The rain poured steadily downward as Harry unpacked his things and
loaded them into the trunk at the end of his four-poster. He turned and
looked at Ron's old bed.empty. He was alone. Everyone else had gone down
to the feast. He'd be able to go down and enjoy himself, as well if Ron
would just come back. Harry fell back onto his bed and tried to remember
that morning.
It had been the best day of Harry's life; the Weasleys had invited him and Hermione to stay over Christmas break. Harry awoke on Christmas morning looked out the window of Ron's room. The sky was a shade of pure white and it was snowing softly. Fred and George were already awake, throwing snowballs at each other and trying to persuade Ginny to take their side. When they came down to breakfast, Mrs. Weasley had made the most wonderful meal Harry had ever eaten! Oh! And the presents! Harry had never seen so many things for him! Books and action figures, posters, games, candy, and so much more. He laughed with Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys all morning when there was a knock at the door. Ron, feeling like being nice on Christmas ran to answer it.
It sure was taking him an awful long time for him to get back, so Percy called to him.
"Ron? Who was at the door?" No answer. "Ron?" Harry volunteered to go see where he was and practically floated to the front door. He felt light as a feather, he was so happy. But the second he got to the door, it felt like he had just become a fifty ton weight. The wind had picked up and frozen snow swirled across the front yard. No Ron. There was a sign of a struggle in the snow. But no Ron. They spend months searching. Poring truth potions into everybody's drinks, trying to find out something.but still no Ron.
Now, two years later, Harry finds himself half expecting Ron to come bursting through the portrait hole and start complaining about some random thing such as his brothers or Malfoy, or something. But still, no Ron. Everyone thinks he's dead. Hermione couldn't handle it and she moved away. To Paris where she attends Beauxbattons. So Harry's alone. He goes over to the window and opens it, letting the rain fog his glasses and chill his body. He tries to remember the last time she saw her, one year ago.
The sun was setting and the Hogwarts Express that was going to take Hermione away was whistling shrilly in the back of Harry's mind. Everyone was going home for a few weeks than back to school for the next term. Everyone except Harry's last hope. She was leaving for good. The conductor yelled that it was leaving in two minutes. So Hermione gathered her things and turned to leave, but Harry held tightly to her hand. Tears pouring.
"You can't leave me, Hermione. What will I do?" She didn't answer; she just kissed Harry on the cheek and pulled out of his desperate grasp. She ran faster when he called to her and didn't look back. The sun turned the sky blood red and the breeze made Harry's tears feel even more cold and wretched.
Now, Harry waits for a letter, a gift.nothing, no Hermione. He's written to her at least a hundred or more times and no answer. So he spills tears over her picture and daydreams of the great memories and laughter the tree of them shared. Looking at his marks, Harry's surprised he even passed. Hermione would be scolding him right about now. She'd be giving advice on how he could improve. But he hears no lecture, no advice, no Hermione. Just the wind, and the rain, and the emptiness.
The other students point and whisper as they pass through the halls. No one shows any signs of sympathy, just Ginny. After Hermione left, he and Ginny spent as much time together as possible. But one night, she didn't cry as usual. Her small freckled face was pale and looked dead. Ginny said she was tired and went to bed early without saying goodbye.
The next morning Harry awoke to the shrieks of Lavender Brown. He came running, and there he saw it. Ginny's dead body. Harry didn't, he couldn't accept it, and he held her closely in his arms and wept in her hair, hoping to wake her up. And still, no Ginny. But Ginny's blue eyes didn't flutter open and sparkle as they usually did. She didn't stare at him with loving admiration, and then hide her face in embarrassment. She didn't hold his hand or say she missed Ron. She just lay lifeless. No soft small voice, no gentle hug, no Ginny.
Now he waits for someone to come sweep him out of this undeserved hell. But no one comes. And he longs to find out why, but no one answers his calls. Harry Potter, a celebrity since birth, happier than ever, dependent on the help of his friends, now a loner. Disgraced, humiliated and an island. No Ron. No Hermione. No Ginny. No Harry.
Fin.
It had been the best day of Harry's life; the Weasleys had invited him and Hermione to stay over Christmas break. Harry awoke on Christmas morning looked out the window of Ron's room. The sky was a shade of pure white and it was snowing softly. Fred and George were already awake, throwing snowballs at each other and trying to persuade Ginny to take their side. When they came down to breakfast, Mrs. Weasley had made the most wonderful meal Harry had ever eaten! Oh! And the presents! Harry had never seen so many things for him! Books and action figures, posters, games, candy, and so much more. He laughed with Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys all morning when there was a knock at the door. Ron, feeling like being nice on Christmas ran to answer it.
It sure was taking him an awful long time for him to get back, so Percy called to him.
"Ron? Who was at the door?" No answer. "Ron?" Harry volunteered to go see where he was and practically floated to the front door. He felt light as a feather, he was so happy. But the second he got to the door, it felt like he had just become a fifty ton weight. The wind had picked up and frozen snow swirled across the front yard. No Ron. There was a sign of a struggle in the snow. But no Ron. They spend months searching. Poring truth potions into everybody's drinks, trying to find out something.but still no Ron.
Now, two years later, Harry finds himself half expecting Ron to come bursting through the portrait hole and start complaining about some random thing such as his brothers or Malfoy, or something. But still, no Ron. Everyone thinks he's dead. Hermione couldn't handle it and she moved away. To Paris where she attends Beauxbattons. So Harry's alone. He goes over to the window and opens it, letting the rain fog his glasses and chill his body. He tries to remember the last time she saw her, one year ago.
The sun was setting and the Hogwarts Express that was going to take Hermione away was whistling shrilly in the back of Harry's mind. Everyone was going home for a few weeks than back to school for the next term. Everyone except Harry's last hope. She was leaving for good. The conductor yelled that it was leaving in two minutes. So Hermione gathered her things and turned to leave, but Harry held tightly to her hand. Tears pouring.
"You can't leave me, Hermione. What will I do?" She didn't answer; she just kissed Harry on the cheek and pulled out of his desperate grasp. She ran faster when he called to her and didn't look back. The sun turned the sky blood red and the breeze made Harry's tears feel even more cold and wretched.
Now, Harry waits for a letter, a gift.nothing, no Hermione. He's written to her at least a hundred or more times and no answer. So he spills tears over her picture and daydreams of the great memories and laughter the tree of them shared. Looking at his marks, Harry's surprised he even passed. Hermione would be scolding him right about now. She'd be giving advice on how he could improve. But he hears no lecture, no advice, no Hermione. Just the wind, and the rain, and the emptiness.
The other students point and whisper as they pass through the halls. No one shows any signs of sympathy, just Ginny. After Hermione left, he and Ginny spent as much time together as possible. But one night, she didn't cry as usual. Her small freckled face was pale and looked dead. Ginny said she was tired and went to bed early without saying goodbye.
The next morning Harry awoke to the shrieks of Lavender Brown. He came running, and there he saw it. Ginny's dead body. Harry didn't, he couldn't accept it, and he held her closely in his arms and wept in her hair, hoping to wake her up. And still, no Ginny. But Ginny's blue eyes didn't flutter open and sparkle as they usually did. She didn't stare at him with loving admiration, and then hide her face in embarrassment. She didn't hold his hand or say she missed Ron. She just lay lifeless. No soft small voice, no gentle hug, no Ginny.
Now he waits for someone to come sweep him out of this undeserved hell. But no one comes. And he longs to find out why, but no one answers his calls. Harry Potter, a celebrity since birth, happier than ever, dependent on the help of his friends, now a loner. Disgraced, humiliated and an island. No Ron. No Hermione. No Ginny. No Harry.
Fin.