What the Room Requires

Chapter Twenty-Two

I love you all!!! I am sure you know that—but you need to hear it! Just so everyone knows, I’m using MOVIEVERSE again in here, because I like it better—and it will tie in well in the end. Also, if this story has inspired anyone artistically, such as in a music video/trailer, drawings, photomanips, banners, anything like that, I would LOVE to see them! A few people have already shared such things with me, and I just love looking at them! :D Please don’t be shy—I will enjoy anything.

VVVVVV

“Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,

Some in their wealth, some in their body’s force;

Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill;

Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse;

And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure,

Wherein it finds a joy above the rest:

But these particulars are not my measure;

All these I better in one general best.

Thy love is better than high birth to me,

Richer than wealth, prouder than garments’ cost,

Of more delight than hawks or horses be;

And having thee, of all men’s pride I boast:

            Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst take

            All this away, and me most wretched make.”

-William Shakespeare

VVVVVVV

HERMIONE

            I stood atop the astronomy tower, alone, my arms wrapped around myself as I gazed across the mountains. Evening had fallen. The castle was silent.

            It was the night after Professor Dumbledore’s funeral.

            A discontented wind ruffled my hair. I took a deep breath—it smelled so like spring, now. And yet, wintry death had struck just a little while ago right here—right where I stood.

            Draco had been up in this tower, standing on this very floor. He had held Dumbledore at wand point until the Death Eaters could come, and Snape could kill the headmaster.

            I stood quietly, replaying everything Harry had told us after it happened. And replaying everything Dumbledore had told Draco the day we had come out of the Room.

            That the plan still had to go forward.

            That Dumbledore still had to die.

            But that Draco would be spared the fate of becoming a murderer.

Now that I had heard what had actually happened, I realized their loophole: Snape, who had made the unbreakable vow, would do it instead.

Dumbledore had died of his own volition. To save Draco’s soul, and to save Snape’s life.

            But I could not say any of that to Harry or Ron—no matter how Harry ranted in heartbroken rage about how Draco was a vile coward and Snape was a turncoat viper, and how he wished them all dead.

            I couldn’t speak. I could only sit on the common room couch and put my arm around Harry and weep with him. And wonder how I was going to bear everything now.