Disclaimer: I claim nothing.
Just a quick one-shot, seeing as my muse decided to sneak up on me in Science class, and hand me a bag chock full of Plot Bunnies.
I can't seem to forget him. Ginny says 'it is better to have lived and lost than to never have loved at all' but I disagree. I would much rather have never experienced love, because the pain of losing him is far too great. Everything reminds me of him: that stupid golden snitch, the Order, talk about how he 'valiantly gave his life' for the good of the Wizarding World. His memory is haunting me; I can't escape it. He is everywhere.
At school we dated in secret. "Hermione," my professors would say, "you're not acting like yourself. Are you alright?" And I would reply "of course I am! I've been stressed is all." But of course that wasn't the truth. He and I were constantly sneaking around, usually taking full advantage of my private Head Girl dorms. I never understood why he'd never let us go public. I thought he was ashamed of me. He assured me that wasn't the case, that I was just overreacting. He said "Hermione, you know full well that you'd be in danger. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you." Thats also why we couldn't tell our closest friends.
The littlest things always let me know that he did care about me. That he wasn't joking, when he said that I was the only one for him. But the first time he ever said those words to me was in Potion's. I can see it just as though it happened yesterday: him, accidentally dropping his quill next to me, so I could give it back without raising the suspicions of Snape. Our fingers gently brushed against one another, and he whispered, "I love you, Mon Cherie."
My eyes got as wide as saucers, and I could feel my cheeks burning. Snape was coming towards our table, and I quickly turned back to the front of the room, my breathing laboured. "Hermione," Ron whispered. "You okay? You're not... having hot flashes, are you? Why're you all red and blotchy?"
We performed what was labeled the "Quill Maneuver" quite a few times – and each time, he'd whisper dirty things into my ear, leaving me looking worse for wear. Ron, bless his soul, never caught onto a thing.
We made ourselves known out of school – but only to members of the Order. If it were to get out into the Prophet that we were seeing one another – the results would have been disastrous. Unfortunately, not many were happy. I don't understand why that was – I suppose, they may have thought he was destined for other things; other people.
That didn't matter though. Because he loved me, and he never let me forget that. Our kisses were blinding, and our hugs phenomenal. I could just swim in his eyes. Oh, his eyes. There was so much pain, so much loss. One could only imagine how he was still capable of love – after all he'd been through, it almost seemed impossible.
"Hermione?"
Shielding her eyes from the winter sun, Hermione turned around, and smiled softly. "Hi."
"It's freezing out here, are you ready to leave?"
"N-not yet. I just..." she sighed wistfully.
"Hermione, listen to me. He wouldn't have wanted you to waste away your life like this. You're stronger than that. Frankly, he'd be appalled."
"You're right. I know you are, I just can't let go. Not yet."
"You don't have to let go. He wouldn't want you to do that. But instead of mourning him like this, get back out there. Become someone. And when the time is right, you'll be with him again."
"I don't think I'll ever love anyone else."
"Good. He doesn't like to share."
Hermione grinned, and crouched down so she became face to face with the tombstone. Placing roses across the freshly packed dirt, she said, "I'll never forget you, Draconis Lucius Malfoy."
And with that, she placed her hand in Harry's, as he led her away from the cemetery. The final resting place for heroes of the Final Battle.