Grief.
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter why would I be on ?
Summary: Harry loved Hermione and vice versa, but Hermione was killed in the Last Battle. How does Harry cope? Oneshot, canon.
A/N: A random oneshot to help me think. Enjoy.
Enough of my ramblings.
-Darth
Maximus
Rain fell from the sombre grey sky, reflecting Harry's mood as he knelt placed a bunch of flowers at Hermione's grave. The crowd of wizards and wizards, all with sorrowful expressions on their faces stood silently, watching Harry. Silent tears dropped as he cried. The gloomy rain increased its beat on the earth's surface, but no one lifted an umbrella. Harry lifted his head, and thought back to the Last Battle.
Flashes of red and green sped through the grey morning, the Death Eaters were moving too quickly. Amidst the fray, a Harry Potter stood his ground with Lord Voldemort.
"Your pathetic resistance will not last long," Voldemort hissed at Harry. Harry ignored him, and gripped his wand tighter as he let fly with a Reductor curse. Voldemort side-stepped the curse, and almost tauntingly cast the Cruciatus. Harry screamed in pain as the curse eviscerated his mind, torturing his mind with its intensity. He barely had time to recover and roll away as the torture curse ended, and a brilliant green flash of light rent the ground in half. Harry stood up shakily, bracing himself for the next Cruciatus. This had been the procedure of the duel, and he didn't think he could last much longer. Harry crawled to his feet, panting hard. He glanced up to see Voldemort's wand raised, but not at him. Voldemort aimed to Harry's left, where he saw Hermione duelling with a Death Eater.
"NO!" Harry's agonised voice ripped through the air. Hermione finished the Death Eater, and turned around, a fearful expression on her face.
"Avada Kedavra!" the jet of sickly green left Voldemort's wand. Harry's world collapsed around him as Hermione was blown off her feet. Slowly, it seemed, that Hermione arced through the air, and landed in a crumbled heap, like a rag-doll carelessly thrown against the wall. Voldemort had a moment of triumph, looking gloatingly at the horrified expression in Harry's face before Harry was on his feet in a rage.
"EFFLIXIO!"
A yellow beam sped out of Harry's wand. Voldemort instinctively ducked, but the spell seemed to follow him in a bending arc. He looked blankly as the jet entered his body, then screamed as non-
existent white-hot flames engulfed his insides. He looked at Harry, who already had his back turned and was fighting another enemy.
Dumbledore looked up into the grey sky, remembering the happiness of the Gryffindor trio, and especially moments of Harry and Hermione together. He laughed, sadly at the fortune fate had provided. Harry looked up, rage in his eyes at the person who had dared to laugh at the funeral, but grief made him lose all the fire he had. A bell tolling in the distance signalled a few hours into the afternoon. With a shifting of feet, the mass of mourners left slowly. Harry stayed motionless for a moment, and then left.
Harry leaned back in this chair and poured a little Firewhiskey into his glass. He fingered the small bump in his robe pocket for a moment, and took it out. It was a small white capsule, especially designed to dissolve quickly in any liquid. Harry lifted the glass in an imaginary toast, and then drained it.
"Soon, we'll be together, Hermione," he whispered softly. He fell without a sound, a contented smile on his lips.
A/N: Like I said, a random oneshot.