Goodbye to You
Of all the things I've believed in
I just wanna get it over with
I sat in front of the Common Room fire, staring at it, listening to the crackling, inhaling its intoxicating scent.
God, I miss you.
We were always like this. We always sat in front of the fire for hours every night, talking. Or not. It didn't really matter. We reveled in each other's company.
Those were the Dark Days. They seemed to stretch out forever, and we had to be "constantly vigilant" as Alastor Moody put it. Looking back, though, that period didn't take more than a hundredth of my life.
That time—it was utterly horrible. I didn't have anyone. There wasn't anyone to trust, not even my family, especially Percy. They could have been under the Imperial Curse. I really didn't know. All I had was Harry, and the Order.
And You.
I had You.
And, those times, I used to think that I could lose everything—absolutely everything—but suffer no consequences as long as You were here, as long as We existed.
That thought of Us drove me, kept me alive, kept me sane when the times got hard, and all I wanted to do was to throw myself off the Astronomy Tower. I knew that I wouldn't, that I would never, as long as you were there, and you would need me.
Every relationship has had its haven. Ironically, ours was when the entire Wizarding World was about to break out in hell.
In front of the fire, we used to talk about the future, about what we would do when the war would be over. We discussed marriage, and children, and everything anyone could imagine. We made our guests' seating arrangements, presuming that they were still alive by then. But we pretended that all was well, and there wasn't a war, taking place just outside the school boundaries. We always smiled, and always tried to be optimistic, though we were fully aware that being so would cost us dearly.
The war finally ended, and, not long after, so did We. I don't know why, exactly. I know that I loved You, and I probably always would, but the Fall changed something between Us, it made us drift apart somehow, a product of, I suppose, pain and loss. I lost my father and Percy, and you lost your parents. Depression overcame us, I guess. And, the period after the Fall, we mourned, and nothing more.
We didn't break up, not really. We just started seeing each other less and less, and talking became less frequent. Harry…well, Harry had his own life to manage, and his own girlfriend (my sister) to comfort. He lost Remus during the war, but I reckon Remus wanted to go, anyway. Couldn't imagine how the bloke gets by with that kind of pain every month.
We drifted apart, but I never stopped loving you. I never would. I don't want to.
But sometimes, I imagine what it would be like if I did. There would be less pain, less sleepless nights, less tears shed for what already was, but couldn't be.
The temptation exists, and I waver on the scale. Yet, I've gone this far without succumbing to it. I don't know if I truly don't want to let you go, or if I just can't.
Tears form behind my eyes, but I do not cry
Counting the days that passed me by.
The Fall has cost me more than I could pay in a lifetime. I lost two members of my family. I lost several friends, and allies. I lost my mentor in the Order. But, most of all, I lost You.
If there was anything that the War has taught me, it was to be strong. And, among men, strength was measured by how much you could take before you broke down completely.
And I never did.
It's been a year, and yet, I've never cried.
The war left me cold, somehow. It left me unfeeling, immune to the pains of the world.
I was jaded, and nothing could ever hope to make me feel.
That is, except for you.
I ached for you constantly, months after the Fall.
And that scared me.
I've been searching deep down in my soul.
Words that I'm hearing are starting to get old.
Feels like I'm starting all over again
The last three years were just pretend.
Since I realized I've lost you (and somehow, I am ashamed to admit that I haven't immediately), I didn't try to get you back, or to give it a shot. You were mourning, and you were sad, and I knew that I couldn't penetrate the walls of emotion put up by a distraught 'Mione.
I have to keep reminding myself that I couldn't call you 'Mione anymore. I know that you're not restricting me, or anything, but the name carries so much more than your image. The name isn't only yours.
It was ours.
The name 'Mione brings to memory cold school nights by the fire, those summer days in the Burrow when we would frolic around in the meadows and bask in the warm rays of the sun. 'Mione brings the joy and warmth in me that I thought could never exist, but did.
The name 'Mione brings the comfort I don't deserve.
I'll have to start over. Even if it doesn't particularly thrill me, those moments would have to cease existing. I have to move on, and when I do, I know that you'd want me to, too, if we actually took time to sit and talk a bit, like friends who catch up, like we used to, and not like we are burdened by the other.
I understand that, at some point, you would refuse to let me go. I know you love me, and I hope that you know that I love you just as much, if not infinitely more. But, I also understand that what we had is over now. I couldn't explain it, couldn't hope to try. I just know, deep in my gut, the fat lady has long finished her song.
It's done.
And I still get lost in your eyes
And it seems that I can't live a day without you.
I swore to myself that I would move on, and do whatever it takes to forget you (even if I couldn't, and didn't particularly want to). I knew that it was for the best of us. I couldn't do much help for you, couldn't provide the comfort you need; I am in dire need of comforting myself. I suppose I'm being what they term as The Crappy Boyfriend, but I had my reasons, and even now, I fail to understand what they really are. I just knew, in my gut, that when I learn to move on, everything would be all right.
Accidentally, when I was cleaning up the stuff under my bed, I saw your picture. It was the one we took over the summer, with the muggle camera, with the lens zoomed close to you, and your face in the most radiant of all smiles. And I saw your eyes.
I've always loved your eyes.
Your eyes portrayed so much depth, character, life…so much…Hermione, that I was often left breathless just looking into them.
This case was no different. Your eyes shone with an internal light, a beautiful kind of glow. They danced around mirthfully and laughed. They sparkled in your brilliance, hinting that you're quite the contrary of how you look, intelligence-wise. But most of all, I saw the love in them, directed to the one who took the photo.
Directed to me.
And, that moment when I realized that those eyes shone for me, every single memory came crashing down on me in heartbreaking torrents. They swam around, plagued my mind, and took over.
And, finally, for the first time in over two years, since the Rising, I cried.
I cried because you weren't there.
I cried because I knew that those eyes still held some love for me.
And I cried because I knew that I couldn't live without you.
But I had to.
Closing my eyes, and you chase the thoughts away
To the place where I am blinded by the light
That night, I slept. I slept, and the demons that ordinarily chased me through my dreams weren't there. They have disappeared, and I've had the worst nightmare I've had since the Rising.
I dreamt of you. And in my dream, we were frolicking around in the meadows by the Burrow, chasing butterflies and each other, as we always did. The sun shone on our backs, and you laughed your gleeful laugh, and we kissed like we used to, long and slow and sweet, like we always did, those days. Qualms were nonexistent. All that was were Us.
And the sun shone once more, blinding me in its light.
But it's not right.
Insanity, as expected, ensued. I spent every day and night awake, just to avoid dreaming again. I never want to see that scene, to feel the way I did.
Even if it felt like absolute heaven.
If I were to move on, I would move on right.
And it hurts to want everything and nothing at the same time.
I want what's yours and I want what's mine.
I want you, but I'm not giving in this time.
I still love you, Hermione. I still hunger for those days in my dream, when we would play by the meadows and laugh throughout the daytime, and sit by the fire, and talk quietly at night.
And, at some degree, I know that I will never have that again. I never could.
Remember that, Hermione. I love you, I still want you.
I don't want to dwell on the past.
And You, and Us…that's my past.
Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything I thought I knew.
You were the one I loved
The one thing that I've tried to hold on to.
I love you Hermione. Just…bear that in mind. Bury it in some lost corner of your soul, so it would never leave you, even if you would forget.
Remember the War, and how I've held on, struggling to stay alive despite the numerous brushes with death. I stayed alive for you.
I just thought I'd tell you this, even if I'm well aware that you couldn't hear me. I suppose you've gotten the gist from the things I've been saying over and over, but this is how I'd say goodbye.
I thought that it would grant me some closure, at least, if I try to pretend that you were here, listening to what I have to say, nodding, regardless of your own opinion.
But you're not here.
And when the stars fall I will lie awake
For some reason, even if I'm here, in front of the fire, an image of you flashes before my eyes.
I see you, with the sun setting on the horizon behind you, and the clouds crown your head in the most sorrowful of all crowns.
You're holding a rose, and your finger is bleeding, most likely from a thorn.
You're crying.
You open your mouth, and you speak, but I don't hear words. They somehow play around in my mind, in strangely soft, uncontainable echoes.
"You left me, Ron," you said in a flat, deadened sort of voice that gives one the impression that you've done more than your share of suffering. "You left me, and for a while, I hated you for it. For a while, I've blamed myself, and then you, and then Him. But the whole time, I never stopped loving you."
I sat, confused.
"And, after all this time, Ron, I am ready to let you go."
I squeezed my eyes shut, and slowly opened them.
And images swirled, and mixed, and settled. I was seated on a tombstone in the cemetery, and you were kneeling in front of me.
I saw the tombstone.
Everything faded from sight.
And I understood.
I cried out, tried to speak, tried to tell you how much I love you, and that I'd be waiting for you, but my cries became nothing more than a breeze that barely ruffled your hair.
You're my shooting star.
You smiled sadly, and murmured, "I know."
The fire blazed on, in one solitary corner of my mind, and for the last time, even in my mind's eye, I saw Us.
A/N: Well, this is my first R/Hr fic, and I find it rather crappy, really, but I just wanted to give it a shot.
The ending was supposed to be some sort of closure thing, but this one occurred to me at the last moment, so I decided to go with it. It's sort of The Others-ish, I think. I've never really seen the movie, my friends only told me about it. You know, about ghosts not knowing that they're dead, and they continue to live their lives as if they were still alive, but they really aren't? I'm not sure if it's The Others or if it's The Sixth Sense. Whatever.
Review, please.