Despite the loss of Draco, the months passed quickly for Hermione. The potion she has started, which has changed so much between her and Draco, lay long forgotten. Instead, Hermione found strength where there had previously only been despair. In the beginning, her strength came from Harry. When faced with the judgement, criticism and occasional pity from her peers, it was Harry that stood up for her. It was Harry that called out those who would taunt and take advantage of her vulnerability and it was Harry who hexed those that would call her traitor. But slowly, Hermione came to rely on Harry less and less and began to regain their solid friendship.

As her stays in the hospital wing became few and far between, Harry and Hermione spent hours upon hours in the library; reading and researching light and dark magic alight, in an attempt to understand and discover.

"This is useless!" Harry pulled his hair in frustration throwing yet another book down on the growing pile in front of them. Hermione looked up, slightly downtrodden at the ever growing pile of books they had searched in vain. The pile of books that seemed slightly relevant if not useful was still pitifully small.

"I can't stop though, can I?" Hermione queried, self-pity remarkably absent from her statement.

"How do you do it? It's been months and we've found next to nothing. I'm tempted to throw myself in the Black Lake."

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry. I think we both know why I keep pushing myself. It's not even about survival anymore. I just, I just can't let HIM win, you know?" Months later, she still could not bring herself to say his name. While she may understand his reason for leaving, she could not deny the hurt; the pain that was still there. "Have you spoken to Ron lately? Or Ginny?"

"I tried."

Hermione didn't push the issue, but she knew there was more to the story. Harry refused to look her in the eye when he spoke to her and looked even more hopeless than before. Ron and Ginny had tried to ostracise Harry when he began standing by Hermione again, but they quickly realised this was a fruitless exercise when it came to the Boy Who Lived. At a snail's pace, Ron started to come round again; a nod in the hallway in the beginning and eventually, one day, a 'hey, how you going?' at the end of a class.

Harry couldn't bring himself to look at Hermione. He couldn't tell her everything because he knew the guilt that he would see in her eyes. She would try and hide it as best she could, but her eyes always gave her away and he didn't want her feeling it. Nothing was her fault. Absolutely none of it was her fault, but she was the one who suffered the most. It was definitely not fair. But the truth was, Ginny had come to see him only days before. Ginny apologised for her behaviour; told him she loved him and wanted to be with him. And Harry, naively, accepted her apology and returned the sentiments. However, Hermione was his best friend and always had been. He had been selfish but not anymore, Hermione was his sister and he would stand by her. He vowed he would never let her down again.

And so, Harry told Ginny in no uncertain terms that if they were to be together she would have to accept Hermione. She would need to apologise and hope that Hermione had it in her heart to forgive her. But Ginny could not. Ginny could not, or would not, accept Hermione's presence in Harry's life and this was something Harry would not let go. And so, Harry let Ginny go. But Hermione could not know this. She could not know what he had done because she would blame herself. She would distance herself from him in an effort to give him back to Ginny. Harry knew, though, that Hermione had been through, and was going through, too much. Whether she admitted it or not, Hermione needed him and he would not let her feel guilty for that. Hermione had sacrificed everything for Harry, had been willing to die for him, now it was his turn to make the sacrifice for her. That's what you do for those you love, especially those who have become your family.

Hermione sighed, knowing Harry was hiding something, but did not dwell on it. She chose instead to think of her most recent encounter with Ron. Hermione had been on her way back to her dorm after dinner when Ron caught up to her. For the first time since she and Harry had reunited, he had not been with her when Ron was around. It had caught her off guard and her anxiety about their meeting worsened her tremors, causing her to grasp the banister of the stairs tightly. This did not go unnoticed by Ron; he stared making things more awkward and making him stutter on his words.

Ron proposed a tentative friendship, apologising and making excuses for his actions. Hermione accepted his apology but could not bring herself to forgive. Not completely; not after everything. Truthfully, she did not know whether she and Ron could ever be friends again but she was too tired to fight. Ron's excuses were not enough and he had let her down when she needed him the most. How was she supposed to just forget? Did all those years of friendship mean nothing? Was she nothing?

Harry tried to make Hermione forget her insecurities and believed he was succeeding. He believed all Hermione needed was friendship and attention, someone to tell her how amazing she was and he made sure he did, every day. Harry also thought Ron's attempts to reignite their friendship were helping his cause. It was all positive reinforcement, right? And when the people her tore her down were apologising, that had to help? It was, perhaps, one secret that Hermione did manage to keep.

Harry's friendship and Ron's efforts did nothing to make Hermione think more of herself. She may be able to stand up for herself now but it did nothing to change her confidence or self-worth. How easy it is to fake? The one person who had managed to build her up was gone. And if he was gone, what did it say about her? She loved Harry. She had since she was eleven and he had become her first friend. Who knew he would also be her last? And Ron? There was a part of her that would always love Ron and she would never try to deny that but his words, even his actions, meant little to her now.

There are some things that friendship cannot heal; cannot fulfill. Friendship would not mend the whole in her chest which was all that remained of her family. Friendship would not replace the pride and dignity she had lost; that had been stolen from her. Friendship alone would not extend her life or strengthen her will to live. Hermione thought, for a time, that if she was worthy, another kind of love could help her; make her whole again and allow her to truly live once more. But that was gone now and while she still wanted to find him and slap him silly, it did not change anything.

Hermione was lost. She was on her own in a sea of people; drowning on dry land. There was nothing she could do about that. She would fight, she would not go willingly, but she had, to a certain extent, accepted her fate. Whilst Hermione was trying to find something, anything, that would help or if she could extend some hope, would cure, she was not searching for herself. She was searching so that her experience was not in vain and so that she could leave something behind. Hermione wanted to help, to fight for others, one last time. And research and fight she would so as to be remembered, to not be wasted and to leave a legacy behind.

"Maybe we should take a break. Sneak down to the kitchens or something?" Harry suggested. Hermione smiled and closed her open book.

Meanwhile, a certain blonde Slytherin stared out the dirty window of the seedy hotel he had chosen for the night and thought about all he had left behind. He wondered what SHE was doing now. He knew she was okay, not great, but okay. He had his own ways. Turning he saw his latest conquest, if you could call her that, splayed naked on the bed.

"You're not staying the night, so get the hell out!" He spat before slamming the door to the bathroom, her protests barely muffled by the thin walls. Draco did not come back out until he heard her gather her things and slam the door on the way out.