hermione and Ron had married they'd moved into the Burrow to help out and keep Molly as distracted as they could while her grief was still new. Harry had become an Auror and had tried to find the people responsible for the murders, but there had never been any evidence to find. They weren't even entirely sure what Death Eaters had been left alive after the war, never mind how to find them. It was one of the many unsolved cases that probably would never find an end.
But for an entire year they'd been left to grieve, to start again, and to get comfortable, to think it was now really and truly over. It was then that another attack started. Pretty Hannah Abbott, a kind former Hufflepuff and wife to Neville, had been buried under the rubble of their home while Neville was at work -- he’d taken over teaching Herbology for Professor Sprout.
Hermione had heard as soon as she walked into the Burrow. She'd walked in to find ashen faces, a distraught Neville which normally wouldn't have surprised her. He'd grown into his own and shown he was capable of bravery during the war, but afterwards, he was unsettled by anything that didn't fit properly in the normal way of things. When most of your friends were dead, you held onto those you still had tightly, and so it also hadn't been unusual to see Neville standing in the living room of her home.
What had startled her had been what he'd told her. "Traitor" graced the front of his lawn that hadn't been covered by the remnants of his home, just like the murders the year before. Her mind was already whirring with possibilities even if the rest of her felt the cold effects of shock.
---
Somewhere on the other side of London, a pair of stormy grey eyes snapped open.
---
Fall-coloured leaves crunched loudly under the trainers of one Hermione Granger-Weasley as she walked through the silent cemetery, silently searching for the Weasley plot. It was September 1st and the first year anniversary of the passing of her only real female confidant and her fiancé. She'd opted to come alone, afraid that she wouldn't be able to maintain her composure if she had to see the open grief that was still fresh in everyone else’s faces.
When she managed to find the tombstone, she simply knelt in front of it and stared at it for a moment before she placed a bouquet of roses onto the mound of earth she was kneeling on. After a moment's hesitation, she pulled out one of the flowers and laid it on the grave next to Ginevra's.
They'd been buried side by side, because Hermione had been sure that's what they'd wanted. It was in both of their wills drafted by the war, and since neither of them had updated it since, it was what was carried out. Molly and Arthur had refused to bury their daughter in the Malfoy's plot, and since Draco and Ginny hadn't decided to buy their own, they were rested with the other Weasleys. She was sure that if Draco was alive, he'd probably have died from the disgrace of a poor Weasley burying him under a modest headstone.
She rested her elbows on her knees and placed her fingers together under her chin, looking at both graves, as if she were trying to look through them, it was at times like this that she would allow herself to remember. She made sure she was too busy working to do so during other times.
No one had been sure exactly how the relationship between Ginny and Draco had started. The one story Hermione personally believed was that it had been a result of the war. Something about fighting together, about knowing that the other was always watching your back, even when they had an entirely different target, was probably what drew them together. Draco hadn't made it known publicly which side he had chosen, and for a long time, most assumed he hadn't. He had the mark but he answered to it not at every bidding, but only when the fancy struck him. It looked like he was playing both sides or playing neither at all, waiting for the weight to tip in one direction before he swore a loyalty.
After Lucius Malfoy's death, Draco was finally free to live life the way he wanted it. If Draco was unsure as to how that was, no one could tell. Hermione supposed that what had finally gotten him on their side had been Ginny. They'd never shared a mission, but when forced onto the same battlefield, they watched each other's backs as if they'd been assigned to do so. Whatever she personally thought of Draco Malfoy, Hermione couldn't deny that he was a much appreciated ally, and because of the insight he had into the Dark Arts due to his lifestyle, he turned quite a few battles in their favour.
Whether or not people suspected there was more to Ginny and Draco then what they'd shown in battle, all were surprised when the couple had finally announced their relationship and quickly got engaged. When your friends and loved ones dropped like flies around you everyday, you learned not to put any scrap of happiness you could have on hold. Just in case you never made it.
She was startled out of her remembrance by the appearance of a crow that had settled on Draco Malfoy's headstone. She didn't mind the company of something that was still alive to unsettle the silence, even if it was a bird. She fingered one of the white roses on the grave silently while going back to her musings. Ginny loved roses, but never the red ones. She could still remember fondly the one time Draco had made that mistake. Ginny had told him that red roses reminded her of death and mourning because they were the flowers used in almost every funeral she'd ever attended. And in their short lives, they'd all attended a lot. He'd simply quirked his brow in the way that suggested he thought her insane and didn't comment on it. One would have thought he hadn't really been listening if not for the fact that he'd never bought her another red rose again.
Hermione would have loved to have said that Ginny had made Draco a better person, had changed him, but then she'd be lying. He was still the cold, calculating bastard of a man he had always been. Nearly unnatural grace had still accompanied his every movement. She was sure he'd never done anything for anybody other than himself before the war, and only then had he ever looked out for someone else. No, he hadn't really changed. Whatever Ginny had seen in him had been lost to anyone else, even now. Her only consolation was that if he had a chance to escape his captors he'd never taken it. Ginny hadn't died alone, and she hoped she wasn't alone now.
Being the scholar that she was, she refuted most religions, especially now that she was a witch. And with everything that she'd seen, she couldn't imagine a better place after this life. There couldn't be, not with the way two innocent people had died - two people who had saved countless others. She furiously blinked back her tears and stood slowly, working out the kink in her leg that had formed from kneeling for so long.
The ruffle of the crow's wings had startled her momentarily. She gave it a slight smile. "Going to keep them company while I'm gone? I imagine they're lonely." The bird tilted its head and ruffled its wings again, letting out a loud caw almost as if responding to her question. She shook her head sharply. She was talking to a bird now? Ron was probably right: she was barking mad. She eyed the graves again for a moment before turning and walking out of the cemetery. She didn't notice the crow leave shortly after she did.
---
After two of the most prominent players in the war had been found in Diagon Alley, life had started again without a hitch. There weren't any more warning messages, there weren't any more unnatural deaths. Babies were born, and people got married. People went about their businesses without fear. It seemed like the attack had been a one-time thing, and the younger children who had witnessed it had pretty much forgotten. The memorial had become a place of quiet reminder and tribute once again.
The only people who still seemed very affected by it were the Weasleys. They'd lost people in the war like everyone else. Percy had been killed on a raid of the Ministry, Fred's Hogwarts sweetheart and wife Angelina had gone missing in action and a body had never been found. It was doubtful she was still alive. Bill had scars marring his once handsome face, and some argued it helped his bad boy look even more. Fleur had lost her sister Gabrielle and had named her first daughter with Bill after her.
Charlie Weasley walked with a constant limp. It was a slight one on good days, but besides the ailment he suffered very little. Other friends had fallen in combat or simply disappeared. Some hadn't been able to take the strain of war and went around the bend, admitted to Saint Mungo's and never coming out. Despite all that, one of the biggest blows had been to see Ginny hanging from the monument in Diagon Alley so brutally murdered.
Even now, a year later, the grief was still raw. After Hermione and Ron had married they'd moved into the Burrow to help out and keep Molly as distracted as they could while her grief was still new. Harry had become an Auror and had tried to find the people responsible for the murders, but there had never been any evidence to find. They weren't even entirely sure what Death Eaters had been left alive after the war, never mind how to find them. It was one of the many unsolved cases that probably would never find an end.
But for an entire year they'd been left to grieve, to start again, and to get comfortable, to think it was now really and truly over. It was then that another attack started. Pretty Hannah Abbott, a kind former Hufflepuff and wife to Neville, had been buried under the rubble of their home while Neville was at work -- he’d taken over teaching Herbology for Professor Sprout.
Hermione had heard as soon as she walked into the Burrow. She'd walked in to find ashen faces, a distraught Neville which normally wouldn't have surprised her. He'd grown into his own and shown he was capable of bravery during the war, but afterwards, he was unsettled by anything that didn't fit properly in the normal way of things. When most of your friends were dead, you held onto those you still had tightly, and so it also hadn't been unusual to see Neville standing in the living room of her home.
What had startled her had been what he'd told her. "Traitor" graced the front of his lawn that hadn't been covered by the remnants of his home, just like the murders the year before. Her mind was already whirring with possibilities even if the rest of her felt the cold effects of shock.
---
Somewhere on the other side of London, a pair of stormy grey eyes snapped open.
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