A/N: I have added the epilogue to the end of this chapter because it seemed silly to have a separate post for such a short piece. Also, the sense of suspense has been lost by now, so it made little sense to prolong the fanfic further, albeit by one more instalment.

Thank you, everyone, who stuck with the story so far! At the risk of sounding cheesy, what would this writer be without readers to read her into being, so to speak?

Update (18/09): Slight edit in the epilogue - added in a line about Harry's last thoughts, for which the credit goes to Lady Asphodelic.

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The desires of the human heart are limitless, endless; once realised, more are born, each just as worth dying for.

I had been pining for Harry, for him to talk to me normally once again. It was all that I thought I wanted, that he not turn away from me. But even that was not enough anymore. I felt a constant sense of restlessness that jarred violently with the deep sense of peace that I still did feel when our eyes met. It was fear, fear of a most paralysing kind. I dreaded the day that would come and wrench away from me, that which had never been mine to begin with. These were stolen moments of happiness that I was foolish to get attached to. But then, what was the lovestruck heart, if not an utter, complete fool.

It was completely ridiculous, of course - the fact that I, ever so sensible, was suddenly behaving like a stupid lovesick teen... comparing myself with Ginny, hoping that for some reason, Ginny would herself decide to break up with Harry. And yet, how terribly inescapable it was - that sense of jealousy and insecurity, that feeling of inadequacy. Poor Ron! I had never truly been able to understand him, because such emotions had been beyond the reach of my reason. I suppose I was not as clever as I had thought after all. There was so much that could not be rationalised, and yet, was so clearly, poignantly, simply there.

Maybe Luna was not slightly unhinged after all. I looked at her as she slowly ate her breakfast across the table, in the sunlight that poured in from the dome-shaped window of Shell Cottage. She looked emaciated, and her face bore scars of the blows that had been inflicted on her during her captivity at Malfoy Manor. And yet, her eyes still looked as serene as ever - dreamy, yet perceptive in that characteristic discomforting manner. Maybe it was because she understood things that I would never be able to grasp, that she was able to be so nonchalant, no matter what happened to her. Maybe it was because she was, in fact, even as she hummed to herself absent-mindedly, the sanest, wisest of us all.

And I looked at Ron. Brave, resilient Ron, eating as usual with that ravenous appetite of his. I knew I had broken his heart, and that even though he maintained a perfect appearance of optimism, he knew just as well that it was over. And yet, he was just as affectionate, as warm in his own little awkward way. It is easy for strong, confident people to hold on to their ideals; and just as difficult for the rest of us to seek to correct our mistakes and deal with our weaknesses. But somehow, Ron had done it. Even though he had his moments of moodiness, he had tried and continued to do so.

The world was full of such admirable people, beautiful in all their imperfections. How could one be so self-obsessed, when there was so much to be inspired from, if one only managed to step outside of the miseries we wallowed in. Harry, Ron and I - all just as equally flawed - would be nothing without each other. And if, after I had come so close to death, I could not appreciate the beauty of what I had, what sort of life was it that I was choosing for myself.

These thoughts of mine, of course, rung as little more than hollow platitudes, because I lacked the courage to act upon them. But I knew that one day, all would be well. One day, I would be strong enough not to run away from the pain of heartbreak, but to cherish a heart that was able to love unconditionally, like a child. One day, I would be able to embrace the peaceful glow that love had brought into my life, and seek to spread it all around me. Strangely enough, it had taken a brush with a most sinister form of darkness to realise the light that I had within me, somewhere.

My eyes turned to Harry. He was looking at me too. I smiled and stashed away the memory in my secret compartment of happiness. Some things, no matter what, would be mine forever. It was little, but perhaps, little is all we really need.

And so it was, that as we neared our goal, and my sense of dread for the pain that awaited me increased, I continued to struggle to derive solace from the little haven that I had created within myself. I began to feel braver and more hopeful that I would not succumb to despair - as laughable as the very idea of hope was in the anguished times that we lived in. There was always light in the darkest of times, I constantly told myself. And how true it was! Despite all the odds being stacked against us, we had been able to break in and out of Gringotts, having found the cup of Helga Hufflepuff - the fourth Horcrux.

There were, of course, moments of inevitable heartache threatening to shatter my resolve. But I held on to that precarious strand of faith that I really would eventually find a way to be happy. And this, even when we found ourselves in the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts, and I saw the joy on Ginny and Harry's faces as they met each other after all those months.

I did not miss the concern with which Harry had glanced at me then, as though he knew that behind the strangling lump in my throat, there was a fountain of pain threatening to spill out of my eyes at any moment. And I had smiled back, scared to breathe, lest I should break down, willing every line on my face to convey that I was happy for him, for them.

I retracted away from the pools of torment within me, and tried to focus on the discussion that was taking place, on the artefact belonging to Rowena Ravenclaw. Cho had volunteered to take Harry to the Ravenclaw Tower to meet the ghost of Helena Ravenclaw, and Ginny had immediately interjected, asking Luna to do so. A year ago, I would have smiled at the sweet puerility of the moment, but at that time, I only felt painfully out-of-place, woefully inconsequential.

"You okay?" Ron asked me gently, his eyes piercing into mine.

"Yeah," I replied, as Harry left with Luna.

"Come with me, I have an idea," he said.

We were going to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets. Ron's idea was sheer genius! Even if we did not have the sword of Gryffindor impregnated with basilisk venom, there were still basilisk fangs in the Chamber of Secrets that we could use to destroy the cup and the other Horcruxes.

"Ron, you really are amazing," I said to him, as, following his imitation of Harry's Parseltongue, the washbasins of the bathroom began to rise and separate to reveal the entrance to the Chamber. He simply chuckled lightly and took my hand before we threw ourselves in the tunnel.

Once we had found ourselves before the rotten body of the dead basilisk, he picked up one of the fangs lying on the ground and handed it over to me.

"Your turn," he said, with an enigmatic smile, "It's a great feeling, you'll see."

I felt that nothing could be further from the truth. As soon as I had retrieved the cup from my bag, I felt something rush towards me soundlessly, so fast that it sucked out all the air from my lungs. That sense of dread settled in my heart and thrummed in wild frenzy. I felt everything within me freeze, as all the despair I had been battling came to the fore once again, with vindictive violence. Despite all my pretence at goodness, I shamelessly only wanted Harry all to myself. I was a failure as a friend, as a human being. But I would never get Harry. I was a nobody. I would never be happy.

It was the Horcrux that was spewing this poison, I reminded myself. But how could I convince myself that it was a lie. As much as I tried, I could not bring my hands to stab the cup.

"Hermione," Ron said, grasping my trembling hands, "look at me. It's okay. Everything's going to be okay."

"How?" I gasped.

"Have you told Harry?"

"What?"

"That you love him, you idiot."

I stared at him, nonplussed.

"Right," he continued, "Pretty sure he's so thick that he would not have said anything either. You're both just the same. Way too noble for your own good."

"I'm not," I blurted out, my eyes beginning to well up.

"You are. That's why you did not tell me."

"Ron... honestly, we're just friends."

"Yeah, I know. And it's because you're thinking of everyone else. But think about it, Hermione. We are all so close to death. If this is to be the end, do you really want to be lying to yourself at this point?"

"I'm not... but I don't think Harry -"

"He bloody well does! I'm his best mate, I should know. He's just a stupid git who wants to do the honourable thing and stick with Ginny. But none of us will be happy if he does that. And that includes Ginny."

"But -"

"You know Ginny, she's a tough one. You both are just being thick. You'll see, he will realise soon enough that, cheesy as it sounds, some things are just… meant to happen."

"Really?" I said, hot, heavy tears dropping from my eyes.

"He'd have to be a fool to let go of someone like you."

"Oh Ron," I sobbed, throwing my arms around him, overwhelmed, "you are... you are just..."

"I'm bloody awesome, I know," he said, his voice laced with unmistakable sadness.

The world could never be a perfect place. Every choice made would always be a double-edged sword, bringing both pain and happiness, to us and to those we loved. And yet, true friendship would manage to, somehow, provide that little silver lining that we needed. It was little, yes, but little was oftentimes more than enough.

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Epilogue: King's Cross

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Finally, the missing links were manifesting themselves, and the grander scheme of things was revealing itself to Harry. He was somewhere between life and death, a peaceful place filled with light, away from all the human fretting and suffering. Somewhere that, oddly enough, reminded him of King's Cross, the place where his journey into the world of magic had truly begun. It was apt that it should end there, or perhaps that a new beginning should sprout therefrom.

Of course, as always, Dumbledore was there, his mentor and guide, who, despite his greatness, was in the end just as fallible as all humans were. But that could hardly qualify as a reason to make him any less worthy of respect in Harry's eyes. He had always meant well even though he had perhaps been too intelligent for his own good, and blinded by his own love. But wasn't forgiving somebody his humanity and capacity for love, only natural?

Harry looked back at the whimpering form that was the bit of soul of Voldemort that had attached itself to Harry's soul. It was dying, dead.

"Do not pity the dead, Harry," Dumbledore said, "Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love. By returning, you may ensure that fewer souls are maimed, fewer families are torn apart, and if that seems to you a worthy goal -"

"It does," Harry replied, knowing that even though he had the choice to go on to death - the next great adventure - his place for now was among the living.

"Then we say goodbye for the present. But before we part, one last question, if I may. Is there a person in particular that, deep in your heart, you yearn to go back to? Because even death cannot tear you away from that person?"

"Professor I..."

"But of course you know who I mean. There are a precious few things in life, Harry, that exist beyond our notions of what is right and what is wrong, and love happens to be one of them. Stubborn creature, love is. You know, now, of Severus's love for your mother. It was a love that endured even when she fell in love with another man, through to when she got married and had a child, and even after she had died. Not everyone is fortunate enough to be with the one we love so deeply. Often circumstances or our own choices take us away from that person. But the love remains."

"Always," Harry echoed.

He thought of her, of how deeply her tears had affected him, filled him with helpless fury, how the thought of losing her to her own pain had haunted him for days even after she seemed to have recovered. He remembered how he had tried every day to do something small just to make her smile, so that she would light up his own heart in the way that only she could. He remembered Godric's Hollow, and how it had felt that the word 'home' had gained a new meaning for him because she was there with him. He thought of the feel of her skin on his, of her lips - of the warmth that their closeness had brought to him, of how right it had all seemed. And then, with Ron's return, he had felt so much anger, jealousy, pain, fear, that distancing himself to protect himself had seemed to be the only option. But how those distances had stung! He thought of her face that had swam before his eyes as Voldemort raised his wand to kill him, of the warmth of her last teary hug.

And he realised what he had known all along - that his life would be truly worth living, if Hermione was by his side. No amount of pain and suffering could make it any less so.

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The End

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