A/N: This is my first Harry Potter fanfiction so please review it!
Staring down at his resting wife, he reminisced about times past. Surely, this lifeless shell could not be his life, his love, his Hermione. Of course it wasn't. His Hermione, his Mione, was full of life. She had intelligent brown eyes that sparkled with the promise of adventure. She was vibrant and sweet and quick tempered. She was a hard worker, an over-achiever. This unresponsive body could not be his beautiful Mione. Her once gorgeous, shiny curls were now replaced with matted poofs of frizz, pressed into her pillow as she tossed and turned. Her eyes, when actually opened, stared blankly around the room, not recognizing anyone. All Timers, he thought muggles called it, but he had probably fudged the name up. He laughed wryly to himself. If his old Hermione had heard him she would have laughed at his mistake and corrected him quickly, her eyes gleaming with love.
As nurses scrambled around him, making sure that Hermione was comfortable, he realized that she was slowly slipping away. She was leaving him and there was nothing he could do about it. He felt worthless, just staring at her. He had always been her protector. Even back in their first year, when he had vowed that she was merely a know-it-all brat, he had still saved her from the troll. Now he could not protect her, no matter how much he wanted, and it killed him. Her life was draining quickly and he knew it would all be over soon, too soon. Every quivering breath she took, a little bit more of his hope slipped away. But, they had led a good life, he figured. Rose and Hugo had turned out pretty decently, even if Rose had married that Scorpius fellow.
As he fell asleep that night, his head in Hermione's lap, clutching her hand tightly, he realized somewhere, in the back of his mind, that when he woke up in the morning, his world was going to be drastically different. Living without Hermione would be difficult, if not impossible. But, he had been doing it, in a way, for a while now. However, he still knew that when she died, a part of him would die too, and, he would soon follow behind. For surely, if one loses a half of oneself. The other half cannot live for long without its match. But he was okay with that, because a life without Hermione was simply not much of a life at all.
A/N: Review please!