How Am I Supposed to Live Without You

gti88

Rating: PG13
Genres: Drama, Suspense
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 19/12/2007
Last Updated: 19/12/2007
Status: completed

Gingerly, Hermione stepped over the threshold, and into the cold night air. By now, the clouds had entirely disappeared, and a chilling calm had taken hold around them. Fully supported by Ron, Hermione leaned on the railing of the balcony, silent and staring at the stars.

Chapters

1. How Am I Supposed to Live Without You

1. How Am I Supposed to Live Without You

A/N It's about time I posted a new fic…this is my take on a Christmas, marked by a sad anniversary…waterworks guaranteed…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1UNeZSZm4BQ&feature=related

How Am I Supposed to Live Without You

December twenty-fourth, ten years since.

She lay in the bed, not awake, nor fully asleep, but rather, in that middle state of being aware of her surroundings, but not paying them attention, and instead, absorbed in swirling thoughts of her own.

Much in resemblance to her thoughts, the snow outside was carried by the wind in a fierce storm that raged. The window was frozen with the frost that had covered its exposed side, and the only visible sight was the white wall of the blizzard. Inside, a fire roared merrily, and feeble decorations hung around the room - an old garland was decked over the windows; mistletoe hung above Hermione's bed, and charmed lights were flickering within the garland. Hermione's tired and sleeping face glowed in the firelight, and shadows danced on the opposite wall, mimicking the intricate movements of the flames flawlessly.

In the next room of the flat, the sounds of her son could be heard, running around and playing with his aunt Luna. Hermione's lips were graced with a faint smile, as she lay, listening to her son's laughter. She thought about how much he resembled his father, from the green eyes and the black hair, to his sometimes over-confident attitude; yet, he had also inherited her infamous intelligence.

Hermione could feel herself slowly growing weaker. Up until a few days ago, she could have sat up and walked slowly around the room, but now, she barely could muster enough of an effort to merely blink - that is why her eyes were currently closed. She pulled her blanket closer around herself. The fire continued burning, the faint firelight making her hair glow, as it framed her face.

She had, of course, always known that this day would come - the connection she shared with Harry, and the curse that killed him, has since slowly progressed within her own being.

Hermione lived the memory over and over in her mind's eye every single day in the last ten years. She and Harry were young, restless, and full of perspective and promise for a good life together once upon a time…

After his unexpected death, her world shattered - nothing could heal the ugly wound that had opened within her soul. Yet, only one factor prevented her from taking her own life right there and then, and that reason was their son. She promised herself to bring him into this world, unknowing, and raise him so, until he was ready to learn the truth and significance of his parents. Hermione knew she would not be with him, when he learned, however desperately she wished to be.

Slowly turning her head in the direction of the mantel over the fireplace, she opened one eye minimally, and looked at the hour reflected in the glass face of the clock - eleven. The ticking of the second hand, and the cracking of wood in the fire were the only other sounds besides the laughing child in the next room. Hermione drew a deep breath, but then, a powerful cough wracked her weakened chest. Wheezing, she closed her eyes again, trying to relax and catch her breath once again. From the other side of the wall, she heard Luna rising herself to her feet, and making her way out in the corridor in a hurry. She paused for several seconds, and after hearing the front door slam, two pairs of feet came running in her direction.

Moments later, Ron and Luna were by her side. Anxieties, fear, sorrow, anger…a cocktail of emotions that was evident in their eyes.

“Hermione! Are you alright?” Ron asked her with a pronounced note of worry in his voice, as he helped her sit up in bed.

A wry smile appeared on Hermione's face. “As well as can be expected,” she replied quietly.

“It will be over soon, Hermione,” Luna whispered in Hermione's ear, as she embraced her.

Once they parted, Hermione felt another shiver pass through her, and in the next second, another coughing fit overtook her senses. Ron pulled the blanket closer around her shoulders. Outside, the wind continued to howl, and the flames still danced in the fireplace.

“Can…can you call my son to me?” Hermione rasped, out of breath.

“Definitely,” Ron said quickly, and doubled back to the other bedroom of the flat.

Luna and her remained silent; not awkward or intimidating, but a comfortable silence.

“Luna,” Hermione's voice came suddenly after a few minutes, “can I ask a request of you?”

“Anything, Hermione,” Luna replied evenly.

“After I'm gone - “ she was interrupted by another coughing fit, before regaining her composure, “will you and Ron take care of mine and Harry's son?”

Hermione's voice was slowly fading with each uttered word. Her eyes were quickly losing what little life they had left…Luna was growing more alarmed by the minute.

At last, Ron walked in, bringing the ten-year-old child with him.

“Mum,” he ventured, slowly approaching Hermione.

“James,” Hermione whispered, as she opened her eyes with effort. “James…”

The firelight reflected in her son's wide green eyes - she could tell he was confused and worried at the same time. Ron and Luna stood a bit aside in the shadows.

“James,” Hermione tried once more, “I want you to remember…I love you, and I always will. As does your father - you never received a chance to meet him, and I am truly sorry about that, but you can be sure he and I will always watch over you.”

Those words exhausted Hermione, and leaning back, she closed her eyes, in order to summon a little strength. In the process, she threw a glance in the direction of the clock - twenty minutes to midnight.

Several minutes passed, and she suddenly felt a pair of arms encircle her, and someone's tears falling on her shoulder. Hermione knew it was James.

Raising a trembling hand, she hugged him too. “Don't cry, don't cry,” she murmured quietly to her son. Yet, he refused to release his mother.

Ten minutes to midnight - Hermione could feel herself going…the curse had entered its final stages…

The snowstorm had ceased quite unexpectedly; the wind had died down, and the clouds were coming apart, revealing the sky's black abyss. Stars were twinkling in the darkness between the breaks of the cloud cover.

“Ron,” Hermione rasped. “Help me up, please.”

Silently, Ron obliged her request. James had moved next to Luna, clutching her hand, his eyes still brimming with unshed tears. His body shook with the silent sobs that were escaping him.

“The balcony,” Hermione whispered.

Mere minutes were left, before the clock would strike twelve.

Gingerly, Hermione stepped over the threshold, and into the cold night air. By now, the clouds had entirely disappeared, and a chilling calm had taken hold around them. Fully supported by Ron, Hermione leaned on the railing of the balcony, silent and staring at the stars.

She heard a pair of running feet behind her. James had disengaged himself from Luna, and hurried to stand beside Hermione. Raising her hand, she put it on top of his head.

“How am I supposed to live without you, Harry?” she whispered into the night, her gaze still fixed on the stars. “You have an amazing son, but I cannot go on without you.”

Her mind was becoming less and less focused. A strange feeling, a beckoning almost, was calling her somewhere…

With effort, she turned to Ron. “You are my best friend, and I love you very much,” Hermione said with difficulty, “and please, please take care of James - for Harry and I.”

“Will do, Hermione, will do,” Ron answered quietly. “We are his godparents after all.”

“Thank you,” Hermione smiled weakly, before turning to her son once again, for one last time, “Your father and I love you, a lot,” she told him with increasing effort, as her voice became more and more choked. “Please, remember me, always…and Harry, and I, will always be with you…”

She grasped James' hand with her remaining strength, and put it over his heart. “Here,” she said simply.

The sound of midnight, and with it, came the arrival of Christmas. Amid the bangs of the clock, Hermione's hand loosened over James' and slid down to her side. Her empty eyes stared towards the heavens.

For now, she was watching over.

A/N Hope you liked it…tissues on your right, and reviews are always appreciated…

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