Hermione crawled across the floor to Harry, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his hair. 'I had to. I'm sorry. It would have taken you. I'm sorry. I had to, but it's over.'

'Shhh, you'll wake her.' Then he shook his head. 'It will never be over. Not until he's dead..' His whispered voice was very calm, very controlled. He sounded too normal. 'Will you leave us alone for a while?'

Hermione stood and stroked his hair before leaving the room. She would have to tell Dumbledore what had happened. She was half way down the stairs before she heard the cry break from his throat, but kept walking. He needed his grief more than his friend.

Dumbledore was standing by the fireplace when she got through to him on the floo, as if he had been expecting her. He promised to come immediately and within a few seconds was standing in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place.

Hermione stood with her arms wrapped around herself. Now there was an adult here she suddenly felt very young, and scared. The enormity of what she had done struck home, and with it the consequences. The Ministry would have to be told, and there would be an inquest - then a trail. She would be accused of murder - maybe Azkaban…Dementors. She started shaking and found herself in Dumbledore's arms.

'I killed her. I used a…sword. I don't know where it came from, I just…and she was…she wasn't…'

'Hush, child. The horcrux did not give up without a fight.'

'How did you know?'

'It was the sword of Godric Gryffindor. It hangs in my study and disappeared about half an hour ago.'

'Gryffindor's sword?'

'Yes.' Dumbledore's voice was gentle and soothing. 'It will make itself available to any true Gryffindor in their time of most desperate need.'

'But it came to me.'

'Because you are, obviously, a true Gryffindor.'

'No.' Hermione couldn't see that. It gave her a problem, something intellectual she could cling to. 'The Sorting Hat, it said I could have been in Ravenclaw.'

'And a very fine Ravenclaw you would have made, Miss Granger. You would be a credit to any House.'

'So how can I be a true Gryffindor?'

'We all have limitless possibilities within ourselves. What defines us is the choices we make. You are brave and honourable and have great courage'

'How can I be honourable? I killed her. I killed Melatiah.' Hermione broke down in his arms. 'And I sent Ron away. I lied to him and hurt him so much he went away. He's left me. Petunia was right. What have I become?'

'Petunia Dursley was wrong. Courage sometimes means facing up to your friends, as well as your enemies. It is the courage to do what is right.'

'I've lost him.'

'I think not. I would imagine he is now at home, feeling rather sorry for himself. Perhaps you need each other at the moment.'

'But Harry…'

'I am here and you should put yourself first, this once.'

She nodded and moved towards the fireplace 'I'll go to him. I need to explain, anyway.'

'Miss Granger?' She turned back to him. 'I placed a terrible burden on you. I regret that I had to do it, but I shall not apologise. We are in dark times and I would not have done it if I did not have every confidence in you and your abilities. I am very proud of you.'

She bobbed her head before turning back to the floo. Maybe one day she could take comfort from his words.

-o0o-

Dumbledore climbed the stairs, following the sounds of Harry's pain. He pushed open the door. Harry was still holding Melatiah in his arms, but the sword had gone. It's work was over, on this occasion.

Harry looked up, his face wracked with grief and stained with tears. Then he buried his face in her hair again. Dumbledore knelt by his side and felt the girl's wrist for a pulse.

'Make her better.'

'I cannot, Harry.'

'Something? Please?'

'There is nothing. I cannot cheat nature. I'm sorry; I never meant this to happen.'

'You knew, didn't you?'

'No. I will not lie to you. I suspected there may be a secret hidden, but I did not know.'

'You suspected. You suspected and you used me. Again.' Harry gently laid Melatiah down before standing and facing Dumbledore. In a flash he had his wand out, holding it to the old man's throat. Dumbledore stood very still.

'You used me, and Hermione.'

'I sought the best people to…'

'DON'T GIVE ME YOUR CLEVER WORDS! You used us to get the information you wanted.'

'If you wish to see it that way.' Dumbledore kept his eyes on Harry's. His voice was remarkably calm, as if he were giving his opinion on lunch.

'You gave her a book. What was it? Why didn't you tell me about it? TELL ME!'

'Harry, there is no reason to shout. I will tell you everything you want to know.'

'Yes you will, this time!'

Dumbledore stared at Harry. 'Either use your wand, or put it away. You have no need to threaten me.'

Harry sensed the eyes burrowing into his head and suddenly felt like a foolish little boy. He dropped his arm and didn't quite know what to do with his wand. He just let it hang by his side.

'The book I gave her concerned horcruxes; what they were and how to make them. Miss Granger had told me that Melatiah had been having dreams, but she suspected they were not normal. Rather, they appeared to be similar to the ones you have.'

'So you let her work it out, knowing she'd tell you.'

'Yes. And, before you ask, I showed it to her because I knew she would tell me. I regret that I could not come to the same conclusion for you. You were already too involved, and I am deeply sorry about that. I never thought it would happen but I am an old man so have not known youthful love for a long time. I forget how powerful and instant it can be.'

Harry sat next to Melatiah again, stroking her hair, and letting new tears fall. 'You didn't trust me' he said, simply.

Dumbledore knelt next to him. 'I was in love, once; many years ago. I admit it clouded my judgement and I…allowed things to happen that should not have happened. I could not take the risk you would make the same mistake as I did. '

'But it didn't involve killing anyone, did it?'

Dumbledore was silent, and stayed that way until Harry spoke again.

'Why her?' He eventually asked.

'Because, Harry. Just because.'

'It's all so unfair. She'd just started to live again. She had everything in front of her.'

'That is the nature of evil; it does not distinguish. That is why we must fight it. This will be of no comfort to you, but we are one step closer to defeating Voldemort.'

'How many more innocents have to die? How many more times will we have to kill?'

'We have no option. Voldemort will not stop.'

'Then we're as bad as him.' Harry sounded beyond hope, and beyond care.

'Do you honestly believe that?'

Harry could not answer. 'What happens now?'

'I must arrange Melatiah's funeral. It will be done quietly; there is no reason to involve the Ministry.'

Harry nodded. 'Can she be buried in Godric's Hollow, do you think?'

'It can be done. Now we must leave. You will return to Hogwarts with me; I think that is for the best.'

'Just give me a moment, please?'

'Of course.' Dumbledore rose and left the room. He, too, needed a moment alone to mourn - and remember.

-o0o-

A funeral should not be held on such a day. The sky was a blue so rich and deep it could not possibly be made of anything as insubstantial as air. The trees and grass were so full of life they appeared bloated. The sounds reaching them across the fields, the lowing of cattle and bleats of sheep, were the sounds of life enjoying the richness and warmth of the sun. Summertime, and the living was easy.

It was not a day for death, and yet here they stood by the grave: Harry, Dumbledore, McGonagall and the old witch who had raised Melatiah as her own daughter. Just the four of them...and a box containing the mortal remains of a young girl. Mortal remains only, for her soul had departed at the same time as that portion of another soul. Both were gone, leaving only the shell behind.

The sound of approaching footsteps on gravel drew Harry's eyes from the coffin. Hermione and Ron were walking towards them, both dressed in black. Even the colour was wrong for a day like today.

Hermione already had her handkerchief to her face, and Ron had his arm around her shoulder. He looked pale, yet resolute. He was different - older, wiser, in some way. Every bad thought Ron had about himself came home to roost in the scene before him. He had not known, and Hermione had tried to protect him. He had been jealous of Harry's girlfriend, and now she was dead. He had felt excluded from the group, but could he have done what they had done?

Hermione had come to him at The Burrow and told him what had happened. She had killed the girl with her own hands. Ron questioned if he could have done the same, or would he have frozen? Yet Hermione had come to him to apologise. He could never be the person she was, but she had sought him out to explain - and to seek comfort. As he'd held her in his arms he convinced himself he could never match his friends, never be their equal, but he was a part of the team and would bring whatever he could to it. He had found his role, and it eased him.

They nodded silent greeting to each other and Hermione hugged Harry, too upset to speak to him. She linked arms with him and Ron and they turned to face the grave.

Dumbledore levitated the coffin gently into its final resting place, and they stood with heads bowed. He spoke first.

'We are here because great evil stalks our world. When we choose to fight it we do so knowing that there will be casualties, and that the innocent will suffer as much, if not more, than the guilty; for that is the nature of evil. Melatiah represented all that was innocent, all that was kind. There are no words to ease our grief, and we know that Melatiah will not be the last to suffer. But we will stay strong and resolute, so that her death will not have been in vain.'

Harry closed his eyes and looked away, trying to block out Dumbledore's words. They were fine words, but empty. There was no honour, no grace in their task. It was a grim war of attrition; kill or be killed. In the end there would be the living and the dead, as in any war, and the survivors would write the history to portray themselves in the best light.

If he lived, or his side won, he would be a hero. If he died - then it didn't really matter. No, it mattered. He knew that, deep down. Ultimately he knew, as we all do, that there is a difference between right and wrong. He was fighting so that there would be no more need for war. He hoped so, anyway.

He couldn't look as the grave was filled in. That was too much to bear so he turned and walked away, indicating to Ron and Hermione that he would like them to come with him. Hermione took his hand in her free one, so that she was connected to both him and Ron. The three friends were back together once more.

They walked in silence. Neither Ron nor Hermione knew how to say anything to Harry that would not sound trite and superficial. This was not the time for "Chin up" or "Life goes on", or even "It will get better". They knew Harry wanted to say something, so just gave him the space to organize his thoughts.

When they reached the shade of an old oak he indicted that they should sit, leaning back against the massive trunk. It felt so sturdy, so dependable.

'I couldn't have done it, Hermione. It had to be you. I'm sorry about that.'

'Don't be, I understand.'

'Dumbledore told me about the book, and why he gave it to you.'

'He used me. I'll never forgive him for that.'

Harry leant his head against hers. 'You should. You're the best; he didn't use you. I see that now; he chose you because you're the only one who could have worked it out.'

'No. He used me because I was the only one vain enough to be flattered by his compliments. He knew I'd read the book because it would give me an edge over everyone else.' Hermione had lost a lot of innocent in the past few days.

Ron reached over and stroked her cheek. 'Not vain, you just want to be the best you can. It isn't a crime.'

Harry nodded, 'You are what you are; the smartest witch of your generation. Sirius knew that, and he was no fool.'

She started to say 'Oh, Harry…', but he interrupted her.

'Nor am I. Have you worked out the next bit yet?' She looked at him cautiously. 'You know, don't you?'

Hermione bit her lip and looked away. 'I'm sorry.'

Ron looked from one to the other. 'What?'

'She knows that I'm a horcrux, too.' Ron gasped in horror. 'When did you work that bit out?'

'A while ago', she whispered.

'But you didn't tell me?'

'No.'

'Why?'

She fell forward, burying her face in her hands. 'I couldn't. I'm sorry, but I just couldn't. I can't be a true Gryffindor, can I? Not being a coward like that.' She looked at Harry, her face distraught. 'I couldn't.'

'I understand.' Harry put his hand on her arm. 'Honestly, I do. I'm not blaming you. Maybe I've always suspected it myself.'

He stared off over the churchyard. A Yew tree stood in the corner where it had grown for a thousand years. It had seen plague and famine many times in its long life. It had provided bows for English archers fighting their petty human wars, and was here still. It would see Harry turn to dust whether he died now, or peacefully in his bed of old age. He turned his face to the freshly dug earth that covered Melatiah.

'I'm not living, am I? I'm existing, surviving. I can't have a life whilst Voldemort's here. That's what the prophecy really means. The same goes for him, too; we're both trapped by it. I have to face him, because he has to destroy me before he can die.' He gave a harsh, juddering laugh. 'I bet he doesn't realise it. He's wanted me dead all these years, but I'm keeping him alive. His victory will be his downfall. I'm sure there's a name for that; there should be.'

'Pyrrhic' said Hermione.

Harry laughed again, quieter this time. 'I knew you'd know.' Then his face grew serious again. 'So I go on. I keep going until I face him and let him destroy both of us.'

'No, Harry. Please.'

'I've got no choice. This is my destiny and there's nothing I can do about it. It will happen, so I can either be dragged there kicking and screaming, or face him with my head held high. I know which one I want. He's going to see me as his equal and he's going to look me in the eye and know I'm not scared of him. He won't be expecting that. The last thing he'll know is doubt.'

'We'll be at your side, mate.' Ron hadn't understood a lot of the discussion, but he knew his friend needed his help. 'We'll be with you all the way.' Harry had shared his sweets with Ron on that first journey to Hogwarts, and that counted for a lot.

Harry couldn't give Ron a hug, which is what he wanted to do, so he punched him on the shoulder.

'Not all the way, not this time. You two will have to stay behind, eventually. I want you to have lots and lots of babies. You could even call one of them Harry - if you wanted.'

Hermione threw her arms around him and he could feel her tears running into his shirt. He lifted her face up.

'Hey come on, my brave Gryffindor; don't weep for me. Once it's over you two, and everyone else, will be safe and I'll be with Melatiah again. She had it all worked out, you know. We're going to live on a desert island all by ourselves.'

He gave Hermione a hug, and this time included Ron as well.

'It's not a bad plan, is it?'

- Fin -