Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the genius JK Rowling. This was simply my take on the events she created.
A/N: Simply an alternate ending to the skirmish at Malfoy Manor. Please review! xoxo
Ron knelt on the ground before her, tears falling down his face as he buried his face in her. "I'm so sorry, Hermione," he whispered, stroking her delicate face when he mustered up the courage to look her in the eyes. She looked frailer than he expected, and he wasn't what would happen to her. In actuality, he was very sure of what would happen. He was holding the girl he loved in his arms for the last time. There was no chance she could make it. No magic could save her now, and with each shuddery breath she struggled to take, she got closer and closer to the Door of Death.
"Don't…be," Hermione gasped, slowly reaching her shaking hand up to caress his face. The blood from her freshly carved 'Mudblood' dripped onto her body below her arm, but neither one of the young adults registered the fact that a small puddle of blood was forming under her. As she found it more difficult to breathe, her breaths got louder, and her face paler. She was nearer the end, and she could feel it.
Harry stood in the corner of the room, his head hanging down, and muffled sobs escaping his mouth. It was all his fault. His sister (she was as good as) was dying in the arms of his best mate. Not only that, but they were completely and utterly in love with each other, they just hadn't admitted it yet. Harry had begun to suspect they were both aware of the other's feelings, even if they did not act on it.
"Hermione…Hermione…please, stay awake," Ron begged, a sound of dire desperation ringing out in his voice. He could hardly speak as he shook the girl, trying to prevent her from closing her eyes. "Hermione, don't leave me!" Normally, he would've turned red as a tomato, and quickly change me to us, but he didn't care. She couldn't leave him. He brushed her beautiful, bushy, brown hair out of her dirty and gaunt face as he rocked her in his arms. He pulled her in close to his chest, his sobs growing louder.
"Ron…" Hermione whispered, barely coping with having to face her own mortality. She didn't want to leave him, or Harry, and when she saw how upset Ron was, she did her best to hold onto life long enough for a proper goodbye.
Harry stared at his two friends, the look of anguish on his face clearly visible. His green eyes were damp, and his face red. After everything they'd been through together, everything they'd fought for, all of the petty fights they'd overcome, the Golden Trio was no more. It was no longer existent, and every ounce of blame lied with Harry.
"I…I…" Ron choked out, tightening his arms around the frame of the dying girl. "I…never told you this, Hermione, but I love you. I love you so much. I have for a long time. I'm a prat, I know, and I wish I could change the past so you wouldn't have had to feel all that hurt because of me." By now, Ron's sobs were uncontrollable, and it was a miracle he could form coherent sentences. Everything he'd tried to hide for the last several years, he was openly professing, something he never thought he would be able to do.
"You're going to be alright, Hermione. Don't worry. Nothing bad is going to happen. I won't let anything bad happen to you. Everything will be all right." Ron was comforting himself more than Hermione, murmuring empty words that he and Hermione both very well knew were not true.
"Ronald…" Hermione said softly, barely being able to muster up enough energy to speak. Tears streamed down her face as she looked up at him. "I love you too. Please, move on with your life…find someone who makes you happy, get married, have kids, and die old. Forget about me."
"No!" Ron said, louder than he had intended, as Hermione shuddered slightly in his arms. He lowered his voice and rested his chin on the top of her head. "I won't let you go. You're going to be fine, Hermione! We've been through worse before!"
"Goodbye, Ronald," Hermione said as Ron pulled back so he could look at her. With one final, short breath, Hermione's eyes shut and her body went limp.
"NO!" Ron cried, pounding his fists against the floor. "HERMIONE! WAKE UP!" he cried desperately, running his fingers carefully through her hair as a large puddle of his tears formed at his knees. "Hermione, please, please wake up. Please," he begged, his volume softer, as if being more gentle might bring her back.
Harry slid out of the room quickly, and stood in the hallway, tears streaming down his face as a very solemn group of people, consisting of Bill, Fleur, Dean, and Luna, stood outside the door listening to the scene unfold. Fleur's gorgeous face was tear-stained, and Bill put a consoling arm around her. Dean stood there, his jaw ajar slightly, as the realization that a girl he had known for seven years of his life, was dead. Luna moved over to Harry and hugged him, refraining from sharing a fact completely irrelevant, that would only hurt him more. Harry buried his face into Luna's shoulders, grateful someone was there.
When Ron realized she was gone, and he couldn't bring her back, the most devastated-sounding sobs of heartbreak filled the air, causing the hairs on the back of Harry's neck to stand up. It was a sound more eerie than anything he'd ever heard, and the sound alone was enough to drive Harry to insanity. He could picture his friend (he was facing away from the open door), kneeling in a mixture of his tears and Hermione's blood, as he shakily held her in his arms. Ron's face probably had a look of pain that matched the loud sorrowful wails.
Ron knelt, remaining oblivious to the small crowd watching him hit rock bottom, as he stroked Hermione's hair. She was still warm. She had a look of peace on her face, despite her disheveled appearance and bruised skin. Her lips almost appeared to be pursed, her cheeks were still red, and her eyes still puffy from the tears she had shed only moments earlier.