Black. All around her. Just black. It was the color of the cell, the color of her imprisoner's cloak, and it was the color everyone had worn at his funeral.
It was the color that was beginning to drain her of sanity the way it was so full and heavy yet so empty and void.
She would shut her eyes tight just to see the bright colors on the inside of her eyelids, but even they faded into black after a while.
She would sit there for hours just imagining his fiery red hair and how it was always mussed up when he had just gotten out of bed. She remembered how she used to always fuss over it before they went out somewhere.
"Honestly, Ronald, did you even comb your hair?"
Ron grinned and ran his fingers through his ginger locks.
"I thought you liked it when it was messy, Hermione," he teased. Hermione couldn't help but smile back.
"Of course I do, but I just want you to make a good impression on my parents."
Ron pulled her close by her waist and said, "Your parents will like me and do you want to know why?"
Hermione nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Because I'm
going to tell them what you already know: that I love you and I'm
going to take care of you when you're sick and I'm going to
protect you with my life and that I wouldn't leave you for all the
galleons in the world."
Hermione pushed herself closer to him and they kissed as though they were never to see each other again
"I love you," she said when they finally broke apart.
"I love you," he replied, "and that is why I am going to go comb my hair before we leave."
He gave her a kiss and then hurried to the bathroom. She beamed at him like a fiancé should.
"Hermione Jane Granger." Hermione was brought back to reality by the blinding light of a lantern. "You are summoned to be executed."
Hermione nodded in acceptance. She knew this was her fate.
The words Avada Kedavra had never sounded so sweet as she drifted away from her body.
She was in a field with green grass and flowers of all colors except…
"Red," she whispered.
Then she saw it, rising over a hill in the distance. The mess of locks she had dreamt about for so long. With it came his face and body.
"Ron!" she shouted, thinking the happiness in her heart might make her explode. She sprinted towards him and embraced him, feeling warmth spread through her.
"Is it really you?" she asked.
"Yeah, Hermione, it's me. Sorry I'm running a bit late. I thought I should comb my hair for you," he said, nervously flattening it.
Hermione just smiled and tousled his hair.
"Why? You know I like it messy."
And he wrapped his arms around her waist and she reached her arms around his neck and they kissed as though they would never see each other again.