Disclaimer: I don't own them. I just bring them out to play once in a while. They belong to Jo Rowling, who is the absolute genius! My first H.P ff. So, PLEASE, R&R. Flames are welcome(But please, be nice!!!) This is dedicated to all the poor souls who have been inadvertently killed in the war. All we can do now is to pray that it all comes to an end quickly.

Up the hill, the pair limped. Their robes were torn, their arms, legs and faces bloody and bruised. Their eyes were drooping, silhouetted by the dark circles which had developed over the past five years.

Harry and Hermionie had been through a hell of a day.

The war was not going well. Everyday, Voldemort's hold became stronger. More people were losing faith, and turning over to the dark side. More innocent people were being killed. And more often than not, they weren't even wizards.

Hermionie gently turned the handle on the door to the safe house were she and Harry were living. They both prayed that it would stay safe for a little longer, but it was impossible to be certain.

They both collapsed on the couch. "Harry, what are we going to do?" Hermionie asked the man sitting next to her. "I don't know. I guess we'll just keep the fight up for as long as we can." He sighed, "We've lost friends before, and we've always coped...." "Yes, but..." "We did our best. If anything had gone differently, than we may have lost even more. Come here." He said gently, holding his arms out to her. She crawled into them, comforted by the warmth that she found within his arms. For a time, they just sat there, remembering a good friend, whose life was finally over.

Finally, Hermionie got up, and went to the first aid cupboard. She took out the bandages, herbs, and other paraphernalia. She limped back in, and began the tedious task of healing the wounds which they had sustained. Finally, she was down to just one wound. A massive gash which ran right down the side of Harry's leg. sighing, she pulled out her wand, and pointed it at Harry's leg. "ailatium repairo" she muttered under her breath. A bolt of gold came out of her wand, and hit his leg, gently repairing the wounded tissue. But even after she'd finished, the area around the wound was still swollen. Sighing, she reverted to binding it. At least that would remove some of his discomfort. She then moved onto her own wounds, which were not nearly as bad as the ones that Harry had taken. Finally, she went to the fridge, and got out a couple of T.V dinners for them.

After cooking them in the microwave, they sat down in front of the television set. The news spoke of conflict in the muggle world as well. Pictures of nuclear bombs and missiles were flashed over the screen, "It seems that there's no escape." Hermionie said, before standing up, and marching upstairs.

Harry entered their bedroom, to hear Hermionie showering in their bathroom. He went to the door of the bathroom, and was swamped by a wave of steam. "You forgot to turn on the fan!" he called over the gushing water. "no, I didn't!" Hermionie called back. Sighing, Harry went back out into the main part of their bedroom. He sat, thinking. He knew that if it wasn't for his fiancée, he'd probably go back to the muggle world. And yet he stayed. He knew that he couldn't leave her. He slowly mulled the thoughts over in his head, until he was disturbed by a tapping at the window.

It was Hedwig. With a note from Sirius;
Dear Harry and Hermionie, This is to let you know that the funeral will be held tomorrow at midday. It's a service at the school, followed by a private service, with only his inner circle of friends. I heard that you had a nasty encounter with some Death eaters today. I hope you're all right.

Snuffles.

Harry sighed after reading the letter through once again. Harry heard Hermionie come up behind him. Silently, he handed the note to her. As she read, ears came into her eyes, and slid silently down her flushed face. Harry put a protective arm around her.

Dressed in black, the pair apparated near Hogsmede station, at half past eleven. Shivering, they drew their black cloaks around themselves. Overhead, black clouds rolled across the sky menacingly, as if threatening to spill it's contents down upon their heads. Together, they made their way up to the school. Right along the front of the school were the scorch marks from the battle which had taken place here barely a week ago..... As they walked up the path, a great black dog came to walk beside them. The trio was then joined by a tabby cat with black, spectacle-like markings round it's eyes. Slowly, the quartet continued their stately march up the path towards the school. Then, Remus Lupin joined the party, as they walked on. Then a ghostly shape joined them. Harry couldn't be sure if he could believe his eyes. "Prongs..." he whispered in awe. The others of the group turned at the name. From their expressions, Harry could tell that he wasn't imagining it.

Beside them, a shadowy image of a great stag walked, his head held proud and tall. His hooves made neither sound nor print in the cold snow. And still they walked. It was with determination. Their footprints were behind them in the snow. As they passed Hagrid's hut, he came out, closely followed by Fang, and joined the group, towering above them all. They passed the Whomping willow, with the emotions of memories showing on all the faces. At the foot of the stairs, Ronald Weasly joined them, his freckles and carrot-red hair standing out prominently against his pale skin. As one, they walked up the stairs into the Entrance Hall, and through into the Great Hall. They passed the rows of students, all wearing their formal black dress robes, customary since the start of the war.

After what seemed an eternity to the group, they finally reached the front of the hall. Laying there, in a coffin of the purest white was..... Albus Dumbledore. He looked peaceful, and his face showed no sign of the hell that he had endured, and had, ultimately, lead to his death. He had lived for one hundred and sixty years. Maybe he had just given up the fight. Even though he had defeated some of the most evil wizards of all time.

Hermionie, Harry and Ron all stood together, as the service was conducted. Abut the words sounded as if they were coming from a far off place.

When the euology had been read, Harry, Hermionie, Ron, Remus, Hagrid, and McGonagall took their places around the coffin. Gently, they lifted the coffin, and began the procession, with the stag and Sirius leading. Fang walked at the rear. They filed past the students, whom had all lined up along the path to the small graveyard, just on the edge on Hogsmede. Many students placed flowers on the coffin.

It was a slow march to the cemetery. They finally reached the gates, which had great winged boars on them, just like the ones at the entrance to the school itself. It was up in a secluded corner, under a giant oak tree where Dumbledore was to be buried. The small party gathered around, as they lowered the casket into the ground. Each threw in a rose, remembering all the memories of the great man. After a while, they began to drift away, ready to go their separate ways. All except for Ron, Harry and Hermionie. They stayed behind, for reasons unknown even them. From the sky, large snowflakes gently began to drift down from the sky.

It was almost a whisper, they barely noticed it at first. Then, the gentle song of the phoenix came through the stillness of the air. And standing against the blinding white of the snow, was the flame that was Fawkes. He gently decended, and sat upon the headstone, and cried. A long, mournful note which shook right through to the very core of their souls. The ghostly stag reared up at the sound. As his feet touched the ground, he bowed his head, before becoming blurry, and disappearing into the haze. Once again, Prongs had rode.

That night, Hermionie sat on the bed. From the door, Harry saw that she was lost in thought. He was just about to go back out, when she lifted one had and beckoned him to her. Almost as soon as he had sat down next to her, she had grabbed him in a fierce embrace. Gently, he returned it. He knew what she was thinking. Life was too short, and could end so suddenly. Dumbledore's death had reminded her of that. To them, he had always seemed immortal, as much a part of their world as the ground beneath their feet. "I don't think I could live without you, y'know?" she whispered in his ear. He smiled in return, "I don't really want to find out." For a moment in time, it was just them. They were able to put all the troubles of the world out of their minds, and be together.

The dawn light gently peeked over the horizon. It was the start of a new day, and a new battle. They would keep up the fight. It was the only way.