Ever since she can remember, she has collected stones. It's a silly hobby, she knows, but each one means something to her. She has one from her first day at school, a small polished gray that she kept in her pocket and rubbed during that first day. There is one that she picked up outside the station at Hogsmeade when she arrived for her first year at Hogwarts. Another from the lake near the castle that she picked up the first day she, Harry, and Ron were friends and sat together outside in the late autumn air.

Her collection has grown over the years. None of the stones are marked, but she knows exactly where each one came from and what it means to her. There are now a few dozen rocks from various events in her life that she wants to remember, both good and bad. Over twenty-one years, she has collected a lot of memories and stones that correspond with each. Today, she wants another to add to her collection. The lagoon is beautiful and there is a sense of peace that she hasn't felt in years, since before the war.

The war is over now. The most recent rock added to her collection was put into the box three weeks ago, picked up from the field where Harry finally defeated Voldemort. She now needs another stone to add, one for this peaceful holiday spot and her first opportunity to feel as though she were living, truly living again, since everything escalated years ago.

She pulls up her skirt to her thighs and wades into the water. The sun is warm and she breathes a sigh of contentment as she lets go of so many things that have been on her shoulders for what feels like forever. For a moment, she's taken back to another lake on a sunny summer day. She's fourteen and discovered the small lake during a walk once Quidditch becomes a bore. No one is around so she wades in, only to hear someone splash in behind her after she's taken a dozen steps. A handsome boy with light brown hair that falls across his forehead smiles at her and she smiles back. There's a rock in her box from that day, the first time she had a conversation with Cedric.

It's one that is worn from being rubbed over the years. There are three others that she often gets out, even during the worst of the war, and holds in her hand because they ground her, remind her of happy times, remind her how easily life can slip away. One from that first conversation in the lake, one she picked up from the base of the tree where they often met during fourth year, one she picked up after he kissed her beneath the Quidditch stands (her first kiss, surprising and wet and wonderful), and one she picked up after Harry carried his body back from the final task. An entire lifetime in four rocks, she thinks with a smile that is torn between sadness for what could never be and happiness for what was if only for a short time.

She wipes the dampness from her cheeks and smiles when she thinks of Cedric. She can hear him talking about the beauty of this spot, knows he'd love the way the setting sun glistens over the way, thinks about the way his hair never stayed put and the easy smile that was always on his lips, the way he touched her with such gentle caresses as if he were scared she'd fade away and the whisper of 'I love you' that she heard that last night before he went to face the final task.

Hermione leans down and picks up a rock, her hair brushing against the warm water as she grips the stone in her palm. When she straightens, she glances at the shore and swears she sees Cedric watching her, that smile on his lips and his hair in his eyes. She rubs the stone with her thumb as the vision fades away, the whisper of 'I'll always love you' reaching her ears as she smiles, tears on her face as she clutches the stone more firmly. He's there, with her, just as he always will be.

The End