Epilogue

The day they buried Tonks was a cold but beautiful winter day. Though the snow was thick beneath their feet, the few fresh, young plants that shot up from the snow held the promise of new life.

The emptiness that she had initially felt after the battle had all but disappeared, and where Tonks had been there was now a wound somewhere inside her, aching at the strangest of times. Tonks had been a casualty in their war for peace, and she had become a reminder of all that they had lost. At times, Hermione felt almost overcome by waves of guilt for not being able to prevent Tonks' death, but she suppressed them as best as she knew how to.

The toll the battle had taken was clear all around them: Kingsley was missing because he was still in St. Mungo's, Mr Weasley had newly acquired a Moody-worthy limp, and Mad-Eye himself was missing yet another chunk from his nose. Neither Mr Weasley nor Moody appeared to be upset with their injuries, however. Rather, they seemed to think it a small price to pay for their victory.

As the coffin was lowered into the grave, a silence dawned on the group. Hermione watched as it disappeared into the ground, Tonks' remains encased within. She felt a tear escape from her eye, and before she knew it her shoulders were shaking with the force of her unsuccesful attempt at repressing her tears.

A hand found its way to her own and closed around her fingers before giving a tiny squeeze. Through the mist of tears she was able to see that Snape was looking away from her, apparently unconcerned with her tears, but his hand around hers was solid proof that he was on her side. A small smile appeared on her face. A lot had been lost in this war, but much had been won as well. And now, the spring of a new life was heading towards them.

They began to walk away from the graveyard, her hand still in Snape's.

Tonks was gone, and so was Dumbledore, and Harry, who had been her best friend in all the world. But she was still here. She was still breathing.

And she remembered.