It was the day after Christmas and Harry was lying awake in a bed at the Burrow. He checked his watch – Six o'clock in the morning. Freshly fallen snow had blanked the ground and trees. The rest of the world was asleep and Harry was alone.
He sat up – once his feet dangled from the edge of this bed – but now they met the cold wood floors that belonged to Ron's bedroom. In the dark he silently rummaged through his trunk looking for a change of clothing. Harry pulled a worn pair of jeans and a sweater knitted by Mrs. Weasley from the mess within his trunk.
Harry left the bedroom and walked down the creaking stairs. Unsurprisingly, the kitchen was empty. A mere twenty-four hours ago it bustled full of Weasley's enjoying tea and a hearty Christmas breakfast. Harry walked past the family clock, looking up and then quickly dropping his eyes to the floor. He made to settle on the couch, by the fire, but he was apparently not the only one with the same idea. Ginny was balled up on the corner of the couch. It appeared that she too was looking to find some solace within the flames.
Ginny sat up and held her hand out for him to join her. Harry sat beside her, their hands interlocked. Ginny rested her head on his shoulder.
"Why...why did this have to happen?" she asked. Though Ginny knew full well Harry did not have an answer for her.
Harry sighed, "I don't know, Gin."
Ginny turned her head and buried her face in Harry's shoulder. Her cries were muffled within his woolen sweater. Harry had been holding back his own tears all night. Alone with Ginny however, he was able to let them fall.
Harry's thoughts drifted to Hermione. She didn't know yet. She wasn't here. She had spent Christmas day with her parents. Hermione was due to arrive at the burrow later this morning. He would volunteer to deliver the news to her of course, but how – when he'd been trying to deny it all night. Here – with the closest thing he had to his own family. Here – in the arms of his girlfriend, he felt more alone than he ever had before.
Harry didn't remember feeling this empty when Sirius died. He didn't remember a lead weight in his heart. He didn't – Harry was drowning in his tears now, trying so hard to hold himself together, if only for Ginny. Trying, but failing miserably.
At Ten-thirty, right on schedule as always, Hermione flooed into the kitchen fireplace. She was weighed down with an armful of presents. Her hair freshly curled falling haphazardly onto her face. Harry had been pacing the kitchen waiting for her arrival.
"Harry! Merry Christmas!" She cheerfully greeted him while depositing the presents onto the empty kitchen table. She stepped closer to Harry and stood on tiptoes to kiss him lightly on the cheek. "Where is everyone?" she asked cheerfully.
Harry's insides turned over. There was no polite or gentle way to say what he had to say. The spot of dirt on her nose from the fireplace ashes was making it extremely difficult to focus properly and get the words out. A vision of Ron on the train, the day the three of them met flashed in his mind. "Hermione." he said quietly. "You – you should sit." He placed his hands on her shoulders and before any words could be spoken, she turned her head to the family clock.
Hermione took a quick intake of breath and put her hands over her mouth before collapsing to her knees at Harry's feet. He crouched in front of her and embraced her as tightly as possible. "NO! NO!" she screamed while shaking violently. They sat for what seemed like ages on the cold stone floor. Harry would not let her go for fear that Hermione could no longer support her own weight.
Harry knew all too well. The pain he had been feeling for the past eighteen hours now fresh in Hermione's mind and soul. Alone wasn't the appropriate word for how they both felt at that moment. Alone was far too cheerful. Beyond all the sadness in the kitchen, upon Ron's dresser laid his Christmas surprise for Hermione. Inside a tiny box, was the ring that Ron had planned to place on Hermione's finger that very night. Revealing that to Hermione would have to come later. For now, she certainly didn't need a further burden on her shoulders.
The next week was spent amidst funeral arrangements and guests. Lupin and Tonks had set up residence at the burrow and were helping to take care of the house. Neither Hermione nor Harry were speaking very much, they remained in separate rooms upstairs far from the constant visitors, all paying their respects.
In a failed attempt to bring some semblance of normalcy back to their lives, Harry and Hermione exchanged their Christmas gifts the night before they were to return to Hogwarts. Harry pulled from his pocket, Ron's last gift to Hermione. She did not cry when she opened the box, but removed the pendant from her necklace and replaced it with the ring. She would never wear the ring on her finger, as Ron had been unable to place it upon her hand.
a/n: This one-shot plot bunny came to me when I was driving home from work. It loosely follows a pop-song. If you can pick it out, well good for you. Sorry if I drove you to tears with this.