14. Chapter 14

Hello all! I hit an awesome milestone last chapter, 100 reviews! That's amazing! It's all thanks to you guys. So, to celebrate, I'm finally sending out some shoutouts.

warner905, my first reviewer, and a fantastic follower

SasoriHime05, a continual reviewer

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Lupa Eira, who left the sweetest review a couple chapters back

MaryLouise1996, great reviewer

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Kabb, who gave me some of the best advice ever: to get a beta

And my beautiful and amazing beta: harrypotterfreak53 You are fantastic. Thanks for everything.

I didn't want to do a huge endless shoutout, so if i didn't shout out to you, I still love you, with all my internet love. Thank you all.

Let's aim for 200 next.

Anyway, here's the next chapter, I hope you guys like it!

Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter.

The next day, early in the morning, Draco stood in front of the Tim Hortons. His heart was hammering, and a cold sweat had erupted on his palms. Draco couldn't deny it; he was dreading the moment Hermione would arrive. Everything was about to change.

Draco shivered. He was teetering on the edge. He yawned. His record of good night's sleep had been broken the night before. There was too much on his mind to allow him a peaceful sleep. Heaven forbid the night before Draco's life changed drastically, he got a decent night's sleep.

The nightmare he had endured had been blurry, dark, and chilling. Screams of the tortured and the dying continued through the entire evening. Flashes of green light had blinded him. When he had regained vision, he was staring at a strange collage of the crying faces of the people he had hurt. The collage had merged into the top of the astronomy tower, and Dumbledore telling him he had choices. As Snape cast the final curse, he had awoken in a cold sweat, a final, drawn out scream shattering him into consciousness.

Draco shuddered. It seemed as though his memories of the war would never cease to haunt him. The screams…he trembled. The guilt of knowing he had caused those screams had weighed down on his heart for years now. It wasn't my fault! His mind grasped at straws, trying to dissipate the guilt. He hadn't always had a choice.

Choices. Dumbledore, the night he died, had spoken to him of choices. He remembered the pitiful look the old headmaster had given him. The wise old man had said you always had a choice. But life wasn't that simple, Draco thought. Life was sometimes there to just screw you over, regardless of the good or bad choices you had made. Fate played with your world, deciding how it would go, how it would begin, and how it would end. Fate controlled everything, as you fell sadly under the assumption you could do a damn thing to help or hinder. It didn't matter. Not in the end

Like now, Draco thought. He didn't want to bring Hermione back. But fate screwed him over, sending Blaise to him. What were the chances the auror would go across the Atlantic and find him just as the bubbly brunette bounced up? Now, Draco had no choice but to let go of his only source of real comfort. Thanks fate. You really know how to help a brother out. Draco looked out into the crowded streets of Toronto. He couldn't do this.

"Hey, Mr. British," said, a voice from behind him. Draco was jolted from his thoughts. He would recognize that voice anywhere. Plastering a smile to his face, he turned. This is it, you can do this. Draco turned slowly, trying to remember all the reasons this was the right choice. The second he laid eyes on her, all those valid reasons vanished from his mind in a puff of smoke.

She was just standing there, looking at him. She was just being Hermione. It made his heart cry for what he was about to do. One last look, he thought, and let his eyes wander over her, slower than usual, determined to get in every detail.

Her long brown was hair curled around her shoulders. It was amazing how that hornet nest of hair had turned into these beautiful caramel curls. Draco lowered his eyes. She was wearing simple jeans and a white blouse that clung to her form splendidly. Draco stopped and stared. He felt like a teenage boy again, like it was his first time noticing women. He stared at her chest for moment, fantasies forming in his head. He jerked his eyes upwards, trying to ignore her exceptionally curvaceous form. His eyes reached her face, taking in every inch. All thoughts of fantasies disappeared in a puff of smoke, and his heart began to cry once more.

Her eyes were wide, as they normally were, but there was no sparkle in them anymore. They were struggling to keep a mask up, thinly veiling pain. Her skin seemed paler than the normal glow that usually surrounded her. Her mouth was pulled into a smile, which simply distorted her face because of the strain it seemed to be causing her.

She was exceptionally unhappy.

"Hi Hermione," Draco said softly, his eyes not leaving hers. She gestured her head towards the door.

"Shall we?" her voice was dead and emotionless.

Draco nodded and followed her through the door. Hermione choose a table while Draco bought them both a pastry and some coffee. He sat down, placing everything on the table. Hermione chose the coffee closest to her, while Draco sighed in relief. This wouldn't have worked otherwise. They spent a moment avoiding each other's eyes, her on the ground, and Draco's on the coffee cup she took a sip from.

"So, why the urgent return?" Hermione asked softly, eyes still on the ground.

"I've been called back," Draco muttered, not elaborating. Hermione nodded, the strained smile still on her face. Her eyes flickered up to his.

"I'm going to miss you, Draco," Hermione said, sincerely, some of the pain manifesting on her face for the first time. Her walls were slipping.

"Why?" Draco let the word slip out. He had been wondering this since their conversation the night before. Why would she care so much if he was leaving? He cared very much, but that had to be one sided. They were friends, so she probably cared a little, but shouldn't to the extent that was demonstrated on her face. It seemed to be ripping her apart from the inside.

Hermione took a moment to respond. "I don't know," she said uncertainly. "I just feel…..something with you."

Draco raised his eyebrow, and she elaborated.

"It's like a connection, as if we were soul mates in another life." Definitely not soul mates. "It's strong, and it feels permanent. From the second I saw you, drunk and confused, I just felt as if you were a part of me. I had never felt this way before, and a total stranger was doing this to me. When you told me you were leaving, I felt a sudden pain in my chest, as if I had been run through with a knife. As if I had just lost my best friend, but I barely know you. I didn't understand it. I still don't."

Draco stared at her, fighting to keep the shock off his face. He couldn't believe Hermione had just said all of that to him. He couldn't believe she felt that way. What had she said? A connection…that's right. There was a connection between the two of them. He knew it was the magical world connection, but it felt deeper than that. He had hated Hermione almost his entire life, now after a two week friendship, he felt a connection with her down to his soul. She had summed up perfectly his feelings towards her, and now he had no idea how to respond.

"Sorry for laying the heavy emotions on you," Hermione rushed out, concerned that she had upset him.

"No, no," Draco said quickly. "You just summed up my feelings towards you as well."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Really?" she asked, in a hushed whisper, leaning over the table towards him.

Draco nodded, smiling at her. He felt perfect right now, at this little table in Canada, sitting with Hermione. But a little voice at the back of his head was reminding him of his duty to Blaise, Potter, and the wizarding world. He had to do it.

"Why don't you finish that coffee, and we go for a walk?" he said stiffly, pointing at the coffee, dreading the inevitable. She nodded, smiled, and gulped down the coffee. She threw the cup into the trash and started for the door, Draco trailing quickly behind her.

Here goes nothing.

They had just gotten out of the door when Hermione's eyelids drooped shut and she passed out, Draco catching her before she hit the concrete. Thank Snape for teaching him how to make such a good knockout potion. He picked her up, bridal style, shot a quick look around, making sure no one noticed, and apparated back to the hotel.

He landed in his apartment, quite clumsily, given the fact that Hermione was unconscious in his arms. He laid her delicately on the bed. She breathed in and curled up in the blanket. Draco stopped for a second just to look at her. Her face seemed so serene and peaceful. She could be asleep, not knocked out. Draco smiled at her. This would be the last time her life was peaceful in a long time. He checked his watch. It was 8:15, 1:15 London time. He still had fifteen minutes until he promised to meet Blaise. He sat down in a chair across from his bed.

He had fifteen minutes left with his Hermione, and she wasn't even awake. His eyes drifted to Hermione's dreaming face, unconscious on his bed, and his imagination went into overdrive.

He wondered what her life would be like now if she hadn't had her memory taken. He bet she'd have a top job at the ministry, if anyone deserved that type of position Granger did. She'd be doing speeches about the war, the same way Potter sometimes did. She'd probably have married the Weasel. He knew they had finally gotten together during the battle of Hogwarts. There was some story to do with Weasel caring about house elves. They probably would have popped out a couple kids too. She would have been happily in love. Draco's heart clenched at the thought.

He wondered what would happen when they got her memory back. Would she go right back to the stupid Weasel? Draco felt lightheaded. She couldn't go back to him. She couldn't. No.

Why do you care, asked a little voice at the back of his head. I don't, he responded defiantly, but he knew he was lying.

The kiss flashed through his mind again. What was going on? Was it possible that he was in love with the bookworm? No way, there was no way, he told himself firmly, trying to brush off the feeling of uneasiness he received with that denial. The kiss was a one-time thing, just Hermione doing something spontaneous. He laughed, imagining Hermione doing something like that back in the wizarding world. Spontaneous Hermione was not what the wizarding world would expect.

He checked his watch once more. His heart skipped a beat. It was time to go.

He glanced at Hermione. Her face was now smiling. Apparently sleeping potions came with good dreams. Draco's face lit up at her smile, even though she was unconscious. He looked down at her face, dimples showing. He chuckled, as he took a curl of her hair and tucked it behind her ear. His fingers froze as his mind realized what he was doing. Shake it off, he muttered, pulling his hand away. He leaned over the sleeping beauty, picking her up.

"Sorry if this is uncomfortable," he whispered in her ear. He turned on the spot and apparated off.

Finally, they both were going home.

Draco landed in Blaise's office at the ministry, knocking into a table. He nearly lost his grip on Hermione, but regained it before she fell. Blaise rushed around his desk, and assisted Draco in lying Hermione across the table, her face serene. Blaise and Draco backed up and spent a moment just staring at her.

"Today's the day," Blaise sighed, leaning against his desk and crossing his arms.

"Yep," Draco sighed, upset at the thought. Blaise shot him a look.

"Hey, Drake," Blaise said, walking over at slapping a hand on his shoulder. "Who knows, maybe you guys will still be friends here."

Draco shook Blaise's hand off, and walked to the other side of Hermione.

"So, what now?" He asked, ignoring Blaise's comment and avoiding his eyes.

Blaise checked his watch. "Well, the funeral starts soon, so I think you should head over…."

"Wait, wait, wait," Draco interrupted. He couldn't be hearing this right. "Me?" he asked disbelievingly.

Blaise nodded, as if stating the most obvious thing in the world. "You found her Draco, you should be the one to tell everyone."

This had to be the worst idea ever. He opened his mouth to resist, but Blaise cute him off.

"I'll stay and look over Hermione," Blaise stated. "Don't worry, just explain to everyone."

"What the hell do I say?" Draco asked, floundering. Again, he was lost in the ridiculousness of his situation. This was happening way too often. Someone should write a book, how to proceed in exceptionally unlikely and unnatural situations.

He'd buy seven copies.

Blaise was answering his question. "The truth," Blaise replied simply. "Everyone values it so much more than before the war."

Draco sighed. Blaise was not letting him out of this. Damn auror.

"Where's the funeral?" he huffed, giving in.

Blaise smirked slightly, satisfied he wasn't putting up a fight. "In the forest of Dean. According to Harry, it has something to do with her family. You should go now, the funeral should be starting any moment," he finished nervously, glancing at the clock.

Draco nodded. He started to apparate away, but something stopped him. He turned and cast one last look at Hermione.

He took in every detail, from her curly hair, to her smile, to her freckles, sprinkled across her nose. He looked at the lids covering the big brown eyes so deep he felt as though he could drown in them. This was the last time he would look at Hermione Granger, his friend. Soon, she would go back to being his enemy, the bookworm and best friend of the boy who lived. He sighed, treasuring the moment while it lasted. He closed his eyes and turned. It was impossible, their friendship now. He had to let it go, and forget. He sighed, blinked back a tear, shunned himself for over emoting, and apparated to the forest of Dean.

He arrived in the middle of a deeply forested wood. He looked around, for a sign of people. In the distance between two oaks, was a small light. Draco walked over and checked it out. A little ways away, he could see a large gathering of people. This was it. He took a deep breath and headed in that direction.

It took him approximately five minutes to reach the funeral site. It was in a large clearing, with light shining down through the trees. The clearing opened up onto a lake, blue and sparkling in the midday sun. It was a beautiful place, Draco thought. It was rather mystical. He could feel the magic in the air. Hermione would like it.

A large tent filled the clearing. Inside, he could see hundreds of people milling around. He took a second to devise a plan. Alright, he thought. First thing to do, find Potter. Draco nodded. This was a good first step. He stepped out of the shadow of the oak he was in and headed into the tent.

Walking in, he took notice of his surroundings. He could tell there were different rooms, a large gathering room, and near the front, a smaller room off to one side. Draco looked around for a sign of the raven-haired man he sought to speak with. He couldn't spot the boy who fought endlessly, but he recognized quite a few familiar faces.

Professor Mcgonagall was there, as well as Slughorn, Sprout, Flitwick, and basically every other Hogwarts professor. They were all wearing dress robes of the finest fabrics. Hagrid was standing off to one side of the tent, crying into a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth. Merlin that man was huge. Draco had forgotten.

In the middle of the tent, there seemed to be a group of old Hogwarts students gathering. Draco glanced over their faces.

Neville Longbottom was standing there, a distraught Hannah Abbott clutching his arm. Longbottom's face was very red, as if he was on the verge of crying but was desperately trying to keep it together.

Luna Lovegood was standing next to him, in robes of flowing yellow. She stood out in the crowd of black. Then again, Draco chuckled dryly, when had she not?

Seamus was there, engaged in conversation with Dean Thomas, Padma Patil, and Parvati Patil. Cho Chang stood a little off to the side, along with others Draco knew by sight but who's names escaped him. They were huddled together and muttering. Draco looked around some more.

Almost everyone Hermione had ever met seemed to be here. He saw Madam Rosmerta talking to the owner of the Hog's Head near the back. He could see that Victor Krum was talking to Fleur Delacour at one side of a podium near the front. There were several house elves scurrying around as well. Draco laughed at that. SPEW was still going strong then, even after Hermione was considered gone.

Draco turned, and was suddenly blinded by red. He had obviously found the Weasleys. It was such a big family, Draco hadn't really realized. Weaslette was there at the front of the back. She was crying into the shoulder of the Mother Hen. He couldn't spot Weasel though. He must be with Potter, Draco deduced.

Draco turned to the person next to him, to ask if they'd seen the chosen one. Draco froze when he got a glance of the old man.

It was Ollivander, the wand maker. Ollivander's eyes met his, and widened. It didn't surprise Draco, the last time he had seen the wandmaker, it had been it the Manor's dungeon, seven years prior.

"Hello Ollivander," he said softly, as to not scare the old man. "Have you seen Harry Potter?"

Ollivander shuddered, and stared for a moment. He managed to answer after a few seconds. He pointed to the room at the front of the tent. "All the speakers are there."

"Thank you," Draco mummered and headed in that direction, but was halted by Ollivander's arm.

"Mr. Malfoy," he said, his grey eyes boring into Draco's. "Do not make this service harder for Miss Granger's loved ones than it already is."

Draco stared. "Wouldn't dream of it, sir," he responded curtly, pulled his arm from the old geezer's grasp and hurried towards the room.

Draco could hear voices inside. They didn't sound happy. They were arguing, but Draco couldn't make out any words. Draco shrugged. His news was much more important than any argument. He walked in.

He found himself in a small room, with hardly any people in it. Luckily for Draco, the people who were present were the ones he was looking for. They didn't seem very happy with each other though.

"Admit it, Potter!"

"I can't believe you're bringing this up, today of all days!"

"I need to know!"

"Sorry to interrupt, boys" Draco stated, strolling forward with his usual swagger.

Potter and Weasel turned away from each other, to look at him. Draco guessed they must be the two speakers. Weasel's face seemed to be red already, but it darkened several shades when the Gryffindor caught sight of the Slytherin. Potter just stared.

"Malfoy, why are you here?" Potter asked curtly.

"I need to talk to you," Draco replied simply.

"Fuck off, Malfoy," Weasel spat venomously.

"No, seriously," Draco responded.

"Piss off, ferret," Weasel spat once more, his face now looking exactly like a tomato. The Weasel took in a deep breath, and started his rampage. "You have no right to be here. You were no friend to Hermione. In fact, you made her life hell for years. You stood by and watched her being tortured without lifting a finger. You hated her. That much was obvious. Lucky for you, the feeling was mutual. This service is for the people Hermione cared about, so get the hell out."

The Weasel's volume had been steadily increasing, until the point where he was nearly screaming. Draco barely blinked an eye. Weasel could say whatever he wanted. Draco was here for a reason.

"Just, listen Golden Duo," Draco continued, acting as if the Weasel hadn't exploded. This was way more important than Weasel's anger.

Potter looked as if he was about to respond, but he faltered. The tent had gone silent outside the room. The service must be starting, Draco thought nervously. Not good, not good, not good…

Suddenly, he saw a hand reach through the flap and grab him. The short man who pulled him back into the main tent muttered "speaker time." Before Draco truly understood what was happening, he found himself being pushed to the podium at the front of the tent, as Potter and Weasel protested vigorously. Hundreds of eyes were now staring at him, expecting him to speak. Fuck.

Draco froze. He had no idea what to do. This wasn't why he was here, and the majority of these people hated him. He looked around, trying to find a way out, when he caught Loony Lovegood's eye. The blonde Ravenclaw mouthed one word at him. SPEAK. Loony gave him a reassuring smile, and Draco felt strength rush through him. He knew what to do.

"Hello, all," he started, looking out across the crowd. Many wide eyes stared at him. He couldn't blame them. Who would've ever thought he'd speak at Hermione Granger's funeral (sort of)? Even five minutes ago, the concept was ridiculous. But here he was. Fate obviously needed an eventful day. This is for you fate, he thought, and he continued on.

"I knew Hermione Granger for seven years before she disappeared. Seven years I knew this woman, and never once did we have a conversation that didn't involve screaming and insults. Hermione knew some really good ones." A confused chuckle rang through the crowd. Draco felt more confident. He could get through this very strange situation. He could. Probably.

"To state it simply, Granger and I didn't get along," Draco continued, the speech getting easier with each word muttered. "Anyone who went to Hogwarts knew that. We weren't very secretive about our mutual dislike. It started when we were young, from the first moment we saw each other. When I was little, I used to say I didn't like Hermione Granger because she was a muggle-born Gryffindor, and I was a pureblooded Slytherin." He felt several glares burn through him. Blood purity was a sensitive subject since Voldemort's defeat. Screw it. He was making a decently good speech, and was planning on continuing it. He didn't know where all this was coming from, but it just felt natural to say.

"But, now that I'm older and wiser, though not much," another chuckle rang through the crowd. "I can understand fully why I didn't like Hermione Granger. I simply admired her too much." Every single person in the tent stared at him in blank confusion. Draco didn't care though. These were truths he had so long ignored that he had forgotten they were truths. It felt great to get them off his chest

"I didn't like her because she was such a better person than me. I have never respected anyone more. She was kind, and intelligent. She was compassionate. She was a strong person, who would never take shit from anyone. The broken nose she gave me once can testify to that. And she was beautiful." At this, Draco stared off into the lake. He finally was saying it, his true thoughts of Hermione. Not of his friend Hermione, but of the real girl he had bullied for years on end. He had hidden it for so long, in fear. He would never even admit it to himself, in nervousness that someone would realize his true opinion of this amazing woman. He hid it with blind hated. Now, given the ridiculous circumstances, he felt obligated to say the truth.

"Hermione was beautiful," Draco smiled sadly, still looking across the lake. "Inside and out. She was one of the most amazing people I've ever met. Funny, intelligent, witty, kind, and caring. I just wish I had told her this back when she could hear it." Draco's heart slammed in his chest. He needed to say this.

"One day, back during the war, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter were captured and taken to Malfoy Manor, where I was staying. Hermione, because of her blood status, was tortured for information on the drawing room floor. I watched, helpless, as she withered and twitched, screaming as my crazy aunt crucio-ed her. But Hermione never broke. She never gave up. She fought. She was the strongest person I've ever met."

Draco stopped speaking and looked slowly over the audience. Some of them were looking at him in amazement, others in total shock. Seamus looked dumbfounded, and Mcgonagall was crying silently. As he watched the tear trickle down Mcgonagall's cheek, Draco finally understood something.

That day, a month ago, when Potter had run up to Blaise, asking him to look into another lead, Draco had thought something. He had wondered why Potter still had hope. This was why. These people were why.

Potter always had hope in Hermione because of this, because of all these people sitting here. He never gave up on her because of all the people who loved the little bookworm. All of them had been influenced and changed by Hermione. The wonderful Gryffindor Princess had changed so many lives; Draco could see that fact just by glancing at the numerous faces. Potter couldn't ever give up hope on a girl that good, it would be immoral. Draco was ashamed that he had given up on her himself.

"Hermione was a woman that I can't even fully describe. If I sat down by myself for an hour, just thinking, I still wouldn't be able to describe her well enough to do her justice. Even now," Draco stated, looking around. "As I see this beautiful service you all have concocted, I still don't think it does Hermione justice. It is beautiful, but not as much a Hermione was. I doubt an angel could be that beautiful."

"I'll be honest now, more honest than I've been in a very long time. Now, as surprising as the next statement will be, it's the truth. I miss Hermione. I miss Hermione Granger a lot." Now everyone simply looked astonished. "I miss the snobby bookworm who would yell at me when I interrupted her studying. I miss the girl who walked into the prefects carriage, glowing with pride at the achievement. I miss the strong woman who let herself be tortured instead of giving in to the wishes of the dark side. I miss Hermione Granger."

With that, Draco stepped down from the podium. Everyone stared at him, gaping. Draco shuffled uneasily. Did everyone know how much he hated Hermione? His consciousness snorted. Of course they did, it wasn't secret in the slightest. Draco quickly found himself a seat in the crowd, trying desperately to ignore the eyes still burning into him. Thankfully, those eyes were quickly averted, because the Weasel had just taken his place at the podium.

Weaselbee seemed to have calmed down. His face was back to its normal color, and besides sending a quick glare Draco's way, he didn't take notice of the Slytherin in the crowd. The Weasel took a deep breath, ran his hand quickly through his hair, and began speaking. His voice was trembling slightly.

"When I met Hermione, she was a bushy haired girl who talked way to fast. She came into mine and Harry's compartment on our first trip aboard the Hogwarts Express. She spoke so fast that I barely understood her. I remember when she left, I turned to Potter and said "whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it." Weasley snorted.

"Looking back, if she had been in any other house, I wouldn't have stood for it. Hermione became one of my best friends, after Potter and I saved her from a mountain troll. She had lied to the teachers for us afterwards, to save us from getting in trouble. She took all the blame, and the teachers believed it. Oh, sorry Mcgonagall," he rushed out. Draco turned to the headmistress. Mcgonagall looked a tad annoyed at this confession.

"She told the professors she had looked for the troll and Harry and I had saved her, when really Harry and I had locked the troll in the same room as her. Our mistake," the Weasel chuckled. Draco found himself very interested, he had never heard this story before. "She was always there for me, no matter what. She stood up for me, she was kind to me, and she on occasion helped me with my homework. The only time she was mean was when we fought, but seriously, who could blame her?" Draco snorted. No one could, the Weasel was very aggravating. Mean was an understatement of how Draco would have acted. The Weasel was still speaking.

"As I got to know Hermione more, I became more amazed by her. Sure, she was stubborn and bossy, but she was kind, and witty, and the smartest girl I've ever known. And before I even realized what I was getting myself into, I had fallen in love with her." Weasel smiled sadly, while Draco stared at him blankly. He couldn't believe that the Weasel was saying all of this. The Weasel never showed emotion, except anger, that was a well-known fact. Hermione was always annoyed by it, also a well-known fact. Draco pondered for a moment. It was Hermione. She was doing this. She brought out the emotions in him. She brought out the good in everyone it seemed. No wonder she was so loved.

"Anyway," Weasel continued. "I fell in love with Hermione Granger. Then for years, we bickered, but remained best friends. I watched as she grew into a beautiful woman, witty, intelligent, caring, and I fell even more in love with her, if that was possible. It was sort of funny, everyone knew that I loved her. I remember Potter just staring at us dubiously while we bickered, as if telling us to get a room. I loved Hermione so much, and I learned during the war, she felt the same way. But for years, the two of us were too proud and stubborn to do anything about it." The Weasel smiled fondly.

"During the battle of Hogwarts, I made a comment about how we needed to get the house elves out, about how we couldn't order them to die for us. For years, Hermione and I had argued about house elf rights. She wanted total equality, and well, I didn't care. But when I showed a little bit of care for the creatures, well, that seemed to be the trigger. Hermione kissed me. It was the best moment of my life, even though, you know, we were in the middle of a battle and life kind of sucked." Everyone laughed.

"And there was Potter, standing next to us, trying to separate us, you know, because of the war. Then for a week, we were happily together. Then, out of the blue, she disappeared. That was the longest day of my life."

"Not a second has gone by since then, when I haven't missed Hermione Granger. I would give anything to have her back. Anything at all. It's been seven years, and I still love her with all my heart. She was a light in my darkness. She always knew what to do. Whenever I have a problem, I think, what would Hermione do? She leads me, even though she's long gone. Even though it's been years since I've seen her, she still helps me. She always will. She will always be there for me."

With that, the Weasel stepped down from the podium, and sat next to his mother, who pulled him into a hug. The crowd didn't notice though, for a hush had fallen upon it. Harry Potter was now standing at the podium. The crowd stared, unblinking, waiting for Harry Potter to speak. Draco leaned forward a bit. Even the Slytherin Prince was anxious to hear what the boy wonder would say. Harry took a breath, and spoke.

"I do not want to be standing here," he said simply. "I do not want to speak to you. I don't want you all to be here. Because, it makes this real. It means that she's actually gone. It means all hope is lost. It means Hermione Granger will never come back." At his words, Draco shifted uncomfortably. Harry continued, speaking fluently.

"I am not ready for that reality. I've lost many people in my life, and I've never been ready for it. Who can be? But, I've moved on, I've continued living. I've accepted that they've passed. But with Hermione, I can't do that. I can't keep living. Every time I start to feel happy, or even laugh, Hermione's face flashes through my mind, and I go numb. How is it fair that I live and she doesn't? How is it fair that we can't even find her body? It isn't, it isn't fair at all. And that's what Hermione was about, fairness. She was fair to everyone, no matter what."

"Hermione was one of the kindest people I've ever met. She was good through and through. She stood by me no matter what, right or wrong, she never yelled when I was being stupid, she never even blamed me. She was perfect, and she doesn't deserve this fate. And she certainly doesn't deserve any of this," he said gesturing around him, at the funeral gathering.

"She deserves parades, and trumpets, and thousands in attendance. She deserves beautiful flowers and the best the world can give. Because she was just that good. She was the best person I've ever met. I can name example after example. But I don't need to, because you all knew her. You all were touched by her goodness, which spread out everywhere she went. So this, this funeral, does not do her justice. And I know, nothing ever will."

"So now, I'm going to speak directly to Hermione, wherever she is. Whether she is looking down at us from heaven, or somewhere else in the world, this is for you 'Mione. I love you, more than words can say. You were always there for me, even when no one else was. I can still see your face in my mind, your eyes bright and sparkling. I can still hear your voice, musical and twinkling. I can still feel your hugs, warm and reassuring. You are a part of me 'Mione. And I'm not giving up on you, not now not ever. Because I know that you would never give up on me."

With that, he stepped down from the podium. Weaslette pulled him into an embrace, tears once again racing down his face. Potter seemed to barely notice his wife's arms trying to comfort him. He was staring blankly out across the lake, as though remembering something. Draco felt very uncomfortable, as though he was violating some intimate scene. He turned his eyes to the ground, and let his thoughts engulf him.

Hermione had touched so many people, and helped so many people in her life. She had been strong for others, and good to others. She was the perfect woman. How had it taken Draco her "sort of" funeral to realize that? Draco looked around at all the various people, crying on others shoulders, hugging everyone in comfort. All these people loved Hermione, and wanted her back no matter what. Draco sighed. He had the key to their happiness, unconscious in Blaises' office. He couldn't withhold her because of his own selfishness. He had to be strong. He had to set her free. He had to be like Hermione. He looked back at Potter. The boy who lived seemed to sense his stare, and they made eye contact.

Draco needed to talk to the boy who lived, now.

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