Disclaimer: This is a fan written fiction based on the Harry Potter books. Any recognizable element be it character, place, name or plot belongs to J. K. Rowling - the author of Harry Potter - everything else is mine. I make no profit from the creation or posting of this story.


Hermione closed her eyes.

She had to… she couldn't look anymore into those eyes - so much like her own - filed with such pain it hurt and so much resignation she felt like clawing them out only to stop seeing it there. But what else was there to look at, when that hand - that weak, fragile, yet once strong and powerful hand - tried to lift her small hand and failed.

She couldn't look, not when with his guidance, his weak, barely there guidance, she helped him bring her hand up - up to his chest, up to his neck, up to his chin and up to his lips. And then she had to look.

With eyes swimming in burning hot, salty tears she saw him bring her hand closer and closer… and closer, until she felt it, saw it, loved it and hated it all at once, as he touched his lips to her hand and kissed it.

It was his 'Good Bye' and they both knew it and for the first time since his sickness begun she understood - her father was dying.


Author's notes: I don't really know what this is - a story, a thought, nothing at all - but I felt the need to write it...