Disclaimer: I don't own anything ... Blah, blah, blah.
Summary: "In the night of death, hope sees a star, and listening love can hear the rustle of a wing."
Author's Note: A sad one-shot that I couldn't help but write. Well, it was supposed to be one chapter but I thought it was a bit long. I broke it up into parts. I don't know how many chapters because I'm not done with it yet. I'll just post as I go along. All memories (which are not in order) and thoughts are in italics. I've never tried writing a fic that goes from present to memory the entire way so please let me know if I succeeded.
- Anjel -
Forever Angel
Silent tears streamed steadily down her face as she pulled out clothes from her closet and drawers, throwing them in a pile on her bed. She grabbed anything in reach and placed them in her trunk, finally leaving dressers and drawers empty. She dragged a hand roughly across her face and sat down on the bed, unaware that the pile of clothing was threatening to slide right off the edge.
Hermione glanced around the dormitory that had been her bedroom alone for the past three years, making sure nothing would be left behind. The sun beamed through the open window, shining a light on the young witch, the light played with the emotions on her face, glinting on the tears that continued to make their path down her cheeks.
As her eyes roamed around the room, they caught a light and she looked down. She leaned down to pick up a stranded photograph, half concealed under her bed. The picture brought on a fresh round of salty droplets, its smiling faces seemed to mock her, waving in her a face a not so long ago past that seemed so long ago.
Harry's face was smiling up at her, his arms wrapped around Hermione's waist. He leaned in for a sloppy kiss, waggling his eyebrows. The picture Hermione laughed and tried to pull away, finally giving up and giving her boyfriend the kiss he wanted.
Hermione wiped a tear that was threatening to fall on the precious picture, her mind wandering to That Day. The day that was the best and worst all in one. The day Harry was promised to her and taken away. Hermione looked down at her left hand, a heart encrusted diamond ring snuggled in between her pinky and middle finger. The diamonds winked up at her, reminding her that the promise the ring stood for would never be fulfilled.
She shook her head, the tears coming down harder. "No, no, no, no ..." she repeated, over and over, hoping if the word was said enough, it would be true. She let her head fall into her hands, the magical photograph slipping from her grasp and floating to the ground.
She didn't hear the soft knock on her door, or the muffled calling of her name. Grief so raw wrapped around her, suffocating her until she was choking on tears.
"Hermione?" the voice called again, the door opening slowly.
Ron looked over at his best friend, his heart constricting painfully as he tried to control his own emotions. He walked over to her and touched her shoulder gently, not wanting to startle her.
Hermione's head popped up, her eyes wide with surprise. "Oh, Ron. I didn't ... I didn't hear you come in ..." she cleared her throat and hastily turned away, swiping at her face. She didn't want him to see her cry, she had been doing too much of that lately.
He looked over at the half-hazard pile of clothing. "So you're done packing?" he asked with a slight smile.
She tried. Really she did, but the smile didn't want to come.
Ron sighed and sat down next to her. He looked down at his hands, trying hard to be cheerful for her. As he lifted a hand to rub his temple, the sun glinted off the photograph and caught his attention. He stooped down to pick it up and gave a sad smile.
"I remember this day," he said quietly, staring down at his two best friends. That day seemed so long ago.
Hermione looked over at him but didn't say anything. She studied him as he gazed down at the photo. She realized with guilt that Harry's death had been terrible for not only her but Ron also, all of the Weasley's, in fact. Ron had lost a lot of weight; his blue eyes lost the mischievous twinkle, replaced with pain. He was no longer as carefree as before; jokes and laughter were few and far between.
"He was so nervous," Ron continued, now lost in the memory. He looked up at her. "I watched him practice in front of the mirror for days. He wanted the proposal to be perfect and no matter how many times I told him that you would say yes even if he just threw the ring at you and said 'Marry me', he wouldn't listen." He let out a small chuckle. "He loved you, Hermione."
She set her mouth into a grim line, her face contorted in anger. "Too much."
Ron looked up at her, confusion traced along his eyes. "What?"
"He loved me too much. It's my fault. If I had just stayed away like he had asked then he would be here with us. He would be with me, we would be graduating, we would be getting married, starting a family ..." It was angry tears that ran down her cheeks this time.
Ron shook his head. "Hermione, it isn't your fault. If Harry had heard you just now, you would have heard an earful. He thought you were worth everything and if it weren't for you, he wouldn't have lasted as long as he did."
Hermione only shook her head. He didn't understand. "I should have listened. Why didn't I listen to him?"
I was his destruction. If I had just stayed away Harry wouldn't have come after me, he wouldn't have tried to save me ... She couldn't stop the tears. She couldn't turn back time. She couldn't stop her heart from shattering into a million pieces.
I'm so sorry, Harry.
+ + +
Harry stood rigidly staring out at the lake, the water frozen solid. He buried his hands in his pockets and hunched up his shoulders against the icy wind. The late December weather reflected his mood and he was grateful. He felt balanced somehow.
He felt as if everything was crumbling around him and he was powerless to stop it. Voldemort was on the rebound, destroying everything and everyone who stood in his path. The wizarding world was on end, waiting for the day the Dark Lord would make his revenge on Harry Potter. They all believed The-Boy-Who-Lived could defeat him and they would be safe, not realizing that the pressure was suffocating Harry, and that he was only a human, with faults and weaknesses. He was supposed to save everyone, but who was going to save him?
His loved ones were more at risk now than ever before, especially with the threat that Hogwarts would be the next place attacked. Voldemort had let the world know that Muggles and Half-bloods would be the first to go. Anyone not of pure-blood would die, which included non-humans as well. Those against the Dark Side were dying and people were crying out for help.
Harry didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to save all of the innocent people who were dying by the dozens. Voldemort's whereabouts were virtually unknown; his Death Eaters completed all his dirty work and left no tracks behind them. The day where Voldemort would come out and face Harry personally was fast approaching, Harry felt, and he was ready. He was stronger than Voldemort; his training in occlumency, legilimency, defense spells, and wand less magic were only a few to vouch for this. But he also had something else that Voldemort would never possess; love.
Love was the reason he was out in the cold to begin with. His life had been difficult and still was but because of this love, he was managing. He knew if he didn't have the love of one person in particular, Hermione Granger, he would not have been alive today. She kept him going. That was why his decision killed him so much, because he knew it would hurt her to no end. That was why he was so miserable lately, so out of tune with everything.
He had to push the one person he loved more than anything in the world away from him, make her hate him. The only way he knew to protect her was to let her go. He just didn't know how he would do it; or even if she would buy it. He knew she would see right through him, she always did, but he had to try...
"Harry?" His back stiffened at the voice. He tried to harden his resolve as the footsteps came nearer, tried to control his emotions.
"Harry?" Hermione called again. She could tell by his posture that he wanted to be left alone but she would not be pushed away.
"Go away," he replied, his tone flat and emotionless. He didn't turn around to face her, knowing that the minute he looked into her eyes, his plan would be completely ruined.
She stopped in her tracks, feet away from him. Hurt crawled up her spine, not so much at his words but at the tone of his voice. She had never heard him talk to her like that. "Harry?" she tried again, hesitantly. She took a few steps until she was standing next to him. "Harry, please don't -"
"Don't you understand the meaning of 'go away' or do I have to say it in another language?" he said, still not looking at her. His face was hard, his eyes screwed up against the snow that had begun to fall.
Hermione was taken aback but she didn't leave. She placed a gloved hand on his arm, wanting him to look at her. If she only could see his eyes, she would know what he was feeling.
Though he was wearing regular clothing, his Hogwarts robe, and a thick coat, he could still feel her warmth; her support. He paused a moment before shrugging her hand off. "Leave me alone."
"But I -"
"Leave me alone."
"Harry ..."
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" he shouted this one out, finally turning to face her, twisting his face into a look of anger. "Why do you have to be so bothersome? Why can't you mind your own bloody business?" he cried, then rushed on before he crumbled. He avoided looking directly at her, knowing she would be wearing a look of shock and hurt. "I can't stand you anymore! You're always in my face, always wanting to talk! I don't want to bloody talk! Especially to you! Stop trying to help me, got it? I don't want your help, or anything else for that matter! So go eff off!" He was breathing heavily, not believing his own ears. No, no, no ... I'm so sorry Hermione ... I don't mean it ...
She didn't speak and he chanced a glance at her. She was staring at him in absolute shock, her eyes filled with glistening tears. One rolled down her cheek and she didn't wipe it away until a small ball of snow landed there and stayed. His arm came up to touch her cheek but he stopped himself just in time. His heart was beating too fast for it to be normal, his stomach felt twisted, and he felt nauseated. Never in a million years would he have said all that to Hermione; His Hermione.
Please say something ... He begged silently, looking back out at the lake. The giant squid had his tentacles against the ice, trying to break it free. Harry felt as if he were the one trapped under there.
"Do you love me?"
For a moment, he hadn't realized it was Hermione who had spoken. He looked over at her, she was staring at him, her eyes intense. He expected to see hate in them, but all he saw was determination. "What?" he asked, taken by surprise. He had expected her to hex him into oblivion or at least run, but she stood firm. No wonder I love her so much.
"Do you love me?" she repeated, her eyes glued to his.
The word "yes" was on the tip of his tongue and he had to force it down. He hesitated. "No, I don't," he finally answered, averting his eyes. The squid had given up on trying to crack the frozen water and had retreated deep into the lake.
"Look at me and say that," she demanded, her voice now hard.
He shook his head and spat, in a voice entirely not his own, "I don't have to do anything you tell me to. I said I don't love you, what more do you want? Don't hold on to silly girlish illusions, Hermione, because there is no hidden meaning here."
"Look at me and say you don't love me!" she shouted, bringing her hand up and pulling his face towards hers.
"I DON'T LOVE YOU!" he roared, face red and eyes blazing. He watched as she searched his eyes, hoping she wouldn't see the lie.
She dropped her hand from his cheek and the warmth was immediately gone. He missed it. Hermione looked away for a second then brought her gaze back to his. "I don't believe you," she said softly.
Before he knew what he was doing, his arms were wrapped around her and he was pulling her to him, as close together as they could get. He buried his face in between her neck and shoulder and tried to hold in tears of regret. He felt something hit the top of his head and he looked up. Her arms were holding him tight and silent tears trailed down her cheeks and slid off her chin. "Don't do that, Harry," she whispered. "Don't try and push me away to protect me because I'm not going anywhere. This is my choice, not yours. I want to be with you, so it's my risk."
"I'm so sorry," he murmured, ashamed beyond belief. "I didn't mean any of it, Hermione, please believe me. I just don't want you to get hurt; I don't want Voldemort to use you against me."
"Harry, he would use me even if you did manage to push me away, because he knows how much I mean to you. So either way I'm in danger. I rather be in danger while I'm with you than without you. Ask any one of us," she continued, referring to Ron, the Weasley's and all those loyal to Harry. "We will choose to be with you."
He couldn't believe her courage and loyalty. He couldn't understand why anyone would choose to die for him. "Why?"
"Because I love you and that's that."
+ + +
Ron watched as Hermione pushed her dinner from one side to the other, her head leaning on her hand and her eyes downcast.
"Hermione? Are you going to eat at all? Or just try and make the food on your plate look like some kind of picture?" Ron asked finally.
She didn't answer and he wasn't sure if she was lost in her own world and hadn't heard him or if she was just ignoring him. "Hermione?" he tried again.
She looked up this time, almost dazed. "Hmm? Did you say something?"
"You should eat," he said this time, hating that pained look in her eyes that seemed to be present at all times.
Hermione pushed her plate away, the chicken and potatoes barely resembling food any more, and sighed. "I'm not hungry."
Ron shook his head. "Hermione, you have to eat." He watched her shake her head again and sighed. She had lost a lot of weight in such a short period of time and it was worrying him. "Fine, I give up. I guess we should start cleaning up Harry's dormitory."
Hermione nodded and stood up without saying a word. Ginny gave Hermione a worried glance, having watched her play around with her food also. Ron just shrugged and Ginny turned away shaking her head. As the two friends walked down the row of students eating, many watched them go, pity written all over them. Ron and Hermione were used to such looks since Harry's death and ignored them.
They made the trek up to the Gryffindor Common Room in silence. Ron pushed open the door and walked inside, trying hard to be cheerful. He turned to say something to Hermione but found her still outside. "Hermione? Are you coming?" he called, worried at the look on her face. "I can do this alone, if you can't ..." he didn't finish his sentence.
Hermione shook her head. "No, I-I'm fine. I just ... I'm fine." She entered the room and went over to the dresser, ignoring Ron's questioning look.
He let it pass, however, and went over to the closet, taking off robes and clothing from the hangars.
As Hermione stared at the objects on Harry's dresser, she wished she had let Ron pack Harry's stuff alone. All she wanted to do was curl up on his bed and cry ... What she did on the day she found out he had died. She walked over to the bed that was neatly made and sat down. Memories hit her full force.
They had spent a lot of their time in Harry's room, on his bed, showing each other the love they felt. They had taken to sleeping together and Hermione had gotten so used to falling asleep with Harry's arms around her that she wasn't able to fall sleep otherwise.
She pulled out his pillow and pressed it to her face, his smell engulfing her. Tears began to well up and she felt like she was suffocating. She pushed her face into his pillow, into his scent, and into his memory.
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