Disclaimer: I don't own it. Except by 'it' you mean the five books that I do still own.
Dedicated to Loverfaery, because I forgot to mention that the other one was written for her.
The history books would remember Hermione Granger as a woman who walked with heroes. Ronald Weasely had fought in the front lines, and history rewarded him by labeling him as he has always wanted to be labeled, not as the poor boy, not as the blood traitor, but as a hero (though not as much of a hero as Harry Potter). History would forget her accomplishments as surely as they would remember those of her friends. She would be known as the damsel in distress (perhaps because it was convenient, perhaps because every story needs a good damsel in distress, perhaps because as liberal as the wizarding world claimed they were becoming they were still ruled by old men who remembered women as delicate flowers, perhaps it was something else, it doesn't really matter). But on this day, those who had walked with her gathered to remember.
They remembered the woman that stayed up for nights on end researching. They remembered the girl whose only academic problem had been that she could never think of a happy enough memory. They remembered the girl that had taught them complex spells and potions, despite the fact that for some one so brilliant it must have been like banging her head against a brick wall. The girl who had fought for them, everyone, every thing, and they remembered the one that had fought with them.
She remembered the girl she'd been so jealous of, and laughed at how foolish it was. The kind-eyed woman-child that had held her for hours while she sobbed over the boy who rarely looked at her and would probably never love her. Who had laughed with her when their boys were being such boys. And worried with her when the boys were off without them (because women are meant to be protectors, and what have they to do when the person they want most to protect is trying to protect them?). The one who had come over to her house over the summer, and the late nights they spent laughing and talking and learning. She remembered and she laughed
He remembered the first time he's seen her. How annoying she'd seemed and how he'd been drawn to save her from the troll anyway (She would tell him that he had a hero-complex, but she'd never complained about that time). He remembered drinking the potion without hesitation because she was sure. Remembered drinking a bubbling murk because he knew that she had made it. Remembered her stupefied and lifeless after she'd figured it out. He remembered the girl that had kept a Professor's secret, because she had thought it would be best. The one who journeyed back in time with him to save a man she'd known for an hour. He remembered the girl who was 'Not an owl!' and the one who had finally explained girls to him. He remembered wondering if he'd had a crush on her, before he'd realized that one simply could not have a crush on someone who was their sister. He remembered the girl who had cried for him, because heroes can not cry for themselves. He remembered and he cried.
He remembered the woman that had set canaries on him when he'd been a jealous fool. He remembered staying up late with her every night. Looking at her from afar, and from right beside her. He remembered wondering if she would ever love him. He remembered the Slug Club and how jealous he'd been (Jealous, jealous, jealous the word practically defined him). He remembered the night she finally gave up. Sighed and put down her book and just kissed him. He remembered nights she spent curled into him, and the days when her hand had found its way into his. He remembered, and he fisted his hands.
They remembered their best friend. They remembered one that cried for them when they could not cry for themselves (men don't cry!). They remembered the know it all, whose teeth had been too big and then just right. They remembered girl who had slapped a boy for insulting her friends. The woman who had stood and refused to back down from the fight, though she knew that killing her was almost as important as killing Harry (Ron was never considered a large threat, it was a foolish oversight, but an oversight that was made nonetheless, killing him was a bonus, never a priority). They remembered the girl that had finished their homework when they could not, and corrected it when they could not. They remembered the friend who was a mother/sister/lover to them, and they mourned.
They remembered that Hermione Granger did not walk with heroes. They remembered that she was a hero. They remembered that heroes walked with her.