With a loud crack, Harry, Ron and Hermione landed just outside the gate to the Burrow. Instinctively, they all held hands, tight enough to make their knuckles turn white, until they realised that it really was all over now. Hermione's face felt stretched awake, her eyes were sore, the fresh morning air soothed and scalded her face in equal measure. She felt as though she hadn't slept in weeks. She probably hadn't.

Hermione let go of Harry and Ron's hands as they made their way to the front door of the Burrow. Ron took her hand again and held it tightly. She looked up into his piercing blue eyes, seeing the morning light dance on his freckles and remembered. Hermione gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, earning a ghost of a smile from Ron in return.

Harry turned around, his hair flapping wildly in the gentle wind. All three of them were dirty, beaten black and blue, their clothes torn and ripped. Hermione looked at both of them and then down at herself, and slowly began to laugh.

There was another loud crack behind them, as Molly, Arthur and George returned ahead of the other Weasleys.

"I know, Hermione," said Arthur, digging around in his pocket for his wand, mistaking her hysterical laughter for tears.

"Someone take her to Azkaban," Harry replied with smirk, as Arthur unlocked the door and led them all inside. "I think she's finally cracked."