Chapter 2: Tea

Disclaimer: Nope- Harry Potter doesn't belong to me. I wish, but no.

A/N: To let you know...all the flashbacks, dreams, daydreaming, memories, etc. in this story will be in italics. I hope you like this chapter!

It was two weeks after Harry had destroyed Voldemort and we were sitting in the funeral parlor for Ginny's wake ceremony. I kept thinking to myself that we were all supposed to be happy...Voldemort was dead! We should be having a celebration of the downfall of the dark lord. But how could we be happy? Ginny was no longer with us. I looked to the other side of the room at Harry. He appeared to be working up the courage to walk towards Ginny's casket. I looked up at her casket myself, feeling a shiver go through my spine. One of my closest friends was in that oak box up there. I stood and walked silently over to Harry, the sound of my heals echoing on the wooden floor. I put my arm through his and guided him up to her casket. I had underestimated how hard it would be for myself to see Ginny and not be able to talk to her, to hug her. I saw Harry wipe his face with the sleeve of his jacket. He must be crying, but I couldn't look at him for fear that I too would begin to cry also. I had done my fair share of crying during the war and after Ginny's death. I definitely had, and I didn't want to start up again. As we approached the casket I let go of Harry's arm and looked over the oak wall surrounding her. There was our Ginny. She looked so pleasant, something I couldn't understand for she had died suffering...that bastard had made her suffer. Harry looked down at Ginny and immediately let out a loud sob and looked away. My hands began to tremble as I looked from Harry's greif stricken face to Ginny's still, stiff body. I hugged him and whispered in his ear "It will be ok Harry, I know it will." He looked me in my eyes, for the first time since he had brought home Ginny's body after the final battle. That's when I saw it in his eyes and I began to cry too. That's when I saw the last bit of emotion in his red eyes telling me that it wouldn't be okay for him and that he had lost all hope. He looked away and shut me out with just one turn of his head.

"Let me do this alone, Hermoine," he muttered.

"Of course" and I walked back to my seat by Ron. Ron was the only one who hadn't cried since Ginny died, he just sat there and didn't talk much. I came to the conclusion that he must not have been able to cry even if he wanted to. I had been begging him just to let it all out but he wouldn't, couldn't.

"Oh Ron, I'm so sorry," I whispered to him placing my hand on his knee. He looked from my hand to my face and it was then that I saw the sadness lingering in the blue pools of his eyes. It was as if in one day I had been given the power to tell emotions through the eyes, or so that's how it felt. He looked like he hadn't slept in days and it made my heart ache.

"She didn't deserve to die," he said hoarsely. "God dammit she didn't deserve to die!" He kicked the chair that sat in front of him before standing up quickly and exiting the funeral parlor, me following closely behind.

I shook my head, as if to rid my mind of that image of Ron. The image of him being so messed up. I turned my attention back to the article I was writing. I had been day dreaming once again. I don't know why but I always think of that day at Ginny's wake six years ago. The sadness seemed to surround me that day; I had felt like I couldn't breath, everyone was so hurt. Why hadn't Ron just let me talk to him! Why couldn't I see Harry was so close to the breaking point? I blamed so much of these things on myself, but I was right to. I was too caught up in everything and I'd failed to notice Ron going crazy and Harry becoming so depressed that he no longer wanted to live. It seemed so crazy that I hadn't seen Ron in three years. He had left the Burrow five years ago to 'find himself' and I had only seen him once since then in Diagon Alley at Gringotts.

"Ms. Granger I don't hear that typewriter. Now stop day dreaming about who knows what and get back to work!" That was Jerry, my boss, and now the owner of The Daily Prophet.

For a moment I considered yelling at him for calling one of my best friends death, another's insanity, and another's depression (that lead to death) as 'who knows what'. But I came to my senses and decided to get back to work. I resumed typing my article of 'Are Death Eaters still at Large?', and all my thoughts of Ron drifted away.

Finally it was 6 o'clock and I could go home to my cozy apartment. I began to walk home, needing the fresh air. It may sound silly but walking seemed to help me think. I walked into my apartment complex and making sure there was no one around took out my wand and muttered 'alohorama'. My door unlocked with a click and I entered my small apartment. It was nothing special and it got lonely, but it was home. I was exhausted and took off my long parka before collapsing on the couch, not even bothering to take off my black work shoes. Crookshanks came trotting out of my room to greet me with a purr.

"Why hello there Crookshanks. Did you miss me doll?" He was all I had really. After my mum had died two years ago my dad and I only spent time together at Easter and Christmas because it had become too difficult. We reminded eachother of mum too much and although deep down we knew it was stupid, we thought that it was better to spend as little of time as we could together because of it. I had had my friends; but to put it frankly Ginny had been murdered, Harry had died of grief, and Ron left with out so much as a good-bye. My eyes watered slightly thinking of what screwed up lives my friends and I had. God, Hogwarts was so great...we were all so happy. The only thing to fight about was if Ron called me a bookworm, and we would bicker about it. The only thing to be scared about was what predicament Harry would find himself in each year. And the only shyness shown was from Ginny when Harry was around. But that had of course all changed our sixth year when Ginny and Harry began to date. Ron and I never really dated but we both knew we liked each other, and there weren't ever times in our seventh year when we would miss a chance to touch each other's hand or sit next to each other...and maybe even occasionally give each other a quick kiss. My eyes began watering again thinking of all we had gone through. I blinked the tears away and stood up quickly scaring Crookshanks in the process.

"Ready for some dinner baby?" I asked my ginger cat before pouring him some dry cat food and flicking my wand toward the stove to turn it on to make some tea to go with what ever I was going to make for dinner. I hadn't realized until now how hungry I was. I had missed lunch to interview Mr. Fudge about what he thought about the death eaters, and if they were still at large. Personally, I thought it was a bizarre topic for my editor to assign me. After all the death eaters were just desperate blokes trying to get power, but even they had to realize there was no hope for them after Harry defeated Voldemort.

I sighed before walking back out of my kitchen and laying back down on my fluffy couch to wait for my tea to boil, and before I knew it I quickly drifted off to sleep.

I was at the Order's head quarters sitting in a large wooden chair, my finger nails grinding into the arms of my chair leaving half moon arcs in the wood. Harry was in battle with Voldemort at this very minute. We all knew it. Voldemort had told Harry to come and fight him to get back Ginny, for she had been kidnapped by Bellatrix Lestrange the day before. Harry had said he wanted to go alone, and Dumbledore permitted him because there was no one who could possibly help Harry. The prophecy had said there would indeed be a battle between them and only one of them would live. He knew it was time. I thought it was crazy, that he should just go get Ginny and wait until he was more prepared to battle Voldemort, but Harry would hear nothing of it.

The days ticked by like minutes and it was almost a week later when appeared back at the headquarters. Lupin, Dumbledore, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, Ron and I rushed out to the entrance hall of the house when we heard the door open and slam. We were greeted with the sight of Harry standing in the front hallway entrance of Grimmauld Place, Ginny in his arms. But she wasn't moving. It was so quiet I could hear my own heart pounding. Not even the portraits on the walls were making a sound for they were filled with sudden interest as to what was going on. I heard Lupin gasp and Mrs. Weasley let out a sob when Harry dropped to his knees and began screaming incoherently. I did make out one thing he said though. "HE KILLED HER!" I grabbed Ron, who's face was as white as a ghost's, and sunk my head into his chest as I began to cry loudly. How could this happen! Mrs. Weasley made to rush toward Harry and her lifeless daughter but Mr. Weasley held her back, shock written clearly accross his ageing face. That was one of the few times I had ever seen Dumbledore so grave. And the look on all the Weasley's faces, including Ron's, was something I never wanted to see again. I lifted my head from Ron's chest and looked back at Harry. He was acting mad, he somehow had managed to stand up and grab hold of a chair and throw it across the room, never letting go of Ginny.

"Is he dead, Harry?" Dumbledore was the first one to speak.

"YES he's dead, but so is she! Cant you see professor...ALL I have ever had...they are all dead. All because of this man...EVERYTHING is gone!" he rambled on and on but I couldn't stand it and I covered my ears not wanting to hear any more; not wanting to hear screaming and pointing at her baby Ginny. Pointing at Ginny whose hair was frail and all tangled around her body. She had been tortured.

Mrs. Weasley screamed and screamed...

I woke up with a start to hear my teakettle steaming loudly to let me know it was done. God, I had had that same dream about Harry coming back from the battle two nights in a row now, and I was beginning to think there was something wrong with me. I had been thinking so much about the war lately. Maybe it was all this studying on death eaters for my story that I have been working on for a month, I would simply just have to tell Jerry I didn't want to write this story anymore and to give it to someone else. Yeah right, and then lose my job I thought.

I sighed, wiping the sweat off my forehead that had probably accumulated there during my dream. I stood slowly, prepared my tea, and grabbed some left over meatloaf out of the fridge before sitting down to eat, not even bothering to warm up my meal.

A/N: I hope to update next saturday...but I can't promise anything. Thanks for reading- please review :)