Dead of Night
The dead haunt thier dreams...
"There're all dead, you know." She said, downing her coffee in one swig.
"Yeah, I know." And he slowly sipped his tea, herbal with no sugar. He was particular in things like this. Like how his tea had to be just like that. And how, for some reason, he came by at ten o'clock at night, to visit her. And now, against all inane and random plans he had, they had ended up talking about the dead. The death of everyone they knew.
"And it's not like I didn't know people were going to die." she wiped her mouth and closed her eyes for a second. "Its just that...I didn't expect it to be….to have so many die…to just have them….have them…wiped away. Their lives are now like…like…like some empty board. Devoid of knowledge, and memories, and love, and pain, and laughter….and them."
"They're not completely gone, you know." He said, his eyes trying to not look at hers.
"Yes…they are. Please don't be like them. The smothering glances. I can feel it emitting off them. Feel the pity, and the wordless 'it'll be okay' or the 'be lucky you're alive.' But," and this time she did let one tear fall from her eye, "I just want to have one person say, 'Yes, they are gone, we know. And it's not going to be okay, at least not for a while, and we know that too. And that we don't pity you, we love you.' But no one, no one in hell seems to be able to say that. And they don't seem to get it…they are gone. Vanished. Out of our lives."
"No...They are alive in your memory."
"But that's the thing, Draco…I can't…I can't…oh Merlin! I can't remember them! I've tried! I've tried to so hard to conjure an image, a picture, a sound…when Ron finally lost a game of chess…or Harry…dear Lord, when sweet Harry first came to Hogwarts. I used to remember, through all my focus on school, and even through my first encounter of Hogwarts, Harry's first glimpse at the castle." She put her head in her hands. "I want so badly to go back to first year. Those were the best years of my life."
"But you won't heal if you don't move on." He said, hoping that she would lift her head and give him a sign. Any sign that she was healing, that she was coming to terms with it.
"Maybe I don't want to move on. Maybe I want to stay here, in this same house, spending my days daydreaming that Harry and Ron, Bill, mum, Molly, Seamus…oh god, and Sirius, and Remus, and Kingsly….and Dumbledore…when they live and love and laugh again. I spend every day, sleeping, taking Dream Pills, so that I can dream that we're all together again. I can't even sleep without them. Because at night, sometimes, when I wake up, I can see their faces on the wall, and they are calling to me." She shut her eyes tightly, hugged her arms around her. "But I….I can't hear them, Draco. And when I try to….to touch them, they disappear. And when I walk down stairs, I'm afraid. It's not that fact that it's dark; it's the fact that it's dark without them. It's an empty dark, and nothing is there to fill it up. Sometimes I feel like I am going to get swallowed up inside the darkness."
He nodded. Really, what was there to say? "Well, you know, I have lost people too."
For a moment, she seemed to forget her grief. For a second, she was focused just on him. And to Draco, it gave him, for two seconds, the thrill of the sunlight shining down on him, even though it was near midnight. "Who did you lose, Draco?" she sad timidly.
"He sighed. I suppose you can remember. After all, it's as much in the paper as yours. But now, I have to go one without…Pansy died, Death eater killed her. She never was strong enough. Poor girl, by choosing the right side, she chose the wrong answer. Then there was Goyle…he died one night at a raid where we were staying. I blame myself for that. He never really understood what he was getting into. He just followed me, always above the worrying and the crying. Blaise is still alive though, but he's….he's in St. Mungos. Brain damage. He can barely speak. He can barely remember. He just keeps asking for Daphne. To see him now you have to cry, he's so pitiful. Then of course, Daphne Greengrass died. Then Nott. Flint. Montague. Pucey. Warrington. And then there was Tracey Davis. Little slip of a thing. Got caught in a fight between her father and mother. Tried to protect her mum…but died as her father killed them both…All of us, you know. All of our generation, at Hogwarts. I think more of the Slytherin Students died than Gryffindors….because when we chose the Light side; it's the wrong answer for the Dark side. And in our families, there are consequences. Mum died too….she couldn't hold her own….After my bastard father died….Mum tried to get help from some of your people….and then…" he found, as he rubbed his eyes, that he had been crying softly. His cheeks were red, and he looked at Hermione, and wondered if things would ever be the same.
"I know…" she said. "But it's not like….like…." she sighed, and frowned "I don't know what I want to say. I want to say…say that I miss everyone…but that has already been said. I've used up all my words, Draco. And most of my tears. Frankly…tonight I have cried for the last time. I can't seem to cry anymore. I'm dried up. I'm dead, Draco."
"I…know, Hermione."
"But…" she looked at him, and she could see herself echoed in his face. "We…we are both dead, Draco," she said softly. "We are the same as them…except this is worse."
"How is it worse, Hermione?" he said gently.
"Because we can't follow them. Because instead of following them across the sky, meeting them on the other side, we are stuck here on earth, and we are still dead. We don't any emotions anymore, Draco. We are dead. Nothing is alive inside of us. And even if there is no heaven, at least they do not feel it. Feel the grief and longing. And the death. But we do. And we have to carry it upon our backs, even though….even though we are dead."
"But there's reason to live, Hermione."
"No, there isn't."
"Hermione, it's been three years! Three years since Harry and Ron fell! And, it's been almost a years since Remus died. A year since you caught the last of the Death eaters! Why can't you just…?"
"Because I'm alone. And life isn't worth it."
"Yes, yes, there is. We have each other. And Blaise, Blaise is alive. And Ginny….Ginny is alive. And the twins….the twins are still alive! And Mr. Weasly. And Snape. And Tonks. And Moody."
"Stop, Draco. Stop trying to make me feel better." She looked down.
"But, but I have to! I can't, I can't stand seeing you like this. Smile…just, try and think about your happiest memory." He pleaded, trying to get her attention.
"Why did you come, here, Draco." She said coldly. "Mock me? Make it hurt worse than normal. Why?" she hissed, and for a fleeting second, the first second in three years, she had an anger in her eyes.
"Because…" he said hoarsely. "I can't stand not seeing you smile." He stood up, and raised his hands. "Because it pains me that I can't make you smile, anymore! Hermione, it hurts to not be able to make you smile!" he took her hand slowly. "Hermione" he begged.
"Draco…" she said after a while, and she looked out the window. The sky was cloudy; thunderheads were rolling in. The moon was sparsely lit, and for an ephemeral second, the sky seemed to light up. The clouds were blasted open, and the moon was covered by shreds of gossamer mist. He mind reeled, replaying the events of the last three years. She watched, horrified over and over again as Sirius fell through the Veil, Dumbledore's body on the grass, and Harry and Ron….wands pointed at their chests, as Harry struck the final low against Voldemort. She watched as Remus's body was brought in, strung to the sound of spooling, winding cacophony.
Then her mind blacked out, and the next second she was staring into Draco's eyes. "Draco…" she said again, and this time she wearily lifted a hand to push him back. "If you wanted to make me smile, you should have come three years ago." Resignedly, she led him toward the door.
Draco looked down, defeated. "I'm not giving up, Hermione. He stood back, waiting for her answer.
"The dead can't smile anymore than they can breath, Draco." And as she said that, her body was caught in a swirl of durst; her clothes were torn off, to reveal a skeleton, a jumble of bones amidst a mass of hair. He watched in horror as her skeleton crumbed toward the earth, a dust pile her only remainder.
Draco woke up with a start, chest breathing heavily. He pushed his hair out of his eyes, and stumbled over to the calendar hung on the wall. "October 13th." He whispered. He passed hand over his eyes.
"Three weeks." He whispered, and his breath and murmur seemed to fill up the dank room.
Three weeks had that dream plagued him.
Three weeks had he waken up in a cold sweat, searching the darkness for her face.
Because it had been three weeks since he had visited her, a replica of his own nightmarish dreams.
Three weeks since he had Disapparated from her house, the last words he heard from her lips were "The dead can't smile anymore than they can breath, Draco."
And it had been three weeks since Hermione Granger committed suicide, intent on following her friends into the afterlife.
And leaving Draco Malfoy behind.
Author's Note: You may have some questions concerning as to why Hermione is thinking as well, even though it's a dream. Want to know the reason? The intelligent, logical, reasonable, clever, rational, valid, plausible, obvious, sensible, and understandable reason?
It's simple; the author currently known as RoadtoRuin says so…oh, the joys of artistic license.
Happy reviewing. Any who review get a vanilla and chocolate frosted cupcake.