"I understand."

Hermione shifted her weight. "Can I come to Glasgow sometime and visit you?"

"I'm actually leaving here with Angelina and George. Going to stay with them in France for a bit."

He jerked his head to the side, and she peered past him, down to the end of the alphabet.

George and Angelina stood before the names of Fred, Charlie, Molly, and Arthur, as still as sculpted marble. Angelina's right hand lay on George's shoulder, her other loose at her side — a prosthetic. George stared vacantly at the obsidian stone, and Hermione could see his reflection shining against the wall — two of him again.

"I'm happy for you. I hope…" Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek. "I hope they've been understanding of what you've gone through."

Oliver hummed. "George still thinks I'll wake up from this someday, but Angelina is working on him. Apparently, your testimony has him questioning things."

Hermione looked away, twisting her fingers together. They were quiet for a moment before Oliver spoke again.

"It's hard for them. I didn't like blokes before… before this. Maybe I still don't." His voice was ephemeral, like a secret whispered in the dark. "But I told Angelina, 'I fell in love with someone who protected me when I was at my most vulnerable. Wouldn't you say the same about you and George?'"

The chasm in her chest split deeper. She blinked quickly, tears escaping as more of herself fell away, lost to it. Oliver danced in her eyes.

"I hope he comes back to you." He murmured a goodbye, and turned to join George and Angelina.

Hermione muffled a sob with the back of her hand. Once composed again, she swiped at her cheeks, readying herself for the next set of names.

In the "P" column, she found Padma Patil, Parvati Patil, and Poppy Pomfrey, before finally, finally, her fingers brushed his name. Harry Potter.

Heat met her skin again. If she pressed her fingertips hard enough, she could feel her own heartbeat and imagine.

"It's strange that he's not set off from the rest."

Her heart clenched, and her eyes closed. She turned over her shoulder and found Ron standing just to the side, his left eye covered and his hands in his pockets.

She looked back to Harry's name. "I think it's what he would have wanted. To be just one of many instead of the chosen."

Ron stepped up to stand at her shoulder. She could feel the warmth of him at her elbow, but the space between them was endless.

"The school Governors wanted to commission a tomb next to Dumbledore," she said. "I told them that Harry would have wanted them to focus all their effort on reopening Hogwarts. But after, he would have liked the idea, I think."

She glanced up at him, some youthful part of her still aching for his approval. He stared at Harry's name and nodded.

They stood side-by-side, with only a memory between them for several minutes. The birds in the eaves sang a sad song, and the wind carried it over those gathered in the courtyard.