***************
Bring tears to your eyes.
And all that surrounds you,
Are secrets and lies.
It was over.
Those were the words echoing in Hermione Granger's head as she slowly picked herself up off of the floor and surveyed the damage around her. Luna Lovegood was nursing a bloody nose, and Ginny Weasley was sobbing over the lifeless body of Neville Longbottom.
"He can't be gone!" Ginny suddenly screamed hysterically, disturbing the haunting silence that was slowly encompassing the room.
Hermione simply stood before Ginny, not knowing what to say. She was taken aback at the reality of everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours; flabbergasted that her life could still be in jeopardy, despite the sacrifices that had been made on many people's -- including Neville's -- behalves.
"Ginny, he died a hero," Luna said quietly, her eyes not quite meeting her friend's. She looked down at the ground and said nothing further. Though Hermione did not, at times, understand Luna, she knew now what the girl was thinking. Some had gotten away.
"It wasn't worth it though, was it?" Ginny countered, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably. "They all got away. It was all useless."
"Don't over exaggerate this Ginny," Luna said the tone of her voice now turning firm. "Three of them got away." She held up three fingers and counted them. "And don't you dare say that this was all useless -- he died a hero, and he'll remain a hero forever."
Ginny wiped a stray tear away from her watery red eyes. Her shoulders slumped in defeat and she began to silently sob once more.
****
Hermione turned from Ginny, unable watch her friend suffering anymore. They had gone into this knowing that some might not make it out alive, but Hermione had not expected it to be that way. Perhaps she was naïve, perhaps she was inexperienced, but she had truly believed that everyone would be all right once this had all finished. Oh, how she had been wrong.
She traipsed over to Harry, who was helping Nymphadora Tonks balance on her one leg that wasn't broken.
"Thanks for the help, Harry, I think I can take it from here," Tonks said earnestly, slowly hobbling over to where Mad-Eye Moody was helping Ron bandage a deep cut on his forearm.
Hermione glanced at Harry out of the corner of her eye as if she was afraid that he had left. He hadn't.
"Hermione," he said, concern etched on his own battered face. "Are you all right?"
Hermione blinked in confusion. "Of course I'm all right," she lied. She wasn't all right; she would never be all right. There are some things that a person can't encounter without having nightmares about it for the rest of their lives. This was one of those things -- one of those things that would haunt her in both her waking and sleeping lives. One of those things that would be in the back of her mind forever; one of those things that would never go away.
"No you're not," Harry concluded after looking at her closely. He raked his hand through his hair and shook his head slowly. "No one is."
She glanced around the room and saw the faint truth to his words. The defeated bodies of fallen Death Eaters lay strewn across he floor, alongside those of the people who had fought for the light side . . . and didn't make it. She saw Ginny's small body still slumped over Neville, crying out in desperation. Luna had regained her dreamy composure, and was sitting quietly next to Ginny holding her friend's hand, and solemnly gazing around the room. Ron was helping Moody and Tonks repair the wounds of those various Order members who hadn't sacrificed their lives in the final battle.
"Maybe no one in here is all right, Harry," Hermione said, turning to face him. "But out there, out in the rest of the Wizarding World, everyone else is."
****
Hermione watched as Harry nodded glumly, his eyes focused on Ginny, Neville and Luna. She could only regard him helplessly as he surveyed the rest of the room.
"Ministry representatives are out looking for Travers, Rookwood and Dolohov as we speak." She shuddered at the thought of the man who almost killed her -- both in her fifth year, and only a few hours ago -- running around on the streets of London. He could be out 'finishing his master's work' as he had said. "They're going to send word when they catch them." She resisted the temptation to say 'if'; surely the Ministry would catch them, they had to.
"You mean 'if' they catch them," Harry said, his green eyes watching the bodies of Rudolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange being taken out of the room. "The Ministry is horrible at things like that, Hermione, and we both know it."
"I know, Harry," she said quietly. "But we can still hope." She observed the Lestranges' soulless bodies leaving the room and she instantly remembered Neville's bravery as he fought them off, ultimately giving up his on life in the process.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him shake his head. She sighed, silently wishing to wake up from the nightmare that had gradually become her life. “Harry,” she said softly. “We can still hope.” She knew that she had repeated herself, but she wasn’t sure if he had heard her the first time.
“I know, Hermione.” He sighed and looked away from the scene before him. “It’s my entire fault,” he muttered.
“No it’s not,” Hermione said sternly. She breathed in deeply and touched his arm lightly, causing him to look her directly in the eyes. “We wouldn’t have come here if we didn’t want to. This is no one’s fault, and you know it.” She nodded toward Ginny and Neville. “We all knew what we were getting into when we followed you in here, and frankly, none of us had second thoughts; not even Neville.”
She saw the corners of Harry’s mouth turn up and form a small smile, and knew that he too was remembering Neville’s childhood cowardice. The cowardice that had disappeared sometime during their Seventh Year and had not since returned. She remembered how he had saved Ginny’s life today, and how he never would have done so if he was still the fearful boy that he had been less than five years ago. She remembered the look on his face as he avenged his parents’ torture. Most of all, she remembered how he had died a hero; a genuine hero.