Author's Note: I'm reposting this because it was pretty much impossible to understand. Hope it's better now, though it's not meant to be fully understandable. ;)
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With Tired Souls We Slept
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No.
That is not him.
That is not his beautiful eyes looking up at mein a permanent scream.
He is not gone.
I know exactly where he is.
--
I walk out on the front porch of the Burrow. Harry, Ginny and Ron are playing Quidditch, laughing and sparkling. My eyes almost hurt when I see them, they are so alight in the sun.
The sun warms his hair and makes it almost orange. I love his hair. I love the way it curls just a bit at the ends, how he tries to blow it away when it falls over his eyes and how it caresses my chest when he is kissing my stomach.
Harry and Ginny get together in the air for a quick kiss and my heart warms as I see it. Ron laughs and barks at them to "get a room" and my heart grows just a bit warmer. That is exactly who he is, he is obnoxious and rude and terrible, and yet he is the sweetest and most loyal person ever to walk this earth. That is what Harry and I both saw in him that day on the Hogwarts Express. We saw his humanity.
I hear a chorus of Weasley is Our King and can't help but to laugh. Ron starts chasing them wildly but stops and turns when he hears my laughter.
"Hermione?" He breaks out into a grin and starts to fly towards the house. I walk down the small steps and meet him halfway. My lips tingle and my stomach flutters as he kisses me. It has been four years and he still has that effect on me. I love it. I love him.
"Come with me inside?" My eyes sparkle suggestively at him and he grins even wider. He jumps off his broom and waves to Harry and Ginny. They laugh and wave back, knowing exactly where we are going.
You would think he is a bit clumsy, being that much bigger than me, but he isn't. He is exactly everything a lover should be, and he makes my head spin more than once, gripping the sheets and crying out my love for him.
He loves it when my hair is as wild as it is after we have made love.
I smile as he gently rubs my belly. "Someday there's going to be a baby in there," he says, smiling.
My heart skips a beat and I know the time is right to tell him. "There already is," I whisper, turning to look at him.
He freezes as he understands what I am saying, and then he laughs out loud and starts jumping on the bed, whooping wildly. I laugh and try to calm him down, but he is just too happy. After a while he settles down and lies down next to me again, looking at me in amazement.
"Wow," he says, a bit breathless. "A baby. A real baby."
I smile and just nod. "How long will it be?" he asks in a low voice.
"About seven or eight months."
His eyes widen. "Then we have to get started! There is so much we have to do! We have to put up a crib, buy diapers, get stuffed animals and –"
"Ron!" I silence him. "I think we have a lot of time for all that. Let's just enjoy this, shall we?"
He grins sheepishly and nods, so I settle my head on his chest as I always do and he puts his arms around me tenderly.
A minute later, we are both asleep and dreaming of our life together.
The life we have made together.
--
No.
That is not him.
That is not his hair, his magnificent hair, which lies limply over his forehead. It is not orange, it is not even red. And it is not his.
That is not him.
I know exactly where he is.
He is still where we were on that day. The day our lives started.
I rub my belly carefully. Our beloved baby will come out in almost a month.
And he will be there when it does, because he has to.
He is not gone.
He can't be.
No.
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