I just had a great surprise today. My Author Badge. So I'm just as nervous as happy. Ok, happier, if you ask me.

• Thanks to all the Portkey Authors for writing all those wonderful fics that made me become a ficaholic. You rock, guys.

• Thanks to Harry and Hermione, old Harry and Hermione, for being themselves.

• A 6 feet THANKS to my wonderful, efficient, nice, dedicate and grammar lover STePHaNie, for being my Beta, for being sooo dedicated and, truth to be told, for being such a fan of Pride and Prejudice. ;-)

-- And Ian….thanks again. ^_^

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Summary: The end of a story is always the beginning of another one. Sixth year has come to an end. It's time for a new beginning. (One shot…but it's only that. The beginning).

By the way…

…no, I'm not Jo Rowling (I'm writing H/Hr, so no way I could be).

…no, I don't make money of this.

…and no, I don't want eternal glory either. I'm just here for fun. ^_^

…which means that standard disclaimers apply.

Hugs and kisses ^_^

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THE GIRL SITTING ON THE GRASS

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The girl was sitting on the grass, her back against the same tree she had been seeking comfort from since almost the first day she had put her feet on the old castle grounds. Her eyes were closed, her legs crossed, and her hands rested quietly on her lap.

Just a few trees away, the boy was watching the girl.

He didn't know she was going to be there. No big surprise, since lately he never knew her whereabouts. Standing there, he suddenly thought that, once upon a time, so long ago, he always knew where she was, and what she was up to. When not in class, she would be in some quiet corner of the library, surrounded by a mountain -maybe two- of books and parchments and quills, searching for things like elves' rights, old alchemists or just handy potions. If neither in class, nor in the library, then there was no doubt—she would be with them. With her two best -and maybe only true- friends.

The boy frowned. Today was the day. Only a year ago, they were all doing their last exams for the O.W.L.s. He had that terrible…vision. The girl sitting on the grass, plus his other best friend, his… well, his girlfriend for a few weeks of happiness, and a couple of the best -and most peculiar- people at Hogwarts, left the castle and followed him regardless of consequences.

The girl sitting on the grass coughed weakly, but she didn't open her eyes. She had been cursed badly a year ago. He never asked her about that, he realized.

Was it really only a year ago? It felt like ages.

All of a sudden, the boy felt…he couldn't put his finger on what it was. It wasn't the breathtaking pain in his chest he had been feeling non-stop since Dumbledore's funeral two days ago. In spite of the extraordinary lack of happiness that his life had been cursed with, this time was different. Never before had he felt like this thinking of -or looking at- either of his best friends.

That was the moment he knew.

That was it. She, the girl sitting on the grass with her eyes closed, was not his best friend. She was not Hermione. Ok, maybe she was. But that Hermione was just some schoolmate with whom he had been sharing classes, meals and house for the last year. He had told her about Malfoy, about Snape, about the Death Eaters' plans… but she didn't listen to him. Of course she didn't; she was not his best friend Hermione. His Hermione would have listened to him at least. Perhaps she wouldn't have believed him; perhaps she would've said that it was crazy, as she did last year. But she would have listened. She would have researched, tried…something. She followed him to the Ministry and beyond in a stupid crusade, for Merlin's sake.

And now, he couldn't even recall when the girl's hair had stopped being bushy.

Definitely, that was not Hermione. But could he put all the blame on her? He tried to think for a moment. In the little amount of time he had been going out with Ginny, of course they had spent less time together. And before? What about before?

No, he hadn't been the same Harry either. He had been reckless, he had been cocky, he had been... an exact replica of his father in Snape's Pensieve.

That changes today, he told himself. He didn't want to feel like strangers. Not in the last days he was going to share with them before leaving Hogwarts. Not with her, the girl sitting on the grass.

So he started to walk towards her.

The girl didn't open her eyes, although he was sure she had heard him coming. The boy took seat by her side.

“Hermione.”

She took a deep breath and then smiled weakly.

“Harry.”

Neither of them said anything for a while.

“Here you are,” he finally said, looking at the lake.

“Here I am,” she said, looking at the very same point.

The boy realized that he was feeling uncomfortable being there, just in silence. That never used to happen. He had to do something. Anything.

“What are you doing here, Hermione?”

The girl looked at him for the first time, but her gaze returned slowly to the lake.

“Just thinking.”

“Of Dumbledore.”

“Of everyone. And everything.”

Harry looked closely at her.

“You've been crying,” he said, his words blurting out of his mouth the very moment he saw the girl's puffy eyes.

“I think too much, you must know that by now.” She attempted a sad smile, and nodded slightly. He nodded too.

Hermione let out a sigh. Harry knew she was thinking of something, so he just sat silently. After what he felt was a rather long pause, she went on.

“Today, it's been hurting.” The boy watched how she placed her right hand on her chest. Dolohov's curse. “Really, it's been only a year -it feels like ages”.

Harry stared at her with wide eyes. He tried to say something, but words wouldn't come.

“I…when I think of that day… of Umbridge, the whole Department of Mysteries fight and all, it's…I don't know; it's like it never happened in this reality, but in an alternative and distant universe. I can hardly recognize anything…anyone.”

She fell silent, and sighed once more. The boy wondered if she was aware of his presence at all.

“Look at Neville…He's the little scared boy that lost his toad that first day on Hogwarts Express again. And I have hardly seen him talking to you or Ron this year. And Luna? I thought things would be a little different…she's as weird as ever…but she has been as lonely as ever too. Even more, without the DA classes.”

When she didn't resume her talking, Harry took a look at her face. She was crying. He hadn't noticed the moment she had started. There was no sobbing, no sniffing. She was just there, speaking softly, almost whispering, and crying silently. It was a bitterly beautiful cry.

The girl looked at him and smiled.

“And me?” she chuckled sadly. “Have you seen Hermione this year? Because I haven't.”

So she's noticed, too. Harry tried to remember the last time he had seen Hermione, but he couldn't. Last summer, at the Burrow? Maybe.

“All I have seen,” Hermione went on, “is a girl attending stupid VIP parties. A girl confunding people on purpose just to cheat on try outs. A girl jealous of his best friend because he was getting better marks by cheating. A girl hexing her other best friend, wanting to hurt him. I giggled, for Merlin's sake!”

Harry couldn't help but smile at her words.

“Yeah, you did.”

But his smile faded quickly. She was now trembling, her face buried in her hands.

“Hermione…” Harry said tentatively.

“Harry…”

She was now looking straight at him, her voice strained. “Can you remember the last time we actually talked?”

He looked down. He couldn't. Maybe the Horcruxes…

“Horcruxes,” said the girl, and Harry started to really believe she had become a skilled Legilimens. For all he knew, she could be lots of things by now. “We've only talked about Horcruxes Harry. I'm not saying it's not important, of course it is! It's only that we did it like…like a workgroup or something… I missed… Oh, Harry, this entire year I've been feeling trapped with a troll in that bathroom again. Only this time there was no Harry or Ron missing me. And I miss my friends, Harry. I miss myself…”

Her voice dissolved into sobs. No more quiet tears. Now she was shaking.

So that was it. Lonely. Hermione had been feeling lonely for a whole year. He had had the Half Bloody Prince to help him with potions. The Quidditch team. Ginny for a few weeks. Then the Won Won issue... And all the time, she was feeling terribly lonely.

He suddenly knew what he had to do. She had taught Ron and him well during the past years, after all.

The boy closed the distance between them. This is going to be a little awkward, he thought. But the moment he put his arms around her, he realized how wrong he was.

“Hermione…”he spoke softly. “It's Harry…I'm back.”

He said no more. For a few moments, he thought that maybe those words, or the hug, weren't good ideas after all, since Hermione seemed to be trembling even more violently in his arms. But maybe that was what she needed. What he, now that he came to think about it, had been needing badly too, but had not realized until now.

He would never know the exact moment he had started to cry—and the exact moment he had started to heal.

They spent a few minutes like that, until Hermione began to slowly pull herself together.

“Harry, I…” she looked up at him, wiping her tears. “I'm sorry I didn't listen, that I didn't help you”. Harry looked down where his right hand was still joined with hers. “I'm sorry I wasn't… me”.

“Don't worry. I wasn't exactly me this year either. I should have listened to you, even if you were being not you. I can't believe I didn't after…after last year. I suppose none of us were being ourselves.” He avoided the name of his other best friend.

“Yeah...I know.”

She seemed calm for the moment, but her face suddenly became oddly hard.

“I'm never going to forgive him for this year, for every damn year, Harry, NEVER. And it's a promise.”

Harry's face paled. He had been starting to think about the three of them again. But it seemed that Hermione didn't have the same plans.

“Hermione… I'm sure Ron's already aware of…”

“I'm not talking about Ron, Harry.” He looked at her, confused.

“Voldemort.” Her head was down, his gaze lost in space, but the way she said Voldemort would have made the boldest wizards shiver. “Everything is about him. He's the one making your life hell, driving us mad, so much that here we are, fighting each other, having nightmares, and hating--hating everything. Just like him.”

Harry couldn't remember Hermione like this. Ever. Something pretty much similar to hatred was written in every feature of her face.

“We're going to do it, Harry. We're going to go to the end of the earth and back if needed, but we're going to find the last of those bloody Horcruxes.”

“We?” Harry asked, blinking. “Hermione, wait, I am the…”

“The what Harry?” Her voice was firm. “The Boy Who Lived? I know that one by heart. The Chosen One? Heard already. The worst one, by the way…”

Harry half smiled. Old Hermione was coming back.

“Harry…” she was now looking at him. Really looking at him. “I'm going. You know that no matter what, I'm going.”

The boy opened his mouth to say something, but whatever it was, it never came out.

He had imagined himself at Ginny's funeral, and he had run away from her. She had to be safe. He…liked her, or loved her, or whatever it was; he just couldn't stand the idea…

But the mental picture of Hermione's funeral happened to be as strong as the other.

He tried to picture a world without Hermione in it. He imagined Ron, Ginny and himself in the Common Room, doing Transfiguration essays. He almost heard Ginny's jokes meant to embarrass her brother; he almost felt her light kisses before going to bed. But he would still be waiting for Hermione to be back in the common room. She would open the portrait any moment, wouldn't she?

He pictured himself at breakfast, looking at the door, waiting for Hermione to come in a rush, because she had to tell him something important. He pictured himself at a Quidditch match, looking for her—sure he would find her clapping till her hands ached… only to find that she wasn't there.

He pictured himself late at night, alone, in the common room, thinking about Horcruxes and Voldemort and… if only Hermione were there. But no; Hermione wouldn't be there, because she would be resting, eyes closed and very quiet, six feet under.

The familiar pain in his chest suddenly became unbearable. But this time, neither Dumbledore nor Voldemort were the reason. It was, he suddenly knew, that there was no world without Hermione in it.

The boy felt a powerful wave of warmth through his body. Maybe it was the feeling of Hermione, his Hermione, coming back again. He would never feel alone in this as long as there were a Hermione, and a Ron, by his side.

But maybe, only maybe, it was because he suddenly became very aware of their hands, still intertwined.

“I don't want you dead.” His voice was trembling. The boy was scared.

“I know, Harry…” she said, and he found the softness of her voice comforting. “…but I'm not going to be dead. And Ron's not going to be dead. And you are not going to be the Boy Who Lived But Died In The End.”

Harry looked into her eyes. He knew she was lying. She couldn't possibly know for sure. He knew he shouldn't let her stay around.

But he'd always known that there was one thing Hermione Granger wasn't right about. He wasn't the most unselfish person on Earth, as she believed him to be. He needed her with him. As desperately as, for some reason, he needed her hand in his at that moment.

“Promise?” his hand squeezed hers.

They became aware of the sound of steps filling the silence, as a tall red headed boy was walking towards their tree.

She smiled. And squeezed back.

“Promise.”

And then their hands were free again. But the boy was smiling. She was back.

If the girl sitting on the ground had made him a promise, then he had to believe it.

Because that brave girl sitting on the ground would be right in the end. As always.

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The couple had been watching them.

They knew they shouldn't. It was getting more and more difficult every time. But they couldn't help it.

The woman was beautiful. Of course she is, thought the man standing beside her. Even in moments like this, crying in silence, she was ridiculously beautiful. How had Harry called it? Ah, yes; a bitterly beautiful cry.

He had been a lucky man.

Many would say that their too-premature executions were reason enough to change that point of view. But they couldn't be further from reality. She was the reason he was a lucky man. And she was still with him. Forever.

There was only one little thing. One not-so-little thing anymore.

A little thing with round glasses, dark and rebellious hair, just like his. A little thing that was not so skinny anymore, because he was becoming a handsome young man. A little thing that had seen and suffered way too much for his short lifetime.

They were watching. They were always watching. They had watched his years at the Dursleys. He would have given his life twice again just for a couple of minutes with that Vernon bloke. But in spite of it, she still felt pity for her sister. She knew what her sister's problem was: Petunia would never forgive her because she left her for this other world. Harry was a daily reminder: she left you for that world, for that guy. And now they're both dead.

They had also seen his first years at Hogwarts. The way he had been forced to face Voldemort to save his life, year after year, and live to tell the tale. The way he had been treated by Snape just because Harry happened to be an almost exact clone of his father. The way he suffered and missed them both. The way he had witnessed the deaths of his loved ones. Too much for anyone.

And he was only sixteen.

Of course they had also witnessed his little moments of happiness. This year, when he seemed to be so utterly happy with little Ginny. And all the others, with his best friends, brave and loyal Ron and Hermione. Lily couldn't help but smile every time the girl scolded the boys for being such lawbreakers, or so lazy with their homework. So like herself… And James couldn't help but smile proudly at the two boys. Little Marauders…

Yeah, they were so proud of him; of the young man he had become in spite of his cursed life. This lovely Hermione girl was right, as always. He was the most unselfish person on Earth.

So yes, they were proud…but they were shattered. They could sense his fears, his nightmares, his doubts, his little moments of happiness…but they could do nothing. Nothing but watch. And hope. Maybe, eventually, he would sense their presence at every step of the way. They wished he would right now.

The man kissed his wife on her temple.

“My poor boy,” whispered the woman, seeing how her son was gazing wordlessly at his crying best friend. “He's so scared, James…”

He could sense it too. Indeed, hard times lie ahead, my boy. Damn Riddle…

“He's a tough one, love. And he's not alone”.

He was now looking intently at the couple sitting on the grass, too.

“You know very well that Dumbledore hasn't really left him altogether. Remus is still there, Lily. And the Weasleys, the Order…and he has Ron, and Hermione. And the Longbottom's boy, and that dreamy Luna girl. And many more others, dear. And Ginny, of course. He's a bit naïve if he really thinks she's a girl made to wait in the wings. Besides, she loves him, and…”

His words were cut all of a sudden as he felt a wave of warmth; a forceful and powerful wave of warmth.

“Did you feel it, James?” the woman asked, and the man saw her looking down at the couple sitting on the ground.

They were crying. Both of them. Harry was holding her tight. And he could undoubtedly feel the way their souls were being soothed.

“Merlin, yes. But wait…what…”

And there it was. The golden aura, bright and powerful, that seemed to be radiating right from their hands. Their still intertwined hands.

Lily had tears in her eyes, but she was beaming.

“Yes, love”

“So… could it be her?”

“It's always been her, love.”

“Really?” he asked, amazed. “I supposed… I mean, he seemed so happy with Ginny. You just couldn't see this coming, could you? I just thought the aura …well, they are too young. It was just a matter of time”.

The woman kissed his husband.

“This is not a matter of time, James. Never has been. It's a matter of hearts, a matter of souls. They've been walking towards this, love. No matter what, it was bound to happen.”

They kept observing the scene in silence. Ron Weasley, their son's best friend, was walking towards them. The young couple sitting on the grass let their hands part, but the golden aura was still there, glowing around them. Lily and James knew that that was just the beginning of the trip,

“So they will know eventually… I do hope it won't take too long.”

The woman said nothing for a while. Her mind was having flashes of a certain cocky Gryffindor that used to show off every time she was around. An insufferable boy that, luckily for her, had happened to be the love of her life. And beyond.

“It won't, love. It has already started.”

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