Starry Night

Disclaimer: As far as I am aware JKR doesn’t write one shots. That alone should tell you I’m not her and don’t own any of it.

It had only been three months since he had watched Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of the age, murdered in front of his disbelieving eyes. Three months where the deaths had been few, but they had begun to tear away the last amounts of his resolve to end the war against Voldemort.

Ron and Ginny had been felled in one swift move at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. A quick deatheater attack resulted in a few injuries, but more importantly the kidnapping of the two youngest Weasley children. While Harry and Hermione gathered support for a rescue mission it had come out in a heated moment that there had been some questionable tampering in love potions from the kidnapped pair over the course of the previous school year. While it explained much of the odd behavior from their previous year the rescue mission planning never faltered.

It had come as devastating news when the very damaged, and in the case of Ginny, very used bodies of the pair had been found on the front lawn of the burrow the morning of the mission. The message had been a vicious and brutal one from Voldemort, and the sadistic bastard had even been kind enough to scrawl it on their bodies.

I have the prophecy Potter, you may try to find my Horcruxes, but I will kill you before the end. The youngest Weasleys send their regards.

~Lord Voldemort

Harry had gone off alone in the madness following and in the process the war had become unbearably simplistic to him, just as the prophecy had stated. One would die and one would live, that was all there was to it.

It had been over two months since the death of two of his dearest friends and the horcrux hunt had been profitable as they had found Slytherin’s locket, Hufflepuff’s cup, and even managed to kill Nagini with a bit of luck in the searches.

Harry and by proxy Hermione had almost resigned themselves to the reality that the war would both claim their lives. Their search for the final inanimate soul piece had taken them from Albania to Norway and still they had managed no luck.

It was with all of this in mind that Harry Potter stared out at the night sky in late September and pondered the meaning of his life beyond a prophecy made before he was even born. It had been what the muggles liked to call an Indian summer, so the night still held the warmth and humidity of July.

Currently Harry and his one traveling companion Hermione found themselves in the wilderness beyond the forbidden forest searching for a cave that had been known as an early staging ground for Voldemort’s planning. At the moment Harry was doing something new that Hermione had suggested helping him clear his mind before going to sleep. Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, prophesized chosen one to defeat Tom Riddle, and general clueless git when it came to using words both verbally or written was writing poetry.

Of course Harry had found that he had a bit or an artistic side, especially on nights like this as he spied the only person that could understand him now or ever again as she bathed in the moonlight, her eyes sparkling just like the stars in the sky. Eventually she took notice of Harry none-too-subtle staring and she stood from her resting spot by the fire.

Walking over with a small smile on her face, the big face filling smiles of the past simply weren’t possible anymore or at least until the war was over, she softly asked, “How is the poetry going tonight Harry?”

Harry managed an equally small grin and replied, “Actually I think I’ve finally found the proper motivation for my poetry.”

Hermione merely nodded, “Yes it is a very beautiful night, isn’t it? It makes the war seem more distant or less real.”

A single tear tracked down her cheek as she quietly added, “Or that Ron and Ginny will come out from behind that tree over there and tell us it was all some prank the twins had planned.”

Harry sighed, the death of Ron and Ginny had long ago been buried right alongside the deaths of Sirius and Dumbledore, but how could he explain that to someone as openly emotional like Hermione. Deciding silence was the better part of valor he merely wrapped an arm around Hermione allowing her to compose her emotions.

After a few moments of silence as they stared at the stars Harry quietly asked, “Would you like to hear what I’ve written so far tonight?”

Hermione tugged Harry over by the fire before she settled down onto the small sleeping bag she would be sleeping in and said, “I’d like that.”

Harry pulled the folded piece of parchment from his pocket and read:

On a perfect night like this at the end of the world

The stars are perfectly clear and the moon is a pearl

The beautiful things I can see quite clearly

But the most beautiful is something I hold much more dearly

The moon, the stars, and the night breeze are merely the players

The woman she is different, she is heavenly and has answered my prayers

The moon, I love because I can see her much more clearly

But the words I want to say can’t describe her, not nearly

How can words ever be enough for the person so vital

That my life would be over without her survival

It’s a simple symbiosis how much I’m indebted

A promise in my heart when I succeed a debt that will be paid

How I wish I was worthy of the air she breathes

Or that when I ask her the question I’m all that she needs.

For now I can wait as I watch the night sky

I’ll pray to the heavens that I’d be that guy.

Harry finished reading and chanced a look at Hermione as she gazed at him with an unreadable expression on her face. With a plea, much more similar to a dying man’s final wish he begged, “Please say something Hermione.”

Instead of uttering a word she slowly rose to her feet and with perhaps the most powerful words of the night she replied, “Trust me Harry, you’re all that I’ll ever need.” With that she closed the remaining distance between them and they kissed for the first of what they both hoped would be many times.

If either had thought to look up in the proper place they would have seen Sirius burn a little more brightly than it had a moment earlier. The world might have been a messed up place, but it had just gotten a little more right.

A/N: Well there it is, my one-shot that took about 45 minutes to write up tonight. I felt like writing something different and here it is. I hope you liked it and I hope you take the time to review. Thanks for reading.