The Letters

Disclaimer: THIS STORY IS THE PROPERTY OF LE

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 her...it 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.

-Fin

The Letters

Viopathartic

A/N: Yes, I folded under cyber-peer pressure. So here’s the next chapter…happy? ;)

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Madam Pomfrey shook her head as she waved her wand over Neville. An anxious McGonagall stood besides her, her expression stoic.

"Poppy, will Mr. Longbottom be okay?"

"The chances are slim but if he lives, his life will be difficult." She pocketed her wand and scanned the room from any others who needed her help. Seeing that everyone was quiet, she turned back to her old friend.

"Minerva, will you be alright?"

"Potter...Harry is out there, Poppy. He's finally going against You-Know-Who." said the headmistress in amazement. The healer nodded understandingly. Harry Potter, their Harry, was finally battling the terror that had plagued his life for seventeen years. Now, he will either defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or...

"He'll survive, Minerva. Remember the times he retrieved the Sorcerer’s Stone? And in second year, when he came back from the Chamber of Secrets with young Ginny Weasley in his arms? And third year with Sirius Black. There was so many times where we thought he was done for. But then, Harry came back and proved us wrong."

"But dear Poppy, You-Know-Who is at his worst. His power is not like last time. He's much more powerful then last time."

The aged healer was about to say something but the sight of Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley made her stop.

Hermione held a piece of parchment in her left hand, tears streaming down her face. Ron stood beside her, with blood-shot eyes but showing no emotion.

"Ms. Granger," said Madam Pomfrey sympathetically, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. The girl rushed into her arms, crying. She looked over at Mr. Weasley, but he said nothing.

"Mr. Weasley. What happened?"

"Harry's--" His voice was unclear, "Harry's will."

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Remus Lupin, along with his girlfriend Tonks, stood on top of the hill, dumbstruck by the view before them.

Hundreds of Deatheaters were sprawled across the grass, their bodies still and limp. One minute ago, Remus struggled to find his way around the battle field of Aurors against Deatheaters. Now, only the good guys remained. Tonks voiced his reaction by saying,

"Bloody hell." Aurors began to walk down the hill, curious to inspect the bodies that had literally dropped dead. The rain had finally calmed down, allowing Remus to see again. A wisp of warmth wrapped around him and when he looked down, he found himself dry and clean. He turned around and saw Tonks.

"It seems as if it's over, my love." said Tonks, a smile forming on her face. Remus couldn't help but smile back. He brought her into his embrace and placed a warm kiss onto her forehead.

But was it true? Was the war finally over? Was Voldemort finally vanquished?

"Oi, Remus!" The two separated and Remus strained to see who the voice belonged to. He saw a guy waving his hands in the air and when Remus sprinted over, he saw it was Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"What is it?" The senior Auror pointed to the figure lying on the ground. Remus kneeled down and carefully flipped the body over.

The distorted face of a traitor was recognized as Peter Pettigrew. A wave of emotions passed through his body as Remus saw his former friend on the ground before him. He almost felt sorry for the poor guy. Almost. With one strong kick to his "friend's" rib, Remus spat on Pettigrew, wishing he killed the man, who betrayed his best friend and his wife, himself. The body moved but there was no other reaction.

"Alright, Remus. We'll take him now." Shacklebolt called over a few of the remaining Aurors.

Tonks asked, "Kingsley, what happened?"

"Voldemort's gone." he stated matter-of-factly. The two stared at him in disbelief.

"W-what? How are you sure?" Before Peter Pettigrew's body was discarded, he lifted sleeve of his left arm revealing nothing.

"No Dark Mark?" Remus managed to ask.

"Meaning no Voldemort. See, Deatheaters, once they get initiated, have a mark permanently tattooed to their arm, marking their dedication and life to Voldemort. If their master is gone, they cease to exist. I suppose that's what happened to everyone here." Shacklebolt gestured to the mass of bodies around them.

A breathless Auror ran up to them and said, "We've identified McNair, Malfoy, and Nott so far. Clair and Benson are checking the east direction while Fort and Sufi are scanning west. Further instructions, sir?"

"Continue as before, Betes," Shacklebolt commanded, "and make sure you check very carefully."

"Yes, sir!" The young man quickly departed, spreading the instructions to his other mates.

"Has anyone seen Harry?" Fred Weasley suddenly appeared, along with his twin. Remus was surprised; he forgot all about him!

"Well," he began excitedly, "Harry's alive right? Voldemort's gone. So he'll be back soon."

"We'll find him." Before anyone could say anything, he pulled out a remote-like device. With a few complicated combinations of buttons, a red light beamed from its front.

"It's the Finder. George and I developed it three weeks ago. It's guaranteed to work." The group of Aurors exchanged unsure glances. A few minutes later, the red beam turned off and Fred turned back to the group with a triumph smile.

"Harry's somewhere in the east direction. See?" He showed the device to his group and they saw a blinking red dot among lines of green.

"It's not moving though," Tonks pointed out. She was right; even though the dot was blinking, it stayed in the same area.

"Not moving...hmmm…then that means he's not moving." Realizing what he just said, the smile was wiped off of his face.

"Let's find him now!" exclaimed George, following Remus who, despite his age, took off in the east direction with urgent need.

---

"His will? But that would mean--" Minerva did not finish but everyone knew what she was going to say.

"He said six hours. Six hours he would be back..."mumbled Hermione, tearfully as she was still in the healer's embrace. Ron closed his eyes, ignoring the pain he felt every time she said that. The words of his best friend still ran through his mind. Sorry Ron...best mate...I love Hermione...Hermione...

His best friend was in love with his girlfriend.

"Ms. Granger, let me see that letter." Pomfrey placed at hand on the parchment and pulled. But Hermione wouldn't let go. She pulled it back and held it against her chest, like a precious artifact.

"No." The girl said the word with finality and they knew she wouldn't change her mind. Ron glared at the letter. Harry told Hermione that he loved her in that letter. Harry told Ron's girlfriend that he loved her.

He shook his head, not letting his anger for Harry to continue. His best friend was dead and he shouldn't be mad at him. Hermione suddenly went still.

"Hermione? Hermione, love, what's wrong?" Ron came to her side and nudged her shoulder. Hermione looked like she was listening to something, so everyone stopped what they were doing and listened as well. For a moment all Ron could hear was the blood pounding in his ears. Then, he separated the noise and heard a faint shout from outside.

"Obey...the...lord?" suggested Minerva, straining to hear the words from outside.

"No it's more like Token of Board..."

"No...it sounds like--

"Open the door!"

Hermione nudged her way out from the group, sprinted towards the door, and not caring what she was doing, she performed the charm to open the Hogwarts door. Multiple people quickly ran to her if she needed protection. But they found it was not needed.

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Remus Lupin quickly entered Hogwarts, a body levitated behind him. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Tonks, Fred and George Weasley followed behind them.

"Quick, Poppy!"

Immediately switching back to healer mode, the witch pulled out her wand and transferred the body to an empty cot. Hermione, who was in a moment of shock, slowly took steps toward the cot which was quickly surrounded by healers and volunteers. The people, seeing Hermione, parted for her to pass through.

His left temple had a long red gash running down to his cheek. His hair was matted with blood, rain, and dirt. His face sported amounts of bruises and cuts, covering his once handsome face. His eyes were closed, giving the impression that he was sleeping.

But Hermione didn't care. With a great sob, she threw herself onto his body, embracing him tightly. Harry...Recognizing the man that lay beneath her, her heart suddenly felt cold and numb. Her mind completely shut down. Her best friend was dead.

Flashes of childhood memories swam through her mind. Harry as a naive eleven -year-old, jumping on the troll just so he could save her. Harry as a fourteen-year-old, riding his Firebolt, dodging the Hungarian Horntail. Memories of a brave boy--no, man. The Man-Who-Lived and Hermione Granger's closest friend.

"Hermione. Leave in, let Poppy deal with his body," said Remus' soothing voice. His body. They sounded so sure that Harry was dead.

"No...No, he's not!" Hermione said, quietly with her head against his chest. Remus looked away, understanding how hard it will be to convince Hermione.

"Love, please," Ron begged.

"He's not dead." Hermione repeated, but in an even quieter voice. The people surrounding the girl froze as her words were spoken. The witch lifted her head, her eyes staying trained on Harry.

"Stop it, Hermione!" Ron yelled, showing the first signs of anger. His ears were red at the tips and his fists were clenched at his side. "He’s dead...accept it.” Hermione acted as if she didn't hear and grabbed his left hand. Now confused, Ron was slowly brought to Harry's side. His hand was placed on the body's chest. Suddenly, his eyes widened.

"What? What is it, Ron? Hermione?" asked Remus, anxiously. Ron turned around to face his former teacher, his complexion pale.

"He's--He's not dead."

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:gasp: Shocker, right? Yeah, this chapter was kind of ruined by me saying in the reviews that Harry was still alive…but hey, I’m getting there.

Disclaimer: THIS STORY IS THE PROPERTY OF LE

The Letters

A/N: I was rushing to get this posted because I couldn’t wait any longer. Remember that this story is completely different and has nothing to do with Damn Car.

Without further ado, Chapter 3 of Letters is here.

Ron couldn’t believe the words that came out of his mouth. It’s impossible; Harry’s dead! But he felt the beat of his best friend’s heart as his hand laid on his chest, and he could hear his shallow breaths for air. Hermione tightened her grip on Ron’s hand and he could feel her shaking slightly. Hermione was crying but this time it was not of despair but relief. For what seemed like the millionth time, she encircled around Harry’s still body.

“Harry’s alive! He’s alive…” Hermione repeated over and over again.

Ron looked away as an indescribable feeling started to form inside. He slowly parted with the crowd and walked unsteadily like he was drunk. Harry’s alive? Did I actually feel…disappointed that my best friend was alive? Suddenly, he felt disgusted with himself. He turned around to face the direction where most of the people had crowded around. Madam Pomfrey had managed to pry Hermione off Harry and was now administering proper charms.

Luna Lovegood, that odd girl from Ravenclaw, embraced Hermione. It was an abnormal sight, really. The two girls were complete opposites. Hermione was the sensible, I-won’t-believe-it-until-I-see-it type of girl whereas Luna was the dreamy, sometimes clueless girl, successfully earning the cruel but true nickname “Loony”. Now it seemed as if they were old friends. His girlfriend pulled away from the younger girl and smiled.

Hermione wiped her tears with the back of her hand and turned her head to glance at her boyfriend, standing there, looking forlorn. Then she glanced back at her best friend who was alive. The teachers were now shoeing the curious people away and told them not to come near anymore. Quickly thanking Luna with a hand squeeze, she rushed over to Harry’s station.

“Is he—is he going to be—”

Someone answered, “He will be fine but right now, he needs to be taken care of.”

“But—” Hermione tried to finish. Headmistress McGonagall was faintly reminded of the other times Harry had to be sent to the hospital wing. The young girl was always the first to ask of Harry’s condition and she would continually badger for information if it wasn’t given to her. The senior witch remembered how annoyed she would get. But this time, Harry wasn’t in the hospital for minor Quidditch injuries. Hours ago, he fought for his life against the darkest sorcerer and now he was fighting for his life again.

Her tone softened and she placed a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “Miss Granger--Hermione—I will not lie to you this time. Harry is currently lying between the lines of life and death. Now, I know how much you are worried. We’re all worried. But we promise we will do our best to revive Harry. Do you understand?”

Hermione nodded mutely, her eyes glued onto the floor. McGonagall managed a smile that was not seen by the girl and promptly left to take care of her student. Hermione stood there for what felt like hours until she felt a pair of arms encircling her. She jumped at first, feeling a sense of unfamiliarity. Ready to hex the person, she swiftly faced the person.

Ron took a step back when he saw Hermione pull out her wand. “Whoa! Hermione, put that down.” At once she apologized, “Oh gosh, Ron, I’m sorry, it’s—it’s just the thing with Harry is making me crazy right now.”

“It’s making everyone crazy I bet, but you’re probably overreacting a bit.” Those words were the wrong thing to say at the moment and Ron knew it. Nice, Weasley. Really nice. Hermione lowered her wand, but she still had a firm grip around it.

“Overreacting? Ronald, you do realize that Harry is lying on his bed, dieing and you think I’m overreacting?” She asked, her voice sounding dangerous.

“Look, Hermione. I’m sorry, okay?” Luckily, Hermione chose to forget what Ron said and took a deep breath. She covered her face with both hands and then dropped her arms.

“It’s fine, Ron. It’s fine. ” She looked around the corridor but only a few volunteers were left. Ron decided to try again and pulled her close to his body. Hermione let him, but she didn’t wrap her arms around him as she would have usually done.

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“Neville’s gone.” whispered Ginny as she stood at the end of Luna’s bed. The blond young witch looked up, instantly alert. The quick change of emotions on her face was chilling. Before the days of the war, Luna usually kept a dreamy and carefree look. But when it came to important matters, such as the death of their dear friend, seriousness was needed. Her redheaded friend quickly approached her and found comfort in her arms.

This was the second time Luna found her arms around another person. The girl in question had lost her dearest friend and boyfriend. Her cries grew louder as the memory of Neville Longbottom, alive and well, faded.

“Why did he leave, Loony?” Loony was her nickname, but it held not cruel intentions. As the year progressed, the two had become even better friends than before, feeding off of each other every time something bad happened.

“It was time for him to go. Just like everyone else.”

Just like Parvati. Just like Dean. And Dennis. Anthony. Friends crossed over to a better place.

“We were in love.” Ginny whispered, the words causing the ache in her heart to grow. An emotion flashed through Luna’s eyes and then was gone. She said nothing.

“We were going to have kids. Jenny and Chester. He was going to be a Herbology teacher and I was supposed to become a Healer.”

“You can still do that, Ginny.”

The girl shook her head, grabbing fistfuls of Luna’s nightgown.

“Not without Neville.” With a sudden change in scene, Luna roughly pulled Ginny away and forced her to look straight in her eyes. She wasn’t angry; in fact she was eerily calm.

“

Love is stronger than death even though it can't stop death from happening, but no matter how hard death tries it can't separate people from love. It can't take away our memories either. In the end, life is stronger than death.” Ginny looked confused at her words. Luna let go and jumped off the bed. “That’s what papa said to me when my mum died.”

You can never forget a person who you love with your whole heart. Never…even in death. Neville may be gone, but remember, Ginny…remember the love you two shared and take it as a—something that gets you through.”

Luna stood by the window, fingering her pendent around which rested around her neck. She loved her mum. She was full of life, intelligent and also her best friend. Luna still thought of her mum; in fact it was everyday at night when she would talk to her. She knew it was impossible to hear her mum talking back but she could feel it. Her mum was there and always will be.

She continued to stare out of the window. But now she was thinking of another person who she loved and was gone now.

-----------------------------

“…and now, we will contact Augusta and notify her of her grandson’s death,” finished Headmistress McGonagall with a fatigued tone. Hermione gripped Harry’s hand tighter as she listened to her former professor in the Hospital Wing. Ron sat across from her, but never said a word. We lost another one, she thought, tears blurring her vision.

“Does—does Ginny know?” asked Ron, his voice dry and unused.

“Yes. She went into her dormitory.”

Hermione’s gaze onto her hand, fingers intertwined with Harry’s. He was still out; no significant response had been given. Even though he was bundled in layers of blanket, had the heating charm performed on him, Harry felt cold. Without much thought, Hermione brought their hands to her cheek. She closed her eyes, relishing the feel of his soft and smooth hand. Ron made no comment.

It disturbed Hermione when she didn’t feel any shock of Neville’s death. She supposed it was because death was like a cold in the winter. It was contagious. When day a person would be normal and the next, have coughing fits and high fevers. With death, one day a person is there and the next…gone.

All that matter now was Harry.

“Harry, please wake up soon,” Hermione spoke softly, “We miss you here.” A hand combed through his jet-black hair.

“How ‘bout Harry here? When do you think he’ll wake?” Ron inquired monotonously.

“In a minute or so.” someone answered.

Ron, Hermione, and McGonagall looked around the room, trying to identify the direction where the voice had come from. But all they had to do was to look down.

Harry Potter was finally awake.

“Hey, Hermione.”

Those were Harry Potter’s second words after waking up. A weak, but impish grin was directed toward the brunette with a look of disbelief on her face. There was a moment of silence where no one could think or speak.

Then Hermione slapped him.

She forgot momentarily that she just slapped a man who had just come out of a death match against the strongest sorcerer in the world. But the slap did not seem to affect Harry for the smile was still there. Ron and the Headmistress were still shocked from her slap.

“Not too hard, Hermione!” was all he managed to say until he was completely covered by her mass of bushy hair. She embraced her friend like the other times but now her tears that slipped down her cheeks were of joy.

Hermione finally released him and the smiles still remained on their faces. Headmistress McGonagall, who just stood and watched the scene before her, wiped her eyes with her handkerchief. Then she cleared her throat and said, “Well, I best be leaving the three of you alone.”

She turned to leave and reached the door when Harry called out, “Thank you, Professor.”

Not knowing what he meant by the thanks, Minerva just nodded. The door closed behind her and also cut off the cheerful atmosphere. A blanket of unresolved tension hung in the room.

“I came back, you guys,” Harry began, his voice weak but still loud for them to hear. “A few hours late, but you know me; I’m always late for everything.” His attempt to lighten the mood quickly fell short.

“You scared us.” Hermione whispered as tears were still evident in her eyes.

Then with shame of a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Harry bowed his head and mumbled, “Sorry.”

Hermione sniffed and Ron finally looked up. “He’s dead?” They didn’t need to say his name because now it was meaningless.

Harry lifted his head and with a final nod, he answered, “He’s dead.”

Ron returned the nod. Silence quickly came once more. Hermione acted as if Harry would drop dead any moment and Ron looked like he didn’t like his girlfriend’s keen attention on Harry.

Finally a voice broke through and asked the question that the two did not want to answer.

“So…did you open the desk drawer?” Hermione knew this question would have come soon or later. She thought about saying “no”. That’d way there’d be now tension between the Trio and then everything would be normal. But then again, she hated the thought of torturing Harry by being with Ron. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Ron cut in.

“No, actually. We couldn’t give up on you that easily.” Hermione’s head whirled to face her boyfriend. Only he could see the look of shock on her face.

“Oh. Okay.” His voice sounded disappointed and relieved at the same time. Harry absently fingered a loose thread in his blanket, avoiding his friends’ eyes. Hermione kept her glare on Ron, whose face was turning red.

“Ron, can I see you for a moment?” Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed his arm and dragged him out. Hermione could feel Harry’s gaze on the back of her head. They exited through the doors and once they closed, Hermione lashed out at him.

“Ronald! Why in the name of Merlin did you say that?”

“Hermione—“

“You lied to Harry! We did open the drawer and we did read the letters. How could you lie to him about it?”

“I didn’t want to hurt him.” Hermione let out a snort.

“Hurt him? We’ll hurt him if we don’t tell the truth!”

“Hermione, it’d be too awkward, your best friend knowing that you know that he loves your girlfriend!” Ron explained, waving his hands around. “And—and, I was afraid that I’d lose you.” His voice stopped all thought in her head.

Confused, she said, quietly, “Lose me? Ron—why?” She saw the look of embarrassment on Ron’s face and sighed.

“Harry said told me in the letter that he was in love with you. I’m afraid that you…” His voice failed in the end.

“Ron, you’re not going to lose me. I love you, Ron and only you.” Hermione instantly felt regret inside. The words didn’t sound right when said to Ron. What? I love Ron. It shouldn’t feel wrong. I love Ron. He’s the one I love. As much as she continued to think it, her stomach dropped every time. She thought about correcting herself but when she saw the pleased look on Ron’s face, she just couldn’t.

“I love you too Hermione.” Ron bent down to give her a kiss and his chapped lips met hers. She kissed back, but without much enthusiasm. “Now let’s go in to see Harry.” He turned and opened the doors again. She saw Harry as Ron walked in and his face showed confusion.

Hermione noted the change in mood of Ron. He thought he would lose me to Harry? Why would he think that? I love him, not Harry. Well, I do love Harry but not like that. Never like that.

She opened the doors and put on a smile. Harry sat up in his bed and gave her one of his lopsided smiles that suddenly made Hermione feel dizzy. I love Ron and only him.

Again, the words felt empty, like she was only saying it as a mantra. But she still ignored it and sat down next to Ron. She was hiding a secret, a secret she never wanted to hide; however she had to—for the sake of the Trio’s friendship.

Hermione had her attention focused on the lamp by his bed. Harry and Ron laughed at a quick exchange and all seemed normal just like the days before the war. But now…now that she knew of Harry’s feelings, nothing seemed real anymore.

For some reason, her cheeks began to burn, sensing someone was looking at her. She lifted her head. It was Harry. His eyes stared back at hers with intensity. Days before, she would have just passed this exchange as another Harry-Hermione random moment.

Except, this time she saw the pain in his eyes. The pain of loving someone he couldn’t have.

----------------

I really hope you liked this one. It’s not over, just to straighten everything out. There will probably three more chapters, but we’ll see.

Merry Christmas to all! And for those who don’t celebrate it, Happy Holidays!!!!

Vio

Disclaimer: THIS STORY IS THE PROPERTY OF LE

The Letters

A/N: Okay, Chapter 4 is here and it’s before the coming of 2007 so yeah!

I think people may or may not like this chapter, but just read and see.

Harry didn’t say anything else after Neville’s death was revealed. He was angered and saddened, yes, but not because of his death. People in wars either live or die. Neville was just another casualty. What really set him off was the fact that his friends--his best friends—chose to keep it from him.

It has been a week since he woke up. Harry felt better and believed he was perfectly capable of walking on his own, but Madam Pomfrey didn’t quite agree. It was a Friday afternoon and the Trio just finished their lunch. All seemed merry and cheery as if the war was just a passing memory.

Hermione could see his act as clearly as she could read a book. His smiles were overly exaggerated. His laughs held no merriment. And his eyes. The eyes, which used to reveal all his feelings, did not reflect his smiles or laughs. She felt his secret glances every time she visited him. Hermione was aware of the slight stirring in her chest and the way her cheeks burned every time she catches him. She would always politely smile back, not knowing how to respond to them.

Ron (well with the emotional range of a teaspoon) remained impassive of Harry’s behavior. He would stay crack jokes with Harry and fool around. He acted as if the letter meant nothing. She remembered a couple of hours ago, how she sneaked off from lunch to visit Harry...

“Hermione!” Harry said in surprise, putting down his copy of Quidditch through the Ages.

“Hi, Harry. Are you feeling better?”

“I’m feeling better now that you’re here.” Hermione took no notice of his teasing and set down her bag which was, as usual, bulging with stacks of books. She tucked an errant strand of her bushy hair behind an ear and took in Harry’s figure.

He definitely looked better. His hair stuck in the air at different angles, giving him a sort of ruffled I-don’t-give-a-shit appearance. He had changed into a new t-shirt he had gotten over the summer and his blanket covered the rest of his body. His skin had lost the ghost-like color and he looked normal.

“So.” Harry said, finding something to talk about. Hermione peered up at him.

“So.” He raised an eyebrow at her, suppressing a smile. Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Why are you here?”

“Just felt like visiting you. I can’t imagine how dreary it must be, with only Madam Pomfrey as your company.”

“It’s lunchtime, right?”

“Yes, so naturally, Ron’s downstairs, eating like a hippogriff.” She felt Harry stiffen slightly and knew it was the wrong to say, especially to Harry. It was then she remembered that Harry was in love with her.

Abruptly, she stood up. Why am I so nervous now, she had thought.

“Maybe I should go. Y-you probably rather eat lunch by yourself.” She turned to leave but a hand grabbed her wrist. Automatically, her eyes went straight down to Harry’s hand which held hers so tenderly. Harry dropped his hand, realizing what he had done. He gave a nervous laugh.

“Actually, I don’t mind if you stay, Hermione.” His eyes were pleading for her company. She nodded mutely and sat down again.

So they sat there with Hermione updating Harry on the current news around the world and the latest events in Hogwarts. He even smiled when Hermione told him about Fred and George’s little “celebration” which involved quite a bit alcoholic consumption and their inadvertent apparition to Peru.

The tension between them had seemed to dissolve and the thought of his letter was settled in the back of Hermione’s mind. The both of them had missed these moments, the time to just relax and talk with each other. For the past years, they only discussed Voldemort and really nothing else. During the summer, training and finding the Horcruxes were their top priorities.

“You should eat something, Hermione.” Harry suggested, offering his tray of questionable foods. Hermione shook her head, honestly not a bit hungry.

“You’re too skinny,” he continued, scolding her like a parent would do with their child.

“You’re too skinny. I’m not hungry. Really.” Harry made an audible ‘tsk, tsk’ with his tongue. Hermione could only smile at his worry. She watched him eat for awhile, noticing his eating manners were slightly better than Ron’s. Only slightly though. He would occasionally chew with his mouth opening and closing, which gave Hermione quite a sight. But he used a napkin! Something Ron rarely does.

Harry caught her eyes on him and stopped eating. Hermione’s eyes widened a bit, realizing she had been caught. Color rose in her cheek and she concentrated on her fingers which lay on her lap. Hermione heard Harry laugh.

This was the moment Ron chose to ruin as he entered the Hospital wing.

“Hey Hermione, Harry!” For some reason, a passing feeling of vexation came over Hermione. Ron smiled widely and Harry “smiled” back. “Hermione, you missed lunch.”

“Oh. Well, I wasn’t hungry. I came to visit Harry instead.”

“Really?” The suspicion and envy was barely kept from his tone. Then, he did something very odd. He walked over and slung an arm around Hermione, as if she was a possession of his, and placed a loud kiss to her right temple. Hermione was ready to pull back in disgust. In the corner of her eyes, she saw Harry’s frozen smile plastered on his face.

Carefully, she shifted her shoulder and Ron’s arm fell to his side.

“Really, Ron. We were just talking.” Harry answered monotonously. Then he went back to fiddling with his fork, his thoughts not spoken.

-----

Hermione didn’t like how Ron had acted back there. What a prat! He knew Harry has feelings for me and he was using me to torture him. What’s he playing at?

Hermione decided it was time to leave, but Augusta Longbottom came in, followed by the Headmistress.

Harry sat up immediately and managed a genuine smile. Over the summer, during training, Harry had grown close to the small Longbottom family. As she came closer, he noticed her tears and his smile disappeared.

“Mrs. Longbottom…What’s—" Hermione looked over at Ron.

“Harry…it’s great to see you,” The aged woman said through her tears. She held a handkerchief in a fist and her appearance seemed disheveled. “After all you’ve done for us, for Neville...”

“Oh! How is he? Is his leg okay?” Harry asked, oblivious from the looks he was getting.

“W-what, dear?” Augusta stared incomprehensively at him.

“Neville. His leg…” His voice trailed off when he saw his friends avoiding his eyes. Augusta gave a small gasp and brought her handkerchief up to her running nose. The boy didn’t know.

“Harry, dear, Neville’s…well, Neville passed away a week ago.”

“WHAT!?!” Harry’s head whipped around to look at Hermione and Ron. They could see anger in his eyes and his body shook slightly. Bunches of his blanket were gathered in his fist. When he spoke, it sounded like he was trying to restrain himself from yelling. “That was when I woke up. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Harry, we forgot to—" Ron began meekly.

“Forgot? How can you forget to tell me that one of my most loyal friends died? Stop lying!” yelled Harry, straining to get up from his bed, but Hermione placed a hand on his chest. She wasn’t scared. She’d seen Harry angry before and this was nothing. Harry’s breathing came in deep puffs and the anger, that was present before, was now calmed.

Augusta stood up, deciding she had enough. Tears blinded her vision and she wiped them away. In a trembling voice, she bade goodbye and left without an explanation. Harry was about to call her back, was about to blurt out every bit of apology he had, but he was too late.

He stared at the door in which Neville’s grandmother had left through, his body slumped. Ron peered over at Hermione, but like always, her gaze was fixed on Harry. His friend leisurely laid his head on his pillow and he curled his body in fetal position, bent by the deepest despair he’d ever known. Hermione looked alarmed when he did so. She sank down to eye level with him but Harry quickly changed sides.

“Harry, we’re sorry. We didn’t think much about Neville. We were worried about you.” Hermione tried to make him face her but he would turn his head every time.

“Stop lying.” he said weakly, after Hermione’s pleading.

“Lying? About what?” Hermione was truly confused.

Harry gave a humorless laugh. “See, that’s what I mean.” He buried his head under his pillow and said, “Go away.”

And there was nothing Hermione and Ron could do but leave.

--------------------

“What was that about?” Ron expressed rather stupidly once they were safely away from the hospital wing. Hermione, a motion that she’d been dying to do, curled her hand in a fist and hurled at Ron’s jaw. He staggered a few steps, his hands caressing his jaw.

“W-what? Hermione!”

“What was that about, Ron?” She gestured wildly to the wing, her expression completely wild. Ron gulped.

“W-what was what about?”

“Don’t act stupid, Ronald. Wait, actually you are stupid. What were you thinking, acting like that in front of Harry?”

“Like what? Like we’re boyfriend and girlfriend? Because we are, Hermione. And sometimes it seems like you don’t care.” Hermione ignored him and went on.

“In front of Harry! Don’t you remember that he’s in love with me? Don’t you realize that you’re hurting him?”

“He shouldn’t! He shouldn’t be in love with you. He shouldn’t be in love with his best bloke’s girl!”

Hermione raised her hands to her head. “What am I to you, Ron? It sounds—it sounds as if I’m nothing but a mere object to you and you’re holding me like I’m the prize!”

“Why do you care how Harry feels about us? If you really love me, you wouldn’t care!” Ron screamed at her, the tips of his ears red. His face turned bright pink from all the yelling so you couldn't see his freckles.

“But that’s just it, Ron. I do care. I do care if Harry is absolutely miserable with us being together. I do care that Harry’s heart is being ripped apart piece by piece by the sight of us together!” Hermione shouted, not caring that her echoes were carried through the halls.

“That letter, that day…Harry was trying to commit suicide because of us! Because he couldn’t stand to see his love with someone else. You should have seen him cry. It made me want to cry, Ron! You might be able to hurt him but I won’t! I care about him too much.”

Hermione stopped to take a breath, letting her words sink in. She was slightly alarmed to feel the cold drops of shed tears cascading down her cheeks. She didn’t understand where all of these…feelings were coming from. Hermione turned toward the large windows, the view of lands that stretched across their ground were seen. From the reflection in the window, she was able to see the look of astound on Ron’s face.

She was getting so tired of this. He was only doing this to make Harry jealousy, not because she was special to him. Hermione—even though Ron was pushing it—understood where Ron was coming from. There were too many Weasleys to count so Ron was always overshadowed by his older brothers. His family was not quite stable in economic status and the fact that they were "blood-traitors" tied in to his problems as well. He’s also friends with the great Harry Potter, the Chosen One.

He was a shadow, the side-kick.

But how could he? The question befuddled her. How can he stand and hurt Harry like that? The thought made her want to aim another one at him, but she wanted to finish this without anymore conflict.

“So, maybe I don’t love you. Not like that, Ron.” She turned around to face him. “I just…” Hermione couldn’t find any more words to express what she was feeling at the moment. Annoyance. Betrayal. Sadness. So she just gave a sigh.

And walked on without glancing back.

--------------------------

Ron walked through the lonesome corridors and at the same time massaging his aching jaw. Now I know how Malfoy felt, he thought bitterly. Every time he tried to open his mouth a shot of acute pain hit him like a speeding bludger.

He made a noise of frustration. So Hermione doesn’t love him.

It’s now obvious to him. She doesn’t love him but she loves Harry. Hermione never said it, but oh he knew it was true. Everything had to be about Harry.

Harry’s going to die! Tear, tear.

Harry’s alive! More waterworks.

Hermione always thought of Harry and his wellbeing—it was like she would die if Harry wasn’t there for her to worry about.

The constant attention Hermione gave him when he awoke. Sneaking off to visit him during lunch time. And didn’t it seem like they were being a little too cozy with each other back in the Hospital Wing? The goofy smile that Harry would always give Hermione—the smile Ron had just noticed since in his letter, Harry professed his love to her. The blush Hermione was sporting.

Why didn’t he notice before?

Was Ron and Hermione’s relationship just a lie? Was their love—wait, no his love-nothing more then just short-term infatuation?

Ron stopped abruptly, realizing he had walked all the way to the Quidditch field. He looked outside of his boundaries. The calm breeze caressed his face and the sun, peaking over the hills, was setting and its colors of pink, purple, and yellow radiated across the sky. The trees were still, despite the breeze he had just felt. Then he focused on the Quidditch layout.

Ron allowed a smile to form on his face and reminisced his past with Quidditch. It was probably the only thing he felt that defined him—save for Wizard’s chess—and it was a talent that he treasured.

His family was huge on Quidditch and it was unanimous activity that brought them together despite the age differences. Charlie would play seeker, a natural he was. Bill, because of his body build, would play the Beater. The twins, Fred and George, were designated as the Chasers. He would be the Keeper. Even though the game did not have enough players, it was still fun. Ginny, since she was too young to play back then, would sit in the side lines; throwing tantrums like there were no tomorrows.

But then…but then Harry got the part of seeker. The youngest boy to play the position for a century, in fact. Ron distinctly remembered his surprise to this unlikely change and how he wanted to be a natural at something. Ron envied Harry.

He has fame.

He has money.

He has Quidditch.

And now, Harry Potter has Hermione Granger.

Ron kicked and kicked at the grass below his feet until there was a dent. Anger roared in his chest and was fighting to just get out. The thought of Harry right now only fueled Ron’s aching to do more damage.

“You’re hurting the poor living things!” a voice said from behind. Ron whipped around and almost groaned out loud. It was Luna Lovegood. Biting back a series of curses, Ron got up from his knees.

“Loon—Luna, I rather be alone at the moment.”

“If I leave you alone, you’re going to kill everything!” The erratic girl with strange tastes in clothing and dreamy demeanor approached Ron with a look of distaste, something that only Hermione had received before.

“Luna,” Ron said, almost yelling, “They’re not living things! It’s just grass.”

“Grass moves, right?”

“Yes, but the wind—“

“Grass grows, right?” Luna’s hands were on hips, staring at Ron like his mother would do when she’s disappointed.

“Yes.”

“So therefore, Ronald, grass is considered as a living thing. And right now, you are killing them without even a thought!” Ron was scared. Luna was scary and she was acting…normal.

“Sorry!” Ron said, his tone implying just the opposite. Luna snorted in disbelief.

“Just as you always are. You talk before you think.” The girl bent down and began putting the pieces of grass back together with her wand. She patted the last pieces but stayed on her knees. She peered up at Ron with her glasses, her stare intense and concentrated.

“I said sorry!”

“But you didn’t mean it. So basically I don’t accept your apology.” Luna sighed and sat down fully, flattening her skirt so it covered her knees. Ron raised his hands in vexation and then brought them down. Allowing himself to “breathe out the bad and breathe in the good” (something his mum taught him a long time ago); he sat down in front of Luna.

She had this look of surprise, as if she just noticed Ron was around. Loony was back.

“Hello, Ron,” greeted Luna so pleasantly. “Nice to see you again.”

“Righttt…Loony, I mean Luna, I’m sorry for what I said and did before. I was just stressed out at the moment and had to get out my anger.”

“Harry Potter and Hermione Granger,” said Luna, bluntly. Ron looked at her in alarm. She always had a way of knowing…well everything.

“Perhaps.”

“Yes it is about Harry and Hermione. In fact, I think, as I approached you earlier, you were muttering curses and seemed to believe the grass was Harry.”

Ron absently began to pick at the grass, but Luna slapped his hand and forced him to look at her.

“What’s so wrong about Harry and Hermione loving each other?” she whispered, her eyes peering into his. “Because right now, it doesn’t seem like you’re crying over losing Hermione. In fact, I don’t think you even thought of her as you walked out here. Am I right, Ronald?”

When he didn’t answer, Luna released his chin. “Answer me.” Ron refused to look at her.

“I’ll tell you a story, Ronald,” she said to him, pronouncing her words as if he was a five-year-old. “Once upon a time, there was this girl. She was strange. She was an outcast. No one liked her because of the things she said. She believed in all sort of creatures that many thought never existed. She believed in Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and Blibbering Humdingers, despite what everyone kept saying. People would call her Loony behind her back, even though they knew she was aware of this.”

Ron couldn’t look at her for he was one of the people. “One day, she found a friend. He was some sort of loner as well. The boy was plump and very timid. But he was very sweet and the girl and boy quickly became outcasts together. She fell in love with him and was deeply dedicated to him. She always dreamt of this childish fantasy, that one day, once they graduate, they would marry.”

Luna’s eyes clouded in memory but she continued, “But then, another friend of the girl, a red-head (Ron finally looked at her) quickly fell in love with the boy. And then, there it was. The red-head and the boy was a couple, leaving the strange and lonely girl alone. She was jealous, yes. She hated the red-head and somehow forgot of the friendship they had once shared. Sometimes, she would think that she was the one who say the boy first and that she was the one who belonged in his arms.

“The girl still loved him but only from afar. She wanted to tell about her love, ached to see the look of shock on the red-head. The fantasy was still there. One day, the boy went out to fight against the dark forces. He came back alive but…days later, he died. Both of the girls were broken, but the red-head…she said she couldn’t live without him.”

Tears were running down her cheeks, but her voice was steady and clear.

“I held Ginny in my arms, feeling her tears and hearing her cries of loss. And I realized that Ginny absolutely fell for Neville. The both of them were in love, had talked about their future together, while I was…well to put it likely I wanted to kill Ginny for taking Neville.

“I wanted Neville to love me and hold me like he held Ginny. But now…I realize I was plain selfish for thinking so. After Neville passed, I learned that you choose a person to love but don’t expect that person to love you back.”

“Did you…did you really love Neville, L-Luna?” Ron had a sudden urge to wrap his arms around the crying girl but he sat in place.

“No,” Luna answered simply. “No, I did not love Neville Longbottom. I cared for him, yes. Cared for him with all my heart. But Ginny…I found Ginny was the one who loved Neville. It was almost like she couldn’t live without him.”

“What does your story have anything to do with me?”

“Hmm.” Luna shook her head, a faint smile appeared. “No wonder you’re not in Ravenclaw.”

Instead of feeling angry, Ron waited patiently for her answer. She pointed a finger exactly in the middle of Ron’s chest and leaned in. In a voice so soft, not even Ron could hear fully, Luna whispered, “You don’t love Hermione.”

There was no ridicule, not anger in her voice. It was a statement; like she knew it was true.

And later on, when the sun had fully set, when he was alone among other "living things", when he was left to ponder, Ron thought the story had little to do with him.

But in an eerie way, the story had everything to do with him. So, as Ron got up to wipe the dirt from the back of his jeans, he began to realize that maybe...just maybe, what Luna had said was true.

-----------------

A/N1: Okay. I hope I did a good job portraying Ron as he always is—clueless. Some of you might not like the turnout of this chapter and some may like it.

I guess one more chapter will finish this up, but see author’s note two.

A/N2: Oh the woes of being a 14-year-old!

Since it’s almost time for second semester to end, mid-exams will come very soon. So, the next chapter might come later then expected. I swear that I won’t abandon the fic…it’s just I have to focus on my studies.

The Letters

Viopathartic

A/N: Join the army, meet interesting people, kill them ~Anonymous…haha had me laughing

I’m back from the torturous weeks of hell and glad to say I passed mid-terms with flying colors! My momma’s proud too :}

This chapter consists of whirl wind of flashbacks, just so you can get the idea. I’m having some problems in deciding how to end this story.

Please read the author notes at the end.

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Remus Lupin believed in seeing what was on the inside and not the outside. Back in school, many thought James Potter was an arrogant and cocky playboy, all about masculinity. Their assumptions were partly true, but they didn’t know James like Remus and Sirius did. They didn’t know that the Quidditch star used to sing in the shower, read stacks and stacks of Witch Weekly (mostly for latest girl/guy tips, but Remus swore he caught James reading the Gossip section one time…), and was so smitten with Lily Evans that he even put a picture of her by his nightstand.

But Luna Lovegood continues to remain as mysterious as a recondite cave. Lupin had met her when he held the position as Defense against the Dark Arts professor and she was in one of his classes. She was brilliant, a Ravenclaw after all, but seemed odd. She was girl who sat at her desk, staring at the clouds instead of reading the assigned pages in her textbook. However when called upon by Remus, the answer would be given immediately and usually were right. Her classmates would tease her mercilessly, but she would coolly ignore them and seemed truly unbothered by the mockery.

And now, Luna entered the Gryffindor Common Room, causing Remus to wonder how she got the password. He asked her for her purpose of being here and she answered…

“Harry feels a bit sad so I thought I should go and cheer him up.”

“How did you know he was here?” Harry was discreetly released from the Wing; he requested for no one to tell. Remus and the others he trusted snuck Harry under his invisibility cloak while pretending they were patrolling the corridors. It was also lunchtime, making the process much easier.

“Well, first I was walking to the Astronomy Tower and expected to see the Blibbering Humdingers that I’ve been studying,” Tonks exchanged an unsure look to her boyfriend.

“However, I was rudely interrupted by a boy and girl, coming up to snog each other. I had to find something else to do and so, I went down to the Quidditch field. I talked to a few people and decided it was getting late. I was passing this room to get to my Common Room, but I felt Harry. It was only right to see how he was doing.”

“Felt….?” Tonks asked, turning to see her boyfriend’s reaction. But he was staring at the girl, as if he just saw Merlin.

“You’re an empath,” said Remus in awe, having never met one in his life.

“What’s an empath?” asked Tonks. Remus turned to look at his girlfriend and replied, “I’m not very surprised when someone asks that. An empath is rarely heard of today in the wizardry world. It’s connected to empathy, a person’s ability to recognize, perceive and directly feel the emotion of another person. It’s like ‘walking in someone else’s shoes’, I guess.”

Tonks nodded, listening intently. “An empath is a person who can feel the emotions, raw, and sometimes it can’t be controlled. And Luna, here is an empath.”

He turned to face Luna once more. “When did you find out you were an empath?”

“When I was five, my mom and dad had a little fight and I was able to feel the anger. I broke a window by throwing my doll out of the window,” said Luna, brusquely.

“Amazing.” Remus always wondered what it was like. The ability to feel the emotions of the people surrounding you, their desires and their peeves. It would be much easier for people to get along if that was so.

“Well, how does it work?”

“Pardon?” Luna blinked, her eyes, which seemed to be permanently wide, scared Tonks a bit, but she continued.

“I mean, in case you didn’t know, I am Metamorphmagus. I can change my appearance at will, but I usually just change my hair color. I just think of the look and poof, my body changes. But how does being an empath work? Do you have to concentrate or something?”

“Oh well, I’m sorry to say it, but I don’t know how to control it exactly. I guess all I do is feel. When I’m close to someone, their emotions just jump into me,” she paused for a moment then added, “Sometimes, waves of different levels come to me and I feel it all at once. Amazing most of the time…”

“I would think so!” piped Lupin.

“And sometimes being what I am is a curse.” The girl’s eyes clouded in memory, leaving Lupin and Tonks slightly confused. Images of Neville and Ginny, desire that was never returned, feeling their love…

It was silent before and when her voice broke through the barrier, the two adults jumped.

“Can I see Harry?”

------------------------------

The colors of his bed were yellow and red. Harry had spent countless times, lying in his bed and staring at the inside of his ceiling, but he never acknowledged its details until now. Red and yellow. The colors of Gryfindor. Gryfindor. Brave, love, and knowledge. He was a Gryffindor.

Luna paused in front of his door, letting the waves of anger, despair, and betrayal pass through her body. She shuddered in attempt to release those feelings and rapped her fist against the door. Harry closed his eyes, hoping it wasn’t Ron or worse, Hermione. But the person spoke and he knew it was neither.

“Yes, Luna?”

“May I enter your bedroom?” Harry sighed, wanting only to be left alone. But he didn’t want to hurt Luna’s feelings. To be frank, the Ravenclaw girl was okay. Her unusual observations and her crazy statements always amused him and because of her aid in fighting the war, he considered her as a loyal friend. So, he pulled himself into a sitting position, swung his legs onto the ground, and lazily shuffled to the door.

Pulling it open, he saw Luna staring up at him through her oversized glasses. She blinked and walked into the room just as Harry opened his mouth. She plopped herself onto Ron’s bed and looked expectedly at him. With a hand still on the knob, Harry asked, “What?”

“I’ve come to see how you are doing.”

“I’m fine and you?”

“Spectacular. But you’re lying, Harry. You’re not feeling fine.” With Luna comes her quirky ability to detect a lie. His hand slipped from the knob and fell to his side. Ah, what the hell. He decided it wouldn’t hurt to just talk to someone. He sat himself onto his bed which was across from where Luna was sitting.

“And how do you know how I feel?”

“I’m an empath,” Luna simply replied. Harry stared blankly at her. “An empath is person who can feel the emotions of other people.”

His mouth had suddenly gone dry. “And may I ask what you feel?”

With a slight smile, Luna nodded. She closed her eyes and breathed through her nose. “I should say what you feel.”

You’re extremely saddened by something. I’m guessing Neville’s death. A bit of guilt is tied to this, but why? You’re also feeling jealous…of Ron. You feel angry, but your feeling of betrayal greatly surpasses it. Am I right?”

Slowly, Harry nodded. Neville’s death was just a surprising as his other friends’ deaths. Knowing he had lost another loyal friend reminded him that everything was his fault. The Ministry of Magic and the Order could have handled the Dark. But all of his friends had volunteered and were determined to do anything to help Harry Potter. Now half of them were dead.

He saw Neville mere hours before he left to battle against Voldemort. The Reductor Curse that damaged Neville’s leg did not seem life-threatening at the time. However, Harry knew that there was no way to refigure his leg and an infection had probably spread from his wound to the whole body.

He was also jealous of Ron. Ron had Hermione. Harry didn’t. Simple.

Angry because of Neville. They hid it from him, as if they thought the death would kill him. And the letter…

Harry stepped away from the bed and busied himself with an errant piece of paper on his desk. Luna watched with detached interest. Why did they lie about that? They thought he was clueless, that he would never know. He didn’t realize Ron and Hermione could be so dim at times.

“Ron’s a bit angry at you too.”

“Why,” Harry spat, “I never did anything to him!”

“Not intentionally. He’s just threatened.”

“Why, though? Why?” His hands were curled in fist and he spoke to the wall.

“Ron doesn’t want you to take Hermione away.”

“Do you think I would do that? Do you think I would actually betray him like that?”

“No,” Luna answered, simply. “You’re too noble to do such a thing. But Ron believes it and sometimes I can see why.”

His anger was forgotten, soon replaced with curiosity. The girl sitting on Ron’s bed saw his look and answered his unvoiced question.

“It’s easy for me to tell because I’m an empath. The first time you saw them together that July day, you were ecstatic for them. But then you felt something else. I was there too with Ginny and Neville and we were at the Burrow celebrating your coming of age.”

Harry nodded, remembering that day. The day his heart broke.

The speck fire dwindled to wisps of smoke after Harry had blown the candles. The sound of cheering and clapping filled Harry’s ears and he couldn’t stop smiling. In front of him was a massive ice cream cake made by Molly Weasley. On each side stood his faithful friends Hermione and Ron. Hermione’s hand slipped into his, giving a weak squeeze before she let go. Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder, yelling over the sounds of raptures.

“Congratulations, mate. You’re officially of age!”

Harry’s smile grew wider, if possible.

“How do you feel?” Hermione asked with a look of delight on her face.

That morning, Harry left the Dursleys, leaving no trace of his existence behind. They were glad for him to leave. He thought about the times of forlorn and depression he had experienced there and actually laughed.

“Free, Hermione. Finally free.” Hermione, on impulse, gathered him in a hug, which he gratefully returned.

“Congratulations Harry!” yelled the whole crowd of Hogwarts students (Luna, Parvati, Dean, Seamus, and Neville) and mixes of the Order.

Harry gladly accepted gifts for the next hour or so before sneaking out of the room with boxes of Chocolate Frogs and Sugar Quills. He was searching for Hermione and Ron since the two loved the candies. Harry stuck his head into the living room but to no avail. He checked the bedrooms but still could not find them. Finally when he decided they might have returned to the party, he exited through the front door, planning to circle around the house to the back yard where the party was. However, two persons were up against the wall, attached by the lips and oblivious to his standing there.

He saw a person with red and when he approached closer, he saw the most unlikely couple.

Ginny and Neville.

Oh, he thought, his pulse returning to normal, whew, for a moment there I thought that was Ron…

With a playful angry voice, he shouted, “Oi! You two get a room. I don’t think Mother would like to see you two like this.”

“Sod off Harry!” said Ginny who still did not remove her lips from Neville. Ginny and Harry communicated after leaving Hogwarts and decided they were better off as friends than lovers.

Harry laughed and jogged away before he could anger her anymore. He was opening the back gate to enter the party when he heard an “Ow!”

Knowing the voice belonged to his friend, Harry tip-toed over to the sound. He walked under an arch with green vines twisted elegantly around it and passed the bushes of petunias and begonias.

“…can’t believe I did that. Are you okay?”

Hermione rubbed her nose, laughing. “Yes. I’m rather clumsy as well. I haven’t had much experience with…you know, kissing.”

Ron remained silent and Harry suspected it was because Lavender had taught Ron many things about kissing and probably more…

“Can we—do you think we can try again?”

Ron didn’t answer but instead grabbed Hermione by waist, pulled her in and bent his head down, planting a kiss right onto her lips. They stayed there for a moment and all Harry could do was watch. Neither moved and after a few seconds, he could see they were running out of breath. Hermione pulled away, her face red. Ron gave her an embarrassed smile.

Hermione shuffled her feet and then asked “Well, shall we head back? Harry’s probably searching for us.”

“Oh, yeah. Harry probably is.” Ron hesitated then offered a hand. “Let’s go.”

Hermione slipped her hand into Ron’s and they walked out of the garden.

Harry stepped onto the path after they were done. He smiled, seeing that they finally confessed their feelings for each other. But then, it faded as he realized that he might become the third wheel. Harry dropped into a vacant bench in the garden, pulling out his boxes of candy.

He opened a box of Chocolate Frog and briefly glanced at the card he received. Dumbledore, but he wasn’t there anymore. Snape killed him. Harry took a big bite out of the sweet’s head.

He chewed, not really tasting its usual sweet flavor and quickly finished it. Harry opened another one and continued to eat. Alone.

“You were happy one minute. Then you felt abandoned the next.”

“But how did you know this?”

“My ability works for people within a hundred yards.” she stated matter-of-factly.

Harry smiled. Of course.

“You were fine with them together for the next weeks. Their little “walks” outside. Their dates. Their snogs. But then you cared.”

Harry sat behind the coffee table, sipping a bottle of Butterbeer as he read a book on Dark Arts. He was hidden by the safety of his Invisibility Cloak. The crackle of the fire and the soft tick of the clock were the only sounds in the living room. Harry sighed and was about to turn in when the creak of door coursed the room. Cautiously, he laid down the book, pulled the Cloak tightly over his body, and crouched low. A steady hand gripped a wand, and the stunning charm was at the tip of his tongue.

“Hermione, can’t we just turn the lights on?”

Ron. But what were they doing—

Oh.

Harry moved away from the doorway and took discreet steps toward the stairway. Hermione and Ron appeared; both sporting symptoms of post-snogging disorder.

“You know how Harry stays up late these days. I was afraid he might have caught us,” she explained, extinguishing the fire Harry had lit hours ago.

“Well. Then since he’s not here…”Ron waggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner, but Hermione rolled her eyes.

“We did enough of that outside.” Ew. The image of Ron slobbering over a girl wasn’t that mortifying; he had to deal with that in sixth year. But when Hermione came into his mind…the stiff, bossy bookworm…his closest female friend…giggling like a deranged school girl as she snogged Ron…

“Ron. We have to tell Harry.” Ron groaned and wrapped his arms around Hermione’s waist. Harry forgot to breathe. Physical contact…too much! He moved away from the stairs once he noticed they were getting closer.

“Okay, okay, we’ll tell him tomorrow.” Hermione smiled, gave him a small kiss on the cheek. Harry left after, not wanting to see them together like this.

They told him two weeks after that night. Harry acted surprised. Then happy. Like he just found out. Harry found he was getting quite good with masking his emotions.

Summer passed by. He remembered so well. How after they told him, awkwardness was replaced by jealousy. Jealousy was replaced by longing. The questions of “whys” went through his mind every day.

Harry never really believed that Hermione and Ron would last. He waited for a few days, which turned into another week, which turned into another month, which turned to a year.

Get out of my head, Hermione.

She was everywhere; in his mind and in his dreams.

He loved her soft brown eyes as she comforted him at his parents’ grave. He loved it when Hermione pulled him into a hug because it was the only physical contact he could get from her without suspicion. He loved her bushy hair, loved the smell of her cherry and vanilla shampoo. He loved her.

“There was a time when you lost all hope, in love and the battle. You were about to do something that was to change your life forever.”

It was too much.

Such a familiar sight. Parents crying over the deaths of their children. The Diggorys and Cedric. The Patils and Parvati.

He escaped as quickly as he could. He didn’t want them to see how much he failed.

Harry was not a hero. He was not the “Chosen One”. He was just a wizard trying to fight against the evil that has plagued his life for seventeen years. And he was losing.

The most recent battle Harry saw Dennis, the little fourth year, falling at the hands of Nott. Spells and curses spout from every wand. Dementors lurked above, sucking the hope and happiness from the Light Side. The air was as cold as the Black Lake in the beginnings of winter. Harry couldn’t see very well; he had to strain just to see through the fog. As he exhaled, a cloud of air hovered and floated away.

And there he was. The Creeveys were fighting against four Deatheaters and one Dementor. Neville had fallen to the rain soaked ground, hit by an unavoidable Stunning charm. Lisa Turpin produced a Patronus in the shape of a dolphin and the extraordinary light chased the creature away. Harry felt a small sense of pride as he caught a small part of the scene. It was gone when Lisa was knocked out by an unknown spell. Colin Creevey quickly revived Neville and seemed to have said something to him for the seventh year turned and ran to another battle with Lisa following. Dennis nodded at his older brother and together, they waved their wands. Two of the Deatheaters flew back 50 yards as the red beams impacted.

Even in the mist of war, the brothers raised a hand and high-fived each other. A mistake it was because the two children did not notice the Deatheaters left in the battle. One hooded man raised his wand and whispered the deadliest curse. Colin stepped in front of his little brother, prepared for the flash of green.

“Avada Kedavra!”

Harry parried a curse from his opponent. Catheridy was quick, he had to admit. Their face-to-face battle stretched for 20 minutes and Harry found himself just struggling for air. With the Reductor Curse on the tip of his tongue, he heard the two words that ended his parents, Cedric’s, and Dumbledore’s life.

Filled with such angry and raise, he abandoned the useless curse and spat out “Septumsepra!” Harry didn’t stay to see Catheridy falling to his knees, streams of blood bursting from his chest. Dementors had already surrounded Dennis, hoping for the soul of the boy who had just fallen. Harry summoned his strongest Patronus, the image of Hermione strong in his mind. He used a Dark curse, the first to come into his mind. The Deatheaters fell at his command.

Colin had his little brother’s head on his lap, cradling him like a fragile doll. It was no use, though. Dennis was gone. Harry couldn’t get closer; didn’t want to.

Here he was in his room. A poem he once heard ran over and over in his mind.

For everything there must come a last.

A last minute, a last hour, a last month, day, or year.

A last drink, a last coke, a last butterbeer.

A last love, a last heart, a last kiss, a last hug
Or even the last words written on a page.

But the worst last thing is your last breath
because what is to follow will surely be your death.

What am I doing…

A paper sitting on his desk. A pen in his pale and shaking hands. A knife on his bed.

Harry ached to see his parents again, to see Sirius, to see Dumbledore.

Escape, he needed escape. Away from the war, the countless bodies, the looks of pity. Far away from his destiny.

ALL OF THIS TO BE OVER.

So he sat down on the chair, picked up the pen. Harry couldn’t help but laugh. Here he was sitting in the dark when he was supposed to be in library.

And he was thinking about what to put in his suicide letter.

God, I’m was writing to Hermione. What do I say?

I love you. I want to be with you, but you’re with Ron.

What’s the use of fighting when you’re going to die anyways?

Mum, Dad, Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, Parvati, Dennis, Dean, Percy, Neville. So many had died, just because of him.

I’m so sorry.

The pen shook as it scurried across the paper. Anguish sobs took over his body and Harry found it was harder to breathe than to think. What am I doing?

Caught in his own reverence, he didn’t notice Luna had stopped humming. She was the first to feel the two people. Hesitancy. Guiltiness. Love. They mixed and were close. And they were coming.

The two stood hesitantly at his door. Luna sat up and gracefully leapt to her feet. “I have to go finish the Blibbering Humdingers sighting. See you later, Harry.”

“Yeah, Luna.” Harry answered, giving her a small wave. He smiled as he watched her leave. Before, Harry didn’t want to see anyone, but Luna…made him feel better. As his eyes traveled the room, the emerald orbs landed on the slightly opened drawer.

He closed it with a thud and sat back onto his bed, the metal springs straining under his weight. A knock on the door was heard, but Harry knew who was behind the door.

“Hermione. Ron.”

Author’s Note:

You may think the part where Harry’s writing his suicide letter was short and not in complete sentences. But honestly, do you think anyone’s coherent when planning their suicide?

And for those who think the “suicide” is a bit too extreme, remember what Harry has gone through. J.K. Rowling may have tried to hide the pessimistic side of Harry Potter because, well, the series is intended for mostly children. In real sense, Harry has a dude out to kill him, his friends were getting killed in gruesome ways, and his love for his best friend cannot be revealed.

Please notify me if there was any mistake in grammar, spelling, and such.

As stated in the author note above, I’m deciding on how to end The Letters.

Very difficult because all the Hermione/Harry stories I have read always end up with a kiss after:

a) they had a massive breakup

b) Hermione realizes she loves Harry and breaks up with Ron/various Garysues

c) Harry realizes he loves Hermione and breaks up with Ginny/various Marysues

So ugh…I’m not sure.

Again, next chapter might be subdued because teachers are evil and want to kill students like me with loads and loads of homework.

Viopatharitc

Hello!

I’ve been visiting my old fics, and I see that they need to be finished. The Letters is one of them. I’m feeling creative and really want to complete this one. Only one more chapter!

The only problem is: I don’t know where to start or how to end it. So, I’m wondering if anyone wants to beta for me…? Give me your opinions? How would you like to finish it?

Should this be converted back into a one-shot?

I need someone who is qualified to read and edit The Letters. I would have posted in the Beta section, but people don’t seem to respond.

If you want to help, just post a review or e-mail me at currentlyunavailable_007@yahoo.com

Thanks,

Viopathartic

P.S: Don’t worry; I will take this down once someone is willing to help me.