I'll Be Seeing You

I'll Be Seeing You

Rating: G

Angst/Romance

Disclaimer: I am borrowing JKR's awesome characters, I am not worthy, I have no rights, and to sue me would be a colossal waste since I have nothing, okay? Good. :)

Author's Note: I know, I just posted a story a couple days ago, this is unbelievable. Okay, well, here is my long awaited angst/drama/cry-your-heart-out (maybe) fic. I really don't have any side comments for this one, just that I'm a little afraid of the response to this since it is my first attempt at something that is not pure fluff. Also, you will notice the status is “in progress” because there are two chapters. While this is no big deal for some, it's a first for me, so go with it. Anyway, that's pretty much it, please read and review!

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“I'll be back when I'm back. Bye Harry.” With that Hermione slammed the door and began walking down the long road, fuming. Immediately Hermione began reliving the things that had just happened.

***

Hermione stood in the kitchen, cooking dinner when Harry stormed in and headed straight to their room, slamming the door behind him.

Normally, Hermione would have set everything down and immediately gone to see what was wrong with her husband, but not today. She had had a terrible day at work. First her boss had lost her two reports and threatened to take the damage out of her check. Then at lunch some new intern from America had started a food fight, ruining her favorite blouse. Finally, to finish off the day, the new puppy she and Harry had just adopted together had scratched up the nice dining table her mother and father had given them for their wedding and it would take hours to repair.

No, Hermione was not in a good mood, and she really didn't feel like listening to whatever problem Harry had been having so she simply continued cooking the dinner. Just as she had finished setting the table, Harry came out of their room, looking angry and sad.

“You didn't come after me?” He asked softly, clearly hurt.

“No.” Hermione replied curtly. Spooning servings onto the plates and not looking up once. “I didn't.”

Harry seemed shocked to hear this. “Why not?”

Hermione, not able to hold it in any longer, lashed out at him, slamming the dish she was holding onto the table. “Because, Harry, has it occurred to you that you might not be the only one having problems?”

Harry still seemed confused. “But you promised you'd never give up on me.”

Not thinking, Hermione asked, “When?” He looked very hurt at this, but Hermione didn't care, “Never mind. The point is I didn't give up on you, Harry. I simply had my own problems to deal with.”

“And that's more important?” He pressed.

“Are you kidding me?!” Hermione could not believe she was hearing this. “Are you that self-centered that you think I should just throw aside my problems for you?”

“If you really loved me you would.” Harry replied.

“Oh, don't even give me that! You know full well that I love you, Harry Potter. If you are too blinded by your own self pity to see that then I can't even stand to be in the same room as you!” She grabbed her coat.

“I'll be back when I'm back. Bye Harry.”

***

Hermione let out an angered sigh as she continued to walk. She understood how he was thinking. It had been this way ever since they began dating in sixth year. Any time something remotely bad would happen he would shut her out, along with everyone else. He knew it, too. He expected them to fight to get to him, to show him they loved him no matter what. He may have never thought about it consciously, but he knew it.

Hermione knew this. She would always fight for him. She would fight because she loved him. She would fight because he needed her to. She remembered in seventh year how she had actually spent three hours banging on his door after he defeated Voldemort.

***

BANG BANG! “Harry! Let me in!” BANG BANG! “Harry I'll stand out here all night if I have too!” It was true. It didn't matter if her fists were in terrible pain. It didn't matter if her throat was soar from yelling. None of it mattered, because she knew he needed this. He needed to know she was there. A moment of silence could be the end of it, and she would lose him to his own sorrow. BANG! “Harry! Come on now!” BANG BA-

“Hermione?” Hermione took her hand down to see Ron standing behind her, apparently hesitant to approach her.

“What?” She asked a little too loudly, causing Ron to jump a bit.

“Well, maybe Harry just needs a little time to think. I mean, he can't very well do that with you banging on the door.”

Hermione deflated slightly. Perhaps Ron was right. Harry may need her, but not like this. She allowed Ron to lead her to the common room, where Harry could come find her when the time was right. After a little bit of restless tossing and turning, Hermione finally allowed herself to fall asleep.

She awoke in the middle of the night to hear the sound of Harry's gently sniffling. She was up immediately and by his side at the window. She sat down and patiently waited for him to speak.

“I didn't want to wake you,” Harry whispered, his eyes downcast.

“Oh Harry…”

Harry lifted his gaze and looked into Hermione's eyes. She saw the fear immediately and felt her heart break for him as he spoke. “I thought you gave up on me.” His voice cracked and Hermione took him in her arms. He had been through hell, literally, for the past few weeks. How could she have let Ron convince her to leave? She knew her Harry.

“I will never give up on you Harry, okay? Never.”

“You promise?”

Hermione nodded.

***

Hermione stopped walking immediately. She had almost forgotten. She had promised him.

Suddenly, Hermione understood. Why hadn't she seen it before? She had to get home and apologize to Harry. Without thinking, she turned around and stepped out into the busy street.

***

Harry watched as his wife slammed the door behind her. What was she so mad about? He understood that she had had a bad day, but did that mean that she couldn't at least show that she cared?

And how could she have forgotten the promise?

It had been one of the things that kept him going all of these years, whenever he questioned what he was doing, or why he was even alive. He knew that, no matter what, she would always be there for him.

No matter what.

How could he be so selfish?

Here he was, mad at his wife for putting herself first in their relationship for the first time ever, something that he was guilty of since the day they met. Harry felt the shame wash over him as he stood there, feeling sorry for himself for no reason at all. He hadn't even been that upset, and had simply had a bad day at work. At the time he had felt like he needed Hermione's sympathy, but now only one thought was running through his mind.

He needed to apologize.

Not exactly sure where he was headed, Harry headed to his room and grabbed his coat, hoping that she wasn't too furious with him. He walked through the hall to the doorway and swung open the door, nearly walking into a mediwitch.

“Harry Potter?” She asked. Harry, thinking that the scar on his forehead should be a dead give away, nodded anyway. “It's about your wife. There's been an accident.”

Harry felt the world come crashing down. An accident? What kind of accident? He tried to read the mediwitch's blank expression. “What do you mean, accident?”

She forced her practiced blank expression to stay put. “If you could come with me, Sir, you will find out more at St. Mungo's. That is all I can tell you.”

“But…” Harry begged.

“Please come with me, Sir. That is all I can say.” Harry could tell that this was not easy for the young woman, so he followed her to the apparition point, where they apparated straight into the emergency area. Harry was immediately greeted by a mediwizard.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Harry begged. How was this happening? They had just had an argument, that's all. Was she that upset that she would do something stupid?

No. Harry reasoned with himself. Hermione was a brilliant witch. No matter how upset she was she was always rational, and could be trusted to keep her head on straight.

The mediwizard watched as the Harry Potter stood before him, pleading to know about his wife. It was clear that he loved her more than anything, and the man was pained to give him the news. “Sir, your wife was run over by a car.”

“What?” Harry couldn't feel his legs.

“We believe she was in a hurry, and therefore didn't look before crossing the street. The driver of the car that ran over her stopped as soon as she could, but it happened too suddenly.”

Harry looked up at him, taking a deep breath. When did the room start spinning? Harry took a deep breath. “So, is she being healed right now? Will she need to stay a few nights?”

The mediwizard struggled with himself before speaking. “Mr. Potter your wife will not make it through the night.”

Harry felt it as he helplessly collapsed into the arms of some people nearby. He was guided to a chair by the mediwitch who brought him. After gasping for air for a few moments he spoke. “Wh-what do you mean? You can heal her can't you?”

The mediwizard shook his head sadly. “But, she's a witch.” Harry persisted, “Why can't you heal her?”

“Under normal circumstances, we would be able to, but the total impact on her body was far too great, and there is no possible way to heal everything. We did as much as we could.”

Harry felt his hands grow cold. “So, that's it? That's all you can do? She's gone?”

The mediwizard shook his head again, but Harry dared not hope for false good news. “Not yet, Mr. Potter. They are stabilizing her. When she's stabilized, they'll come get you. You can then go talk to her. You'll have some time. Not a lot, but some.”

“Will she…” Harry wanted to pinch himself and wake up from this dream, “Will she be conscious?”

“Yes, she will be fully conscious up until…up until it's time.”

“When will it be time?” Harry asked desperately. When will it be time for the love of my life to die? The mere thought sickened him as it passed through his mind and Harry felt the urge to empty the contents of his stomach onto the floor.

The mediwizard looked at Harry with honest eyes. “She will know. They always do.” He looked at something over his shoulder and nodded. “She's ready. You can see her now.”

Harry turned around and followed the student witch to Hermione's room. Before going in, he turned to her. “Do you have any idea how much time she has left?”

The witch seemed truly sorry for Harry and frowned sympathetically. “No more than an hour, maybe not even that.”

Harry, gathering his resolve, nodded and entered the room. He looked at his beautiful wife, lying under the crumpled hospital sheets. Outside of the bruising on the side of her face and neck and along her arms, she looked the same as always, though smaller, and uncharacteristically weak. Even in this state, she was a vision if elegance. She turned smiled upon seeing him. “Sit down,” she spoke softly.

When Harry sat down he found it difficult to look into her eyes, and chose to look at the flowers in the vase next to her bed. Red roses with one white on in the middle, just like he had given her on his first date. Harry assumed the mediwitches had done this for her.

Hermione had asked that Harry tell her the news about how she was doing, but as she studied her husband's features she knew in an instant what was happening. Not wanting to admit it, she took a moment to work up the courage to say the words out loud, “I'm going to die, aren't I?” She asked.

Harry turned to her, his eyes blood shot with tears threatening to spill over, and nodded. Hermione nodded back, her throat dry. “How much time?”

“An hour, at most.” Harry choked on his words. “The…the doctor says you'll know.”

Hermione felt her own tears spill from her eyes, despite her best efforts. “I'm so sorry. I never should have stormed out of there. I had no reason to be mad at you, and then to forget my promise…”

“No, it was my fault.” Harry interrupted. “How selfish could I be? Expecting you to throw aside everything simply to comfort me? I was just leaving to apologize when they brought me here.”

“I was coming to apologize when it happened. I was hurrying back and just stepped right out into the middle of the road. I'm so stupid, and now look where it's brought us.” Hermione looked at Harry with shame in her eyes as he wiped away her tears.

“Hey,” He said, in as a demanding tone as he could, which was still weak and sad, “You are not stupid, and I never want you to say that. Okay? You're amazing.” Hermione nodded.

“Harry…”

“Yes, Hermione?”

“I need you to listen to me. There are some things that need to be taken care of. Do you think you should write it down?” Harry shrugged, unsure, and Hermione, smiling gently had him charm the pen and notepad on the table by her bed to copy down any directions.

“Okay,” Hermione took a deep breath, “Tell my boss that my next four reports are saved on my computer, and that the rough drafts for the two following those are on there as well, as well as some general notes for the ones following those two.” Harry marveled at his wives' dedication to her work even in her last moments, and, knowing how important this was to her, dared not stop her.

“Tim's birthday present is hidden in our closet. Tell him that Aunt Hermione is so proud of him for making the top of his class, but she expects him to also have some fun now and then. Even I had fun, thanks to you and Ron” Hermione smiled with a twinkle in her eye.

“Tell Ron I love him, so much. I never told him that I was sorry for what happened in our sixth year,” Harry opened his mouth to ask what she was talking about, but Hermione ginger placed a finger over his lips, “He'll know. Tell him to always treat Luna like the beautiful woman she is, just like you always did for me. And, please Harry, tell him that I will miss him so much, and that I only wish him happiness.”

“Tell Ginny that I would consider it a personal favor if she didn't make Luna wear one of those hideous purple bridesmaids dresses that she wants for her wedding. Also, lend her my red garter from our wedding as her something borrowed. It's with my veil next to our old Hogwarts things.” She looked at Harry pointedly and he nodded.

“Now you,” Hermione began, and Harry began to pay special attention. “I know you hate it, but be sure to clean out the refrigerator now and then. Please don't eat anything that looks suspicious, and don't let Ron, either, if he's helping you. And, when you are ready, donate whatever clothes you don't want to keep in memory of me to the little homeless shelter about ten blocks away from our house, okay?”

“Yes, Hermione.” Harry smiled for her.

“I trust you.” Harry nodded.

“Harry?” Hermione asked again, looking down at her wedding band.

“Yes?”

“I'm scared.” Hermione whispered, before breaking into quiet sobs.

Harry got up and lay down on the bed behind her, gingerly holding her frail body in his arms. Hermione turned her head to face his, crying on his shoulder for a few minutes before sniffling and continuing on. “Tell everyone that I love them, and check up on Ron and my parents. Ron and my father will pretend to be strong, but it will be hard for them to heal, and my mother will busy herself with a lot of things and then break down. If you ever need someone to talk to, go to her, because it will help you to talk, and it will help her to know that she is not alone. Though, don't leave Ron out, because you two need to be there for each other. Two pieces of three.” She thought for a moment. “There's one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“When you are ready, and only when you are ready, there is something I want you to have in my bottom dresser drawer. You'll know what it is when you see it. The combination is 3-29-9, okay? Three. Twenty-nine. Nine. Do not take it out until you think you are ready.”

Harry nodded. “Three. Twenty-nine. Nine.”

“I love you, Harry.”

“I love you, too, Hermione. I always will, no matter what.” Harry reassured her.

This comment seemed to make Hermione think and Harry watched as her mind worked for a moment, placing the memory of her brows furrowing firmly in his mind. “Harry. I want you to know that if you ever fall in love again, I want you to marry her. And, if you and your bride are at an appropriate age, I want you to have kids, okay? I always knew you would make an excellent father.”

“You know I couldn't do that Hermione.” Harry shook his head. He loved only her. There was no one else.

“Please, Harry. Promise me that you will. If it makes you feel better, you can name your first daughter Hermione or something. Or Danielle. I always liked the name Danielle. Just promise me that you wont turn the possibility down if it's knocking on your door, okay? Promise me. I want you to have a family. I want you to be happy.”

Harry, despite himself, nodded, knowing he could never say no when looking into her eyes, and forced himself to take a picture of them in his mind forever. He could drown in their beauty. “I Promise.”

“And Harry?”

“Yes?”

“Could you kiss me?”

Harry didn't answer but rather did as his wife requested. He was careful and gently, not wanting to hurt her, but at the same time needing her more than ever. As they kissed they both knew it was they last time that they would ever truly kiss each other, and they made it gentle and passionate; forceful and tender. They engraved this kiss into their memories, and when their lungs forced them to part, it was with great reluctance, savoring the feel of their lips together.

They both lay there silently. Harry wished that time could just stop and he could hold her forever, but he knew time was running thin. “Hermione?”

“Hmm?”

“I'm sorry a couldn't save you.”

“I'm sorry I couldn't use my eyes.”

Harry struggled a moment before speaking again, “Would it be horrible of me to ask you to do something for me?”

Hermione shook her head. “Anything you want, love.”

Harry spoke, slightly shyly, “Could you… could you say hello to my parents and Sirius for me?”

Hermione smiled, “I'll do it the very first second I can.”

Harry let his thoughts roll around in his head for a moment. “A very selfish part of me wishes that I could die with you.”

“A very selfish part a me wishes the same thing. Though I suppose it would be better to wish I could stay alive with you instead.” There was a pause in the air.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

They each choked on their words. Harry spoke again. “I'm really going to miss you Hermione. You're my everything.”

“I'm really going to miss you, too, Harry.” Hermione didn't bother holding back her tears, now falling freely.

Neither of them knew how much time went by as they lay there in each other's arms, but neither of them wanted it to end. As Hermione cried silently, sniffling occasionally, neither of them spoke a word. They needed to tell themselves that things were okay, that as long as they held each other, if they didn't say anything, this would go away. At the same time, everything that needed to be said had been said, and anything else was left out, because this precious time of silence was everything in the world to the young couple. Finally, Hermione spoke.

“Harry it's time.” She turned to him, the look in her eyes taking away any doubt he had about what she meant. Harry was surprised at her calm words, and didn't want to let her go.

“How can you tell?”

“I feel it.”

“I'm not ready, though.” Harry pleaded.

“I'm not either.” Hermione whispered. “But, I have to go. I'm not able to stay.”

“Hermione, I want you to know that you never gave up on me, okay?” Harry reassured her.

Hermione nodded. “And you didn't fail me, okay?” Harry nodded. Hermione hesitated before asking, “Can you smile for me?”

Harry tried his very best, thinking of how much he admired his wife, the love of his life. He used every fiber in his being to pull the corners of his lips apart, his eyes bloodshot.

When Hermione placed that image in her memory, she smiled for him, and he engraved the memory as well.

“I love you.”

“I love you.” They knew they'd never say it to each other again.

Hermione waited again one last time before speaking, her words barely at a whisper, her breathing difficult, “Can I go now?” she asked.

Harry struggled with himself. He had faced Voldemort, hundreds of death eaters, and none of it even compared to how hard this was. How could he tell the love of his life that he was ready to let her go? Harry stumbled over the word in his mind, but once he saw the pain in her eyes, and the struggle she was going through, he knew what his answer would be.

“Yes,” Harry finally whispered, not letting tears come. Not yet, when he could still hold her in his arms.

“Hold my hand,” Hermione instructed, and Harry did. She gave him a kiss on his cheek before laying back and closing her eyes. “See you later.” She whispered.

Harry smiled through his pain and kissed her on the forehead. “See you later.” He stroked her cheek with his hand until less than a minute later he felt her small hand go limp in his own.

It was only then that Harry Potter allowed himself to cry.

~*~

A/N: So…what do you think? Anyway, no, this is not the end, and the epilogue should be posted later this week, so review and get updates! :)

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I'll Be Seeing you

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

Author's Note: Here is your epilogue, folks! Hopefully there should be less crying with this chapter, but I make no promises. Also, due to (a miniscule amount of) foul language in this chapter/epilogue (nothing not in any of the HP Movies) I upped the rating to PG, just to be safe.

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The mediwitches waited patiently outside the door as Harry held his dead wife in his arms, sobbing over her body. As they heard his strangled pleas to have it all be a dream, begging his dead wife to come back to him, they all cried silently to themselves for his loss. Most of them being a good five years younger than him at least, they had all grown up hearing about the famous Harry Potter and how strong he was. When they were at Hogwarts they had learned of his victory over Voldemort. How he was so brave.

But this man was not the man they had grown up hearing about. This man was broken and alone, and their hearts went out to him.

About an hour later Harry calmly exited the room, his cheeks stained from tears and his eyes red and puffy. He stood in a doorway for a moment, looking at these women who didn't even know him or Hermione but cared anyway. Harry took a moment to compose himself, and then spoke, his voice cracking, “Um, I have to go talk to some family before the news reaches the papers tomorrow.” He looked up at them. “Will she be okay if I leave?”

The oldest witch, in her early fifties or sixties approximately, smiled kindly at Harry, patting him on the back, “I will take care of her personally, Sir.”

Harry returned the smile, though not really feeling it, “Thank you.” Harry turned and headed towards the door when suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder. Harry turned around to face the mediwitch who had gone to get Harry and then had told him how much time Hermione had. The young woman was crying now.

“Mr. Potter,” she paused and sniffed, “I am really sorry for your loss. If…if there's anything I can do, please just let me know.”

Harry studied the girl for a moment, and upon looking into her eyes he saw the sincerity of her words, rather than the empty words of a fan girl. He nodded and replied, “I appreciate that.” With that he exited the hospital.

Harry apparated directly to Ron's home, but it was well over ten minutes before he worked up the courage to knock on the door. When he finally did, it was young Tim who greeted him, Luna coming up beside him, pulling on her bathrobe. “Yes, Harry?” She asked.

“Could I speak to Ron alone for a moment?” Harry felt this was something Ron deserved to hear first. Harry owed it to him.

Luna nodded, clearly being able to tell the magnitude and seriousness of the situation. “Of course. You can go sit in the living room. Come with me Tim.” Tim reluctantly followed his mother as Harry sat down. A few moments later Ron came in.

“What is it that could not wait until morning…Harry,” Ron saw Harry's worn face and blood red eyes, “Merlin, what happened?”

Harry stood and motioned for Ron to sit. When he did, Harry took a few deep breaths before speaking, “Hermione…Hermione…”

Ron looked up at him, “What is it? Did you two have a fight?”

“No. Hermione…she's…she's…”

“She's what?” Ron was searching Harry's broken face for an answer.

“She's dead, Ron.”

Young Timothy sat in his bedroom with his mother when suddenly he heard his father yelling in rage and pain. What did Uncle Harry do to him? Luna immediately stood and moved to leave the room, but when Tim tried to turn and follow her, she turned around suddenly, “Timothy, stay here, please.” Timothy knew well enough that this was not a time to question her command.

Tim waited a few moments after she left until he slowly crept to the door and looked through the small crack. There he saw something that scared him. His father was there, crying without abandon, along with Uncle Harry, as he crouched on the floor, holding onto the couch and Harry's hand to stabilize himself. Never having seen the two men he modeled after most in his life cry, the young man was shaken. Timothy saw his mother walk up and ask Harry what happened, and when Harry quietly told her she gasped and looked at her husband, taking him into her arms, sobbing with him as well.

What could have possibly made them act like this?

Harry regretfully left Ron and Luna about an hour after his arrival, after Ron had calmed down and Harry explained what had happened, also telling him the things that Hermione had instructed. Leaving was difficult, but he had a few more trips to make.

Ginny's reaction was different. At first she simply kept denying it, telling Harry he must be mistaken, and then proceeded to go into a state of shock, tears slowly falling from her eyes. Hermione's boss had surprisingly been very devastated, rambling on about how mean she had been to Hermione just that morning, and how she had found the missing reports, intending to correct the mistake with Hermione the next day. Harry gave her the list of things Hermione had instructed to tell her and then left with the promise of informing her with funeral arrangements. The rest of the Weasleys were rather similar to Ron or Ginny, with the exception of Mrs. Weasley, who comforted Harry rather than grieve herself as Mr. Weasley shook his head as silent tear fell from his eyes in the corner, repeating that it just wasn't right. Harry didn't bother disagreeing with him.

Perhaps the hardest trip to make was the one to Hogwarts. Harry gathered Hagrid and Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall. As he struggled the through the words, Harry felt his strength shatter upon seeing the three strongest people he had known has a child and teenager cry. Professor Dumbledore struggled to maintain his posture as he cried and comforted Professor McGonagall, who was positively balling, Hagrid going through the tissues by then dozen. Without forethought, Harry requested the funeral be held at Hogwarts, a wish that was granted instantaneously.

After strolling around the grounds a bit, seeing Hermione's young face everywhere he went, Harry apparated home, and it was there that Harry found his most difficult challenge yet. It was there that Harry faced his and Hermione's empty apartment, and it was there that Harry faced the reality that Hermione was never coming home. Unable to set foot into their bedroom, Harry went into the guest room, and tossed and turned on the bed for hours, allowing himself to cry once in awhile, until he passed out from exhaustion a few mere hours before sunrise.

The next day or two went by in a complete blur. The wizarding nation went into a grieving period as Harry made funeral arrangements as well as burial arrangements. Hermione was to be buried right by his own plot, next to his parents. Professor Dumbledore made arrangements so Hermione's muggle relatives could attend as well without revealing the wizarding world.

Hermione had left everything to Harry in her will except for a few mementoes. Mrs. Weasley received Hermione's fruit pie recipe, which had been her grandmother's. Ginny received Hermione's enchanted mirror from Hogwarts (Ginny told Harry that in school she had used it more than Hermione). Hermione left fifty galleons to Dobby and Winky the house elves, along with two pairs of socks that she knitted herself. All of the professors at Hogwarts received Hermione's old class notebooks, with all of her notes for each of their classes. Lastly, Ron received Hermione's very first copy of Hogwarts: A History as well as a feather (neither Ron nor Harry understood the latter until Tim walked in and said “Hey, that looks like one of those feathers that we levitated at Hogwarts last year!” promptly bringing both men to tears and causing a trip down memory lane).

Finally the day of the funeral came, and when Harry woke up in the guest bed, he found himself not wanting to get up, telling himself that if he just stayed in bed, he wouldn't have to face the reality, or face all of the people's sympathetic stares. He was so set on staying in bed that it wasn't until Ron and Luna arrived that he was finally convinced to leave it.

“Still in bed?” Ron asked, telling Luna and Tim to go ahead without them.

Harry nodded, “Seems logical enough.”

Ron shrugged and sat on the chair next to the bed, “I know what you mean. I'd still be in bed myself if it weren't for Luna.”

Harry smiled halfheartedly, “So are you here to get me out of bed, then?”

Ron shrugged and shook his head, “Nope. I figure that's up to you. If you think it's best that you stay here, by all means, do so. All I'm going to tell you is that this is a one-time thing, and if you are going to miss it, be sure that you wont regret it later, okay?”

Harry sighed and sat up, setting his feet on the floor, “I don't want to say goodbye to her, Ron, because that means admitting that she's really gone.”

Ron frowned sadly, a tear glistening in one eye, “She is gone mate, and you already said goodbye. The fact is, you don't want to let her go, and, if truth be told, neither do I.”

Harry swiped at his own eye nonchalantly, “I shouldn't have to let her go. I should still have her, damnit!” Harry said, standing up. All of the anger he had held in for the past days was finally coming lose, and Ron seemed to get that.

“We all should still have her! The fact is, she's gone, Harry! There isn't anything either of us can do to change that, unless you happen to have a time-turner on you!” Ron immediately regretted saying that as Harry's eyes began to spark with an idea. “No, Harry…”

“Why not? It makes sense, doesn't it? I think we can all agree how unfair her death was!” Harry began to dress in his clothes for the funeral with new motivation.

“I'm not saying it was fair!” Ron yelled to Harry from outside the closet, “But you can't just go and undo what fate clearly decided was right, Harry! You can't bring people back from the dead! You couldn't do it for you parents or Sirius and you can't do it for Hermione!”

Harry opened the door, nearly hitting Ron, “Yes I can! She's all I had left, Ron! How can I possible let her go?”

“The same way we all can,” Ron said quietly, sitting on the bed. “I know it's harder for you, and I would hate to be in your shoes right now, but you have to let her go.”

Harry sat down next to Ron, “I don't want to.”

Ron patted his friend on the back, “I know.”

“She should still be here. I should be able to hold her in my arms.”

Ron shrugged slightly, “I don't disagree with you. The only thing I can tell you is that you were at least lucky in one way.”

Harry turned, “How's that?”

Ron lifted the corner of his mouth. “You got to say good bye. I mean, I know life's pretty much handed you crap on a platter, but if you think about it, it's like they fates knew you loved each other so much that they just had to let you say good bye. That's how strong your love was.”

Harry tilted his head. “It wasn't enough to save her.”

Ron shrugged again, “I hate to admit it, but I don't think any love is.”

Just then Luna popped in the room. “Ready to go?”

Ron looked to Harry, who shrugged, “Yeah, I think so.”

The funeral was lovely, a perfect tribute to Hermione. The teachers each came up and said something, even Professor Snape. A few of the Weasleys came up, including the twins, who told the story of Hermione yelling at them for testing their products on first years. Luna gave a speech as well as Hermione's parents and a few childhood friends. Some of their classmates stood and spoke as well. Finally the time for Harry to speak came, and he realized that he hadn't even thought of what he would say.

He walked up to the small podium set up next to the casket slowly, laying his hand on it gently and whispering to Hermione, “I'll to my best, hon. Just give me the strength to get through this.”

“Hi,” Harry addressed everyone awkwardly, “I didn't really think of what I would say. To be honest, I didn't even know if I was going to come.” He paused, gathering his thoughts.

“I really loved my wife,” Harry felt a lump rise to his throat, as well as tears come to his eyes, “I still love her. She was my reason for staying alive all of this time. Whenever some form of evil was after me during our school years, whether it be Voldemort or Professor Snape,” everyone laughed softly, Harry even swore he saw Snape smile, “Hermione was always the one who kept me going. Her genius saved my butt more times than I can count.

“I remember how scared I was before I asked her to marry me. When I finally asked her, I stuttered so badly that she didn't even understand what I was saying until I finally pulled the ring out of my coat pocket. I don't remember much after that. Somehow the ring was on her finger and suddenly she was kissing me, and I knew then that everything would be okay.

“We used to talk about a lot of things. Our friends, family, and growing old together. Most people never knew this but Hermione really wanted children,” Harry wiped a tear from his cheek and Ron stepped up and handed him a handkerchief. Harry nodded in gratitude, “We were actually trying before…before it happened.

“In those last moments before she died, my wife was so selfless, telling me some last minute things for people, and wanting me to let everyone know just how much she loved them.” Harry felt as if he couldn't go on, but then felt a sense of power come from within himself and continued, “She worried about how different people would cope with it, and it wasn't till those last moments that she finally confessed that she was scared.

“Hermione never really made any official last requests, aside from asking that Ginny use different bridesmaids dresses,” a few people laughed again, and Harry smiled through his tears as he now held on to the podium, his knuckles turning white, “So I'm going to make a request for her. Hermione spent every day she had making the most of her life, whether it was by helping her friends, studying in school, saving my life or Ron's, or just by doing those things that she had to do, complaining almost never. If Hermione was still here with us, she would still do all of those things, but she isn't, so I'm asking you to. We could all be a little more like Hermione.

“I guess that's all I really need to say,” Harry said after a moment. He turned to the casket and slowly bent over, kissing the wood, whispering, “Thanks for the help in the middle, I nearly lost it. I'm really going to miss you, Hermione. I'll try and be the man you want me to be, okay? I'll try. I love you, Hermione.” Harry patted the wood softly and stood, going back to his seat.

Only Harry, the Weasleys, and Hermione's parents would be going to the burial site, so they stayed awhile to talk with people. Harry, Ron, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger stood in a line as people came up to express their sympathies. They had finally reached the end of the line when a familiar young woman came up to Harry, her cheeks tear-stained. Ron and the Grangers walked away to the Portkey to the burial site as Harry shook hands with the woman.

“I'm so sorry, Mr. Potter,” When she spoke Harry recognized her as the mediwitch from St. Mungo's. “I was there when they went to pick her up, and she kept telling us to get you. I wasn't really sure what to do. It was my first day at work.” Harry laughed lightly at the irony.

“What a first day.”

The witch nodded, smiling just barely. “I only knew her for a second and I felt like I knew her for a lifetime. She told me to go get you and that she refused to let anything happen to her before she got the chance to see you again. None of the doctors thought she would make it out of surgery, but I remember that as she spoke to me that somehow I knew she just wouldn't let go without you by her side. ”

Harry nodded, smiling a little, his heart ripped open, “That sounds like my Hermione.”

The witch nodded. “Well, I just wanted to say how sorry I am, and I hope things get better for you.”

Harry sighed and shook her hand, “Me too.”

The witch walked off and Harry went to the Portkey to the burial site.

Harry walked into his apartment later, feeling stronger than he had that morning. He still didn't feel as if he had let her go, but he felt as though he could survive. Reaching into his pocket to pull out his keys, Harry grabbed the sheet of paper from the night of Hermione's death, with the list of everything she had told him.

Harry walked into their room for the first time and opened Hermione's bottom dresser drawer, just as she had told him, and found what looked like a diary. Harry looked to the paper and turned the combination knob…3…29…9. Harry opened it and realized what it was.

The diary was enchanted to never run out, and in it was a letter to him for everyday since the night of their first date, four years after leaving Hogwarts. Harry opened it and read.

Dear Harry,

Tonight was our first date. I'll admit I was scared at first, I didn't know what this would do to our friendship, which is so important to me. But as soon as you gave me those roses a part of me knew that everything would be okay. I no longer feared what would be lost, but dreamed of what would be gained. I saw us getting married, and growing old together. Having children and raising them to be the very best they can be. I dreamed of visiting Ron and Luna on the weekends, and our children playing together.

Someday we will have all of those things, Harry, and I can't wait until we do. For now, I will take each day with you as it is, a precious gift.

I love you,

Hermione

Harry turned to the next page, not bothering with a drying spell for the tear drops on the one before it. With each letter Harry laughed and cried, taking a walk down memory lane, and feeling for the first time as if Hermione was with him again. Finally, and with sadness, Harry came to Hermione's last entry, the morning before her death. Taking a deep breath, Harry read.

My husband, Harry,

I just looked at the date, and realized this is the twentieth anniversary of the day we met. Twenty years, isn't it amazing? I feel as if we've been through it all.

After all of this time it still never ceases to amaze me how much I love you. I wake up in the morning, and my first thought is you, whether it's the warmth of your sleeping body next to me, or the smell of your shaving cream wafting in from the bathroom. I think of the boy you once were, the man you are, and the man you will become, and I feel proud and accomplished just to be standing beside you. I woke up this morning, and I felt invincible, as if our love could survive anything, even death. Somehow I know that we will be one of those couples that love one another even after passing. However, I have made a decision.

Harry Potter, I demand that I get to die first. I realize that this is horribly selfish of me, for you have lost so much in your life, but this is my only request of you. You can have whatever you want, all I ask of is you is this. I know, I should be careful what I wish for, but I can not help it, for the thought of you ever leaving me tears me up inside. I confess, I don't think I could live without you, Harry. You are my world as well as my home, and without you I would be lost. (Also, if you die first you will never get to read any of this, and that would make me sad as well as annoyed to have wasted such an enormous amount of time.)

I'll be leaving for business tonight. I will be back tomorrow afternoon, but I have a meeting in New York tomorrow, and I hate to travel across the ocean twice in one day. To make up for my absence tonight I bought you a pint of your favorite ice cream, and will give it to you when I leave. I always love to watch the way your eyes light up when I give it to you. It is in those moments that I get to glimpse the child that I never met and that you never got to be. I get to see you as an innocent boy, before the world placed its burdens upon your shoulders (mind you, I thought you handled all of that burden rather nicely, and it is one of the things I truly respect about you).

I fear that I am rambling, so I suppose I will wrap this up. Goodbye for now, my love.

All my heart and soul (as always),

Hermione

Harry closed the book and locked it once more, placing it back in its rightful place. After pulling himself together for a moment or two, Harry got up and went into the kitchen, opening the icebox. Smiling and laughing through his tears, Harry pulled out the pint of ice cream, and read Hermione's neat scribble on the small piece of paper secured to it.

“To keep you company when I am gone. I love you, and I'll be seeing you.

Hermione”

Fifty years later Harry Potter died, and when he was buried, he was buried with only two things: a photo album, containing pictures of his parents and friends, and an empty pint of ice cream.

~*~

I'll be seeing you

In all the old familiar places

That this heart of mine embraces

All day through.

In that small cafe;

The park across the way;

The children's carosel;

The chestnut trees;

The wishin' well.

I'll be seeing you

In every lovely summer's day;

In every thing that's light and gay.

I'll always think of you that way.

I'll find you

In the morning sun

And when the night is new.

I'll be looking at the moon,

But I'll be seeing you.

I'll be seeing you

In every lovely summer's day;

In every thing that's light and gay.

I'll always think of you that way.

I'll find you

In the morning sun

And when the night is new.

I'll be looking at the moon,

But I'll be seeing you.

~*~

A/N: Well, there you have it! I hope you enjoyed my little story. I just couldn't give you guys a sad ending twice, I'm just too nice (and addicted to fluff, what can I say). Those lyrics at the end are from the song, “I'll Be Seeing You” which is an old song that is in the movie The Notebook. The song was not my inspiration for the story, but the title works, so I stole it, and I thought the lyrics fit, so I posted them at the end.

Anyway, please please review and tell me what you think, even if you thought it sucked (so long as you tell me why please!) Since I said “take 30 seconds to review” after “A Beautiful Morning” and had complaints that it took longer, I shall change my statement.

Please take 45 seconds to review! (It encourages me to write more *nudge nudge wink wink* he he…)

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