A/N: Well guys, we have come to the end. I am so so incredibly grateful for the support I have gotten for this story and the incredibly kind things people have said to me about it. Thank you for reading this story in any capacity. It has been such a fun experience. I am sorry for the delay in this update, I did not get this chapter out nearly as quickly as I would have liked for you all, but I hope you won't hold too much of a grudge. I did however, take a trip to London, which was absolutely remarkable, and I visited the Harry Potter Studio Tour. If you ever have the ability to go, I 100% urge you to do so. It is magnificent. Despite the problems I have with the films, the craftsmanship and work that went into making them is really something else. It was an amazing, amazing day.

Speaking of problems I have with the films, one of them is how amped up they got me for actually seeing the Chamber of Secrets scene, and then how much of a let down it ended up being. I will never forgive them for changing the kiss...honestly, why ruin what is already perfect? Sigh. There are fics that have done a far far better job than me at writing a chamber scene (and I urge you to seek them out), but I had a go anyway. This chapter takes place, sporadically, between chapters thirty one, "The Battle of Hogwarts," and thirty six, "The Flaw in the Plan" of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Finally, I would like to dedicate this chapter to my grandmother, who passed away a week ago, and who was a writer herself! She was a remarkable woman who will be dearly missed.

"I can't say I'm sorry I missed this one…" said Hermione, shuddering as she knelt down beside the dead carcass of the basilisk, yanking out its fangs.

"I've never been happier that I was barricaded in with Lockhart the whole time," Ron said, joining her wearing his own look of disgust. The chamber was dark and grimy. A thin layer of water coated the stone beneath her knees, soaking through her jeans. And the massive basilisk before them, even in death, still managed to give off a sense of foreboding.

"Well I'd say we've gotten enough, wouldn't you?" said Ron, gesturing to the scatter of fangs in each of their arms and looking more than ready to get the hell out of there.

"Agreed," she said, relieved. The place was giving her the creeps, especially once she'd seen a torn scrap of black fabric lying on the ground that looked remarkably like it could have come from Harry or Ginny's old school robes. "Wait!" she said suddenly, an idea dawning on her suddenly. "Oh hold these, would you?" Clumsily she dumped her own fangs on top of the already sizable pile in Ron's arms. Then she pulled open the beaded bag, digging around until she felt it… "Ah hah! There it is. I figure we better destroy it down here, while we're out of sight…." She held out the glistening gold cup, the ornate badger peering out at them from the side. It was a shame, really, that Voldemort had chosen such precious artifacts to trap his soul into. The little goblet was quite beautiful.

Ron was staring at it apprehensively, and not for the first time, she wondered if he had told her the whole truth about what had happened after he had pulled Harry from the lake. "You should do it," he said, dumping the fangs on the ground and picking one out for her. She took it a bit reluctantly, staring at him with questioning eyes. "Just remember to do it quickly. And ignore anything it says to you. Or better yet, just stab it before it gets the chance to talk…."

"Talk?" she squeaked, "You never told me the locket said things!"

He shrugged, not quite meeting her eyes. "That isn't important right now. Go on then, let's get this over with."

She knelt in the puddles once again, setting Hufflepuff's shimmering cup before her. But as soon as she raised her arm, fang in hand, against it, the little cup began to quiver.

"Now, Hermione," Ron barked, eyes widening as he, too, stared at the goblet, "Do it now."

But her arm didn't seem to be working properly, frozen in midair as she watched, transfixed, as the goblet began to fill with water….

"Hermione! Hermione, now! Stab it NOW!" Ron was bellowing, but his voice seemed far off, and she watched as the water twisted itself into what appeared to be a figure, rising slowly from the depths of the cup. It was the likeness of her mother, she could see that now, wearing the same dress she'd worn the last day she'd seen her. And once the woman had broken the surface, a second figure began to emerge alongside her: that of Hermione's father. They were her parents, clearly, but there was something off about them, something that made Hermione uneasy. They were both unsmiling. Ron was still screaming something to her, but she could no longer make out his words, which had blurred into a distant buzz. Then the figure that was her mother opened its watery mouth….

"How could you, Hermione?" her mother's voice rang out, laced heavy with disappointment. Hermione's stomach sank. She felt her arm dropping but paid it no mind. "We always knew sending you to Hogwarts was a mistake. So much potential as a child…you could have made a great dentist…yet you insisted we send you to learn magic tricks…what a waste. And look what you've done to us now!"

"No," Hermione heard herself saying, her eyes swimming with unshed tears, "You don't understand! I had to, I didn't mean to hurt you—" But she was interrupted by her father.

"We went years knowing nothing about your life! Nothing! Secrecy and lies, thats what defines you, Hermione. Always above your silly nonmagical parents, is that it? Leaving us behind for a foolish, unworthy boy and his equally foolish family. Is our home not good enough for you? We were worried about you when you had no friends, but to think of the people you associate with now, you were better off before! You've turned out to be such a disappointment, Hermione."

The figure of her mother was nodding along in agreement. Hermione's tears were falling readily now, and she felt the basilisk fang drop from her fingertips. "We feel lucky to have forgotten you," her mother spoke, "Australia is lovely, we're so much better off here. Don't come back for us."

"No Mum, no, you can't mean that…." Hermione choked, forgetting entirely that the figures were merely crafted from water, and feeling instead as though she knelt truly before her parents, who were turning her away just as she had secretly always feared they would. Don't come back for us. The words rang in her ears. Then suddenly, the figures were blocked, and smooth hands were cupping her face. Blurred by her misty eyes, Ron's face swam before hers, and suddenly his voice was drowning out that of her parents'.

"You can do this, Hermione. It's not real, they aren't real." One of his hands moved down to curl her fingers back around the dropped fang. "As soon as I move away, stab it, yeah?"

She felt herself nod, the moment spent out of sight from the figures snapping her back to her senses. She strengthened her grip around the fang, and when Ron had pulled away, aimed the point right into the basin of the cup. It shattered instantly, the figures of her parents dissolving into a wave of water that fell upon her and Ron, soaking them.

When the water had cleared, only adding to the wetness of the ground, Ron held out a hand to help her up. She accepted it shakily.

"I'm sorry. I was going to do it right away, like you said, but then they appeared and I just…I couldn't," she mumbled, trying to steady her breathing as she bent down to collect the now soaked fangs.

"We'll get them back," Ron said sincerely, "Once this is all over. I'll, erm, I'll even go with you, if you'd like." His ears reddened, but he didn't look away. She smiled at him, standing up so they were face to face, only inches apart….

"I'd love that. Thank you." As they stared at one another, she really expected it to happen, more so than ever before. She even leaned in a little, in anticipation. But then one of the fangs slipped through her arms and clattered to the floor, and as Ron clambered to get it, the moment was broken.

When they walked back towards the entrance to the chamber, she thought she detected a hint of disappointment in his features. But she couldn't be sure.

His lips were on hers and it was absolutely marvelous. It was like a dream, except it was so much better than a dream. It was reality. It was actually happening. And it felt it as if they could be frozen there for all eternity. No war, no Voldemort, no fighting, just the two of them, trapped in their little moment, at long last.

She watched him from the bench across from his. Percy, whose eyes were streaked with tears, was rubbing his back. His head was in his hands. The other Weasleys filled out the rest of the benches, or else sat huddled around Fred's body on the floor. George had not moved from his position beside his twin, his whole body downcast. Mrs. Weasley's sobs racked the hall, intertwined with sobs from other families and other friends, crying over their own losses. There were so many dead.

She felt like an outsider, an intruder, barging in on someone else's extremely private moment. It was only when she tore her eyes away from Ron to search out the only other person whom she knew must be feeling the same way that she realized he was missing. Immediately, panic welled up inside her, and she was on her feet only an instant later. Harry was gone. He had been there only a moment before, hadn't he? She knew he had walked with them into the Great Hall. Then what? She couldn't quite remember. Maybe he had seen Fred and Tonks and Remus and it had all been too much for him. But why hadn't he said anything? Oh dear Merlin how long had it been? How could he just slip out without telling them?

"Ron!" She whispered urgently, not processing that she was now at his side until she heard his name falling from her lips. "Where's Harry?"

His head snapped up. "What?"

"Harry! Where's Harry?"

Ron looked around wildly, as if expecting her to have missed him in the crowd, but he came to the same conclusion: Harry was no where to be found. They locked eyes, and then Ron was on his feet as well and they were dashing out of the Great Hall, waving away the questioning looks from Ron's brothers. When she looked at him, she knew Voldemort's announcement must be running through his mind as well. But Harry could've...not without telling them...he wouldn't.

She was following sharp on Ron's heels, but it was unclear if he knew where he was leading her as they darted from one corridor to the next. Bodies were still being collected, and faces flashed by her as she ran. She almost tripped over a small boy who looked no older than thirteen, and had to hold back tears. A corridor over she was by distracted by the sight of Luna soothing a bleeding girl on the floor and accidentally surged straight into Ron when he came to an abrupt halt. Luckily, he managed to steady her before they both tumbled down, and when she regained her senses, she realized they had paused before the great Griffin stairwell that marked the entrance to Dumbledore's office. "The pensieve, Snape's memories! Of course!" she exclaimed, wondering why she hadn't thought of it herself. Harry wasn't the sort to wait around for information, it made perfect sense that he'd want to see what Snape had left him immediately.

Ron was fruitlessly trying to figure out the password. "Bat spleen...fluxweed...leech juice..." he exclaimed, listing out random potions ingredients. "The Dark Lord forever...Slytherin rocks...I dunno Hermione, what do you think an old bastard like Snape would make his password?" He asked, turning to her.

"Something more sophisticated than 'Slytherin rocks,' certainly," she said, cracking a small smile. But her guess was really as good as his. She didn't have a clue.

"Maybe we should just wait here a bit and see if he comes down?"

"But what if he's not even up there? We'll just be wasting more time! At that rate, we'll never find him…." She frantically checked her watch. Their hour was already dwindling.

"Are you two looking for Harry?" A voice sounded from down the hall.

"Neville!" Ron greeted, turning to him. "Yeah. Have you seen him?"

"Just a while, ago, actually, out on the grounds. He said he'd be gone awhile…He didn't tell you that?"

"Must've forgotten to mention it," said Hermione, struggling to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "Look Neville, Harry didn't seem a bit…odd…to you, did he?"

Neville scrunched up his face in apparent concentration, "Well he didn't say too much. I guess he did seem a tad out of sorts. Said he was carrying out some part of the plan. Oh! And to, erm, to kill the snake, yeah?"

"He told you that?" Hermione squeaked. But Ron had already taken off in the other direction, running towards the steps that led out to the grounds. "Thanks Neville!" she continued hurriedly, giving him a quick pat on the back before dashing after Ron.

"Ron, wait!" He didn't slow down, and she picked up her pace, nearly tripping over a fallen root. The grounds were now mostly deserted. Ron was headed straight for the trees.

"Harry wouldn't have told Neville about the snake if he wasn't going to do something stupid," he called back to her. "He's gone to the forest. He's turning himself in, bloody git."

"I know, I know that," responded Hermione, a bit desperately now, "But you can't go in there. Just, just stop for a minute!"

For a moment, she thought he had listened, because Ron slowed just before the edge of the trees. Then he turned back to her. "I'm not going to lose another brother, Hermione!" he bellowed, and her heart seemed to split into two on the spot as she looked into his eyes. There was an emptiness to the blue now. "We don't have time for this. I'm going in there, even if you're staying behind."

She was crying again, but she hardly noticed the tears streaming down her face as she pleaded with him. "Please. You can't go. You'll only both end up dead. He'll kill you on the spot before you even so much as see Harry. Please don't leave me." Ron's momentum seemed to drain out of him. His stance relaxed and his hold body seemed to sag. Then he started to cry as well, looking towards the forest with the most hopeless expression she had ever seen him wear. And she knew how he felt because she felt it too. How would they go on without Harry? How could they possibly win? It seemed now more than ever that they didn't stand a chance.

She ran forward and grabbed his hand, pulling him away from the trees, away from Voldemort, from the Death Eaters, from their best friend…. "He made his choice," she whispered to him, with more conviction than she felt, "Now we just have to trust him."

And they stood there together, hands intertwined, eyes misty, until it was time to return to the castle.

All at once it was over. Voldemort's body hit the floor, and the fighting came to an abrupt halt. Death Eaters fled the scene as the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix pressed in on them. Hermione and Ron surged forward to embrace Harry, reveling in the miracle that was all three of them, unbelievably, impossibly, alive. it was immense relief and grief and jubilation mixed into one. It was almost unreal.

Then the tables were returned to the Great Hall, and drinks were brought up from the kitchens, flowing amongst students and teachers and families alike. Harry was swept in a wave of admirers, but she and Ron took the first opportunity available to escape to the corner of the farthest table. There was lots of things to be said, but for the first time, there was plenty of time to say them. Her life had felt like a ticking time bomb for years, counting down to an inevitable conclusion. But the conclusion had come, and she was still here. And now she had more time than she knew what to do with. She thought she could fill it up with Ron, if he would let her. From the way he had grabbed her hand the moment they had sat down, clutching it under the table, she thought he would.

Tomorrow, she would be leaving with Harry and the Weasleys for the Burrow. She hadn't been the least bit surprised when Ron told her, but upon realizing how unsurprised she actually was, she promptly burst into tears. She had been expecting to go home with them. She hadn't thought much of it at the time, but it was everything, when she thought of it now. Even when she had nowhere to go, no one of her own to turn to, she had a home with the Weasleys. She thought of the little girl with no friends, of the twelve year old who spent Halloween crying in a bathroom stall for being teased. Seven years previously, not having her parents would have meant that she had no one, that she had nothing. Now she had friends, she had Harry, she had the Weasleys. She had the boy sitting beside her, whom she had loved since she was fourteen.

And despite the devastation surrounding them, despite the grief that would come and the battles that had yet to be fought, in the singular instant of that realization, all was well.

A/N:Yes, I used the cheesiest possible ending I possibly could have for this story. The opportunity presented itself, and well, I couldn't help myself. I don't even regret it.

I am writing an aftermath! story that picks up roughly where this left off and carries forward from there, so keep an eye out! I'm several chapters into it but I am going to wait a little longer to post it, so that (hopefully) updates will be quicker than they were with this one. We shall see.

THANK YOU again to each one of you who read "There Goes"...it's been a fun ride.