Hermione felt tears slide their way down the beaten path from tears before them, and did not reach up a hand to brush them away. She stared down, unbelieving, as she sobbed. In front of her feet there lay a freshly dug grave, and a headstone, that she couldn't even make out anymore, her eyes were so filled with pent-up teardrops. She stood, shaking, before falling helplessly onto the dirt on top of the final resting-place. She huddled on the ground, not aware of the dirt seeping into her robes or the flower nearby she was wilting. All she could feel was the pain. Endless pain. Mourning that filled her body and poisoned her senses. Grief that ignited her weeping. She just didn't want to say that he was dead. She feared that if she did it would be a permanent thing-something she couldn't change. And for now she willed it to be a fake, a joke, or a prank.
Would you know my name if I saw you in heaven?
Her heart told her it was real. Her brain reminded her that her best friend was dead. Her soul said nothing, just wept. He had been part of her soul, a piece or her mind, a corner of her heart. And now he was gone. She hated that, loathed that, passionately despised that he was no longer alive. She rolled over and continued to cry, longing for him-and he wasn't there. She held his name dear to her, close to her, as she thought of everything they had shared. The fights, the talks, the adventures-what she wouldn't give to have one of them back! Her most prized possession for another useless quarrel! She scolded herself for thinking that way-nothing she did would bring him back. All of her knowledge, her information, her books, was futile against this monster. The demon of death, that had stole Harry away from her. She screamed bitterly into the soil.
Would it be the same if I saw you in heaven?
Why? She thought to herself. Why did you leave me? "Why did you leave me?" She cried aloud, desperately clinging to his tombstone. "Why…why…" She choked out, dissolving into her misery. She didn't notice the rain that had begun to splatter down from the sky. It soaked her robes, chilled her to the bone, not that she wasn't already shivering. It wasn't long before raindrops mingled with teardrops, and she still had not moved. She wished only to die, so she could be with him again. She hoped to get phenomena, curl up, and waste away on this very spot of earth. At least that way she was near him, in some form. Time melted as she tossed in her agony. The sun set, slowly, beckoning her to come and sleep with it. She did not take heed to this calling. The moon shone brightly above her, as stars crept their way into sight.
I must be strong and carry on,
Hermione felt strong hands grip her. The hands of God, she thought. He's coming for me. I can go up there and be with Him. He's taking me away. Her thoughts became fuzzy, all along this line, as the hold tightened and lifted her up. "No…" She moaned. She attempted to break free from this captor-she now knew that it wasn't sweet chariots-but her strength had been drained. She flailed with the ounce of energy left in her, although it was in vain. A male voice soothed her. "Shhh, Herm, it's me." She knew that voice, she was sure of it. It was so familiar, so safe…whose was it? She could feel him taking her away, and she struggled. She had to be with him! How could she abandon him, now? When he had sacrificed so much for her? Once again her small fights were ineffectual. She gave in, collapsing into his arms, in a haze of sorrow.
'Cause I know I don't belong here in heaven.
Hermione fell asleep shortly, as her redheaded companion carried her. He caressed her long mahogany hair, gazing sadly down upon her angelic face. They had both been struck by Voldemort, in the worst of ways, having their best friend cruelly snatched away from them. Ron sighed and took them both into the castle, his feet heavy not from the weight of Hermione, but from the unbearable depression he was feeling. It seemed to take him hours just to squeeze them both into the Gryffindor Common Room, which was vacant. It was Easter Vacation, and for whatever reason Ron and Hermione were the only Gryffindor students whom had chosen to stay at Hogwarts. Ron glanced around the room, full of lumpy armchairs and overstuffed couches. He gently laid Hermione down on one of these couches, and kissed her lightly on her forehead.
Would you hold my hand if I saw you in heaven?
Hermione did not stir for several hours, almost a day. All the while Ron sat beside her, absentmindedly stroking her hair. She awoke, opening her eyes lazily to the image of Ron, whose eyes were half-open and whose hair was tousled quite a bit. For a few precious seconds she forgot about the night before, and she remembered only when she looked down at her robes, which were splattered with tear marks, rain marks, and dirty scuffs. She felt too dry for emotion, too devoid of activity to show suffering or distress. She felt it-oh; yes-she just couldn't show it. She missed Harry by now too much anyway. Her anguish was beyond tears. Instead a huge hollow filled her, filtering through her venomously, seemingly emptying her of everything-save for her melancholy. The silence of the room was awful; it only increased her despair. Ron wasn't even a comfort.
Would you help me stand if I saw you in heaven?
Hermione buried her head in Ron's shoulder, looking for consoling. He groggily hugged her, and she held on to the embrace. She never wanted to let go, to just succumb herself in him, to make all her pain fade away right here, right now. Her voice muffled, she whispered to Ron. "I miss him." Three words. Yet the feeling, the fire behind it was staggering. She did miss him, with every fiber in her body. Ron kissed her sleek hair and she dozed off again, leaving Ron alone with his thoughts. He sat in silence for a time, and than, in a barely audible murmur he replied to the sleeping Hermione, "I miss him too."