I was rather brutal with that last chapter so I mellowed it down somewhat with this one (although originally this was meant to be an alternate ending), so I hope that it will soothe your somewhat ruffled feathers, yes?

"Hermione?"

She opened her eyes, looking up to see Harry bent over her, his rakish smile gone, his face concerned. Furrowing her brows, she sat up from underneath the Willow, turning her head to see that they were alone.

"Where is everyone?" she asked, Harry laughed – it didn't reach his eyes.

"Everyone is still upstairs, celebrating." Her friend pointed towards the Castle where colourful lights shone through the high-arching windows.

"Celebrating…" she repeated, yawning. Harry's brows furrowed.

"Yeah." He said. "The downfall of Riddle. Hermione… are you sure you're okay? You haven't been the same you know…?"

Ire rose in her as she shot him a look. "Harry… we've been on the run for a year, it tends to get under your skin."

The black-haired man shot her a sheepish smile. "Yeah… you're right."

Hermione frowned, standing. "Doesn't it touch you at all?" she asked. He shrugged.

"Honestly… I'm glad it's over. I can… pretend it's all just been a nightmare."

She nodded. Yes… and what a nightmare it has been. Thousands dead, innocents, missing children, mothers, fathers, the ministry in shambles, Wizarding England at the verge of a complete break-down – but those things didn't just come from nightmares. They came from wars.

"How did you know I'd be down here?" she asked, brushing straws of grass from her soft skirt – he shot her a rakish smile.

"Mione – you've always come down here to the boathouse when you needed… time away." He said, finishing with less confidence than he'd started out with, he kicked a pebble. "Ron and Lav are giving me the creeps; I needed a bit of time away myself before doing something I'd regret."

She smirked, shaking her head. "He'll never grow up, will he?" she said jokingly – her friend regarded her with intense eyes.

"And what about me, Hermione? Will I ever grow up?" he asked, looking at her. Hermione looked back, tilting her head.

Harry had changed, it seemed – there was something else in his eyes now, in his composure. Ron, she knew without reason, did not have the same Aura of calm; why else would he seek out Lavender? She smiled, sadly this time.

"I think, Harry, that you've grown up way too early." She admitted. "But… I wager that is not the question you truly meant to ask." He cocked an eyebrow. "Ah, because the question you want an answer to is: Do you think that I can grow to leave the war behind me?"

Owlishly the glass-bearer blinked at her, before smiling and shaking his head. "You…" he said, "you always know, don't you?" he said, tucking his hands into his trousers. "Even after everything, you still know when others don't."

Hermione only smiled. "It's not all that hard, when you think about it." She admitted, shrugging. "You are pants at hiding your feelings, after all." The two of them smirked, but did nothing then, for a few moments, to disrupt the ensuing silence.

"You already have, you know." She said then, looking at him. "You are no longer the boy who shied from his own shadow in the darkness. You've grown to be a man, realizing that fear is natural, that it is healthy to fear… but you no longer let them possess you. This characteristic has made you strong, stronger even than you were when you decided to die."

Again her friend shook his head, tears in his eyes. "How is it that after a year of missing, you still manage to read me better than those that have been at my side the whole time?"

This time it was her to cock her head. "A year, you say?"

He nodded, looking at the ground. "You wandered into the woods and weren't seen for a year." Harry snorted, shakily. "I was so angry at you at first, scared that you'd abandoned me, that you didn't want to be friends anymore, that… that you had died or led a happy life somewhere, without me. I felt… abandoned." He whispered the last word. "And all of a sudden," he continued, louder. "I was faced with my own demons, and I could choose. I could choose between letting them kill me or defeating them." There was a short silence. "And then I thought, hey if Hermione can walk away and do whatever she needed to do, I can do that too. I may not be able to walk away, not now, but I can do what I need to do."

A wry smirk fought its' way onto his smile. "I'm a Buddhist now." Hermione snorted, and even Harry had to laugh, his shoulders shaking. "Honestly. I stopped eating meat, which is hard with Molly around you every day, and I learned to see the world through different eyes, I started meditating. It… gave me calm, it helped me sort myself out, it helped me sort my demons out."

Carefully she neared him, placing her hand on his shoulder. "I'm proud of you then." She said. "If you have found your way that is good then – and if I can see it, other people surely can too."

Reaching out, his hand touched her cheek, stroking softly. "And what about you, Mione? Do you think you can grow to leave the war behind you?"

She sighed softly, touching her hand to his. "I am trying Harry."

"In that new world of yours?"

Hermione smirked. "You know more than you let on, don't you?" she smiled broadly. "As always… because you're still not over second-guessing your instincts…"

He shrugged, before looking at her again, eyes serious. "Please… are you well there…?" he asked.

She contemplated telling him a lie, omitting the fact that she had gone to another war again, that she had been right in the middle of it, down in the thick, that it had been her to fight the bad guy. But then… this was Harry, and he deserved better than that. "I… think I have been wounded in the last battle I've been in." she admitted, Harry shook his head, but said nothing, allowing her to continue. "There has been a threat; I was supposed to eliminate it… I did, for a price."

Harry sighed, angrily, pulling her close and into an embrace. "Don't do the stupid thing and give up now." He hissed. "Do you hear me? I know you have to go back there, and you do too, so don't give up on the life that you made yourself over there – I don't want you to. I want you to be happy; don't make me regret my choices."

And as he pulled away from her, they cried as slowly the world around them dissolved into smoke.

Harry pushed his hands deeper into his pockets as he walked from the boathouse, back to the Castle. The party was still in full flow, but if he was honest, he felt even less like celebrating now – Hermione was gone, for good this time.

He'd meant to… calm himself, centre himself and had therefore sought out her spot, the secluded willow by the boathouse, so close to the water it almost tumbled into the Black Lake… almost. He hadn't expected to fall into an entirely different sphere while there.

At least though, he thought, angrily wiping away the stray tears that wouldn't stop leaking, he had gotten a chance to get away. As he wiped them away, he smiled – Hermione was good, she was fine… or would be once she'd kicked the ass of her new wound – as he knew she would. Hermione was, after all, a warrior; she couldn't not fight for something, even if she wished to.

Mounting the steps of the castle and entering through the gates, he swerved quickly right in the Entrance Hall, before he then made it to the left, ducking into the secure shade beneath the Main Stairwell. Sniffing angrily, he wiped at his face again, smearing the tears, but he cared hardly as he grabbed for his broom and his cloak – the two items he had hidden here with Hermione, the night before she'd gone (the night before the battle – it had been their contingency plan).

As he hauled himself up, he watched, curiously as, out of the cloak, rolled a small purse, landing squarely on his polished shoe. Blinking the tears from his eyes, he looked at it, before he bent, picking it up.

Standing there, he stared at the brown, leather purse in his hand, before curiosity got the better of him and he tucked the broom and the cloak under one arm, opening the purse and looking inside.

There, carefully stacked, was the library of one Hermione Jane Granger, along with her belongings – the things that had gone missing with her the day she'd vanished. Choking a laugh, he looked closer: there were a few dusty potion's flasks, another broom and a change of clothes next to books over books over books, a hammock, a map and a little money. She'd set him up for the perfect escape.

"Harry…"

He was surprised that Severus was the one to find him, but then… he also wasn't – the man had a sixth sense for his whereabouts after all, what with his years of training. Teary he looked up at the man, the wizard who had saved his life more times than he could count – the stunted man, who was now without a wand, having lost it in the battle… and since then, no other wand would choose him.

Harry raised the purse. "Hermione…" he said, voice raspy and Severus' eyes mellowed as he neared him.

"Ah…" he breathed. "Came to meet you too, did she?" he said softly, reaching out to touch his hand to Harry's shoulder – the younger man furrowed his brow, Severus only smirked.

"She just had the audacity to shock the entire Great Hall with her sudden appearance and then came to me and yelled at me for not getting on with my, and I quote, 'damn arse life that she did so much to save'."

Harry chuckled. "She always had a sense for the dramatic."

Looking into the purse again, he noticed… something out of place, something new – or something he might have overseen – and, as he stretched his arm inside, ignoring Severus' cocked brow when he nearly vanished in the purse, feebly grabbed for the item, feeling the smooth wood in his fingers. He gave a jolt.

"What is it?" the older man asked when Harry retreated from the purse, slowly pulling his arm out, smiling.

"I think, she might have yelled at you for a reason." Harry whispered, pulling his hand from the purse.

Severus went stock still, before reaching out, taking, lovingly, the wand from Harry's hand. A smile hushed over the older man's face as he gave it a flick – the light's extinguished, before, with another flick, coming back again.

"At last," he rasped, "my arm is complete again."

Harry smiled – only Hermione.

Breathing harshly, she jolted up from where she was bedded, clutching heavily at whatever it was that was in her hand – horror loomed in her eyes, but when she finally connected her whereabouts to the events beforehand, she calmed, aided by the soft, placating voice next to her.

Swallowing she turned – golden met brown.

"E… Edmund?" she rasped, her throat was so dry! As if he were reading the wish of her eyes, he bent aside, taking hold of a mug and a jug, filling the former with water before placing the jug down again and nearing her, supporting her head as she bent forth to sip at the mug.

"Careful there." He admonished as she tried for a larger gulp – he pulled the mug away, watching her with wary eyes, she shot him a questing glance. "I don't want you to choke." He admitted, before reaching forward again, allowing her to take gentle sips from the water again.

"How long?" she asked between sips, but was met with silence until she had finished her mug and was lying on her back again, her hand encased by Edmund's.

"Two weeks." The young man said softly, pulling her hand up to his mouth, pressing a dry kiss to its' back. "I thought you were already gone when I arrived here but… by what miracle ever, once Lucy had healed your wound, you started breathing again. It has been up and down since then."

She furrowed her brows, now that her feeling was returning, she could tell that her limbs were feeble, her muscles unaccustomed to anything but rest. "How long have you been here?" Hermione asked again, but, looking at him, knew the answer already. He kissed her hand again.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there with you." I'm sorry I wasn't there for you.

Hermione shook her head. "Better you weren't – Jadis knew your weaknesses, she would have slaughtered you and I may not have been able to protect you."

There was silence then and she almost fell asleep, lulled into complacency by the warmth of her room, the softness of her bed and the sweeping thumb on the back of her hand. She squeezed his and he looked at her again. Hermione squeezed again: "How long?" she asked softly, but Edmund only shook his head, bending forth, pressing his lips to her forehead.

"At another time, Hermione."

She liked to believe that it was the first time he said her name with such reverence.

~End~

So... closure for everyone and happiness.

Originally, as I said, this chapter was meant as an alternate ending and I, somewhat, still view it as such - incidentally I also wanted to give you the freedom to decide whether she would have 'just died' or made everyone happy.

Please review and tell me what you thought of the story as a total, it would really help me - especially considering that I plan on doing more crossovers.

Lots of Love,

OutOfCustody