Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related indicia belong to J. K. Rowling.
~Chapter 5~
Hermione sat on her bed. She had just finished reading what she had read; the tears that had sprung to her eyes were stinging with regret.
"Some Gryffindor I turned out to be," she mumbled to herself, wiping the tears with a tissue.
'This is it' she thought, 'no turning back now.'
With a sigh she walked to the window of the flat that she was living in. Just as she was about to open the window, the telephone rang.
Striding over to it she picked up the receiver.
"Hello?"
"Hermione?" a man's voice asked.
"Yes, who is this?"
"It's Harry! 'Mione, it's wonderful to hear your voice again."
Hermione sniffed back the tears that were once again threatening. "Harry, I have to go."
"Wait, 'Mione, can we meet somewhere? For old times sake?"
"No Harry. It's too late. I have to go." She went to hang up the receiver. "I love you," she added, and hung the telephone up.
Sighing, she cast a glance at the diary. The diary, the thing that held her last confession, her deepest secrets.
Hermione walked back over to the window, and threw it open, taking a deep breath she stepped out onto the ledge.
With one last glance at the Harvest Moon, and a deep breath she closed her eyes and stepped off…
Harry knew that something was wrong. Hermione had never acted like that towards him, or anyone for that matter.
And what was the deal with the 'I love you' and then a hang up.
Something was definitely wrong. It scared Harry to think what she was going to do.
Harry looked up at the Harvest Moon from where he was standing, at the pay phone outside of Hermione's building.
'Fine, if she won't talk to me on the telephone, then I'll have to face her face to face' Harry thought.
Just as Harry was about to tear his gaze from the skies he saw a figure stepping onto a ledge.
As Harry looked harder he realized that it wasn't just a figure, but his best friend, his 'Mione.
Her gaze was fixed on the very moon that Harry had just been looking to.
Harry watched her as she tore her gaze away from the entrancing skies, her face tear streaked.
Then, she stepped off.
Harry panicked. Quickly summoning his broom he rushed to the falling Hermione. He caught her just before she hit the ground.
She was unconscious and her lip was bleeding where she had bit through it to stop the screams. Her face was tangled into an unreadable expression.
Harry sped off, Hermione in his arms, to St. Mungo's.
Hermione awoke the next morning, not knowing where she was.
'Is this heaven?'
Her ears tuned in and she could hear the soft 'beep, beep' of a vitals machine in a hospital.
Her eyes focused in and she saw Harry, the diary in his hands, asleep on the chair. He donned a deep look of worry.
She was tired and fell back into a deep slumber, hardly believing that Harry had saved her, again.