A/N: Many thanks to RachaelLA26 for her beta work on this fic! She was with me through it all for months and I couldn't have done it without her.
Many thanks to guest reviewer Nicole for catching a rather large plot hole! I've fixed it in this updated chapter.
For everyone who has read up to this point, thank you for taking the time to read my humble offering. If you've reviewed, followed, favorited, thank you as well. Fanfiction is nothing without the fans. So thank you for being fans. I hope you've enjoyed the journey!
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Chapter 18: Power
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July 2003
The Burrow
Ottery St Catchpole, Devonshire, England
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Hermione sighed as she gazed at the graves in front of her. It was a rather larger cemetery than she had been expecting, but the Weasley family was one of the most ancient in the wizarding world and had lived on this land for a long time. The day was bordering on too hot, and the sun blazed down, making Hermione sweat in her work robes. She'd taken the afternoon off to do this. It had been long enough. It was time to begin healing from the past.
What a waste. Waste of life, waste of a child, waste of a witch. And as much as she wanted to blame Harry for all of it, she knew that she bore some of the blame as well. Her heart hurt at the thought, a pit in her chest that was lessening every day but Hermione was sure she would live with for the rest of her life. She could have done some things differently and maybe they wouldn't be here. Maybe even should have done some things differently, but she'd made her choices, the best ones that had been available to her at the time. Maybe even having made different choices they still would have ended up here. She wasn't one for attempting to predict the future after all. Hermione clenched her jaw, steeling herself as she looked at the newest headstone in the plot.
Ginevra Molly Weasley Potter
Baby Potter
Daughter, Sister, Wife, Mother
11 August 1981 - 3 June 2003
Fuck, seeing it writing like that made something twist inside her that hadn't when she'd attended the funeral a month ago. Tears welled up behind the sunglasses she wore and her throat closed. She and Ginny hadn't always been close, but they'd grown up together. They'd shared a lot of memories. Memories that were forever going to be tainted by the way she died.
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