Snowflakes fell from the winter sky, landing on the many woolly hat covered heads each of these belonging to bustling Muggles, all of whom were rushing around the high streets getting the last bargains, after all it was Christmas eve, no time to go get a late little stocking filler than the night before Christmas. However one member of the crowd was not a muggle, no, she was a witch. One of the smartest witches of her time and her name was Hermione Jane Granger.
Hermione had long chestnut brown hair which fell upon her shoulders with grace and currently hosted a home to about a hundred fat white snowflakes. She donned a long crimson scarf which covered not only her neck but the majority of her face too. Snuggling her nose deeper into the red fabric she turned a corner, her hands clutching many bags containing presents for her boyfriend - Harry Potter. Once she had led herself away from the many crowds she placed all her shopping on the snowy ground around her feet and took her wand out of her pocket. Then, proceeded to thrust it out into the road, like a hitch hiker trying to thumb a ride.
BANG.
A large, purple, triple-decker bus appeared and within ten minutes Hermione was sat on the Knight Bus watching the countryside go by, occasionally dropping in on the conversation between conductor and driver. Hermione had received a few smiles and warm waves as she had boarded the bus. She was quite as famous as Harry in the Wizarding world since Voldemort's demise. She was known not only well known, among Witch Weekly readers, for going out with Harry but also because she killed Lucius Malfoy, a Death Eater whom was almost as feared as Voldemort was.
Her mind wandered to Harry. She did love him so much, his emerald bright eyes and his tousled black hair. Oh, how she loved to run her lithe fingers through his black mane, but Harry had changed recently. He was withdrawn, unsociable. No longer made love to her softly and romantically but brutally, not hurting her but with more urgency. Every time he kissed her lips it was with hunger like he was attempting to drink the very essence out of her. As though he wanted to feel passion surging through his veins.
The bus stopped and Hermione's feet once again took her weight. Scooping up her shopping she headed towards the exit of the bus, squeezing past the many armchairs and pouf's which littered the bus. Passing the conductor, she gave he and the driver a faint smile then jumped down off the step onto the snow padded pavement. Her feet made crunching sounds as she approached her front door.
Hermione and Harry lived together as of a couple of months ago, Harry had bought his old house in Godric's Hollow and had, had it completely restored to its original beauty. Slipping her key in the lock she gave the door a soft kick and found herself stood in the hallway, looking at the bare Christmas Tree. Her and Harry were going to decorate it tonight together, a sort of thing to celebrate their first Christmas, as a couple.
"Harry?" Her voice rang through the freshly painted living room. She sighed, he didn't reply to her shouts as she made her way up through the house. Still no response.
"Harry, I swear you better not be ignor-" She stopped, Hermione had just pushed open the door which led to the master bedroom and seen Harry sprawled out on the bed, his glasses askew and his face peaceful. Walking over to him, keeping as quiet as she could she crawled up onto the bed and rolled herself on to his chest, astounded he had not yet woken she propped her elbows up on his chest and stared lovingly at his face. Slinking her arms up to his face she took his glasses off and threw them on the empty pillow beside the pair.
Deciding that waking up was the best option as it would soon be getting late and their Christmas tree downstairs was still bare she placed her warm lips to his, they felt cold - icy.
He wasn't responding…his lips tasted bitter. She pulled away licking her own bottom lip, finding residue upon them, it was bitter and as soon as the rough edge of Hermione's tongue had detected the taste she began to shiver and sweat at the same time. Her head lolled back and her hazy gaze caught onto a bottle, it was black with purple lettering which read:
Morte Rapide
Poison. A most deadly, non-curable poison. Hermione began to gag and writhe on the quilting. A mouthful of the potion, which, undoubtedly, Harry had swallowed, was what you needed to in digest to make your death swift and painless…but Hermione she had only taken the remains of the toxin which had lay upon her lover's lips. She was going to die.
Slowly…and riddled with pain.
Her throat began to close…her mind began to wander
.
Moonlight dowsed the hill, two figures silhouetted against the werewolves fear. These two were Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. Harry raised his hand to Hermione's face and wiped the stray tears that were falling from her wearied eyes. The war was over, it had been waging for nine years since they had left Hogwarts, finally the war was over. No more raids…no more deaths and yet both stood here in the dead of night crying silently, for now, at only the age of twenty six they both had blood on their hands. They had both become murderers.
He stared into her eyes and did not see the plain, knowledgeable, composed eyes of his best friend, Hermione Granger. No. He saw a woman's gaze, filled worry, hunger, fear and desire. He broke their stare to graze over her body…the remains of her emerald robes clung to her scratched and bruised frame, her womanly body exposed more than Harry had ever seen of her. And yet it was not carnal lust that sprang through his veins when he saw the skin she was revealing…it was awe. He had never seen anything as beautiful as the woman standing before him…she looked worn yet still shone with radiance.
In one movement Harry had captured her lips, she closed her eyes and he felt her arms snake up his back, she was running her fingers gently over his many wounds, feeling him…understanding his pain. It was as though through their kiss they were sharing each other's woes, halving their burdens. Yes…it was at then they knew their souls were entwined…they were as one.
The room was spinning, nothing made sense…a wave of calm washed over Hermione causing her to cease flailing…she simply lay sprawled over Harry's dormant body, let the poison seep through her body, closed her eyes one final time, having taken her last glazed look about the room she and Harry had first made love in. She let death take her. There lay the two lovers, they were joined and parted with a kiss.
Ron Weasley made his way up to Harry and Hermione's house the next day, snow covered the small picturesque cottage and Ron could hardly believe that this time a year ago all three of them were in St.. Mungos having treatment for both the physical and mental damage the great war had done. He was bubbling over with excitement he and his friends were about to sit down together and have the biggest and best Christmas dinner served outside Hogwarts.
Reaching the door he rapped hard upon the wood, wanting to get out of the frost bitten air and into the fire warmed living room of the cottage. No answer. He knocked again. Still no one came to his call. Sighing, thinking the couple must still be in bed he crouched and lifted up the flower pot, which had been given to the couple by Dumbledore if he could remember rightly, it was, as it was a Wizarding product, decorated with a black, furry Niffler which would dive underneath soil to retrieve some hidden gold. Under the pot lay a small golden key, clasping the cold metal in his ands Ron slid it into the lock and, after giving the stiff door a quick shove found himself in the undecorated hallway.
He raised his eyebrow in suspicion…odd, he was sure they had decided to decorate the tree together last night. Still it did not deter him in his search for his two best friends, however when he reached the living room, there was no merrily roaring fire and bags of presents were strewn across the carpet. Now his sense of worry and fear was increasing, he thundered up the stairs, calling out their names, but their came no response. Reaching the aster bedroom he flung the door open and came to see Hermione, lying haphazardly over Harry, still wearing her scarf, gloves and coat, The little of Harry's face Ron could see was blue and lifeless.
Neither of their chest rose and fell, neither stirred nor flickered as Ron came closer. Extending his hand he touched both his friends pulse point but each were a still as the grave. He could hear no heart beat. They were dead. A state of shock fell over him, he couldn't cry…because this couldn't be real. No way could both of his closest friends have died. He found himself standing though had no recollection of raising himself and his eyes fell upon a white envelope which on the front were scrawled the words;
To my Hermione.
His shaking hands picked up the letter and tore off it's outer shell and out slipped a sheaf of parchment…
Hermione,
I was born because of a prophecy. Because of what some old woman said about me. And now I have fulfilled the prophecy, I killed Tom Riddle. I have blood on my hands as does he, that makes me no better than him.
Do not mourn for me. You look awful in black. Find love again, start a family. You really will be the most perfect mother. And you shall beautiful children. All I ask is you do not forget me…do not block out of your memories. I love you my dear.
I shall no doubt be dead when you read this but please do not remember me as the coward who bailed on Christmas. I have been strong all my life and I can't take it anymore I want to be with Sirius, with Mum and Dad and Lupin…And when you grow old and die peacefully in your rocking chair by the fire, your hands clasped around Hogwarts a History, I shall greet you on the other side and we shall begin our eternal love.
Harry
Author's Note: Mannn, this is old. Like three years old - first published in '04.
Crazy stuff…doesn't seem that long ago.
Anyway I actually thought it was already up here. Obviously not!
Review please?
Tash.