Citadel
By
Venatianwings
Summary : She could stillvividly see the passion for life that shone to the very depths of those mirrors of his soul. She could still see the rain of promises of his endless love, untarnished by the grossness of words. She could see his fear, see his dreams…a glimpse of heaven that they one day, hoped to share…
The still attic was awash with sunshine on that bright October morning. A thin layer of dust enveloped everything it held- the oldand rusty furniture, wooden crates, the countless boxes filled with things clad in yesteryears, almost alien to her world.This was where her memories lived. This was where time ensnared snippets of her life, encasing them in souvenirs, trinkets and odd little keepsakes. Here the overwhelming vibes of nostalgia spread through the cramped space of her loft, seeping through the wood, the air and her very heart.
Hermione made her way over the creaky floor- very carefully lest she should disturb any sleeping reminiscences- to a shabby box placed just under the skylight. The morning sun bathed it in gold and she smiled wistfully. Yes, it could glow, why not? It was so, so precious…
Every month Hermione would pay a visit to her attic. Just once a month, but unfailingly. She had always found comfort and solacealong with a lingering pain, whenever she was in her attic with her memories. Memories that befriended her when a cherished dream fell asleep, memories that bore her weight when her knees gave way and there was no Ron to break her fall. Memories giving her strength where despair threatened to maim her life, memories now the only pillars of her citadel…
Sitting down, she slowly wiped away the limply hanging cobwebs at the side. He would not like those, no…She smiled. Then leaning down, blew off the layer of dust that had collected on the top. The sunbeams enwreathed her long brown hair, setting every strand afire. Her eyes were subdued, starry, brimming over with longing. Her slight figure was poised gracefully against a beam. Through her watering eyes, she studied her tidy writing on the top of the box.
She delicately picked out a bundle of letters and let her fingers slide over the untidy scrawl. She had read every one of them so many times- how could she ever grow tired of them? His letters were just like him, full of life and color, sadly lacking in accuracy of spelling, but overflowing with enthusiasm and genuine warmth. She had lived by them for twelve years since Hogwarts and she would keep surviving.
She picked out the photographs, their last days at school- he in his school robes, red unruly hair tossed in the wind, grinning like mad, one hand about Harry. The next was of Harry and herself. Harry had his hands around her, chin on her shoulder. They wereboth smiling like there was no tomorrow, but of course tomorrows had come and gone. Tomorrows would still come and go only she knew now how fickle it was to hope that they would alwaysbe around to see another one of them. She sighed. The third was her favorite. There was Ron and herself. Her mind raced back…
"Put an arm around her, Ron, you both are standing miles away. I can't get you in the picture," Harry shouted from behind the camera.
"Come on, Harry!" Ron wailed and stepped closer to Hermione. "This do?"
"You're not smiling, Ron!"
Ron gave an exasperated sigh, bowed his head for a second, shuffled his feet, looked back up and grinned – bright and false.
She had watched him half amused, half impatient. Of course she knew Harry was teasing them. She considered herself justified, however, in being annoyed that Ron did not seem to even think of what she was feeling, all the time he was complaining. In fact, he never looked at her once throughout the whole exchange between Harry and himself.
"Quick! Hurry up, my cheeks are hurting!" Ron cried, desperately trying to keep the grin from fading.
"There's still something missing!" Harry called.
"For Merlin's sake, Harry!"
"Put an arm about Hermione."
Ron hesitantly did so without looking at her.
"Don't shake, Ron, you're trembling like a leaf!"
"I'm not! And it's cold, so hurry up, you wanker."
"If you don't care for a perfect photograph, fine by me.But I'm telling you this, you look terrible together."
"Ron…" Hermione spoke before he could snap back at Harry.
He turned to her and she looked full into his eyes, willing him to understand.She could still vividly see the passion for life that shone to the very depths of those mirrors of his soul. She could still see the rain of promises of his endless love, untarnished with the grossness of words. She could see his fear and his dreams,a glimpse of heaven that they one day hoped to share. An unknowing smile had crept up her face and the beginnings of its reflection were tugging at his lips when the camera flashed.
"Perfect!"
She smiled sadly as she looked down at the still photograph. The moment made immortal, snatched from the capricious tides of time.Tides that leap, bound and dive deep down into the depths of eternity, enchaining and sweeping away with them, all that lay in its wretched trail…
She felt her eyes sting with unfallen tears. How she missed him, loved him. Her friendship with Ron was the best thing that ever happened to her and the fact that in her heart it had blossomed into love both fired her soul and veiled her happiness at the same time.
Hermione closed her eyes. An unheeded, forlorn tear rolled down her pale cheek. Very carefully, she placed the cherished photograph down in her lap and slowly peered back into the box.
There was that quill he had bought her at Christmas, long and fine, the tip slightly chipped but still priceless. The rose he had given her at the last school ball, though he did not go with her, now dry and pressed. He thought it would match her white dress and really did not want it on his robes.A friendship band of magical gossamer silk that could never break. A poem he had written for her as a parting gift - along with a very awkward hug - she fondly recalled. She also remembered leaning over on tiptoe and kissing his cheek. His ears had gone awfully pink then, but she didn't quite notice as hot tears had fogged her eyes.
She knew not how long she was up in the attic, reminiscing and reliving, but as she took out the last keepsake from her school days, she was silently crying. Through misty eyes, she looked down at the picture in her lap. Her fingers swept over the faded photograph, outlining the face she had grown to love so much. Slowly, she set it atop the pile of knick-knacks.
She looked down into the empty box, her eyes swimming in tears. Yes, she could see it. There was one more thing. Reaching inside, she scooped out a handfuland brought it to her lap, settling it there as though it might dissolve if she was not careful. She reached inside again and scooped out another handful, just as gently. There was still more. So much, much more…
She gathered another handful…and another…and another...She continued to scoop out handfuls of nothing,her movements becoming more frantic witheach passing second. Her eyes were slightly crazed now. There was so much more!
When she had grown tired, she peered wearily, sadly, into the empty box. There at the bottom, still lurked love. She scooped it out tenderly and added it to the invisible ocean she had created around her. Finally when she realized that she would have to go on like this forever, that she could not measure out all the emotion at the bottom of that box, she gave way to her tears. But no matter how much she wept, he would always be a tear away.
A/N: Do review please & tell me what you think about this piece. I'm open to suggestions for improvement, so don't hold back. Let me know.