A/N: The following story you are about to read I wrote in three different versions because I felt that the song could apply to H/Hr in many different ways, three that particularly stood out in my mind. Each version will be a separate chapter and is based on the song "Here Without You" by the band Three Doors Down….
Disclaimer: The quote at the beginning of each version is not by me, the song "Here Without You" also does not belong to me, and Harry Potter and related characters belong to J.K. Rowling and the people at Warner Bros. So basically I don't anything except the plot.
"The only thing worth fighting for, living for, and dying for is true love."
A hundred days have made me older
Since the last time that I saw your pretty face.
One hundred days… It had only been a hundred days… Lord Voldemort had been defeated exactly that long ago and had taken a part of Harry Potter with him. But this kind of scar couldn't be seen on his outward appearance; it was not the lightning bolt in the center of his pale face. In fact, you couldn't even tell that Harry was different in any way until you looked into his emerald eyes.
A thousand lies have made me colder,
And I don't think I can look at this the same.
Yet his eyes were hardened and cold. The rare smile that would grace his lips never reached past his mouth… because everything reminded him of her.
A couple kissing in the park would make him think of all the kisses they would never share. Or parents with little children made him lonely for their sons and daughters that they would never raise. And passing a church would create such an emptiness inside, knowing there would never be a wedding uniting the two of them.
Such it was on this night. Eighteen-year-old Harry Potter stumbled in the dark as he walked through the threshold of his silent empty home. With a casual flick of his wand the fireplace was alight with dancing golden flames. He collapsed onto the couch exhausted and stared off into space.
But all the miles that separate,
Disappear now when I'm dreaming of your face.
Harry wasn't aware he'd dozed off until he slipped into the recurring nightmare that had haunted his dreams for over three months.
Voldemort crumpled to the ground in defeat. It was really over. He was gone. Though there was no time now for triumph or relief, as Harry rushed over to a small form lying on the ground. He cradled her head in his lap, gently wiping the dark blood mingled with dirt off her pretty face.
"Hermione," he whispered, "please forgive me."
Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing dark vacant eyes.
"Oh, Harry, there's nothing to forgive."
"But I couldn't save you," he protested earnestly.
"You already did."
"How?" he asked, almost inaudibly.
"By loving me." She raised her hand and gently wiped away his tears.
"I love you," Harry said softly and held her tighter.
"I'll always love you, Harry." She gasped out. Then her hand went limp and the light left her eyes.
I'm here without you baby,
But you're still on my lonely mind.
I think about you baby,
And I dream about you all the time.
Harry awoke with a start. He always felt slightly torn, reliving Hermione's last moments. On the one hand, he loved seeing her and holding her in his arms once more, but each time the dream occurred it felt like he was losing her all over again. Yet his longing to be with her overpowered the pain in his heart.
I'm here without you baby,
But you're still with me in my dreams.
And tonight it's only you and me.
The skylight in Harry's bedroom filtered in soft pale moonlight causing the room to glow softly. He snatched his glasses off the bedside table before getting up and fumbled in the semidarkness for the top bookshelf on the far wall and a thick leather bound book that resided there. He pulled it off the shelf and plopped on his bed to see by the light of the moon. It was in fact a photo album, given to him by Hagrid at the end of his first year. He slowly flipped through the pages, almost smiling at the sight of some and slightly frowning at others. Harry had taken the liberty of adding pictures over the years; it was nearly filled. He reached the last photo, which was of him, Ron, and Hermione last summer at Bill and Fleur's wedding. If he'd have known that in a year's time one of them would be dead, the last person he would have guessed was the one who did indeed die.
Harry felt tears prick his eyes and quickly brushed them away. He slammed the album shut and rolled over onto his back. Through the skylight the stars twinkled merrily down at him and for some inexplicable reason his mind took him back to a day which he longed to forget.
The miles just keep rolling,
As the people leave their way to say hello.
To everyone else it was just another funeral in a long line of many who had perished in the war. But to Harry, this was one more defining moment in his life, which never failed to remind him that he would always be alone.
I've heard this life is overrated,
But I hope that it gets better as we go.
The service itself passed in a blur. The sentiments were nice and duly noted, but didn't and simply couldn't begin to describe the girl he knew to be Hermione. He wondered how the weather could be so perfect; all warm and sunny with a clear blue sky, the throng gathered beneath it around Hermione's open casket. After today, would they all simply forget her as if she had never even lived? Harry refused to forget- how could he? All the times she'd offered a helping hand, saved his life, listened to his problems and worries, and given never ending love were so apart of him now that to forget would be like losing half of himself.
So the only part of the funeral that stood out in Harry's memory was when just before the service, he got to be alone with her.
Even in death she looked beautiful. Clad in white with a crown of daisies adorning her head, she'd never looked more serene. This, Harry decided, was the only way in which she appeared deceased because in life Hermione had been anything but that. She'd always been striving for something.
His fingertips barely grazed her cold lifeless face. He whispered "I love you" one last time before gently pressing something into her palm and closing her fingers around it.
I'm here without you baby,
But you're still on my lonely mind.
I think about you baby,
And I dream about you all the time.
Time and space were indiscernible. Harry felt strangely disclosed from everything and everyone around him. People assumed it was just the aftermath of the war, but it was much more than that. It was like living in someone else's dream.
I'm here without you baby,
But you're still with me in my dreams.
And tonight, girl, it's only you and me.
Harry tossed and turned, but try as he might sleep would not claim him. After throwing the covers aside, he ambled out onto the balcony. His house was reclusive and overlooked the sea. The sound of the tide rushing over the shore was faint but calming all the same. However it did nothing to ease the sharp pain in his heart.
"I thought this was supposed to get better. To get easier," Harry whispered to the wind, "I can't live without you, Hermione."
The night remained cold and silent, and he retired back to his room. The welcomed darkness lurked just beyond consciousness, but no sooner had he fallen asleep than the gentle yet persistent rustle of curtains jerked him awake. Apparently he'd forgotten to shut the balcony doors, so he rolled lethargically out of bed. Padding softly to the threshold, Harry had just reached for the doorknob when graceful, precise movement drew his attention to the moonlit balcony. He gasped as the figure turned and slowly met his gaze.
Everything I know and anywhere I go,
It gets hard but it won't take away my love.
He blinked in disbelief. It couldn't be. It just wasn't possible, but Harry found himself drawn to the familiar person standing before him. Someone he thought he'd never see again.
"Hermione."
He didn't recall moving closer to her yet suddenly his mouth was a breath away from hers. He leaned forward slightly and kissed her.
Her voice echoed strangely, as if she were only partially there. "Harry, you need to let me go."
"I can't stop loving you. I won't."
"I'm not asking you to. But you're not letting yourself live." Hermione reasoned logically- just like she used to.
"Don't you understand? I died with you, Hermione. I may as well have."
"But you didn't. I did…It wasn't your fault, so stop blaming yourself! Please, Harry…"
"I can't."
"I'll always be with you, yet you can't live in the past forever."
And when the last one falls,
When it's all said and done,
It gets hard but it won't take away my love.
"I'm giving this back, to remind you for always that I'll never truly leave you."
Hermione slipped off the ring that Harry had placed in her hand at her funeral.
His eyes opened abruptly before squinting in the bright morning light. It was just a dream, Harry realized with a sinking feeling. Then he noticed his left hand was clasped tightly around something. Somehow he knew exactly what it would be.
I'm here without you baby,
But you're still on my lonely mind.
I think about you baby,
And I dream about you all the time.
It had been ten years to the day since Hermione's death, though to Harry it seemed far longer. The dreams had gradually become more infrequent, yet still brought the same effect.
He slowly approached her grave on a warm summer evening, just as he did every year at this time. He kneeled by her tombstone and traced the engraving of her name with his hand.
I'm here without you baby,
But you're still with me in my dreams.
And tonight, girl, it's only you and me.
A tear rolled unchecked as he unclasped a golden chain around his neck where a ring dangled, glinting in the fading sunlight. His love for her would never cease. That he was certain of. Though he'd cherish the memories as long as he lived, Harry Potter no longer needed a reminder of their love.
After setting her wedding ring on the grave- the very one she'd given back to him so long ago- he knew she'd live on inside his heart. Forever... And that would have to be enough.