To a Better End

Chapter 1

May 2nd 2003

She hated this day - hated what this day meant. She hated that she had to sit in the same room where she saw her friends' lifeless bodies lined up like trophies. She hated that she had to give a bloody speech on the greater good and how their memories live on through us . She hated seeing the pain that lived on in everyone's eyes.

Always forced to play the role of the sweet Golden Girl, Hermione had to put on the face of a victorious war heroine, when all she felt was loss.

The Great Hall was lined with students, current and past. Hermione sat where the professors normally did, looking at all the attendees as they were still coming in and finding their seats. Each year, she, along with Ron and Harry, would deliver a speech. Minerva would start them off. Ron would come in with whatever comedy he could muster. Hermione would come in with her smarts, and Harry would speak "from his heart."

After all the speeches, they would invite everyone to The Wall. It was a large, marbled memorial, sparkling with the names of all who lost their lives in the previous two wizarding wars. It held too many names - too many kids that never got to live a normal life, commemorated in stone.

Might as well put the fucking Golden Trio on there.

People were still filing in when Minerva decided it was time to get the show on the road. She stood up, straightened her robes, and headed to the podium. With a wordless sonorous , she amplified her voice through the Great Hall. Hermione sat back, occluding just enough to not scream, but not too much that she felt numb.

"Today, we gather as we do every year. We gather to remember that we are a united community. We gather to remember that we endured much to get here. We gather to honour the memories of those that we have lost."

Hermione couldn't tune in after that. She almost scoffed at the boilerplate speech. It was obvious to the trio that Minerva hated this as much as anyone else, but Kingsley was insistent that this spectacle continue every year. His fear of a dark wizard taking a stab at the wizarding community was ever prevalent. He lost his bloody mind, if Hermione was being truthful on the matter. He was obsessed with portraying unity and good and light. He turned a blind eye to all the darkness that was in the world and left the Aurors to deal with it. Hermione was disappointed with the choice of Minister, but he was the lesser of the evils that she had experienced in office.

After chancing a quick glance to her right, she noted Ron shaking his leg. She put her hand on his knee, giving him a squeeze and a small, reassuring look. He nodded his head and stopped shaking. Removing her hand from his knee, she slyly reached into her beaded bag, still unwilling to part with something that saved her so many times, and slipped him a Calming Draught.

To her left, Harry was fully occluded, a skill he was able to master after Voldemort stopped having access to his mind. He was so occluded that Hermione had stepped on his foot with the heel of her boot to draw him back. He looked at her, slightly offended.

"Ease the hell off of it, Harry," she whispered out of the side of her mouth. He nodded in response and pulled out of his head a bit. He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up further than it already was. Hermione sighed at him. His hair would never be polished, and that was something she accepted long ago. She preferred her friend this way, actually. His hair tousled made him look his age, despite the worry lines he had developed over the war and after.

"We have a few speeches today from our war heroes. After the speeches, you are welcome to stay in the hall, look at The Wall, pay your respects, and enjoy the time you have with the living. To the students here, all classes are cancelled for the remainder of the day. Now, I would like to invite Ronald Weasley."