AUTHOR'S NOTE: The poem below is my own work. Although I may dream, I do not, nor will I ever, own Harry Potter, Hogwarts, etc. Please forgive me if there are tear stains on this story. I cried lots while writing.
You ever look at the stars in the sky
and noticed the brightest ones, that streak by
never last long, and no one knows why
always the brightest stars in the sky.
They catch our attention with twinkles of light
subtle yet standing out, all through the night
not dim little twits, they're astoundingly bright
but they move much too fast, on a non-stop flight
Never 'round long enough, always to fly
through our thick night in the cloak that's the sky
Help us a little, then go out, by-and-by
and always the brightest stars in the sky.
Hermione had died quietly. He'd found her on the couch, a book in her lap, slumped, with no pulse.
Fitting, Ron thought, that the last thing she'd do is read a book.
I don't understand this. We're not even that old. Forty-five? That's still young, especially next to Nick Flamel or whatever the hell his name is. I didn't say goodbye. I grunted and said I was going to bed while she stayed up and read. I should have noticed she didn't come to bed. I should have gone downstairs to check on her.
The kindly woman at St. Mungos gave him a sympathetic look.
Hell. I don't want a sympathetic look. I want a ressurection.
"Ron!" cried Hary, sprinting toward him as fast as his legs would carry him. "Is this real?"
Ron gave him a look that said, Do I look like it's April Fool's Day, you dimwit?
Tears were streaming down Ginny's face.
"She can't have... she didn't..." she slumped down next to Ron and buried her face in his shoulder.
Harry just sat by Ginny, too shocked to say anything.
Hermione looked around. She was in the library at Hogwarts. No, it couldn't be. It was much, much bigger. Far as she could see, and farther. Books on every shelf.
She had no urge to read.
"Hermione?" asked a voice. She whirled around, seeing Remus Lupin, looking as he looked when she'd seen him last as a seventeen-year-old.
"Lupin!" she cried. "I'm dead, aren't I?"
"You must be," he said. "You're here with me."
"How did I die?" she asked. She felt like crying, yet couldn't physically cry.
"I beleive it was cardiac arrest. Very rare for someone of your age and physical condition."
"But... I didn't even say goodnight to Ron," she whimpered.
"You'll see him later." Lupin smiled and sat down at a table. "Let's talk, Hermione. When you're dead, you have all the time in the world."