Unofficial Portkey Archive

The Letters by Viopathartic

The Letters



The Letters

A/N: This is one of my most recent and angst-filled, emotional, one-shot. I began this on the 1st of December and actually finished it on time. It takes place amongst, or what it seems like, the end, of the Wizardry World. The beginning seems a bit dreary but I think it gets better in the end. I really hope you like this one and please tell me what you think :) Le

Hermione sat in his room, hearing the rain pour against the window pane but seeing nothing. She stared out at a distance, her mind jumbled in confusion and hope. It's been 5 hours and 59 minutes. The letters were still untouched.

Ron stared worriedly at his girlfriend as he sat besides her. He continued to stroke her left hand, but she was not responsive. The battle that took place only a few hours ago, was horrid, he remembered, one of their deadliest. Dead bodies lay decapitated and puddles of blood were seen everywhere. Shouts of tortured screaming…cries of woe…they were painted in his mind. Neville currently lay on his death bed in the hospital wing and Parvati, Dean, and Dennis had already crossed over. The Order was still out, fighting away against the Death Eaters. And Harry…

"Hermione?" he whispered softly, caressing Hermione's cheek with the lightest touch. She turned her head towards him. Tears flooded her hazel eyes and she was trying her hardest not to cry. Ron, his heart clenching from her look, pulled her into a loving embrace. She stayed huddled, burying her bushy head into his sweatshirt. And then the tears came. Ron closed his eyes and was now holding back his tears. He had to be strong, for his love, for his family, and for Harry. He rocked her back and forth as if she was child.

"It's midnight," she managed, not moving.

Automatically, Ron's eyes landed on the end table next to Harry's bed. Nothing out of the ordinarily really; there was Harry's empty goblet of pumpkin juice, a snitch he had nicked from a Quidditch game, and a copy of a defense book. But what was in it made him hesitant.

"He said six hours, Ron," continued Hermione, finally standing up. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying and lack of sleep. Her clothes, a pair of sweats and an overly-sized sweatshirt, were rumpled. "Hermione…it's in possible for him to come back at exactly-he needs time to-no, don't Hermione!" Ron tried to persuade and inside he was pleading for her to not go near that desk.

Hermione was already in front of it with a hand on the handle. She wasn't looking at it but instead continued to stare off the grounds of Hogwarts. Ron got up slowly, the bed creaking as he did so, and approached her.

In a low but calm voice, despite the situation, she repeated, "He said six hours, Ron. But he's not here. He knew how much he meant to the both of us. If he was alive, he would be here right now…this is what he would have wanted…" Ron hated how she talked about Harry in past tense.

It made it seem like he was-

"Dead. Harry's dead now."

Ron turned away, not allowing the image of Harry, laying there on the soaking ground, his emerald eyes replaced by an empty orb of nothingness. He heard Hermione mutter the spell and the sound of the drawer being pulled open. But he promised…

They made it in, the three of them dragging Neville's body along. Spells and charms were immediately put in place as the Hogwarts doors closed with a bang. Madam Pomfrey rushed over and levitated the boy's body. Cots were place in the corridors for quick access and Neville was put on the one closest. He groaned in pain as he was moved. Sweat plastered his forehead and blood covered most of his body.

"Oh my…"gasped Madam Pomfrey "What spell was he hit with?"

"Reducto. Took a blow to both legs." Harry explained in a rush, a hand tightened around

Neville's. The healer paled and her expression was frozen.

"Madam Pomfrey, will he-will Neville live?" asked Hermione desperately. She chose not to answer but immediately began working with spells, her wand moving over Neville's body. They were told to step back as a conjured curtain closed in front of them. The Golden Trio looked at each other, knowing they had to prepare for the worst.

Ginny, who was one of the volunteers in this sect, hugged herself, hoping her boyfriend would get through. Ron went to his little sister and he let her lean against him. Hermione turned to Harry and looked at him. Harry stood with his hands to his side, staring at the floor.

Hermione knew what he was thinking. "This is not your fault."

The teenager, a boy merely 18-years-old, raised his head. You could see that the weight of the world was really on his shoulders. At least the wizardry world. Voldemort was releasing his deadliest attacks. Four weeks ago, the Ministry was ambushed with a series of Inferi attacks. Scrambled and unprepared, fourteen Aurors and Percy Weasley were killed. A week ago, across various parts of the world, two hundred muggles were killed by the Avada Kedavra curse. The muggle police and health departments explained their deaths were caused of mysterious diseases. Two days ago, Rufus Scrimgenour crossed paths with Bellatrix Lestrange.

Their world was in mass hysteria.

Harry attempted to smile. "Next time, Harry-next time we'll be prepared."

"We'll never be prepared, Hermione," Harry said, his voice eerily calm, "For a year, we trained, we planned, and now…I realized it was all useless. We're losing Hermione."

"Don't say that!" she nearly yelled, grabbing Harry's arm. He roughly pulled away.

"Neville's dying now. Half of the school fled and a quarter of the remaining people are DEAD!

Voldemort, he's-he's coming and we have nothing to fight with."

"Voldemort is only sending his minions right now; he's not going to come!"

"I felt him, Hermione." His voice was small and lost. Hermione felt her world turn upside down for the hundredth time. No…not now, she thought.

"I had a dream and he was in it. He told me he was coming for me and that I would die in the same place as my parents."

"Godric's Hollow?" she said, weakly. Harry nodded. He held Hermione by the shoulders, leveling his eyes to her. "I'm going to prepare for it. When I come back down, I'll address everyone."

Hermione was speechless and her mind seemed to have stopped working. It took her a moment to realize that Harry had already left. Her best friend of seven years was preparing for his last battle against the evil that had followed him all his life. Preparing…for his death was what he meant.

"Love, Madam Pomfrey wants to check us. Where's Harry?" Hermione mutinously turned to her boyfriend, seeing his worried face. A black-eye was slowly forming; his lips were bleeding. It looked like he was hit with some sort of spell or an object because the left part of his temple was bleeding. Without a word, she went to the healer.

The whole room was silent as Harry's footsteps were heard. Strangely, no sound came from the patients or the first years. Harry was dressed down in black. He wore combat boots, made by the finest dragon hide in the world, courtesy of Bill Weasley. His wand, a friend from his battles, along with a gun was strapped against his hip. His shrunken invisibility cloak was tucked inside a pocket. Even though, dressed confidently, many could see he was scared.

"As you may know by now, the time has finally come." Hermione blocked out all the noise. She watched as Harry's lips moved but made no sound, the expression of all the people as his speech went on. Headmistress McGonagall made her way through the crowd and said something. He answered and her hand went to her mouth, the other on her chest. Professor Trelawney, oddly, wrapped her arms around the elderly woman and guided her to a cot.

Ron stood besides her, watching both Harry and Hermione. He wrapped one arm around his waist and pulled her close. The crowd split in half as they made way for Harry. With a somber expression, Harry stopped in front of his best friends.

"Ron, Hermione…I'm going now. I'm not going to say goodbye…so I'll just say I'll meet up with you later." His voice was soft enough for just the two of them to hear.

Ron, looking at his 6th brother, nodded and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're gonna win, Harry. You're gonna come back to us, play professional Quidditch with me and Gin and live until you can no longer move."

Harry blinked and managed a small smile. He knew Ron was only trying to make the situation better, but the three of them knew it might not end they way they want it.

"Sure, Ron." Harry hugged him briefly and then faced Hermione. She wasn't crying but gazed at him with the same expression from 6th year.

"I won't die, Hermione." Harry responded, understanding her worry. A sob was heard then Harry was attacked by a mass of bushy hair. He tightened in hold on her and planted a kiss on her head.

"Come back safe, Harry. Just come back…please." said Hermione's muffled voice. Hermione pulled away and stared boldly into his amazing dark green eyes.

"Six hours, Hermione. 360 minutes and I'll be back. I'll see you and Ron and the Weasley's again." Harry spoke softly to her with an air of promise. Ron heard the two and almost cried on the spot.

Six hours, he thought to himself, why six?

Will he lose hope in six hours?

Ron snapped out of his reverie and turned to see Hermione already reading something. Envelopes were scattered on the floor. He hurriedly approached her and saw another envelope on the desk that read: Ronald Weasley. A hand reached to grab it but a smaller one stopped him by the wrist.

"Not yet. We have to read this one first." Ron looked into her brown eyes and they were strangely filled with fierceness and determination.

He nodded. Hermione expanded the crumpled-looking piece of paper, allowing the both of them to read at the same time. Ron immediately saw Harry's handwriting, somewhat messier than usual, but his nonetheless, and leaned his head in.

Dear friends, (there was something written before, but they couldn't make it out.)

I'm a coward.

All my life, you probably thought I was the hero; the boy killed Lord Voldemort at the age of one and the guy who would save the world again. Well, I'm not. Everything I've done was only from pure luck.

I was scared, confused and haven't done a damn thing so far.

I just want to tell you that I love all of you. And that I'm planning to take my life today.

Don't cry, don't scream because I'll probably be dead by the time you read this. Don't blame yourselves for my suicide. It was all me.

Hermione: I can imagine your tears now. Then you'll be angry at me. But I give you that right. Killing myself proves and solves absolutely nothing. I know that but I just wanted everything to end. I really do hope to go to heaven (if there is one). I promised I'll watch over you and Ron. I'll be there on your wedding day, the birth of your babies, and your funeral (which I hope will be when you're 100). Slap Ron every time he annoys you okay? I also give you that right.

I also want to say that I l

Ron: I know you're probably mad right now. Hell, you probably want to try to bring me back and then kill me again. Harry's a pussy, you'll say. I am. I'm sorry. You were my first friend and we were brothers in everyway possible. It sounds sappy but I love you. Take care of Hermione and make sure she doesn't work too much in the future.

Ginny: Neville's a good bloke. I already

"What?" Ron sounded confused and he snatched the paper away, reading it again. Hermione leisurely walked away from him, patted the bed and sat down. Could it be possibly? That day was when--

She was going to fetch Ron for dinnertime. Most of the 7th years had gone to Hogsmeade but Harry, Ron, and Hermione had stayed behind to train. The practice was not as good as it should have been. Spells were cast wrong and their defenses were worse. Harry excused himself earlier and said he was going to the library. It was getting late; the students would soon be back so Hermione decided to alert Ron first.

She had just made it to the last step when she heard a strange sound. With the curiosity of a cat, she quietly approached the door of Harry and Ron's dormitory. Now Hermione was sure; the cries were coming from here. It sounded like whoever was crying was also writing furiously.

Hermione looked through the keyhole and saw a person hunched over, sitting in his desk. The room was dark but with little light illuminated by the moon, she was still able to see. His shoulders shook with every cry. His writing hand was unsteady. The person paused; his sobs had gotten out of control.

Hermione attempted to open the door discreetly; however, the screech of the door gave her away. The person dropped his writing pen and whipped around. Hermione almost fell when she saw who it was.

"Hermione!" Harry stood up quickly, using his hands to wipe his eyes. With a hand on the knob, Hermione stood there, almost too shock to say anything. This was the first time she saw Harry's emotions let out like this.

"Harry…"she began. Harry let out a laugh sounding like his normal self despite the tears that were still falling freely.

"I'm fine. I-I just needed to do some stuff," he said, "I was just about to head down, in fact. Ron's down in the dungeons, working on his potions project if you're looking for him.

When Harry mentioned Ron, Hermione sensed bitterness in his voice. "I wasn't looking for Ron," Hermione lied, unconvincingly. "Right." Harry turned to his window.

"Harry, I know everything is looking bad right now but, it'll get better."

"I know." He still didn't look at her.

A moment of silence passed by.

Hermione decided to get closer. "Harry, I-"

"No offence Hermione, but can I be alone?" He didn't look her. She thought about saying "No." and thought about walking over to him and to try and get it out from him. But in her mind he envisioned his state minutes ago and decided against it.

"Okay." Hermione said weakly, taking backward steps. She slowly closed the door, remembering the image of Harry looking over his shoulder, tears still present.

Hermione let out a cry, knowing that was the day he planned to take his life. And in a way, she was the one who stopped it. Ron looked at her in alarm. She knew something, he realized.

Hermione rushed over and tore her envelope open, picking up her letter. Hesitantly, Ron gently lifted his envelope.

They read their letters at the same time. Hermione couldn't breathe when she realized in her hand was Harry's death letter. He knew he might die and had already prepared a will at the age of eighteen. He was just eighteen.

Dear Hermione,

Guess the six hours is up. I'm sorry. I tried but failed. I'm sorry I couldn't save you, Ron, Ginny, Molly, Minerva, Arthur, and everyone else.

I'm so sorry.

Hermione, I wanted to tell you in person. I wanted to tell you how much I appreciated you being my friend, how much I cared and will continue to care for you...and how much I love you.

Yes, Hermione. I love you.

Surprised, aren't you? Frankly, I should have told you the day I first met you on the Hogwarts Express. You were so pompous and bossy, I immediately disliked you. But then, on Halloween, the day we became best friends, was probably the best day of my life. As we grew up together, I found that Miss Hermione Jane Granger was not as innocent as most would think. I'm laughing as I write this because they didn't know that Hermione would do anything for the friends she loved. They didn't know how you brew an advance Polyjuice Potion in second year, and blew up a door to let a "murderer" escape. They didn't know the numerous nights you snuck out of dorms just to help me with projects and late homework. They didn't know how much I adored you.

Hermione, you are so caring, naturally beautiful, brilliantly intelligent, and so much more. I'm just mad that I couldn't tell you in person. Ron realized his feelings before I did. And I'm glad. I could tell he loves you and you love him. Guess all of those years with petty arguments was really just sexual tension. I'm sorry...I couldn't help it. I knew about your feelings since fourth year. I mean it was painstakingly obvious...

Those days were torture for me, even though I was happy for you. To see the woman you love every single day and not being able to hold her, touch her, kiss killed me. I guess you figured out by now that the day you walked into my room, I was writing my suicide note.

Foolish of me, right? At least I died a somewhat "heroic" death (I say this with sarcasm) instead of cowardly death.

I'm splitting my money in half. One half is Ron's; the rest is yours. Headmistress McGonagall has my formal will and she'll read it to you when you're ready.

Again...I'm sorry, my love.

Keeping you close in my heart, watching over you always,

Harry James Potter

The letter drifted in the air, making its way down to the floor. Hermione sunk to her knees. Ron still stood; his hand was shaking as he held the letter. Tears cascaded down his freckled cheeks and with a soft "pcch", they hit the parchment.

Suddenly, as Hermione cried out, the rain began to pour with an increasingly vigorous sound; thunder was heard all across the Wizardry World. Downstairs in the corridor, the best friends of the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One and their sorrowful cries, were heard. The remaining wizards and witches bowed their heads, not knowing what was to become of them. Outside the doors which protected them from the danger, a man with a scar approached their grounds. Slowly, letting the rain fall on his head, he slipped into unconsciousness just as the name of the one he loves was spoken.