"Where's Hermione? It's dinner time." Ginny set down the last plate on the table. Ron was already 'holding himself over' with a dinner roll while Harry was bringing over the big pot of stew. They'd all sort of stuck to the schedule more out of a need for some routine than anything else. They weren't as strict as before but it did ensure that they would at least eat when they were home. Harry had started Auror training with Ron during the week and Ginny was getting ready to go back to school for her final year. She had become Hermione's frequent study partner most days and Hermione had been most patient with answering her questions. The past almost felt like a long forgotten nightmare. Almost.

"I'll get her. You stay out of the rolls." Ginny smacked her brother's hand as she passed and gave him a small glare before making towards the library that had become Hermione's domain.

"Worse than Mum, she is," Ron grumbled after she'd left and took another roll merely to spite her before Harry grabbed it on the way to his mouth.

"She's got a temper to match. Best do as she says." Harry chuckled softly at the put-out look Ron gave him before he started serving out their dinner.

Ginny smiled softly when she located Hermione in the stacks of books that had almost become as tall as she was. How they hadn't found her in a literature avalanche yet was truly a miracle. Ginny kept her steps heavy so as not to startle her but when she came closer she realized that Hermione wasn't actually sitting up but rather propped up on a stack of books made impromptu pillow. Her quill was still in hand moving slightly smudging out whatever she had been writing.

"Hermione?" Ginny came around to her side so she would be able to see her when she woke though her brow furrowed when she saw the tears running down her cheek and onto the page beneath. "Hermione?" Ginny hesitantly placed her hand on her shoulder giving her the smallest of shakes.

When she didn't immediately wake, Ginny's eyes glanced briefly to what she had been writing and her heart sunk just a bit further. Questions, lines, and lines of questions. All on the same topic. The final question ruined by her sudden nap: 'Where is Sna—' Ginny didn't need to be a rocket scientist to figure out what had been written and she knew the day had finally come when Hermione would start questioning her survival.

Harry had shared with her all he'd known when they'd found her. Of course, Ginny had been there when he'd found Hermione but only Harry had seen clearly who had actually brought her. The sun had obscured nearly all marked features of the man she had come to learn was Snape. It had been hard for Ginny to swallow and she was sure Ron hadn't even taken a bite.

They had only shared when Hermione had asked and kept their information specific to the question. Having been warned by the Healers that her mind was still extremely fragile. That despite having most of her memories back there was still so much to be cautious about. They couldn't explain her behavior the day before when Harry and Ginny had asked about it. They hadn't even told them why they'd taken her memories in the first place. Said they were bound by Hermione's former self with patient confidentially. Even her Ward hadn't truly been informed before her trip down the stairs.

But all that was months ago. Nearly a lifetime in teen-years. Ginny and Harry had discussed what they should tell her when the time came. She just wasn't truly ready for it to come if she were honest with herself. Ginny ran her fingers through Hermione's hair tucking the curls behind her ear before gently thumbing away the tears.

Hermione took in a deep breath, her brow furrowing tightly before her eyes fluttered open. Ginny gave her a kind smile and ran her fingers through her hair at her temple letting her adjust to her surroundings. "Hey... it's dinner time...you hungry?"

"Mmhmm..." Hermione let out her breath with a slow stretch looking down at the quill in her hand for a moment. She released it slowly before bringing her hand up to wipe away the tears, the ink that had been smeared on her fingers getting all over her cheeks.

"Did you have a dream?" Ginny leaned forward, gently taking her hand to wipe off her fingers with the kitchen cloth she'd tucked in her back pocket from making dinner.

"Mmm..." Hermione blinked slowly letting the younger girl do whatever she was doing with her hand. The images of her dream had faded but the feeling they'd left behind lingered. "Ginny...?"

"Yeah?" Ginny leaned down to wipe away what she could on Hermione's cheek.

"Is...is Snape...did he... survive?"

Ginny pursed her lips thinking very carefully about how she wanted to answer that question. She set down the towel lowering down so she could take Hermione's hands in both of hers. It wouldn't do to lie to her. She had the right to know.

"Yes. Yes, he did..."

Hermione looked down at their hands, a small frown pouting her lips as her mind turned. Had he been the one to restore her? She'd heard Ginny and Harry discussing the possibility when they thought she wasn't listening in. They too felt as though he had had something to do with her return to health. After all she had been through with him in such the short amount of time they had spent together, she too couldn't deny that matters of the mind were a sort of special talent of his. She could remember him saving her life more than once. Though that week was still lacking in the finer details, she knew down in the deepest part of her soul, that she would never have survived this war without him. That coupled with her mysterious inability to even remotely recall the final battle at all, even when they had tried to tell her small things, left her suspicious.

"I must find him..." Her hands took Ginny's tighter, her eyes, however, didn't rise, "I will find him." He had something of hers, something precious. Something that was all her own and she—wanted it back.

oOo

Dinner had been a pleasant if quiet affair on her part. Hermione had kept her thoughts to herself. Sitting quietly listening off and on to Harry and Ron going on about their upcoming physical fitness test. She was happy for them, happy that they could put so much behind them and just move on with their lives. It was something she envied in the both of them dreadfully. She too had tried to push herself forward. Deciding to take each day as it came and try not to make any unrealistic long-term goals.

Now, she was coming out of the shower feeling clean and refreshed. She gave Ron a small smile holding her robe just a little tighter, as they passed each other. She wasn't sure why she felt the need to cover herself, only that the need was there. She still wasn't too comfortable with the scars that marred her skin. She knew she needed to come to terms with them but without the memory of how they came to be the feeling of shame was hard to push away. She didn't know why it bothered her so much for Ron to see them. It wasn't like she hadn't dragged him into bed with her one stormy night and slept beside him.

He gave her only a small smile as he passed, carrying his own things towards the shower. When she turned to go into her room she caught his eyes lingering over her legs and gave him a small glare, to which he blushed brightly and ducked inside the bathroom so quickly he actually bumped his shoulder on the still partially closed door. Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head before going into her room.

She set down her small basket of toiletries on her bed before sitting down heavily at the end. She'd dried her hair with the wand she'd been given but she still desperately missed her own. She had asked where it had gone but none of them had been able to tell her what had happened to it. A soft sigh rolled through her frame and she set the dark wood down on the bedside table. She reached back pulling her hair into a ponytail when her eyes caught on a box she'd shoved into the far corner just barely peeking out from behind a stack of books she'd carried upstairs.

It was the box containing all her personal effects brought with her during her initial intake. Her therapist had advised her not to open it unless she had been willing and capable to accept what feelings may arise when looking inside. She had heeded her warning until now, but it had been a little over 2 months. Harry and Ron seemed to have been able to move on. Why couldn't she?

Her brow furrowed deeply and she pushed herself up with a tight jaw. She was strong. She was stronger than all of this. Her chest rose and fell with the pride that was welling up in her chest. It was time to stop living in the past! It was time to move on to her future! Her shoulders squared and she moved across the room with a new purpose. It was time. She pushed aside the books that had come to cover it and pulled it up to sit on her parchment filled desk.

Her fingers ran over her name written over the top, along with her patient number and other things that had been used solely for the hospital. A small twitch came to her eye when the smell that accompanied any and all hospitals wafted under her nose. It definitely didn't bring back any pleasant memories. She was still determined never to set foot inside another so long as she could help it.

Hermione took a slow breath running her fingers down to release the spell-o-tape keeping it shut, her heart starting to beat just a bit faster. What would she possibly find inside? What had been taken, and preserved after all this time? Another deep breath steadied her nerves and she pulled the tape the rest of the way off letting it fall into the dustbin with barely a glance. This was it...

With extreme concentration, possibly too much for such a simple task, Hermione opened the box. Her heart skipped with excitement when she saw her wand, sitting top, and center. She reached in with a happy sigh and pulled it straight to her chest. Why had she waited so long to open the box? Why hadn't she allowed herself to trust her heart? She looked back in and found the arm strap that she'd made for it sitting neatly folded on top as well, the soft light leather was stained dark, and for a brief moment, Hermione wasn't sure why. Her excitement ebbed away as she pulled it out next looking at it closer under the light. Her heart beat sadly for all those who she had learned had lost their lives.

She had been there for the small ceremony McGonagall had had for the students and builders who had repaired the school. A private little gathering for those who remembered. She didn't know why Harry had taken her, but she knew he had needed her that day and she wasn't going to let him down. A wall had been made, a beautiful memorial, with all the names of the fallen carefully etched inside. Names that should never be forgotten.

The happy smile that had plastered her face slowly fell away, her eyes glistening with tears. So many, so young. Why had she survived? Why couldn't she remember? Her eyes closed tight and she set both her wand and the holder aside. She had to do this. She had to.

A deep breath centered her mind, returning her strength of resolve and she looked back down. A bag, came next, sitting on top of the clothes she must have worn that day. It was old, worn and stained just like everything else. The bottom almost completely black. Hermione let out a small breath pulling it up. The leather bent and shifted in her hands, curious she pulled open the flap to look inside. Loops, at least ten lined the inside and her brow furrowed even deeper. Ginny and Luna had both told her that she'd given them potions. Potions that had saved lives. Were the vials lost? Had she given them all away? This didn't look like something of hers, it was too old, too well designed. Something ticked in the very back of her brain and despite the horrid looking appearance she brought it up to her nose. Lavender, sage, and something else. This didn't smell like her. Obviously, she had had it with her, but it wasn't hers.

Her brain jolted and she felt cold. Colder than she could ever remember. Her body trembled and her head turned, searching with eyes closed tight inside the memory that was struggling to come forth. Eyes, deep fathomlessly dark eyes, a pale face and large hands.

Do not let this go. Do you understand?

Hermione clutched the bag tighter in her grasp pulling it to her chest. Her eyes opened melting away the dark dingy stone walls to the soft yellow of the room she now called home. His voice, his eyes. It had been him. He was alive. He had survived. Just as she. A small tear absently rolled down her cheek and she set the bag down to the side, her eyes lingering over the empty loops wondering what could have been inside. She had to return it. It wasn't hers to keep.

She'd made it this far, she could keep going. A stiff nod to assure herself brought her hands back into the box. She picked up her old clothes, ruddy and stained beyond repair. There was no way all the blood could have been hers. She wouldn't be standing there if it was. She tried to push the questioning thoughts away, reaffirming to herself that it was over, she was safe.

She pulled out the bundle, neatly folded with obvious care and set it aside on the chair. She'd get rid of them later, there was no sense keeping them. She looked back into the box again. She almost thought that had been all but there was more. There was one more thing, pressed and neatly folded into the very bottom.

As soon as her fingers wrapped around it she knew it was unlike anything she'd ever worn in her life. The fabric felt strong, thick and heavy. She found her senses assaulted with more than just the feeling of the fabric beneath her fingers. Awe filled her features and her hand closed tight around it pulling it slowly from the box.

The fabric cascaded down like a waterfall of midnight and her nose twitched. His smell was the strongest of all. Gentle lavender and sage mixed with dust, parchment, and something else. Was it her scent? Were the two of their scents mixed together?

It fell down onto the floor even when she held it up over her head. It looked unbelievably large. It was hard to even imagine the man not being swallowed inside it. There wasn't a tear to be found, not a single mark to show its age. Surely it was his, but why had it been with her belongings? Her arms brought it down. It was so heavy, how could he have ever walked around with something so heavy on his shoulders all the time? Her mind continued to ping-pong between supercilious observations and deeper questions.

She hadn't even realized she'd sunk down to the floor until the fabric she had obviously bunched into her grip pressed tightly under her chin. Why did she miss him? Why did she even care? A sob soft bubbled up the back of her throat and she released it deep into the fabric. Why did it feel safe? Why did his smell bring her comfort?

So lost inside her mind, amidst memories desperately fighting to become clear, she hadn't heard the gentle knock at her door nor the steps that softly padded towards her. She barely registered arms wrapping around her, holding her close to a chest that felt all wrong. She found herself soon after laying amongst her own scent, gently encased. The fabric she had clung tightly to came around her and the confliction inside her mind went dark as she felt herself falling into the security it provided. Her eyes opened for the briefest of seconds taking in dark hair and rounded glasses before fingers lightly gently closed out the world again.

Harry let out a slow breath when her body relaxed down on the bed falling asleep to the gentle coaxing of his fingers. He'd learned that she had a very cat-like response to having the back of her hair lightly played with. He'd done it a few times when she'd been recovering. It was at times, the only way to get her to sleep at night. His brow was still lined with worry at what he'd walked in on. He had only meant to wish Hermione goodnight, something he'd taken to doing whenever he'd retire upstairs for the evening. It was his small way of easing the worry inside his heart. Tonight had been no exception, though when she hadn't come to the door to wish him the same, he had taken the risk of opening her door.

Slowly at first, keeping his eyes down to the floor, not wanting to accidentally catch her while she was doing something he ought not to be witnessing, but when she hadn't answered his repeated call, he had come in just a bit further. Her bed was easily visible from the cracked door, letting him know she hadn't been in bed asleep. The desk lamp was on and he had assumed, incorrectly, that she may have just been lost in one of her books.

He hadn't expected to find her curled up in a ball on the floor clinging tightly to something he hadn't seen in a long time. He knew what it was the moment he'd seen it, the sight of her broken body suddenly flashing before his eyes making his heart skip. He just hadn't known where it had come from until he spotted the box on the desk. He knew then what she must have done and had come further into the room.

He didn't attempt to remove it from her hold as he picked her up, nearly as boneless as she had been that day, though when she curled her head into his chest he found some relief and found the strength push the other images from his mind. He'd carried her to the bed laying her out on the covers, she had curled up again and his heart went out to her. Despite his normal judgment, he pulled the cloak gently, bringing it around to cover her completely. Like a heavy blanket, he was sure it would keep her warm through the night. He didn't understand what had brought her to the floor, but he knew, now wasn't the time to ask.

So instead, he sat in silence, gently massaging the back of her hair with his fingers, he'd offered her a smile when she'd blinked up at him before he'd closed her eyes again. Rest, she needed to rest. He stayed there, long after he'd heard Ron thumping back upstairs. He'd closed the door behind him not wanting to make an audience out of her apparant struggle. He knew it was hard for her to accept the help that everyone had been so willing to give her. He could see it sometimes, in the corner of her eyes, when someone would help her do something she was more than capable of doing. The anger, the frustration, the confusion. He understood it all. He just didn't know how to help her.

It wasn't until Ginny came gently knocking did he still his hand. His heavy head betraying his heavier heart to her when she too peeked open the door. He came to his feet then, with one final glance to make sure that his friend was resting comfortably before he followed the love of his life out into the hall. They each stood for a long moment just looking at the other's feet before Ginny's hand gently rose to his cheek.

"We have to let her go...there's no way we can stop her..."

"Do you really think...it's safe? I mean... shouldn't we go with her? Help her?"

"I don't think she wants anyone's help right now...especially ours..."

"But we're her friends..."

"Yeah, and we've been there for her...but Harry..." Ginny looked down bringing her hand to rest on his heart, "She's always been the one to take care of you can you even imagine how helpless she feels right now?"

"I can...a little..."

"Then you can understand—just a little— how she might be feeling? How...worthless she might feel?"

Harry's brows furrowed slightly and brought his hand up to rest over Ginny's, "Did she say this... to you?"

"No...not directly..." Ginny licked her lips, thinking back to what she had read in the notebook. "But she has said it..."

"What do you think we should do...?"

"I don't know...I don't know..."

They hung their heads moving closer to wrap their arms around each other and bring strength back into their aching hearts. The battle may have ended, but the war was still roaring on.