Horribly Wrong

The sun shone too brightly for this. It wasn’t right. In her heart, she knew that rain should have been falling. Big, dark storm clouds should be rolling in and showering the forest—the world—with rain. Lightning should have been crackling in the air, charging it with static.

It was the day after Dumbledore’s funeral, and she wished the world was in mourning.

It felt like an awful dream she couldn’t wake up from. The battle was fierce and Harry’s haunted face when Hagrid took Dumbledore’s body away made her heart ache as if someone had squeezed it too tight.

Hermione Granger’s heart still felt that way. That wasn’t the first time that year that her heart had felt like it was wrung out. No, the first time was when Harry pressed his lips to Ginny’s in the common room when Gryffindor won. No, wait. It was when she found out he had kissed Cho Chang. The fact that she wasn’t his first kiss was one that was suffocating.

She always felt out of breath around him, like when he was around, he sapped her strength. Not that she didn’t give it to him freely. She gave him everything. She was his voice of reason, his confidante. It was naturally the next step. Friends to lovers. Like an arithmetic equation. The heroine + her hero = love.

Her heart contracted as Ron’s arm tightened around her waist. And all she could think was that it all went terribly, terribly wrong.

She couldn’t help but notice Harry’s hungry eyes when Ginny walked into the room. The smartest witch of her age and Harry thought that no one would be able to notice. The sixteen-year-old hormones were alive and well, unfortunately for her.

Not that she was single at the time either. Another snafu that plagued her. After six years of loving and supporting Harry, Hermione was tired. Tired of watching Harry go after girls who weren’t worth his time. Cho, Ginny. She felt a small twinge of guilt at sullying the name of her best friend. Not that she knew that Hermione still loved Harry. Not that Hermione had let anyone know. The brightest witch of her age and the best actress of them all.

When Ron came at her with those puppy dog eyes, throwing a supposed jealousy-inducing relationship at her, Hermione felt anger mixed with pity. These childish games we play. Six years of not-so-unobvious lusting-after from Ron and she finally had enough. She folded, hoping that in another’s arms, she could forget the Boy Who Lived. The Boy She Loved. She spoke the words she was supposed to. She let Ron kiss her in the common room, let him cop a feel on her breasts. She didn’t hide her love bites with magic, hoping that Harry’s eyes would show a tiny spark of jealousy. It was all for a good cause, this acting. Let Ron have his fantasy and get Harry jealous. She shook her head. It wasn’t fair, the fact that she looked down on Ron for doing the exact same thing to Lavender that Hermione did to him. Lavender cried on her shoulder that night, and all Hermione could think of was the way Harry would react to Ron and her whispering sweet nothings at breakfast. Tears came to her eyes and she felt that familiar feeling of guilt, both for not crying over Dumbledore and for leading Ron on. For not comforting Lavender. For not being happy for Ginny. But it wasn’t fair. Where had she gone wrong?

Maybe she had gone too far. Sabotaging the Gryffindor tryouts was a dishonest thing, but Hermione the perfectionist never did anything half-assed. If Harry thought that she loved Ron, maybe he’d get jealous. She forgot that old rule about not going after your mate’s crush. Soon, she was in over her head, but she couldn’t break the charade. No, that would mean crushing Ron. For all his awkward courting, he was a good comfort—a good friend-- as she cried. For Dumbledore. For good. …For Harry. For what could never be, now that she had crossed the line.

It saddened her that her love life had been reduced to a Muggle adage. If you can’t love the one you want, love the one you’re with.

Right?

Three Months Later

The day couldn’t have been more perfect. Molly Weasley had charmed flower garlands to float above the aisle in the Great Hall and similar flowers were tied to the beginning of each row of chairs. The enchanted ceiling let in the gorgeous sunlight, making the Hall resplendent with light.

Watching Fleur and Bill’s wedding should have been a happy occasion for Hermione Granger, but all she could think of was Harry. Harry should be here. The old Harry wouldn’t have missed something as important as this. Then again, no one had been acting like themselves since the start of their sixth year at Hogwarts. With the unveiling of the prophecy, Harry’s quest felt more urgent, more dangerous. He had begun to speculate about different faculty members. Feeling a slight pang in her chest, Hermione felt guilty for going along with Ron and dismissing his feelings. For that reason—because Hermione Granger had pretended to ignore Harry Potter--, a man was dead. The grief and guilt Harry had felt was nothing compared to the guilt she shouldered. Her guilt came from all sides, for all possible reasons. She felt guilty for disregarding Harry, for still maintaining the façade of a relationship with Ron… for feigning happiness when Fleur looked at her in the makeshift bridal room and proclaimed it the best day of her life, in broken English of course.

Even as Ron grinned at her from beside his brother, a slight smile was all she could muster. The vows were said and the Secretkeeper ceremony was done, a grinning Charlie on hand. Minerva McGonagall presided over today’s ceremony, and Hermione knew that every person in that room ached for it to be Albus Dumbledore, including the new Headmistress herself.

Minerva McGonagall had grayed with the passing of both her esteemed colleague and with the passing of the mantle of administration of Hogwarts. Hermione smiled as she saw a spring in her professor’s step for the first time in years as they performed the binding ritual that ended the ceremony. It was like the two witches had grasped the same goal: find little pockets of happiness in the dark days after the… incident. Hermione Granger couldn’t bear to call it by the Prophet’s name “Death Eaters’ Uprisal”. Part of her, the part hurt worst by the unfortunate turn of events, the part jaded by months of worry and heartache, called it “The Day I Lost Everything.” She lost her school, the haven she had called home for five years previous. She lost the security that she felt in these walls, assured by the steady beacon of Albus Dumbledore. And worst of all, Hermione Granger lost Harry Potter… in more ways than one.

Hermione’s mood darkened just as quickly as that little smile had appeared on her face. Even as the sun shone down on her and two people she considered her family had started a new life together, Hermione could not feel a bit of happiness. Perhaps it was the weather, a common thread in her life lately. The weather outside—a pathetic fallacy to an umpteenth power—always seemed too beautiful. It seemed like no one had informed the heavens that such tragedy had occurred.

Watching Fleur and Bill kiss for the first time brought tears to her eyes. She kept the plastic smile on her face, where she was beginning to think it would stay forever. The happy couple ran down the aisle happily and embraced at the doors.

That should be Harry and me, Hermione thought, a lump coming to her throat. Not that I have any idea where he was at that moment. Those stupid Horcrux objects were more important to him than anything right now, and she understood that they were the key to defeating Voldemort. At least her brain did. Her heart still felt like a black hole, taking all the happiness she could feel and turning it into sorrow and hate.

Turning back to the altar, she watched as the happy Weasley family hugged each other and celebrated. Well, the Weasley family minus one. Hermione knew that Percy’s absence hurt the entire family, but none more than Mrs. Weasley. Coupled with the practical disappearance of Harry, the son she never physically had, Molly Weasley was despondent most days. Preparations for the wedding distracted her from it all.

Hermione made her way to the front of the altar and pulled Mrs. Weasley into an embrace. For one moment, she forgot the sadness that plagued her days and melted into the warm embrace. Part of her wanted to run up and hug the Headmistress too. These women felt the pain that she felt. And all of them wished they could turn back time to regain the loss of their loved ones. Not that McGonagall had been in love with the former Headmaster, she amended, but the pair were close.

Pulling away from Molly, Hermione expected Ron to pull her to him and snog her in happiness. She had never seen Ron this happy, aside from becoming a prefect. And becoming Quidditch keeper. Luckily for her, Ron was already bounding down the aisle, flanked by the twins. Hermione watched as everyone filed out. Not surprisingly, Ginny trailed behind her family. She had lamented to Hermione for weeks after Harry left about “what they could never have.” The words she had related to their un-romance thrown back in her face by someone who would never love Harry the way she did. Hermione felt another twinge of guilt for belittling Ginny’s feelings, and she added it to the ever-mounting tangle of emotions she constantly felt rolling in the pit of her stomach.

Harry, if you’re near, please send us a sign. Anything, she pleaded silently.

A lone phoenix feather, caught in the candelabra in front of her, glimmered in the sunlight.

For the first time, Hermione felt joy bubble up in her. Fawkes! It has to be Fawkes! Fawkes is with Harry, which means Harry is here! There was no sign of his invisibility cloak, and her voice ached to call out to him. Knowing that would mess up Harry’s plan of stealth, Hermione kept her mouth closed.

Instead, she clutched the phoenix feather to her heart and ran down the aisle to catch up with the Weasleys. A line from Emily Dickinson reverberated in her heart.

Hope is the thing with feathers.