Music Author's note : This takes place in the year after graduation … Harry and Ron are dead from trying to defeat Voldemort … Who is not defeated at all. Hermione's POV. Rather dark.

Disclaimer : I own nothing.

Music
By Goblet of Fire

I sit there, thinking. About what, you would ask ? Ha. As if that is not obvious.

The room is dark, only lit by the dying fire in the chimney. Both my elbows are on the table, and I rest my forehead on my arms. Thinking. And waiting for something to happen … What ? I don't know. Maybe a miracle ? Probably. Or a disaster ?

If only I could see them once again … Just to say goodbye …

I am a prisonner. Prisoner of my memories. Prisoner of my mind. Prisoner of my thoughts. Prisoner of myself, of my own body.

I suddendly feel the urge to change. The urge to be free. As so often.

I know exactly what to do. It's the only thing that can calm me down in this troubled period.

I lift my face, and got up. I can see a little tear pool on the table. Have I been crying ? Oh, anyway. It happens so often lately that just once more is nothing …

I walked up to what is now my best friend. The only thing I can tell my sorrows to wordlessly. One thing that is always there for me. The only remain of what Hermione once was. Not the devastated woman she is now. Not even the bossy bookworm everyone knew at Hogwarts. But the innocent little girl, who had one passion. Music. Piano.

I lovingly brush my hand on the keyboard, and sit on the velvet stool. One finger timidly presses a key. The beautiful sound echos through the room. I feel good. At least better. Like someone was speaking to me. Another key, another sound, another word. The silence charm is broken.

I play. I play for myself, for the ones who are not there. Anymore. My fingers rush up and down the keyboard, knowing the notes by heart. Delightful beatitude surrounds me. I am emptying my mind, freeing my soul, casting off. At least trying to. My body is there, playing, but my mind is wandering in far-away lands, forbidden castles, magic forests. Perfect places.

Melodies succed to melodies. My fingers press the right keys, never playing a wrong note. Heavy tears drops fell on the board, as I play louder and louder. I want to forget the cruel reality. I want to escape to somewhere where the thrust is never hard to tell.

They left me, friendless. Alone against the world. Against You-know-who. Alone to fight.

If I had one wish, I know what I would do. Have them back.

My body swing back and forth following the music. The keys my fingers touch are now wet from my crying. But I don't care. All I think of now is music. I dove in the music and wish the ecstasy would never end. And I go on playing. My feet work the pedals perfectly, and the music subjugates me. I am swimming in a pool of delightment.

For precious seconds, I am me. The mask falls. I am not Hermione Granger anymore. The young woman who always kept her composure. The one who hadn't even cried when she was told her best friends' death. The one some would call heartless. The one who never lets herself down. But I do. They never saw me that way. In this very moment, the shield is falling.

I am just Hermione, the little girl who had one passion. Music.

A river. Each drop of water is so clearly described, as shining, as pure. It follows the others, and is soon for-ever lost in the run. A nearby forest, each leaf as green, as thin. The wind brushes past, rustles throught the branches, and one of them is carried off, flying, lightly falling on the water surface. Taken away all the way to the ocean …

People's emotions, their darkest hours, the short glory of their lives. Things words are not powerful enough to speak about. Things only music can tell. Only music can express what I'm actually feeling.

The front door is being blown up. I play. I try to block everything out. I turn my back at the scene. A bit of the the winter's bitterness enters, and caresses my neck. I shiver. But I keep on playing. I sink into the melody, and the melody sinks into my heart.

A cruel laughter fills the room. I do not hear. I am only crying harder, and playing louder. Pearls rolls down my cheeks, straining. I am not looking. Not tring to run. It would be useless. Anyway, why would I ? If I die, then I would see them back. I don't have to run. Is living truly better ?

My blurry vision hardly makes out the keys. In my last moments, I desesperatly try to finish the song, before it happens, I want to play it one more time … It is my last challenge.

Odd. I can see my body here, laying. My head laying on the keyboard. The last, the first wrong notes still ringing out in my ears.

Now I am free.

But as I rise higher, I can see two peoples, smiling at me. Holding their hands out to help me get nearer to them. I do not say goodbye.

Author's note : Short, only 974 words. I like writing dark fics, don't I ? Anyway, I think I'll need a lot of constructive critiscism to improve this. So, REVIEW !!!